Archive of Our Own

The invitation arrives on a thick card stock with gilded lettering.

The Rt. Honourable Lord Charles Gravely together with his wife, Lady Eleanor Gravely request the honour of your company for the marriage of their daughter

Fenella Grace Elizabeth

to

Mr Theodore Charles William Frederick James Thwaites-Edmonson

at St Mary’s Church —

‘What the fuck is this?’ Alex asks, looking up from the invite to look at Henry. He’s not finished his coffee yet but he’s pretty sure they’ve just been invited to the wedding of someone Henry went to Eton and Oxford with, and a woman called Fenella, which is like, far too close to a plant to be this woman’s actual name. ‘Fenella?’ he asks. ‘That’s her actual name? This isn’t some weird joke you’re playing.’

Henry turns around from the stove where he’s making eggs. Alex eyes the pan warily. Henry’s cooking has improved but... well, he still needs supervision. ‘While I’m well aware mocking the English landed gentry is one of your main sources of entertainment. No, it’s not a joke, and yes, Fenella is her real name.’ He turns back to the pan and moves the eggs around a bit and the sun streams through the windows of the brownstone’s kitchen, hitting his cheekbones because – of course they do. He looks like a fucking Greek god and Alex wants to take that stupid sweatshirt he’s wearing and rip it right off his body. Which is absolutely nothing to do with the fact that it’s an old one of Alex’s that Henry appears to have stolen and claimed at his now. Really.

His eyes travel down Henry’s body. Tousled hair, relaxed shoulders, Alex’s ratty old Georgetown sweatshirt and long legs only barely covered by tight black boxers which— well, Alex is pretty sure those are also his, actually. No wonder he can never find any of his fucking clothes. Henry is probably hoarding them all somewhere like a gremlin or one of those little mousey little borrowers or something. He smiles fondly, struck by that realisation that pops up every once in a while that this is all real. That he actually gets to spend his weekend mornings waking up next to Henry reading in bed next to him and then having sleepy, slow morning sex in their massive bed and making breakfast together with coffee while Henry wanders around in Alex's old clothes that are just slightly too small for him. ‘I’m going to send a polite decline and a nice gift. I just thought it would amuse you.’

‘Wait, what do you mean you’ll decline?’ Alex asks incredulously, his head snapping back up from the invite he’s been looking at again, because he’s pretty sure that's real fucking gold in the lettering.

Henry looks incredulous. ‘Because we live in Brooklyn and the wedding is in Oxfordshire?’

‘And it’s in six months and you’re like, an actual Prince, baby. I’m not seeing the problem here.’

‘You can’t seriously want to go?’ Henry asks.

Alex looks back at him and blinks. ‘Her name is Fenella and this guy looks like he’s in some weird competition with you for who has the most names. Have you met me? Of course, I fucking want to see this.’

Henry smiles softly but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He turns back to the pan as though the eggs are suddenly the most fascinating things he’s ever seen. His shoulders have tensed up. Alex slips off the stool and gets up from his place at their island, walks over to Henry and wraps his arms around his waist from behind and reaches round him to turn off the pan. ‘Hey,’ he says softly. ‘What’s going on?’ He presses a kiss to the fabric of the sweatshirt on Henry’s back. It’s an odd position. Henry is taller and Alex can’t quite tuck his chin over Henry’s shoulders, his face is half smushed into Henry’s back, but he knows that Henry secretly loves it. Being held like this. He relaxes in Alex’s arms.

‘It’s stupid,’ he says, still looking down at the pan.

‘No it’s not. Not if it’s upsetting you.’

‘It’s not... upsetting me,’ Henry says, and he twists in Alex’s arms to face him. His brows are creased and the little pinch in his mouth is back. He wants to smooth it out with his fingers. ‘It’s just... we had a bit of a weird relationship that’s all.’

‘A weird relationship like… sex or?’

Henry splutters. ‘Christ, no! It was more of a... rivalry, I suppose.’

Alex looks at him for a second and smirks. ‘You’re not helping your case that this wasn’t a sex thing,’ he says, gesturing between them and then their surroundings. ‘It’s fine if you did, I know you had a life before me–’ he says sarcastically and Henry's hands pinch at his waist. 

Henry shakes his head, but it’s affectionate, not annoyed. ‘Bloody menace,’ he mutters, but he pulls Alex in by the hips and inhales his hair, running his hands up Alex’s sides.

‘So when you say rivalry?’ Alex prompts after a minute.

Henry hesitates for a second. ‘It’s just... I didn’t really enjoy school all that much. I— I loved the classes and the learning but... everything else, there was always this constant reminder that I was... different. PPOs in the back of the classroom and a million risk assessments before I could do anything and Theo well— he got to do anything he wanted without all of that and he was good at it. But he wasn’t… he wasn’t always the nicest. His whole group really, they liked to make a big thing about how I couldn’t do anything by myself and— I had mum and dad pull some of my security in the end it got to be so much.’

Alex’s heart twists and he tightens his grip around Henry’s waist. He can see it. The boy from the magazine with fluffy hair, shadowed by hulking figures who wouldn’t let him out of their sight.

‘I don’t mean to complain, I know how lucky—’

‘Hey,' Alex says softly. 'None of that. You and I both know this life comes with its fair share of downsides. You’re allowed to complain about it sometimes. Especially to me.’

Henry huffs out a small laugh and hums. ‘Anyway, eventually Mum and Dad worked something out so that I could have a bit more space, and Theo and I sort of became friends eventually, I suppose but— well, there was always this underlying tension. He was jealous of me, thought I was fake and got everything handed to me too easily, and I was jealous of him and the freedom he had.’

‘So what you’re saying is that this guy was like, me before you met me.’

‘Ha,’ Henry laughs. ‘Well I didn't spend years yearning from afar for Theo, but I suppose if we're continuing with the habit of a lifetime and making everything about you.’

‘So if the two of you hated each other so much then why do we have an invite to his wedding?’

Henry sighs. ‘Oh I don’t know. Maybe he just wanted to say he had a Prince at his wedding, maybe he wanted to gawk at the disgraced gay heir.’

Alex looks back at him. ‘If you really don’t want to go then we don’t have to go, but if you don’t want to go because you’re nervous about seeing all these people who knew you back then–’ He raises himself on to his tip toes. ‘Then I think you should take your very hot self and your incredible job and your very smart, very sexy boyfriend to this wedding and show them all how much better your life is than theirs.’ He says the words slowly, against Henry’s ear and he feels Henry shudder slightly, a sharp inhale and his fingers twitch and tighten on Alex’s hips. ‘And if it’s shit we can just laugh at them and get drunk and then go back to what will inevitably be a very fancy hotel and have a lot of really, really good sex,’ Alex says, placing a kiss to the crook of Henry’s neck.

When his gaze meets Henry’s again, his eyes are dark and pupils wide and Alex, well Alex is already most of the way to being hard again in his pyjamas despite the fact they literally just had sex like, less than an hour ago. Henry’s hot and he’s wearing Alex’s clothes. Sue him. Henry leans down to kiss him, hoists him up onto the counter in an alarmingly graceful manner and Alex thinks that maybe he doesn’t mind being smaller than Henry. There’s something disarmingly attractive about the way he can just... pick Alex up.

‘God I love you,’ Henry murmurs against his lips and he grins into the kiss. There’s a vague voice in his mind and rumbling in his stomach saying something about the eggs getting cold but, well Henry is kissing him feverishly, and he’s palming at Alex’s dick through the cotton of his pyjamas and he suddenly doesn’t care so much about breakfast anymore. He loves it when Henry gets like this. When he abandons all his princely restraint and becomes relentless in his pursuit, single-minded in his goal to just get Alex off. Alex loses himself in the sweet slide of their lips, in the way Henry devours him.

