Archive of Our Own

Henry Fox is a man of simple pleasures.

He likes taking quiet strolls with his beagle, David, along meandering wooded paths. He likes crying over sappy novels in the comfort of his own home. He likes the gradient of leaves in the autumn, from green, to yellow, to orange, to brown.

But most of all, he likes capturing the beauty and vigor of the world in a pixelated rectangle. Snapping the shot at just the right moment and freezing the scenery into stillness forever.

Sure, it’s a bit dramatic, but who doesn’t love a little drama? It’s the drama of his work, after all, that landed him the title of photography club president at UT Austin, a prestige that many don’t seem to understand.

There is, however, one person who seems to value Henry’s work like no one else. Even if he doesn’t quite understand all of the technicality that goes into photography, he’s the closest thing Henry has to a support system so far from home.

“What’re you working on this time?” Pez says, sidling up beside Henry, who is laying on his stomach on the lawn blanket. Henry peels his eye away from the viewfinder with a great sigh.

“Well, I was trying to get a shot of a Northern Mockingbird in that tree up there, but he seems to rather dislike chatty Brits,” Henry says with a finger pointing ferociously towards a grand oak tree across the way, a significant lack of Northern Mockingbirds among the branches.

“Ah, my bad,” Pez chuckles. “But what if I told you I have an even better shot for you to capture?” Pez raises his eyebrows and wiggles them in the way that makes Henry’s skin crawl. That tells him Pez has a less than intelligent plan brewing. That he should probably pack up his things and run. Fast.

Nevertheless, Henry indulges him. “Oh? And what shot could be better than the great Texas state bird?” He says with a hint of sarcasm and Pez lets out a ferocious chuckle.

“Oh, my sweet summer child. Henry, you are never going to get laid if all you do is take pictures of birds.”

“I take pictures of more than bir–”

“Yes, yes, I know. There’s also squirrels thrown in the mix,” Pez starts, and Henry’s eyebrows furrow. “But you know what will get you laid?”

“Why is that your end goal?”

“Hear me out for crying out loud.”

“Okay, fine, if it will get you to stop pestering me.”

“So, the lacrosse season is about to start–”

“Pez–”

“And I may or may not have an interview lined up with a certain captain of said lacrosse team–”

“Pez, no–”

“No other than mister dreamboat himself, Alex Claremont-Diaz.”

“Pez, NO –”

“Pez, YES! And you, my friend, are going to take photos for The Daily Texan ,” he finishes with a shit-eating grin spreading from ear to ear.

“Percival, listen to yourself! I can’t do that!”

“Why not? You’ve only had a massive crush on him since you set foot on American soil, and maybe even before.”

“That’s precisely the reason!” Henry throws a hand over his face and pulls it down languidly, stretching his eyelids into obscure shapes. He notices the birds returning to the trees but places the lens cap on his camera anyways. “Bloody hell!”

“Listen, you’re the best photographer I know, so it’s on mostly professional terms here. We’re desperate for some good shots for the paper. Being in close proximity to Alex is just a bonus.”

“It’s a pretty rubbish incentive if you ask me.”

Pez grabs his shoulders. “It’s your in , Henry! If something comes of it great, and if not then at least you have some eye candy for an afternoon. What do you say ‘ol pal?” He reaches out a hand as if to strike a deal. It feels mildly sinister.

“I am going to regret this, aren’t I…” Henry mewls as he takes Pez’s hand. But at the end of the day the terms aren’t too terrible, now that he thinks about it. Like Pez said, at least he will be able to take some glamor shots of Alex and take in the view, even though the thought does make his palms clammy.

“Not if I can help it!” Pez grins, and before Henry can contest Pez is gone, leaving Henry alone with his camera and the Northern Mockingbirds.

***

“Alright, we’ll just have you stand back here to the left of Pez,” says Melissa, the sports section editor for The Daily Texan , as Henry enters the room. It’s quite a small space, to Henry’s demise, with a lack of natural lighting and rather dim overheads - not ideal for portraits.

Luckily, Henry came prepared with his own lights and diffusers, setting them up around the perimeter of their designated interview space and testing the light temperature and brightness.

“I’m glad you were able to make it,” Melissa says with a smile, Henry’s face still nuzzled in the camera. He jumps a little but meets her with a soft expression.

“The pleasure is mine,” he says placidly.

“You seem to know what you’re doing,” she giggles. “Pez has shown me your work and it’s fantastic!”

“Sure is,” Pez says on cue, striding in with an iced latte and a bout of confidence that has trouble fitting in the room behind him. “He’s the best I know, and I know people darling.” Pez places a firm hand on his shoulder. Henry’s lips press into a tight line at the praise.

“Well, let’s get ready for our star appearance, shall we?” Pez walks over to the interview area and gets set up, going over his questions and making sure the recording software works. Henry follows meekly and Pez looks him up and down.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost, dear.”

Henry leans into a whisper. “Pez, I’m freaking out.”

“Everyone is, Hazza,” he says nonchalantly, and Henry notices that the rest of the crew does, in fact, look mildly frazzled. He’s certain that he’s the most obviously distraught, however. “You’ll be fine. You don’t have to ask any questions, just stand there and look pretty. Shouldn’t be hard.”

Henry is very uncertain that statement is true.

A few antagonizing minutes pass, and suddenly there is a short rap at the door. It swings open and Henry’s heart stops beating for a few seconds – it’s too busy doing cartwheels in his stomach.

In walks Alex Claremont-Diaz, captain of the UT Austin lacrosse team and bonafide heartthrob. He looks around the room, taking in the set-up, and Henry can swear their eyes meet for just one tantalizing moment. He then notices that Alex is wearing his lacrosse uniform, his cheeks high with flush and his hair lightly tousled. He swallows fiercely and a distinct pallor washes over him.

“Ah, Alex!” Pez says, rushing over to greet their guest. Pez has a way of switching on his extroversion that Henry will never understand. A perfect trait for a reporter. “Welcome! We’re so happy you’re able to join us, I understand you’re quite busy.”

“Sorry I’m late, I just got off practice,” he huffs. He holds out a hand and Pez grabs it gingerly. “Nice to meet you. I’ve never been interviewed before, this is sick!” he says enthusiastically, and his voice is even deadlier in person. Silky smooth like a rich barrel-aged scotch.

He turns to face Henry and Henry glances over his shoulder, like there’s no way he could possibly be the object of his attention, but alas there’s nothing behind him but a trash can and a container of decaf that has long since been depleted.

“And who are you?” Alex says, relinquishing his grip on Pez’s hand and swinging it around towards Henry. He almost has the instinct to duck.

Henry grabs his hand docilely and instantly feels the rush of Midas’ touch weaving every fiber of his being into delicate gold. It’s electric. After shaking his hand for a few too many seconds, Pez clears his throat and Henry’s brain reboots. “Erm, right, I’m Henry. I’ll be the photographer for today’s interview.”

“Oh, well in that case make sure to get my good side,” Alex’s smiles.

Without thinking, Henry blurts, “That shouldn’t be difficult.”

Christ.

Alex just giggles before looking him up and down and winking. He fucking winks . Henry has to promptly turn and pretend to throw something away to hide the rising blush on his cheeks, lest he make even more of a fool of himself.

He just has to sit through the interview and take photos, he reminds himself. It’s no big deal. It’s what he loves to do, what he’s good at. But somehow the task feels more daunting than ever.

“Right then, shall we get on with the interview? Don’t want to waste any more of your time than necessary,” Pez calls as he settles into his seat.

“Yeah, sure, let’s do it,” Alex replies.

Henry gets into position behind Pez, readying the camera angle and making last second adjustments to the lights - finding the perfect lighting to highlight the saturated caramel hue of Alex’s skin. Pez pulls out his phone and begins recording.

“Alright, would you like to start us off with a little self introduction?”

Alex adjusts in his seat. “Sure, um, my name is Alex Claremont-Diaz and I’m a captain of the UT Austin lacrosse team. I’m a born and raised Austinite and a third-year political science and history student.”

“Perfect, well thank you so much for joining us today Alex, I’ve heard you’re quite busy at the moment.”

“Yeah, with the season just about to start there’s been a lot of late practice days and espresso breaks for sure,” he laughs and it reverberates around the room warmly. Henry snaps a shot of him mid-chuckle, his eyes creased like the folds of a warm cashmere sweater.

“So tell me, Alex, what are you most looking forward to this upcoming season?” Pez asks.

Alex looks somewhere in the distance, pondering for a second before meeting Pez’s eye contact again. “Hmmm, well I think we have a really strong team in place. Our defense and offense is really well balanced this season and we have some stellar new players that I think are gonna make waves.”

Henry can’t help but be moved by his humility. It’s refreshing, he thinks, to listen to a student athlete – let alone a captain – that isn’t a pompous prick.

“Well, we’re all very excited to witness the new talent! And can I ask, mister captain, what are you doing to prepare for quite possibly your biggest season yet? I know you’re no stranger to coming home with the trophy, but how does UT Austin’s star athlete keep up with the increasing pressure?”