Henry’s hand snakes its way into his pyjamas and wraps around his dick and it’s slick with lube. Alex briefly wonders how the hell Henry managed to fish some out of the drawer next to him without Alex even noticing but then Henry swipes his thumb over Alex’s leaking head, and Alex decides that quite frankly, he couldn’t care less. He’d be embarrassed by how quickly he’s ended up ridiculously hard, in this needy state, hips rutting up to match the movements of Henry’s hand except, well– he’s not. He’s not embarrassed easily, and he’ll never be embarrassed about Henry, and especially not about how god damn fucking attracted he is to him.

Henry’s hand moves up and down his dick, hard and fast and he twists his wrist on the upstroke. Henry’s is cooing in his ear, saying all sorts of things about how good he is and how fucking fit he is, falling apart like this just for him and how he can’t wait to show him off and— Alex falls apart at that, coming hard into Henry’s hand with a breathless needy whine. 

Henry laughs affectionately and shakes his head with a grin, as though he’d known all along that’s what would tip Alex over the edge. The fucker. Alex tips his forehead onto Henry’s shoulder. ‘I think we need new breakfast plans,’ he says breathlessly after a minute.

Henry places a kiss to his curls. ‘Go shower. I’ll call round and see where we can get a table.’

***

‘How the fuck do you look like that and I look like a fucking penguin?’ Alex asks as Henry strides back into the room in a pair of grey pinstripe trousers that make his legs look like they go on for days. His vest stops right at the spot where his waist dips and the long coat skirts around his hips to form tail which stops around his knees. He looks so fucking tall. His hair is perfectly tousled in that way which only Henry seems to manage to pull off – effortless without ever looking messy. He’s wrapped up in perfectly tailored silk and his vest is a shade of baby blue that he’s pretty sure is matched to his eye colour and well, it’s as though someone asked for the exact instructions to murder Alex with and created... this.

‘You look...’ Alex says. ‘Take it off.’

Henry’s eyes sweep over Alex. He’s wearing a similar outfit: morning coat and grey pinstripe trousers, with a navy blue vest and tie. It is, in a word, boring and very not Alex. But, it’s not his wedding and he knows how nervous Henry is. He’s changed his cufflinks three times this morning and his tie pin twice, so Alex is trying very hard to keep his mouth shut for once. Henry meets Alex’s eyes again. He swallows and says simply, ‘You most definitely do not look like a penguin.’

There’s a look he recognises in Henry’s eyes, in the creeping flush of his skin. ‘Holy shit,’ Alex says, gesturing down to the ridiculous outfit. ‘Is this doing it for you? Are you into this? Wales, I look ridiculous! It has a fucking butt flap!’ he says, gesturing to the long tail of the coat that stretches down to his knees.

Henry opens his mouth as if he’s about to protest and then he pauses and shrugs. ‘I think by this point we’ve already established that I’m into you whatever you're wearing, and I don’t often see you in a suit anymore.’

‘Yeah but baby this suit is ridiculous. There’s so much fucking fabric and—’

Henry reaches out and grabs Alex’s wrist, tugging him closer to him, his mouth next to Alex’s ear. ‘Do you need me to tell you what you look like right now? Christ, Alex I—’ Henry’s voice is low and sinfully slow, thick like the syrupy feeling that it turns Alex’s bones into when there’s a sharp knock at the door. Shaan. Telling them it’s time to leave.

Henry stiffens slightly but ignores it, his eyes travel down Alex’s body again. ‘We’re going to go to this stupid wedding,’ Henry tells him. ‘And I’m going to stand next to you while you charm everyone and I’m going to spend all day and all night telling you just how gorgeous you are. Then I’m going to bring you back here and make you scream my name, darling. Maybe I’ll make you keep the suit on.’

And Alex’s breath hitches at that and well, fuck, now he’s just really fucking hard in his trousers.

‘Understood?’ Henry asks. Alex blinks and then nods so fucking fast he’s like one of those ridiculous nodding dogs and then Henry smiles, all big and bright crinkly eyed and without a hint the careful low voice that had Alex in a puddle just seconds ago. He’s going to get fucking whiplash from this day already. ‘Come on then, love. Wouldn’t want to be late.’

Henry sweeps out the door in front of him and greets Shaan warmly. Alex is still half hard in his trousers.

It’s as typically quaint as Alex had expected, like something out of a children’s storybook. A small, stone building with a high spire set back from the road on the top of the hill. The doorway is covered in an arch of white flowers. There are a few groups of people standing around outside chatting. The women are all in expensive brightly coloured dresses and large ornate hats. One of them has an actual peacock feather sticking out of it. The men are all in similar suits to Alex and Henry. Alex falls into step next to Henry as they walk up the path to the church. He’s walking with a straight back and resolute eyes. Alex hates it.

‘Hey,’ Alex says softly. He reaches out and brushes Henry’s hand. He’s half-expecting Henry to pull his hand away, but he exhales and Alex feels him relax. He intertwines their fingers together and smiles softly at Alex. Alex isn’t sure he’ll ever get used to being able to walk hand-in-hand anywhere with Henry.

Unsurprisingly, Alex hears the hiss of whispers and thrum of chatter before he hears the specific words.

‘Is that—'

‘Oh my god, it’s—’

‘Fen said he’d be here. She didn’t say he’d be bringing his boyfriend though.’

‘Did you read them?’

Henry’s grip tightens on his hand and then he relaxes and his face falls into a wide grin. Alex is confused for a second, until he hears it.

‘Alexander, babes!’

Pez. Walking towards them in a black silk morning suit. It’s a surprisingly... restrained outfit for him. Until Alex sees the waistcoat. It’s a deep purple silk covered in intricately hand stitched flowers and what Alex suspects are almost definitely diamonds, and a lilac shirt that matches the shade of his hair.

‘Give your Auntie Pezza a kiss, Alexander.’ He sweeps Alex into a bear hug, and Alex laughs and plants a kiss on his cheek with a grin. He smells of orange and rose blossom and faintly of cinnamon and it shouldn’t work, but it’s Pez, so it does. Henry is looking at them fondly when he releases them and then his best friend turns and does the same to him. He sees Pez whisper something in Henry’s ear and Henry gives him a grateful look when they part. He’d almost forgotten that Pez would be here too, but he’s grateful. Pez always manages to make Henry feel at these events, absorbing the attention directed at Henry with his loud voice, fashion sense and unabashed ease.

Pez quickly settles them into a conversation that helps Henry to relax: the shelter. Alex will never get tired of the way his face lights up when he talks about it, despite the sleepless nights it’s been giving him. It is – quite literally sometimes – Henry’s baby. Henry is calm, animated, completely at ease when he talks about it. He’s telling Pez about the building works they’ve just finished on it, how he wants Pez to see it.

‘So I’ll be in New York for a fundraiser next month—’ Pez is saying as a shadow invades their space.

‘Morning gents, lovely to see you. Thank you for coming.’

The man is their age, dressed in the same suit with a cream waistcoat and tie and a flower in his buttonhole. His dark hair is slicked back in an iron grip against his head.

Henry’s lips edge into a thin smile and he shakes the man’s outstretched hand. ‘Theo, lovely to see you again. Congratulations.’

‘Oh Christ don’t say that yet. She’s not turned up yet. Who knows, she might run off on me still.’ He laughs heartily at his own joke. Alex blinks. He wasn’t sure it was possible for someone to sound more posh than the literal Prince of this goddamn country but somehow this guy has achieved it.

Henry smiles easily. ‘I’m sure she won’t.’ He turns his body to face Alex. ‘Theo, this is my boyfriend, Alex.’

‘Oh yes, of course,’ Theo says, as though Alex’s presence there is a complete surprise to him, as though he wasn’t specifically invited and there haven’t been weeks of ongoing discussions about the security measures that need to be in place to have both the First Son and Prince at this wedding. Theo’s eyes sweep over Alex, darting back to Henry every so often as though he’s trying to piece how they fit together: Alex’s brown skin against Henry’s pale white, Alex’s wild curly hair next to Henry’s tawny locks, short Alex next to tall Henry. ‘Wonderful to meet you,’ he says at last.

Alex puts all of that to the back of his mind, and ignores the way Theo’s eyes linger on the way Henry’s hand has snaked around Alex’s waist. ‘Likewise man, thanks so much for inviting me.’

Henry’s hand squeezes at Alex’s waist. Theo gives him a thin lipped smile. ‘Henners, the old polo team is around somewhere.’ Henry visibly cringes at the nickname at the exact same time that Alex valiantly stifles a snort. ‘I think they wanted a photo, if you’re up for it.’

‘Gladly,’ Henry says and he’s whisked away to a crowd of men who all look as though they’ve been plucked from the same stock photo range as Philip.

He turns back at Alex as he walks away looking desperate for him to save him. Alex simply mouths the word ‘Henners’ at him. Henry scowls back and Alex is pretty sure he’s regretting everything about this already.

Alex watches as they take a photograph, Henry with his press smile plastered on in each one as the men laugh heartily around him. Henry stands rigid and straight-backed, thin smile, pinched at one corner of the mouth. Alex looks around the crowd milling around beside them, the sea of white faces, and he turns to Pez. ‘You and I are going to stick out like a  pair of sore thumbs in these photos,’ he says.

Pez hums in agreement. ‘Theo and I don’t even like each other. The only reason I get an invite to half these things is to provide a little bit of colour to the occasion.’

Alex pauses. ‘So why come then?’

Pez looks at him with a raised eyebrow, dyed the same shade of lilac as his hair. Oh. Of course. For Henry. Even now, always, for Henry. ‘He is just about the only thing I’d pass up the chance to spend the weekend with your delightful sister and the wonderful Ms Holleran for.’

Alex blinks. ‘You know she’s dating Nora right, like... they’re together now.’

Pez hums. ‘Oh I know. I just... fly in when it suits.’

‘Jesus, Pez.’ Alex finds it weird enough his ex-girlfriend is dating his sister, he is one hundred percent sure he does not want to know about whatever arrangement they might have with Pez as well.

Pez chuckles at the expression his face his twists into, and pats him on the back. ‘There, there. Don’t you worry yourself about it, Alexander. Now, I think we should go and spare old Henners, don’t you?’

***

The service is long and filled with hymns that Alex only vaguely knows, but he’s grateful it’s at least shorter than some of the Catholic services he’s had to sit through. It is, however, painfully boring. The vows are traditional and Fenella agrees to obey her husband. Alex wants to gag. The readings are slow, but the bride – a woman with an impossibly long neck who looks like she owns a lot of horses – laughs and cries and looks impossibly happy to be marrying someone who is as bland as Theo seems.

Finally, it ends and they’re shoved back out of the church into the midday summer sun to throw rose petal confetti over the bride and groom, and then they’re bundled back into their cars to head to the reception.

The reception is at some obnoxious stately home hotel with private cabins dotted throughout the grounds. The manor house itself is a beautiful old limestone building covered in ivy and white flowers. Cash and a couple of Henry’s PPOs stand on the periphery keeping a watchful eye.

‘Champagne, sir?’ A waiter asks offering the tray towards him on one hand. Alex eagerly takes a glass and passes it to Henry before taking one for himself. He’s not sure where Pez has disappeared off too, probably to charm someone he sees as a potential donor, or a replacement for June for his affections.

‘Thank you,’ Henry says to the waiter, and from the look on the man’s face, Alex guesses those aren’t words he’s heard too often so far today. Henry’s face is lightly flushed in the summer sun, the blonde in his hair almost golden, tiny little freckles have sprouted across his face. He looks radiant. Alex is– well, Alex is pretty sure he’s the luckiest fucking guy on the planet. Henry catches him staring and gives him a quizzical look. Alex feels the heat rise in his cheeks.

Henry grins and pulls him in to his side – an arm around his waist, a kiss on his temple, a swell in Alex’s heart. ‘What?’ he says quietly.

Alex grins. ‘Just admiring, baby. I thought you were going to show me off.’

'Hmm, I will. But first I have to tell you how good you look,' he says, and then he pauses and his face falls into something far softer and more earnest. 'Really, Alex. You look... you look beautiful.' Alex's heart stutters and he smiles, his head feeling at once both weak and impossibly clear. Henry holds out his hand. Alex takes it and lets Henry wind him through the crowd, through the forest of eyes and whispers, to a group with the bride and groom and some people of a similar age that he assumes Henry went to university with.

They’re greeted with slightly awkward smiles and over enthusiastic exclamations that confirm for Alex that they’ve just interrupted a conversation that was definitely about them.

Theo recovers first. ‘Henry mate, enjoying the day?’

Henry nods with a smile. ‘Of course. Congratulations to you both,’ he says, turning to Fenella. She’s wearing a classic A-line white lace dress with a high neck that Alex is sure June would be telling him does absolutely nothing for her. It’s a cliché but she still looks radiant with her flowing white bouquet in one hand and a flute of champagne in the other.

Henry pulls her in for a half hug and kisses her cheek. ‘You look wonderful. Congratulations,’ he says again.

She beams and turns to Alex. ‘Alex, isn’t it? Fenella,’ she says gesturing to herself. ‘Hello, thank you so much for coming. We’re so pleased you to have you both here.’ Translation: we’re so pleased we can tell everyone we had you both here. Alex puts on his best First Son smile and echoes Henry’s compliments.

‘Alex, you met Theo earlier. This is Freddie, Hugo, Rupert, Claudia, Tabitha and Jemima,’ Henry says. Each of the girls give him a head tilt, eyes squinted and the exact same thin lipped smile. He wonders if they get taught it at whatever the girls equivalent of Eton is. Alex wonders yet again how the fuck this is his life now.

‘Nice to meet y’all,’ he says with a smile.

‘Remind me what it is you do, Alex,’ Theo says. It’s something he notices it every time they meet someone new these days – the way people will pretend not to know them, ask them questions about their jobs as though they’ve not read their intimate emails, their deepest thoughts.

‘I’m just about to start law school – NYU.’ 

‘Alex is interning at a firm that specialises in civil rights law,’ Henry tells them. ‘And working on policy for the White House.’

Alex smiles wryly. ‘When they let me. They don’t seem quite as willing to let me near it these days.’

Everyone chuckles over-enthusiastically and it feels sticky on Alex’s spine. ‘What about you Henners, what are you doing with yourself these days?’

Henry cringes at the nickname again and takes a small sip of his champagne. ‘I’m getting the first of the new shelters for disenfranchised queer youth off the ground. It’s ah, it’s hard work but I love it. It feels very… worthwhile.’

‘Are we allowed to say that now?’ Jemima asks, blinking like an owl. ‘I thought we weren’t allowed to say it.’ One of the other girls hisses at her and elbows her sharply in the ribs. She stumbles, her champagne spilling over the rim of her glass and she looks confused. Alex quickly realises he’s going to need a lot more champagne to get through this day.

‘Yes, I thought I read something about you being in America now,’ says one of the other men – Hugo, or Rupert – interrupts, his voice far louder than it needs to be. Alex has already forgotten which of them is which. They all look identical.