“You better stop with the compliments or you’ll give me a complex,” Alex giggles, and a lock of his black-licorice curls jostles along with him, falling artistically across his forehead. 

A bead of sweat forms on Henry’s temple and he clicks the shutter button. 

“I guess just getting a lot of rest and making sure I’m at peace with myself, y’know. Of course being physically fit is really important for any sport, but I think your mental health is also equally important. If you don’t take care of your mind, how can you take care of your body?” There’s a vigorous glow behind Alex’s eyes. “But that being said, lunges and cardio are very helpful,” he smirks.

It’s infuriating, almost, how Alex keeps subverting Henry’s preconceived silhouette of what a lacrosse captain should be like.

Henry snaps another shot of Alex, the lighting painting him in vibrant oranges, reflecting around in the dark pools of his irises, dancing on the bridge of his nose and the pearlescent sheen of his smile.

He pries himself away from the viewfinder, only to find that it isn’t the camera adding the golden glow. Alex is just naturally that vibrant. There’s no filter, Henry ponders, that could replicate that.

The interview continues, Henry needing to wipe his palms on his pants multiple times, and before long Pez is asking his final question.

“So when can we expect to see you in action, Mr. Claremont-Diaz?”

“Our first game is actually coming up this Saturday. You should come check it out!” He suddenly swivels to look directly into the camera lens. “You too,” he smiles and Henry’s heart skips a beat.

They say their closing remarks and shake hands once more and Pez finally stops the recording. Henry breathes for what feels like the first time since he pressed the damned button to begin with.

“I’d say that went rather well, you’re a natural Alex!”

“It’s easy when I have such a good interviewer.” Alex then gestures at Henry “And photographer… I’ve seen some of your work before in the student pubs, it’s amazing how you can capture environments so clearly! I feel like I’m there.” Alex begins walking towards Henry and his first instinct is to turn and sprint.

He walks around the tripod and Henry immediately notices how good he smells, even after practice. Cardamom and cedarwood wafting around him like an aphrodisiac. Henry absently thinks that he must have cologne for sweat or something ridiculous.

“Can I see some?” Alex asks.

Henry stutters for a second. “Um, some… what exactly?”

Alex laughs and Henry’s shoulders instantly tense. “What’s the matter, do I make you nervous? Some of the photos you just took!”

“Oh, right, well I haven’t adjusted the lighting or anything yet–”

“Oh come on, give yourself some more credit!” Alex croons as his palm collides gently with Henry’s back, startling a gasp out of him. “I’m sure they’re fantastic as is.”

Henry turns to look at Alex and immediately swivels back to the camera, his smile too blinding, his eyes too inviting, it’s dangerous. 

“I guess I can share a few.” He pulls up the photos and begins clicking through and Alex stops him on the candid laughing shot. 

He leans impossibly close and if Henry’s heart wasn’t beating as fast as it could before it sure is now. “Henry, these are fantastic! Wow, you really know your shit!” he says through a wide grin. Henry notices he likes the way his name sounds coming out of Alex’s mouth. How it twists and twirls around in his soft drawl.

“Thank you,” He says, blushing.

Pez then steps forward. “I hate to break up whatever is happening over here, but we do need to take your glamor shots, Alex.”

“Oh, uh, right,” Alex’s eyes linger for a second, flick up and down over Henry’s face, before he turns away and heads back towards his chair. “So what should I do?”

“Just strike any poses that you want, we’ll take a bunch of shots.”

“Okay, got it.”

Henry positions himself behind the camera as Alex begins posing, and notices that it’s increasingly difficult to keep focus when he’s staring directly down the lens barrel.

Then, as if Henry wasn’t having a hard enough time as it is, Alex reaches down, grabs the edge of his jersey, and begins to pull it up. He flashes a mock growl as he raises the shirt higher, revealing suntanned skin and taught muscles. Henry’s brain immediately turns to mush, sloshing around his vacant skull. He pulls away from the camera with haste.

“Sorry, is that too much?” Alex asks through a laugh. “I’ll behave.”

They take a few more photos and Alex says his goodbyes, heading for the door with another devious wink and a pearly grin.

“Hey,” he peeks his head back around the doorframe and looks directly at Henry. “I was serious about the game, by the way. You should totally come if you have the time,” he says, and then he’s gone.

As soon as the door latches shut Pez’s hands are on Henry’s shoulders, shaking what remains of his consciousness out of him.

“Oh he definitely wants you,” Pez exclaims.

“What? No, no, no, Pez you are delusional.”

“Mate, he was checking you out the whole time.”

“He was looking at a camera that I happened to be behind… that is an entirely different scenario.”

“The ab flash was totally for you.”

Henry groans.

Just then Melissa materializes next to them. He had almost forgotten she existed. “I’m with Pez on this one, he was definitely into you.”

Pez pats him on the back. “Well, carry along then, you’ll need plenty of beauty rest before your date.”

“Date? Can you please be serious for once in your life. There is no date , Pez. He invited me to watch a public game. It’s just basic courtesy. And might I remind you he invited you too.”

“We both know I’m the pity invite. Not that I’m mad or anything – he’s undoubtedly your type.”

“My type?”

“You know, tall, dark, handsome, witty tongue, movie star smile, godlike jawline, long eyelashes–”

“Okay, okay, enough,” Henry throws a hand up and Pez devolves into messy laughter.

“Just promise me you’ll at least check out the game. You don’t want to break poor Alex’s heart,” Pez says with mock despair.

Henry stares at him for more than a few seconds. “Fine,” he sighs. “But you are not to interfere.”

“Yes!” Pez cheers. “Operation Get Henry Laid is under way!”

“I’m going to strangle you.”

***

The radiant Texas sun beats down harder than it may have ever before as Henry makes his way towards the bleachers. He refuses to believe there’s any other reason he could be this sweaty.

Pez leads a few paces before him, parting a path through the growing crowd, and picks out their seats directly behind the home-team side lines, of course.

“It’s sweltering,” Henry sighs.

“Henry, it’s February. It’s barely 60 degrees out.”

Henry shoots a glare in his direction. “Blasphemy.”

“Methinks maybe you’re just a little nervous. ”

“Oh, hush.” Henry says, but he knows Pez is right. He’s completely out of his comfort zone, and about to witness what may very well be a reformative experience for his frontal cortex – Alex running in shorts.

Pez just smiles his same infuriating smile. 

Then, Henry hears a sudden commotion beneath them and looks down to see the lacrosse team filing onto the bench one at a time. As luck would have it, Alex sits directly in front of him. He looks just as good as he did the other day, only the natural lighting does wonders for his complexion – he looks almost ceramic. He laughs and jokes with his teammates before noticing Henry and turning.

“Hey gorgeous,” he says. 

If Henry weren’t already sitting he would have plummeted to the ground.

“Hi,” he says lamely and Pez kicks him. “Erm, are you excited for the game?”

“You bet. I’m glad I got some support up here. I’ll need it.”

“Oh, I doubt that.” Henry scoffs.

“I’m serious. You better be screaming for me, Fox.”

Henry can’t hide the blush that rises on his cheeks, and it seems Alex can’t either, a rosy tint overlaying his tanned skin. “I shall do my best.”

“All I could ask of you,” Alex says coyly, and then the coach is calling them all into a pre-game huddle.

The game begins with a roar from the crowd, Henry still unsure when he should be cheering. The teams take their positions on the field and Henry notices that Alex, number 14, is lined up at the midline for the face-off. As the crowd continues to cheer, Henry musters all of the bloody confidence in his body and shouts. “Go Alex!” 

Pez turns to him and smirks. 

“Save it,” Henry grunts.

Across the field, Henry can swear he sees Alex turn his head for a split second and then they’re off, the hard plastic of lacrosse sticks smacking against each other, the ball flying through the air at an alarming speed.

Alex is fast, incredibly fast. Henry has a hard time keeping track of where he is on the field, which is frustrating since Alex is the only person he cares about out there.

He tries his hardest to follow Alex’s erratic path around the field, running from one end to the other in the blink of an eye. He only gets mildly distracted by the harsh shadows being cast on the muscles of Alex’s thighs and the tendrils of curls peeking out from under his helmet.

Then, Alex has the ball and he somehow sprints even faster than before, surely surpassing the limits of the human body, and chucks the little orb into the net with a satisfying flick. The crowd goes wild, and without even noticing Henry is on his feet, yelling and pumping his fist into the air.

The game continues, Alex very obviously taking a backseat for a while to give his teammates a chance to shine. It’s endearing, for sure, but Henry can’t help but get antsy for Alex to do something dramatic and flashy again.

The sun has long since nestled its way beneath the horizon. They are down to the last few minutes of the game and the teams are tied. Henry is leaning forward at a dramatic angle, gripping onto the railing in front of them.

“Breathe, Henry,” Pez says.

Henry snaps back. “What? I’m breathing. I’m fine.”

“Henry, you were white knuckling the railing. If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were a diehard lacrosse fan.”

Henry just scoffs and waves at Pez dismissively. “Not now, Pez. It’s almost over.”