Tabitha looks as though she’s been restraining herself for the entire conversation and is about to burst. She turns to Henry, and arm outstretched to him, says, ‘I just have to say, I was so surprised when I heard. I said to Mummy “I just can’t believe it”, I just had no idea.’

‘Tabby!’ one of the others exclaims.

Alex feels Henry’s back straighten, sees the glaze slip over his face. As though on cue, Pez appears, a haze of lilac and says, ‘Do you mind if I borrow these two gentlemen?’ He sweeps an arm round each of their backs and carrying them off to a corner.

‘Christ,’ Henry says and drains the rest of his champagne. He pinches the bridge of his nose. Alex reaches out for his hand and intertwines it with his own. He glances back and sees the group waving their hands around the two girls in exasperation. ‘I know Tabitha and Jemima were never exactly been the sharpest tools in the box, but Christ.’ He pauses. ‘Thank you,’ he says to Pez.

‘Don’t thank me too much, I’ve been trapped in a conversation with old Wilcox. He’s asking about you.’

‘Why is he here?’ he asks, and then turns to Alex. ‘Wilcox was our house master at school,’ Henry explains and somehow, this whole day steps up another level of weirdness.

Pez shrugs. ‘Friends of Theo’s parents I think. He’s still holding a grudge for that burn mark on the curtains in your room by the way.’

Henry scoffs at that. ‘That was you! Hanging out of my window with a bloody cigarette and letting me take the blame. Honestly.’

Pez laughs and slaps Henry on the back. ‘Ah, but they weren’t going to suspend you were they?’ He winks at Alex who laughs.

Henry rolls his eyes. ‘I need the bathroom. Make yourself useful and come with me to find some more drinks, you delinquent,’ he says.

Pez winks and bows dramatically. ‘Of course, my liege.’

‘Will you be okay?’ Henry asks turning back to Alex.

‘Hard as it is to believe, I’m sure I’ll cope without you.’

‘Try not to cause any international scandals while I’m gone, won’t you?’

‘I’ll try my best to.’

Henry and Pez retreat into the distance, laughing and playfully pushing one another. He sees Pez punch Henry in the arm. Alex smiles after them, opposites who somehow fit together like lost puzzle pieces. He catches Cash’s eye. He wants to go over and talk to him – to someone, anyone – who understands how ridiculous all of this is, but he can’t because he has to make an effort. Both as the First Son and as Henry’s boyfriend. He sighs. He’s about to turn to find someone to talk to when a red-faced man approaches him.

‘Hello there, saw you on your own as well. It’s all a bit awkward when you’re left alone at a wedding where you don’t know anyone isn’t it? I’m Bertie,’ he says. Of course he is. He holds out a thick hand for Alex to shake. 

‘Alex. Nice to meet you.'

‘Bride or groom?’

‘Oh uhh, groom, I guess.’

Bertie nods sagely. ‘You’re a plus one too, are you? Yes me as well. Allegra is Fen’s cousin.’ Alex doesn’t know if he’s meant to know who Allegra is, but he nods and wonders if these people are given some ridiculous baby name book along with the newborn at birth.

Whenever he’s on his own in the UK, Alex is never sure whether people actually don’t recognise him if he’s not standing next to Henry, or if they just pretend not to. ‘I went to Oxford as well, of course, but I was a few years above Theo and Fen. Is that an American accent I heard? Where did you study?’

‘Georgetown.’

‘And where’s that?’

‘DC,’ Alex tells him.

‘Right yes of course,’ Bertie says, having lost interest, presumably because Alex hadn’t said ‘Harvard’. ‘And what do you do now?’

‘I’m about to start law school at NYU. I’m interning at a law firm, starting law school in the fall.’

Bertie perks up again. ‘Ah, law! Excellent profession. I’m in politics myself. Do you know much about our system?’

And Henry told him not to start anything, but well, Alex has never been very good at doing what he’s told.

‘A decent amount,’ he says.

‘I work for an MP,’ Bertie tells him, and then he says the name of someone Henry has spent the better part of the last week on a rampage around the brownstone, cursing for his comments on depression, characterising their entire generation as ‘namby pamby snowflakes’.

‘He’s an excellent chap. I learn so much from him, really great to work for,’ he says, just as a young blonde woman appears at his side.

‘Hello darling,’ she says. ‘Sorry the queue for the loos was frightful.’ She turns to Alex. ‘Oh, hello. I’m Allegra.’ Alex is baffled at how every time he meets a new one of these people, they somehow get even posher. He’s going to need a translator soon.

‘Alex,’ he says. ‘Bertie here was just telling me about his job.’

Allegra’s face brightens. ‘Oh yes, it’s fascinating isn’t it? So wonderful. He’s so lucky to get to learn from someone so excellent.’

Alex feels his face slip into a hard line and before he can rearrange it back into his perfect First Son press smile, he knows Bertie has noticed because he’s suddenly hurriedly saying, ‘Of course, I don’t agree with everything he says. Personally, I consider myself to be socially liberal but fiscally conservative.’

And that’s quite enough for Alex. ‘What so you’re like, fine with the gays but not the poor?’

Bertie’s face turns a violent shade of red. ‘Well it’s not quite as simple as that. It’s a common misconception of people who have no experience in politics, but really it’s rather naïve to think that —’

He feels Henry’s familiar gravity move into the space, and an arm slip round his waist. He drops a kiss onto his head. ‘Are you causing trouble again?’ he says and Bertie’s eyes flick between the two of them, and then Alex watches as he swallows, the muscles in his thick neck straining.

‘Me? Never,’ he replies, and he turns back to Bertie. ‘I’m sorry, you were saying something about people with no experience in politics.’

Bertie blinks at him a few times as though someone has removed his batteries. ‘What did you say your name was?’

‘Alex,’ he says, and then after a pause, ‘Claremont-Diaz.’

Bertie clears his throat. ‘As in...’

‘As in President Claremont, yes.’

‘Right. I — uhh, darling, oh look your mother is calling us,’ Bertie says, and he grabs Allegra by the arm and tugs her away.

Pez squawks a laugh from beside Henry and hands Alex a fresh glass of champagne. ‘That was the best thing I’ve seen in weeks.’

Alex takes a long drink. ‘What took you so long?’

Henry grimaces. ‘I got stuck talking to Theo’s grandmother, who was apparently friends with my grandmother once upon a time. She wanted to meet my lovely wife and reassure me that my brother would “grow out of it.”’ Alex feels his eyes widen and Henry sighs. ‘She thought I was Philip.’

‘Fuck. I’m sorry, baby. What did you do?'

Henry smirks. ‘Told her that I don’t have a lovely wife, but I do have a very handsome boyfriend and I’m not going to grow out of it, nor would I want to.’

Alex grins and reaches up for a kiss. ‘You didn’t tell her you’re as gay as a maypole then? Hey, what the fuck even is a maypole anyway?’

***

The rest of the afternoon slips by in a similar stream of barbed digs and thinly veiled insults. He, Henry and Pez begin to make a game out of it: drink every time someone tells them they were ‘so surprised’, drink every time someone asks which of them will be trying to catch the bouquet, drink every time a stranger makes a joke about not letting the two of them near the cake, drink every time someone mistakes Alex for a waiter, drink every time someone asks Alex or Pez where they’re from ‘originally’. It’s fucking exhausting and, Alex thinks, probably borderline dangerous. They’re all fairly good at holding their liquor but it quickly becomes apparent it’s a game that won’t end well.