Henry turns back around and catches sight of Alex in the middle of his picturesque gazelle-sprint. The determination on his face is unmistakable. The clock ticks down with only seconds left and Alex lets out a yell as he extends his stick out like a continuation of his own arm and lobs the ball into the net in what feels like slow motion. Then the buzzer sounds and the crowd goes feral. His teammates run to surround him in a giant dogpile-huddle and Henry can see his scintillating smile shining above the crowd and out into the atmosphere.

After the crowd dies down, Pez and Henry begin to gather their belongings and exit the bleachers when there is a distinct tug at the edge of his shirt. He looks down to see Alex grabbing at the fabric from the sidelines, out of breath, his jersey sticking to his sweat slicked chest.

“H–hey,” he huffs between breaths. “Y’have a minute?”

Henry swallows, looks at Alex, looks at Pez, looks back at Alex. “Uh, yeah sure.”

He follows Alex around to the side of the bleachers and can feel Pez’s giddy stare boring into his skull. This isn’t about him, though.

“What’s the matter?” asks Henry.

Alex runs a hand through his curls in some sort of nervous tick. It’s odd, Henry thinks, seeing anything other than seductive charisma plastered on Alex’s face. “I, um, I was wondering if maybe you wanted to get dinner or something?” he says, his eyes focused on some blade of grass between them.

Dinner?

Lord have mercy.

Dinner with Alex Claremont-Diaz.

Just the two of us.

Together.

Eating.

Talking.

Kissin–

“Helloooo? Earth to Henry.” Alex waves his hand in front of Henry’s face and he begins to blink rapidly, pulling himself out of the trance.

“What?”

“Dinner. You. Me. You in?” Alex says in caveman terms, smiling.

“Oh, right, yes. I’m in.”

“Great,” Alex chuckles. “Lemme just wash up real quick and then we can head out, ‘kay?”

“Splendid.”

Alex jogs back into the locker room and Henry can’t stop his mind from wandering off into a daydream full of a wet Alex, soapy suds covering his body from head to toe, steam rising and falling in the mellow draft of the room, his curls defined and his skin rosy from the scald of the shower. 

What a powerful thing the mind is to be able conjure such a visceral image without any fodder to pull from. Henry’s never seen Alex without clothes, of course, but he still has no problem picturing–

“Hey,” Alex chimes, walking back over to a waiting Henry on the bleachers.

Henry sits up impossibly straight. “T-that was quick.”

“Well, didn’t wanna keep you waiting.”

“How considerate,” Henry says, and he realizes how sarcastic it sounds after the words have already left his mouth.

“What, I’m serious! First impressions are everything, you know.”

“Well, you’ve already made a perfectly fine one as far as I'm concerned.”

“Same to you, sweetheart,” Alex winks.

Again with the damn winking .

He stands up from the bleachers and offers a hand. “It’s pretty late so not much is open, but there’s this falafel truck that I love and I was thinking maybe we could grab something there?”

“Youssef’s?”

“Yeah… You know it?”

“Alex, it’s my favorite.”

Alex grins. “Brownie points for me.”

“Indeed.”

They walk to Youssef’s falafel truck and place their order, and within a few minutes they have their delectable provisions in hand, meandering over to a bench.

Alex takes a hearty bite and pulls back with a smear of hummus stretching from his mouth to his ear. Mindlessly, Henry leans over and wipes his thumb across Alex’s cheek, then sucks the hummus right off the digit. “How did you even get it all the way over there?” he laughs.

He draws his gaze away from the smear and sees Alex, eyes glinting, cheeks rosy, mouth hung ajar. They lock eyes for a second that feels like a lifetime, before Henry clears his throat and leans back.

“Lovely weather we’re having tonight,” he says lamely.

He can still feel Alex’s eyes on him. “Yeah… right…”

“You were great at the game, by the way. I mean really fantastic,” Henry offers, trying desperately to bring up some topic to distract from how much he wants to look into Alex’s big stupid doe eyes and kiss him till he can’t breathe.

“Uh huh,” Alex swallows. “Listen, uh, Henry, stop me if I’m being too blunt–”

Henry finally meets his gaze.

“But you’re, uh, like… really hot.”

Hold on…

This can’t be happening.

Henry blinks more times than necessary, any semblance of thought vacating his brain, and Alex looks towards the ground. “Sorry, that was a stupid thing to say. Forget it.”

“No, no, don’t apologize. Erm, thank you… That’s… wow, I mean coming from you?” Henry’s hands then begin shaking promptly. Did the resident sex symbol of UT Austin just look into his eyes and call him hot , or was he still stuck in his locker room daydream?