They’re sat on a table with Henry’s uni mates. It’s a generous descriptor considering that Alex has never heard any of them mentioned before today but they’re mostly bearable, despite the way that they all keep glancing between the two of them. Theo’s older brother gives a best man speech full of lewd jokes and Alex feels sorry for every woman this guy has ever slept with. He’s pretty sure half his jokes don’t even make anatomical sense.

‘It’ll be you two soon, I bet,’ Freddie says with a nod at the two of them. They’ve both discarded their jackets and Henry has rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows to reveal his forearms. One of his arms is slung over the back of Alex’s chair and Alex leans back into his chest. They’re wine drunk, loose and happy and Henry doesn’t stiffen at the comment like he sometimes does when someone – usually Mary or Philip or one of their staff – mentions marriage. Alex knows it’s not about marrying him, just the whole circus that comes with it.

‘Pez, I swear to god if your speech is anything like this I’m going to lock you in the dungeons myself.’

Pez grins back at him. ‘Oh Alexander,’ he says, fanning himself with a menu and batting his eyelashes. ‘You know I love it when you talk dirty to me.’

Henry rolls his eyes. ‘Do you two mind?’ he asks, his voice full of mirth, as he pulls Alex even closer to him. He’s pretty sure he’ll be sitting in Henry’s actual lap if he tries to bring him any closer. Alex loves every shade of Henry: dark and moody, soft and sleepy, serious and stately, but he has a soft spot for the drunk and cuddly Henry, the one who has left go of all his inhibitions and just wants to be close to Alex. Henry lowers his lips to Alex's neck. He’s given up on caring that they’re in public, and that the secret service and PPOs definitely haven’t been able to confiscate every phone or camera in the room. Everyone here knows, and Henry has rolled his sleeves up and decided he’s going to act in the same way every other drunk couple in the room is. The best man’s speech comes to an end and a flurry of waiting staff disperse onto the floor, clearing away plates and guiding them all towards another room for the first dance.

‘So it’s that serious then?’ Hugo pipes up from across the table. ‘You’re talking about marriage.’

Claudia swots his arm and Alex’s hand ghosts over the front of his chest where his ring around his neck sits. ‘What part of coming out to the entire world made you wonder if it wasn’t serious, Hugh?’ Henry asks drily.

Hugo stammers slightly. ‘Well you know, everyone has had a fumble or two with a mate now and again haven’t they? Doesn’t mean there’s anything serious about it.’

Alex can’t help the laugh that escapes him, partly in memory of his own drunken nights with Liam that he’d convinced himself were nothing, and partly at the idea that anything he and Henry do could be considered ‘a fumble’. He looks up to see the rest of the group staring at Hugo with quizzical expressions.

‘Trust me man,’ he says, ‘you might not think those things are gay in the moment but... they definitely are.’

Henry hums and his fingers trail down Alex’s arm, brushing against the cotton of his shirt and then down to his bare forearms. It sends a pleasant shiver down Alex’s back and he leans into the touch.

‘Henry, do you get to play much polo out there?’ someone asks, apparently trying to save Hugo from his unprompted sexual crisis. Alex has completely lost track of which of these carbon copies is which, and at this point he doesn’t really care.

‘Rupert and Freddie were on the polo team as well,’ Henry explains.

Alex nods slowly. He’s seen Henry play polo a couple more times since the first time, but his reaction hasn’t changed either time. He still has absolutely no idea what is happening when Henry is out on the field, or how the game works. He’s always far too distracted by the movement of his thighs or the slow swing of his arms as he hits the ball with the mallet to keep track of the score.

‘Do you ride, Alex?’ one of them – Freddie, maybe?– asks. 

‘Not horses, no.’ Alex says with a polite smile, and he takes a sip of wine as Henry grips him sharply in the side. Pez chokes around his champagne from his chair on Alex’s other side. Rupert and Freddie blink in confusion.  

‘Alright boys – and ladies too, of course,’ comes Theo’s booming voice from behind Alex. He slaps a hand down on Henry’s back and Alex feels Henry go slightly rigid, but he doesn’t move his hand from Alex’s arm. Alex turns his head to look at Theo – his face flushed from the alcohol, hair still in an iron grip on his head, not a strand out of place. It’s really quite uncanny the way he reminds Alex of Philip at Christmas. ‘Come on chaps, I’m off to embarrass myself dancing and I need other people worse than me so I don’t look quite as terrible.’ He looks down at Alex and Henry. ‘You err, you don’t have to join if you don’t want to, boys. Of course you ah, you can if you want, but–’

Alex rolls his eyes and pushes himself up. He stands up, holding his hand out to Henry to pull him up. ‘Come on, Wales. ‘Bout time you put those years of ballroom dancing lessons to use.’

Henry grins, and lets Alex pull him up and out of the room. From the corner of his eye, he sees Cash follow them. Pez lingers behind to give them space. Henry tugs him into a dark alcove and grips Alex by the hips.

‘We could just get out of here,’ Alex whispers against his lips. ‘I seem to remember something about you making me scream your name, let’s just go and do that instead.’

Henry pulls away, just slightly and Alex can see how his eyes have darkened, his wide pupils. He looks torn. ‘Could we stay, to dance? Just for a little bit? I– I’d like to dance with you again. Where it doesn’t matter if anyone sees.’

Alex isn’t even a little bit surprised. Henry is nothing if not an absolute sap when it comes to this sort of thing. ‘Sure baby,’ he says, pulling him in for another kiss. This whole thing is fairly unbearable, but he can see how hard Henry is trying, how much he wants for them to be just another couple.

They stay like that for a while, holding each other and getting lost in long slow lazy kisses, hidden away in an alcove until the murmurs of the DJ starts to announce the arrival of the bride and groom for their first dance. Henry tugs Alex out of the alcove, and they slip into the wide open ballroom right ahead of the happy couple.

Pez takes one look at them and rolls his eyes. ‘Half thought you’d made a break for it. Should have known you’d just be off in a cupboard somewhere,’ he says with an exasperation that Alex knows is entirely fake.

‘Here, the bar’s open so I did the honours.’ Pez hands them each a shot of clear liquid which Alex takes without question. He throws it back down his throat and watches as Henry does the same, his eyes linger on the way muscles in Henry’s throat move as he swallows. Alex’s mind conjures an image of Henry looks swallowing something very different.

‘Vodka. Lovely. Thank you Percy,’ Henry says. It’s meant to be sarcastic but Henry is already more than intoxicated enough that it just comes out entirely honest and grateful. Alex laughs and Henry pulls Alex back into his arms and lowers his head to kiss his cheek. Alex can see people still sneaking glances at them. He’s noticed a few phones snap pictures throughout the day and the photographer has spent almost as much time taking pictures of the two of them as the bride and groom themselves. 

The first dance is to Frank Sinatra. Theo spins Fenella around the floor in a routine they’ve clearly been practicing for months, but there’s no ease to it. It’s stilted and rigid and Alex has spent enough time over the past few months swaying and being twirled around their kitchen before dissolving into a heap of laughter (and usually shortly afterwards a tangle of naked limbs), to know that dancing should be joyful and freeing – whether it’s dry humping to Get Low, or gently holding each other in front of an altar in a deserted museum, or in the dim midnight light in the kitchen, or, at a wedding. Theo and Fenella just look nervous, more focused on their feet than on the music, or each other.

They look relieved when their parents join them and other guests start to spill onto the dance floor. Pez gestures wildly at a girl he’s spent half the afternoon talking to offering her his hand with a dramatic bow. Henry smiles bashfully at Alex and holds out his hand. It’s warm and a little bit sweaty but firm and unwavering. Alex knows every square in the map of those fingers – the way they curl around David’s leash and dance along piano keys, the way they hold a pen and type emails on the sofa, how they brush softly against his skin, how they feel inside him, teasing him open – they ground him.

He slips his hand into Henry’s and lets him guide them on to the dance floor, ignoring the whispers of the crowd and the people who pause as Henry starts to lead Alex in a dance. Henry hates waltzing but in their slow dances in the kitchen, they’d quickly worked out that Henry’s years of heteronormative ballroom dancing lessons that had taught him to lead were far more ingrained than the hurried lesson that Zahra had forced Alex and June into before his mother’s inauguration balls. So, Henry takes the lead and Alex follows, and the songs fade into each other – a series of slow dances designed for a crowd who have all been waltzing since they could walk. Alex takes a special pride that even drunk and loose limbed as he is, Henry is the best of them. Of course he is.

‘When we do this, we’re getting a better DJ,’ Alex murmurs.

Henry smiles down at him. ‘Was that a proposal? Bit cliché to do it at someone else’s wedding.’

Alex scoffs. ‘Trust me baby, when I propose, you’ll know.’

Henry’s steps falter for just a split second. Not long enough for anybody else to notice, but Alex does. ‘Hey, what?’ he asks softly.

‘It’s nothing,’ Henry says. But well, Alex knows it clearly is something.

Henry’s mouth clamps shut and it’s back – the pinch in the corner of his mouth. He pauses but their feet keep moving like muscle memory. Then, like he did so many months ago, like he always does now when Henry is trying to close himself off, he says slowly, ‘Baaaaaaby.’

Henry inhales sharply. Alex loves how even now he’s so responsive to it, even though Alex sprinkles it around like sugar. How the slow drawl of the word against the shell of his ear still sends him from 0-60 in a millisecond. ‘It’s just ah, well... I’d like to do it. When the time comes, I’d err, like to propose to you.’

Alex blinks. He’s not sure what he’d thought Henry was going to say, but well, it wasn’t that.

‘We ah, we don’t have to talk about it right now.’

‘No,' Alex says hurriedly. 'I – I just wasn’t expecting it that’s all.’

‘It’s just... well I never thought I’d get to do it, not properly. I never thought I’d get to propose to someone I actually love.’

And how the fuck can Alex say no to that? Sure, he’d like to propose to Henry, get down on one knee and tell him he wants to spend the rest of his life with him but in all honesty, he hasn’t really thought that far ahead yet. He’s still recovering from the last year, adjusting to live in Brooklyn, settling into the brownstone. Decompressing and trying not to live life with a fire under his ass for no goddamn reason. But Henry, Henry has clearly thought about this, clearly wants it.

Alex breaks the dance and pulls him in close. ‘You better give me the best goddamn proposal this world has ever seen, Wales,’ he murmurs next to his ear, and he hugs him, wraps his arms tight around Henry’s waist. He lets his head fall onto his shoulder, and they sway.

In many ways, Alex feels as though it’s already happened, like Henry was his and he was Henry’s, from the second he had the signet ring pressed into his palm. Before that really. But one day, probably not any time soon, but one day, Henry is going to get down on one knee and ask Alex to spend the rest of his life with him. And Alex is going to say yes.

***

The music fades into to faster, more recent songs and Alex tries to get Henry to loosen up – ‘I know you can move those hips baby’. He slowly tries to roll his own hips in time with Henry’s while Pez plies him with more vodka.

It’s around the time that Don’t Stop Me Now comes on, and Pez cheers loudly and Henry is all soppy and grinning and lazily slurring ‘supersonic man outta you’ in his ear that Alex decides enough is enough. He’s been so good all day, standing there smiling while Henry stands at his side dressed like the goddamn James Bond offspring that he is, suffering the small minded opinions of people who are probably all very big fans of Henry’s grandmother, and now Henry is half-draped over him and Alex just wants him to fulfil the promise he made at the start of the day.

He knows Henry well enough by now to know that he’s at that perfect sweet spot – drunk enough that he’s carefree and loose and happy, but still completely aware of himself.

‘Can we head out soon?’ he asks in a low murmur. He’s thankful that this stupid venue has stupid private lodges for some reason and that they’re staying in one of them. No need to endure a car ride while a driver pretends not to know that they’re rutting against each other like horny teenagers in the backseat.

Henry’s hair is matted from the mixture of the summer heat and the mass of sweaty bodies and there’s a little bead of sweat making its way down the side of his face – over the hill of his cheekbone, into the well of his cheek, it curves around his chin and traverses down his neck. Alex wants to lick it. Wants to follow it all the way down and map its journey. He buries his face in Henry’s neck. To anyone else, he probably just looked tired, limp and resting himself on Henry. Alex slips his tongue out and licks a patch of skin on Henry’s neck and murmurs, ‘Baby, please.’ Once upon a time, Alex might have dragged Henry off to a bathroom at this point but well, that sort of thing goes far more noticed these days.

Henry looks down at Alex and nods. ‘Let’s go and say our goodbyes,’ he says, and Alex suddenly realises from the strain of Henry’s muscles when he swallows, his heavy lidded eyes that he seems to be having a similar problem.

They catch Pez’s eye and gesture to him that they’re heading out. He rolls his eyes at them, but from the way he’s dancing with the girl draped over him, Alex is pretty sure he’ll be heading the same way soon.

It’s still balmy outside, even as the evening has settled in. Henry pauses for a second, looking out at the groups dotted around for the bride or groom and lets out a sigh as he spots them with a sizeable group of middle-aged guests. ‘Christ,’ he mutters, ‘they’re with her parents. I’ve been avoiding them all day.’

Alex grimaces. ‘We could just leave.’

Henry sighs. ‘No we can’t. We can't leave without saying goodbye to the bride and groom.’ Alex knows he’s right, but he’s so fucking keyed up right now he couldn’t care less about appearances. Damn Henry for being the sensible one.

The murmur of voices gets louder as they approach.

‘I know, he’s such a handsome boy— I know, such a surprise. Such a shame— Yes I know... I remember Theo saying when they were boys how all the girls were interested but he just never gave them a second look. But I never suspected—’

‘Oh Mummy, do stop being silly. They seem like a lovely couple,’ Fenella says and Alex can hear the eye roll in her voice.

‘I honestly don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile so much,’ Theo adds.

‘Well of course darling, but—’

‘Hello,’ Henry says boldly, cutting into the conversation and apparently having given up on any attempt at trying to spare any delicate sympathies. The woman, who Alex deduces must be the mother of the bride from the fact that she has the same extraordinarily long neck, startles and flushes red.

‘Oh, Your Highness, you startled me,’ she says with an embarrassed smile. ‘I’ve been trying to catch you all day.’

Henry smiles tersely. ‘My apologies, Lady Gravely. These events are always so busy.’

‘I saw your mother recently. She was looking much better,’ Lady Gravely continues.

‘Yes, she’s doing very well.’

‘I saw your grandmother too. Remarkable woman, all those years of service. It’s really quite admirable—’

‘Are you staying for the barbecue tomorrow?’ Theo asks, cutting off his new mother-in-law in a fashion that Alex thinks he’ll be paying for for a few weeks. He’s oddly grateful.

‘Unfortunately not, we uhh, we have to go back to London. An emergency has cropped up that I’m afraid we can’t get out of.’

‘International relations emergency,’ Alex adds solemnly. Alex is pretty sure their emergency is an appointment with Henry’s bed and not being bothered by a single living soul for at least 24 hours. 

Lady Gravely blinks and looks at him as though she’s only just noticed he’s there. ‘Yes, I forgot your... friend is an American. Your parents are in politics aren’t they?’ she says, as though he doesn’t have an American flag pinned to his fucking lapel. As though she’s not also been involved in the conversations about security, as though Cash isn’t hovering nearby muttering into an earpiece.