Alex laughs. “Is this your way of saying you think I’m hot too?”

“Very,” Henry gulps. He hadn’t meant to say it, but the look on Alex’s face quickly quells any regret he may have had.

“Can I hold your hand?” says Alex. Henry looks down between them, their fingers just an inch apart on the bench. Then they’re less than an inch apart. Then Henry wraps his pinky around Alex’s, interlocks the rest of their fingers with a smile, and tries very diligently not to faint.

“I wasn’t lying when I said I’d seen your work before, you know.” 

Alex takes another bite of his falafel and looks out into the field in front of them, distant trees swaying in the late February breeze. His gaze shifts to the sky and it looks like he’s counting every star. Giving them names. 

“I saw it one day randomly when I was going to class, pinned up on a bulletin board. A picture you had taken of a constellation – Orion, I think.”

Henry grimaces. “It was my late father’s favorite,” he says sullenly and Alex turns back to face him. Squeezes his palm.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

“It’s alright, you couldn’t know that. It’s one of my favorites, though.” Henry smiles and he sees his dad’s face among the stars. “He would be glad to know that you like it too.”

“I took it home with me that day,” Alex giggles. “Straight up stole it off the bulletin board.”

“Bold of you to confess your crimes to me,” Henry scoffs playfully.

“You aren’t gonna turn me in, are you Fox?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

Henry’s a bit surprised to hear that Alex knows his last name, but he supposes it must have been written next to the picture. Besides, he’s known Alex’s for years anyways.

Alex shifts next to him and suddenly looks down at his feet. “Can I tell you a secret?”

Henry looks up, studies the lines of Alex’s face. “Of course,” he says softly, rubbing a circle on the back of Alex’s palm, memorizing the texture and the way his skin pulls under the pressure of his thumb. Even if nothing comes of this interaction, he wants to make the most of it. Wants to remember it.

“That night, when I took the picture, I got home and looked you up out of curiosity.”

“Oh?” Henry’s not sure where this could possibly be going.

“You’re pretty fuckin hard to Google, which I guess is a good thing,” Alex says through a messy laugh. “But once I finally did find you, on the photography club’s website, I remember feeling so… enamored.”

“ Enamored? ” Henry begs.

“I know, it’s a big word.”

Henry punches him lightly in the shoulder. “I know what it means you buffoon,” he giggles.

“At that time I was… figuring some things out about myself. And I gotta say, I think you helped me through that a little.”

“Oh? How so?”

“For starters, the things that I was feeling just by looking at a couple goddamn portraits of you were anything but straight, which made me very confused. Horny, but also confused, considering I’d never even met you and also was pretty convinced I was in default settings at the time. I mean, you were basically my bisexual awakening.”

Henry sputters a few times, his mind spinning with all the info that Alex just unloaded. “W–w–wait, wait, wait, wait… what? Me? Of all people?” It comes out in a laugh, because surely he can’t be serious. The man that Henry has been borderline obsessed with for several years having a sexuality crisis over him – a meek photographer who barely has friends. It just doesn’t make sense. Doesn’t add up. It has to be some kind of sick joke.

Henry pulls his hand away. “Okay, very funny. You can let up the bit now, Alex,” he says with a sigh.

“I’m serious!” Alex exclaims, and grabs Henry’s hand again, squeezing it tight.

“You’re… serious?” Henry’s voice is just above a whisper. There’s a glimmer of hope in his voice. But hope is dangerous.

“So serious,” Alex says. “Listen, I know we just met – officially that is – but I can’t help but feel drawn to you. And if that feeling is one sided then that’s alright, I won’t press any further, but if you’re interested, maybe we could… get to know each other a little more?”

Henry sits there, his lower jaw slack with surprise, and wonders if this is how Alex always is – earnest and passionate. He’s almost envious, really. I mean how can he just say exactly how he feels and not want to jump into a river? Not lurk from the sidelines and silently admire until it drives him mad.

Henry notices he’s been silent for too long and sees Alex’s expression start to fade into resignation. “Sorry! I was just still hung up over the whole you finding me attractive, bit–” he throws his hands up in a placating manner and the zeal returns to Alex’s brow.

“Why else do you think I was a nervous mess during the interview? My parasocial crush happened to be photographing me out of the blue.”

“You were nervous?”

“Yeah, you couldn’t tell?”

Henry scoffs. “If that was nervous I’m intrigued to know what confident looks like.”

Alex beams. “Well I guess I played it off better than I thought.”

“Definitely.” Henry glances at his half eaten falafel and sucks in a breath. “I suppose it’s my turn to bear my soul.”