‘Yes Ma'am. My mother is the President.’

‘Yes, I recall.’ Her eyes sweep up and down him and she gives him a thin lipped smile and says, ‘How... impressive,’ in the exact same tone Queen Mary had once called him ‘Boy.’

‘She is, actually. She’s a very impressive woman,’ Henry says. ‘Very passionate.’ He glances at Alex. ‘Must run in the family.’

Alex beams at him, wrapping his own arm around Henry’s waist. He knows it’s more of a comment than Henry should ever really make on politics. His hand glides over the dip at Henry’s waist.

Alex has had the same conversation all day with people who dance around the emails, who have all been talking about them and hurriedly shushing each other whenever they come near. He’s bored and Henry is doing a disarmingly good job at hiding the fact that he’s as drunk as he is. His sleeves are still rolled up to his elbows, and his waistcoat is undone and he’s taken his tie off and undone the buttons on his shirt so that his perfect pointed collarbones are peaking out. Alex just wants to take him to bed and strip the rest of that suit off him. He fakes a yawn and apologises.

Henry quickly stifles a laugh. ‘Tired, love?’

‘Yeah still a bit jet-lagged I guess,’ he lies smoothly.

‘Surely not!’ Theo exclaims. ‘But we’ve not even done the Macarena yet!’

‘I think we’re going to turn in Theo. But really, it’s been wonderful. Thank you so much for inviting us. I hope you’ve both had a truly special day.’

Lady Gravely looks affronted at them leaving, so Alex curls his hand tighter around Henry’s waist. If only his stupid fucking trousers had actual pockets he could slip his hand into. They hug and kiss the happy couple and Theo murmurs a slurred something to Henry as they embrace. Alex can guess from the way Henry looks oddly touched afterwards that it’s probably some sort of apology for their teenage tension and a reiteration of what he said earlier about never having seen Henry so happy.

And then finally finally they’re leaving and Cash and Henry’s PPOs fall into step with them as they make their way across the perfectly manicured lawn to their cabin. Henry has an arm slung over Alex’s shoulder and he can’t even bring himself to shrug him off or to complain about him being a giant. He just brings his own arm around Henry’s waist and they walk, staggered, uncoordinated and laughing at every step. He feels the eyes and whispers still on them until they retreat into the distance. But Alex doesn’t care. He couldn’t give a shit what these people think of him and neither does Henry.  

They slip into their lodge – complete a four-poster bed and a roll top bath, which for some reason is in the middle of the bedroom, and finally they’re alone. Alex feels the tension seep out of Henry.

‘I don’t know about you,’ he says, ‘but I found that... exhausting.’

Alex steps closer to him and brings him into his arms. ‘You did so well. I’m so proud of you. I’m not sure I did the best job at being charming. Sorry. I sort of checked out somewhere around your future prime minster lecturing me on politics,’ Alex says.

‘God, don’t apologise. I don’t blame you. I didn’t expect it to be quite that bad.’

He reaches up to touch Henry’s hair, and brings Henry close. He kisses him deeply, lips sliding against each other like he’s been desperate to do all evening. Henry pushes him back against the wall.

He pauses, and looks torn. ‘I know I said something about wanting you to keep the suit on earlier and I do but also— that bath looks very appealing right now.’

Alex looks at him, his tired eyes and slumped shoulders. ‘Then let’s have a bath, baby,’ Alex says.

Alex steps over to the bath and starts to run the water. He pours in some of the bath oil, watching it start to foam. Then, he steps back over to Henry and slowly pushes the waistcoat off his shoulders. Alex removes his tie, puts them both on the bed, then he begins to unbutton his shirt to reveal Henry’s chest. A perfect mix of toned muscle and soft skin. He places his warm hands on Henry’s broad chest, lets them move upwards slowly until Henry’s shirt falls off his shoulders like water as it ripples to the floor.

He looks up at Henry, hands still on his chest. The muscles in his neck strain where his head leans back. His eyes are closed but his lashes are fluttering, just slightly as he tries to keep his breaths steady. Alex’s hands move to the button on his trousers, he undoes it slowly, and pushes them down. They fall to the floor with a quiet thud – the sound of Henry’s tie pin and cufflinks hastily shoved into a pocket earlier hitting the floor. Henry stands before him in just a pair of tight black boxers.

‘God, you’re so fucking beautiful, baby,’ Alex says, looking Henry firmly in the eye. He looks like a fucking Greek god with his perfect jawline and high cheekbones, toned chest and tight calves and thighs that make Alex go weak at the knees. He doesn’t understand how he got this lucky. He kisses Henry’s shoulder.

Henry huffs out a laugh. ‘You’re one to talk,’ he says. ‘Do you have any idea what you looked like today?’ Henry’s own hands come to Alex’s neck, toying at the collar of his shirt. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a waistcoat before,’ he muses. His flat palms run over the silk and Alex’s breath hitches as Henry’s fingers toy with the buttons. He pushes the waistcoat off Alex’s body and moves his hands to the hem of Alex’s shirt, pulling it from his trousers and sliding his hands underneath the fabric, broad palms travelling up, dancing his pale fingers across Alex’s skin. ‘And your arse in those trousers, darling,’ he croons, bringing his hands round to touch Alex there. ‘It’s really a crime that that jacket covered it up.’ Alex’s breath comes out in a shaky little moan.

‘Hen– baby, if you want that bath you’re going to have to stop talking and get in there.’

Henry smiles and pushes down his own underwear, crossing the room to the bath. Alex strips himself of the rest of his clothes in a frantic whirl, leaving them in a pile at his feet. He hears the soft sloshing of water and then Henry lets out a sigh that sounds positively pornographic. Alex’s head snaps up from where he’s balanced trying to pull his last sock off and he sees Henry, settled in the water, head leaning back against the ledge of the tub, legs surrounded by bubbles. Henry gives him a lazy, drunken grin.

‘Coming to join me?’ he asks.

Alex pulls the sock off his foot and steps over to the bath and climbs in in front of Henry. His muscles release as he slips into the warm water, his back to Henry’s chest. Henry’s chin comes to rest on his shoulder and he places a soft kiss to the skin under Alex’s ear.

‘You were right,’ Alex says. ‘This was a good idea.’ Henry is a comforting weight behind him, trailing his fingers along Alex’s skin. He scoops up some of the bubbles and smears them over Alex’s skin. It tickles slightly and the soft smell of lavender hangs in the air. He leans his head back, resting it gently against Henry’s shoulder.

They’re quiet for a while, letting the frustration seep out of them. Henry is an anchor with his legs bracketed around Alex. ‘I’m sorry for insisting we come to this, you were right. It was… unbearable and people were awful and… I’m sorry. You were right.’

‘I’m not,’ Henry says quietly. ‘I’m glad we came. I... I was so worried about seeing them all again and seeing what they all think but it made me realise how little I care.’ Alex can hear the smile in his voice next to his ear. ‘I love you, and I love the life we have and I just... I don’t care about any of this, or what any of them think. I love going to work every day at the shelter and coming home to you and curling up with David. I’m...’ He pauses, kisses Alex’s neck softly. ‘I’m so fucking happy, Alex.’ He kisses Alex’s neck again, and it feels like little sparks shooting through Alex’s veins. ‘You make me so happy.’

Alex’s heart swells and turns his head to kiss Henry’s neck. ‘Love you baby,’ he murmurs, ‘so much.’ Henry brings his own hands to Alex’s shoulders and starts to knead the skin there in a firm massage loosening his muscles. They're both drunk, so it's a little sloppy and loose but Alex still lets out a moan.