Alex perks up, a mirthful grin sketched onto his jaw. “Oh?”

Henry looks up at the clear night sky and sighs. He’s not exactly accustomed to being very open about his inner feelings – certainly not romantic ones about the handsome devil sitting right next to him. 

“I might have also, erm, known about you before our meeting…” he coughs out. “And I also might have had a massive crush on you for years.” Henry covers his face, too embarrassed to look anywhere but the reddish flesh of his palms.

“Really?” Alex says.

Henry peels away a few fingers. “Yes, Alex, an embarrassingly gargantuan crush – ever since I saw a team picture with you front and center in a school paper. You can ask Percy if you want, he’ll tell you everything I’m sure.”

Alex smiles and a puff of air tumbles out of his nose. “So, what I’m hearing is yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes you’d like to get to know me more,” Alex grins.

Henry’s cheeks become hot and florid. He ponders for a moment what sort of astronomical forces have coerced his life, channeled him down some cosmic stream and dropped him off in the here and now – Alex Claremont-Diaz in the flesh practically asking him out.

“I would love to,” Henry beams, and this time he lets his gummy smile shine through, disregarding his usual hardened exterior.

The warm press of Alex’s palm untangles itself from his grip, leaving his hand cold and empty, but before he can protest he feels it’s embrace again, this time lain across the curve of his jaw and tugging his chin upward slightly.

Henry looks at Alex and there is a deep longing in his eyes, something almost primitive. He then realizes that Alex is looking directly at his lips, waiting eagerly at the precipice for Henry to give him permission.

Henry nods his consent and Alex is on him in less than a second, pressing greedy hands into his hair and caressing his cheekbones like they’re carved out of the finest imported marble.

Alex presses their lips together furiously, giving in to what has obviously been on his mind for a while, and Henry almost laughs at how incredibly absurd the whole situation is – Alex not only liking him back, but doing so unapologetically – something he only imagined in his wildest dreams.

The kiss is everything he could ask for – it starts ravenous and frenzied, hands wandering and breaths tight, then devolves into something slow and passionate. Alex pulls back slightly, reluctant to let their lips part ways but eager to stare at the euphoric shimmer on Henry's face.

“Sorry, I guess I skipped the getting to know you part a little bit, didn’t I?”

Henry smiles. “I can forgive you.”

The moonlight illuminates the edges of Alex’s jumbled curls, framing him in an incandescent glow, and Henry can’t believe how lucky he is. 

“Do you wanna maybe…” Alex trails off, blush rising heavy on his cheek bones, and tilts his head back over his shoulder slightly. “Go somewhere more private?”

Henry must have made some sort of confounded expression, because Alex immediately follows with, “Only if you want to, of course. No pressure! I’m fine with just talking.”

And even though Henry thinks he could probably listen to Alex talk for hours and hours, he also doesn’t necessarily dislike the idea of getting some more ammunition for his Alex-themed daydreams.

“Yes, I think some privacy is definitely in order,” Henry says cheekily. 

Alex stands from the bench and drags Henry up with him “Great. Y’know, wouldn’t want to tarnish your reputation gettin freaky in the park or anything.”

“Nor yours,” Henry says, and he’s still having a hard time believing this is happening.

“Naturally.”

***

They make their way back to Alex’s apartment, which is only a few minutes walking, and Alex fumbles with his keys for a second before swinging the door open and grabbing hastily at any part of Henry he can find. 

He pulls him through the living room, Henry barely having a chance to take in any of his surroundings – his face too full of Alex – and eventually they are in the bedroom, stumbling backwards onto the mattress and laughing.

Henry breaks free and finally takes a breath for the first time in what feels like forever. If breathing weren’t a requirement he would have stayed latched onto Alex for eternity, but alas. 

Alex begins pawing at the edges of his shirt, but before he can remove it Henry pulls back.

“I, um – I’m sorry, I know this is probably ruining the mood, but would you mind if I took a quick shower first? I’ll only be a minute.”

Alex looks up at him, his eyes dramatic in the dark room, illuminated only by a dim floor lamp in the corner. “Would you want me to… join you?”

“J-join me?” Henry chokes. “Like, in the shower?”

“Yeah, I’m quite good at scrubbing.”

Henry swallows and Alex watches the bob of his Adam’s apple. He’s waiting for the moment that Pez pinches him and he realizes this has all been a dream. He thinks back to his shower daydream from earlier and wonders what past Henry would have thought if he were to tell him that fantasy was not too far off.

“Well I shall just have to put you to the test then,” Henry tuts.

They enter the bathroom and Alex gets the water running, checking the temperature every so often until it’s just right.

“You ready?” Alex asks, and Henry nods. He approaches Henry, pulls him into a sweet kiss, and then his hands are tugging at the fabric of his clothing. “D’you mind if I help you with this?” He smirks.

“Be my guest,” replies Henry, and Alex wastes no time pulling his shirt off before playing with the edge of his waistband. Alex slides his hands under the fabric, one palm grabbing at each thigh, and slowly tugs down.

“Wow,” Alex whistles. “You’re packin’ Fox.”

Henry groans with embarrassment. “Please, spare me.”

“Hey, nothing to be ashamed of,” Alex coos, rubbing his hands up and down Henry’s bare torso. Henry twitches at the touch.

“Alright then, your turn,” Henry says. He might just die if Alex doesn’t take his clothes off right this instant.

Alex takes the cue and removes his shirt in one fluid motion, and Henry can’t help but gawk at the defined muscles of his abdomen. Then, Alex begins tugging at one end of the drawstring of his pants languidly, a smirk rising on his lips like he knows exactly what he’s doing. Henry practically whines in protest.

“With haste, dear Alex.”

“This is as fast as I can go. That is, unless someone were to help me.”

“You devil,” Henry mutters, and he wastes no time reaching for the strings and pulling tight. They come undone easily, and then Henry is looping his fingers underneath the curve of Alex’s waistband and pulling down slowly.

He’s then met with the shocking reality of Alex in the nude, standing there in front of him like some god on earth. Henry doesn’t know what to say so he just stares, taking in Alex in all of his sculpted glory, watching as his muscles tense and relax with every tender touch.

“That good, huh?”

Henry nods, eyes still trained on Alex’s body.

By now the shower is ready and Alex grabs him by the hand, leading him towards the steaming chamber. As soon as he turns around Henry’s eyes betray his trust and begin wandering towards Alex’s callipygian rear – years of lacrosse definitely paid off, he thinks. 

He almost feels ashamed, staring at Alex so objectively, but then realizes that he’s allowed to need and want, especially when Alex wants him too.

The enter the shower, the sting of hot water pelting down on them, steam billowing out from the shock of their bare skin, and then Alex has his hands on Henry’s face, on his arms, on his stomach, on his–

“Sorry, too soon?” Alex asks as Henry jumps with the sudden sensation.

“No, not at all. Just, uh, excited I suppose. Please, do continue.”

Alex looks down at a growing Henry. “Yeah, I’d say excited is probably the right word.”

With that, Alex drops to his knees and Henry can’t even begin to describe the sensation, feeling so impossibly close to Alex, his hands still grabbing at his legs and ass rapaciously as he bobs back and forth. It’s all to fucking unreal.

Before long Henry is shuddering against the shower tiles, streams of water dripping down his abdomen, looking down at Alex’s big brown eyes and wondering how he ever found himself in this situation.

After a moment of recovery, Henry decides to return the favor and give Alex the best blowjob of his life. Alex is surprisingly vocal, which Henry of course doesn’t mind – he rather enjoys the praise, knowing that Alex is feeling just as much pleasure as he is, if not more. 

Alex digs his fingers into Henry’s hair and exclaims loudly as he finishes, panting heavily and throwing his head back – laughing, breathless, into the misty air.

“H–Holy shit, Hen.”

Hen… he quite likes that. “Holy shit indeed.”

“You’re fucking amazing.”

“I could say the same about you,” Henry smiles as he leans into another soft kiss, the water still pelting down in little orbs across their skin.

They clean off and after a period of kissing that Henry would rather not quantify, they finally get back into their clothes and make their way to the bedroom.

“Alright, well I’m usually a left side of the bed kinda guy, but for you I can make an exception if needed,” Alex says, grabbing extra pillows and blankets from a basket in the corner of the room.

“I– pardon?”

“Like if you want to sleep on the left side that’s okay.”

Henry looks at the bed, then back at Alex. “Oh, erm, you want me to stay the night? Sorry, I just figured–”

“Henry,” Alex coos, and then he’s right in front of him, only a breath away, holding onto the dip of his waist. “I’m serious about this. You’re not just a one night stand to me. And if we’re gonna do this I’m gonna be all in, which starts with knowing what side of the bed you like,” he snickers.

Henry smiles, his cheeks flush and his stomach full of butterflies. “Right is perfect.”

What luck, he thinks, to have found someone that treats him like he’s worth something.

They slide under the covers and he looks into Alex’s eyes again, the fire still burning deep within the wells of his pupils, and distantly wishes he had his camera.

It’s all just too picture perfect.