‘That good?’ Henry asks, kissing the tip of his spine.

Alex nods and Henry’s fingers travel down, gliding over his arms and dip into the water to brush Alex’s thighs. His hands travel upwards settling right at the tip of his pelvis, Henry’s fingers stroke the tattoo there – yrs. in bold black ink, written by Henry's own hand – and the water ripples softly around them. He takes hold of Alex’s half-hard dick and Alex lets out a sigh that’s half relief because he’s been waiting for Henry to touch him all day. He strokes him slowly, bringing him to full hardness as he kisses his back, his neck, the spot below his ear. The water sloshes and ripples with the movement of Henry’s hand. Alex can feel Henry’s own dick growing hard behind him.

Henry brushes his nose into the crook of Alex’s neck, puts his lips to the skin there and murmurs, ‘Want you.’

He swipes his finger over the head of his cock and it sends a shiver down Alex’s spine and a soft breathy whine escapes his lips. ‘Have me baby.’

Henry gives him a gentle push forward and he scrambles out of the bath, holding out a hand for Henry behind him. They’re both wet, but he doesn’t care, he reaches for Henry and tugs him forward for a kiss. He needs to be close to him, to touch him, feel the steady anchor of Henry’s skin on his again. It’s hot and heavy and everything Alex has been desperate for. Henry paws at his skin, gripping Alex’s hip in his hand, and walks them backwards towards the bed and pushes Alex down onto it. He steps away for a second, rummaging frantically through his bag until he pulls out the lube. He turns back around looking triumphant and Alex can’t help but laugh. He looks so at ease and Alex is so stupidly in love.

Henry climbs on top of Alex so that he’s straddling him. He can feel his breaths coming faster and more ragged as he strains up to kiss Henry. He can feel the rise and fall of his chest, see every shade of blue in his eyes. He pauses, and bites his lip. He’s sitting atop Alex, running his palms over his chest. Henry drags himself away from the kiss and squeezes the lube onto his hand. Alex can feel the press of Henry’s dick against his, pressing together and he can’t help his hips buck up to meet him. Henry reaches down to hold both their dicks in his slick hand, working them together. A groan slips from Alex’s lips, and the heat curls in his groin. He’s been on a low simmer all day and he’s so, so desperate for Henry.

Henry’s hand pauses and he looks down at him, and through ragged breaths he says, ‘Alex, I– I want to ride you. Fuck, I need it.’ It’s breathy and whiny and it might be Alex’s favourite sound in the world. He can’t help but moan at that, the way Henry so freely asks for it, tells him what he wants.

The ‘please’ slips so easily from Alex’s own lips he barely notices it.

What he definitely does notice is how quickly Henry reaches behind himself and starts to work himself open with his own fingers, so fucking needy impatient that apparently he can’t even wait for Alex to do it for him.

Alex would be insulted, but actually, it’s just really fucking hot.

He can feel the movement of Henry’s hand against his thighs and Henry keeps his eyes trained on Alex as his fingers move inside him, pupils so wide they’ve swallowed the blue. Alex watches him. He truly is a marvel, straddling Alex, all flushed skin and parted pink plump lips falling open to breathy moans and choked little whines and Alex’s own name.

‘Fuck baby, you look so good,’ Alex says, and he can hear the reverence in his own voice. ‘You like that? Hmm? You like fucking yourself on your fingers for me, baby?’

Henry nods frantically, biting down on his bottom lip.

‘You look so fucking good sweatheart. Want to hear you sweetheart.’

The ensuing litany of breathy moans and tight strangled whimpers makes Alex’s dick twitch.

‘Add another one for me, baby,’ Alex says and his hands grip at Henry’s hips, pressing in at the soft skin there. Henry obeys him and slips another finger in, pulling another ragged moan from his lips. His eyes widen and his hips buck on top of Alex and Alex can feel the slide and the slick sensation and he doesn’t know if it’s him leaking or Henry or the lube or all of the above but it’s so fucking good and– 

‘God fuck Alex, I want to ride you. Can I? Please,’ Henry asks. Alex has barely choked out a ‘yes’ before Henry is scrambling and lowering himself down onto Alex’s cock with a distinct, needy whine that Alex feels spread the entire way through his body.

Henry is tight and warm around him. Alex will genuinely never get used to the feeling, and he’ll definitely never get used to the way Henry looks fucking himself on Alex’s cock with those stupid incredible thighs, the way they flex as he lifts himself up and down. This is perhaps not what all those years of riding lessons were intended for, he thinks deliriously.

Henry rises up and rolls his hips as he lets out a low moan and Alex knows he’s there, desperately rutting and whining as Alex hits the right spot. His cock is hard and leaking and he looks so far gone, dilated pupils and a hungry gaze and Alex knows that neither of them is going to last long. Henry’s hair is wild and there’s a bead of sweat trailing down the side of his face. He plants a hand on Alex’s chest and raises himself up off Alex’s dick and then drops back down on to it and the moan that rips itself from Alex’s throat surprises even him. Henry looks down at him. ‘Fuck, Alex,’ he moans in wonder, and he does the same roll of his hips again and drags another moan from Alex’s lips.

‘Baby– fuck, you feel so good, sweetheart. So fucking beautiful, I can’t believe how–’ and Alex is babbling now. Henry whines, fucking himself harder and faster down on Alex as Alex bucks his own hips in time with Henry, and he can feel the warmth spreading through his veins, the coil winding tighter and tighter. ‘Henry, baby I’m so close, please. Fuck I need– I wanna kiss you, H, baby, please.’

And Henry surges forward, and captures Alex’s whines and moans in his mouth. He inhales sharply at the new angle, both of them rocking their hips together, desperately chasing their orgasm. Alex takes Henry’s dick in his hand, and his hand flies over it and Alex can do nothing but tell him how much he loves him, how good he looks, how good he is, how good he feels until Henry falls apart and his cum splatters over Alex’s tanned chest.

Henry barely pauses for a second before he resumes the fast movement of his hips. Henry is staring down at him with clearer eyes that somehow looks even more determined, rising and falling on Alex’s cock with a furious speed. Alex vaguely registers how oversensitive he must be, and moans a wanton, ‘Henry,’ as his orgasm erupts out of him and his hips stutter up into Henry, spilling into him with a choked moan as Henry whimpers from the overstimulation. He leans forward, lifting himself off of Alex’s cock and he brings one of Alex’s hands to his lips and kisses him gently.

‘Okay?’ Henry asks softly as he settles into Alex’s side. He drapes his arm over Alex’s chest.

‘You realise I have your cum all over my chest?’ Alex asks, dragging a hand through Henry’s sweaty hair.

Henry sighs. ‘In hindsight, having a bath first might have been a poor idea.’

Alex lets out a small laugh. ‘Shower?’

‘Hmm, in a minute,’ Henry murmurs sleepily.

Alex smirks. He knows he’ll need to drag Henry’s tired body from bed and into a shower soon, but for now he just kisses his sweaty hair and pulls his body closer. It’s been a pretty awful day in most ways, but a year ago, Alex never could have imagined standing next to Henry at a wedding as his guest and he’ll take all the stupid comments in the world if it means he gets to live in a world where he can walk down the street with Henry’s hand in his. And as soon as this week of organised press appearances and false smiles and pressed suits is over, they’ll be back in Brooklyn, taking David for walks and getting coffee from the café on the corner and arguing over whose turn it is to change the sheets.

‘What?’ Henry asks. ‘I can hear you thinking.’

Alex smiles. ‘Nothing baby,’ he says. ‘Just happy.’