I.
The bed feels awfully cold and the room is desperately quiet.
Henry’s been gone for a few days in the UK to honor his crown duties. Usually, it doesn’t bother Alex that much. He’s used to it. They’ve been together for a few years now and even if he’s not a huge fan of it, he knows that being apart is an integral part of their relationship.
The thing is that they’re engaged now. Sure it’s only been for a few weeks, and it’s a f*cking miracle that nobody except the two of them knows. They’re not exactly discreet about it, often forgetting to take off their rings when they’re not alone. But still, Henry’s his fiancé and he should be waking up next to him and not 3,400 miles away from him. Even if the distance is a usual component of their relationship, it doesn’t make it any less difficult to endure over time. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. Every time one of them leaves home and doesn’t come back for a few days, the hole in their chest reopens a bit deeper, unable to be filled by anything other than the return of their other half.
What makes the separation difficult is also the disconcerting ease with which one intertwines into the life of the other. They complete each other, each bringing the missing piece the other was searching for before they met, without even really noticing its absence. See, when they’re both home, the day normally starts with Alex turning off his alarm and crawling back into Henry’s warm embrace, his head on this chest, lulled by the soft sounds of his partner’s regular breathing. Knowing this, it’s hard to blame Alex for not enjoying his solitary awakenings.
His morning loneliness puts him in a mood. He sighs before eventually getting up and climbing down the stairs to reach the kitchen. He absently turns the kettle on at the same time as the coffee machine and grumbles when he realizes his mistake as he sets two mugs on the kitchen counter. At least the room smells like the mornings he gets to share with Henry.
David is waiting for him in the living room, his tail wagging at the sight of his dad. He can tell that he’s looking for Henry. He always misses him just as much as Alex. The two of them not able to get used to their favorite person’s absence. He bends down to pat him and place his bowl under his snout. "Hello Davey. Yeah. I’m sorry your other daddy’s still not here. You’re stuck with me again, buddy."
He’s finishing the last drops of his coffee while reading the latest political news when he’s disturbed by knocks on the door. It’s still early and they’re not used to getting visitors so early in the morning. He adjusts his t-shirt and heads for the door. When he opens it, he’s faced with one of their security service guys with a bouquet of flowers in his hand. Alex raises an eyebrow at him. "The delivery guy left that for you," the man says, handing the package to Alex. He thanks him before closing the door and bringing the bouquet with him to the living room.
It’s a bouquet made up of twenty-seven large light blue roses, still fresh, wrapped in a golden ribbon, matching the paper wrapping them. It’s no secret that Alex loves roses. Mainly because it reminds him of his home state but also because they’re the flowers Henry has given him the most since they’ve been together. He’s not stupid about the fact that the two reasons are obviously linked.
He also knows that Henry is a f*cking romantic and that it’s no accident he specifically chooses this type of flower. At least that’s what he deduced after googling their meaning when he was missing his man on one of his many sleepless nights. And, maybe also because Henry gave him a very precise presentation on the language of flowers after a few shots of tequila, not missing the irony behind their love for yellow roses. Alex’s personal classic signature is the mix of pansies - the color depending on his mood - and eremurus.
He contemplates the flowers for long minutes, carefully placing them in a vase. The morning has taken a much more pleasant turn with the light fragrance filling the room.
He notices a card waiting to be read between two of the roses. He instantly recognizes his fiancé’s neat and cursive handwriting. Not that he had any doubt about the sender of his morning gift, but seeing the handwritten note indicates that Henry stopped by the florist before leaving the continent. This guy is so thoughtful. Alex is a f*cking lucky bastard.
"Dearest Alex,
The store was unfortunately out of yellow roses. So I selfishly chose the blue ones to remind you of the color of my irises during the time that distance keeps us apart.
I don’t think you’re capable of forgetting them but I’m hopeful that they can keep you company and comfort you the way my eyes usually do, for the time I’m stuck here.
May they help you fill my absence, even if just for a small percentage.
I love you.
Yours forever,
- H"
A huge smile spreads across Alex’s face.
He’s very close to jumping like a thirteen-year-old girl in front of a message from her first boyfriend but he’d like to keep the little respect he still has for himself. And he has a certain dignity to maintain in front of David.
He takes out his phone from his pocket and takes a picture of the flowers and sends it to Henry, taking care to frame the ring on his ring finger. It will stay on his finger for the rest of the day.
To Baby ❤️:
package successfully delivered
recipient successfully charmed
your eyes are terribly missed
but the flowers will help
i love and miss u baby ❤️
From Baby ❤️:
I miss you too.
Have a good day, my love.
I love you.
Sometimes he really wonders what he did in his past lives to have such karma that he can call Henry Fox "mine."
____________________________
II.
The stack of files still reaches up to his shoulder. Yet Alex could have sworn he had finally managed to reduce it after these 90-hour weeks.
Maybe he is the reincarnation of Sisyphus. If that’s the price to pay for charming a Greek god, he accepts it willingly. But he would still need to be able to spend time with said Greek God.
Between Henry’s various trips to open different shelters and his own work, which he seems more engaged with than his own fiancé, the total time spent together must amount to ten minutes over the last month, according to Alex’s objective estimate. Ten minutes, five of which were on FaceTime and five where Alex was too busy snoring to enjoy his lover's presence.
The sight of this stack horrifies him. If he thought law school was hell, professional life is just as bad. He goes from meetings to negotiation appointments to court before crashing into administrative paperwork. He loves his job, he does. He loves the feeling of making a real impact and knowing that what he does makes sense, but he would just like at least one day with his man, doing nothing. Except enjoying each other’s bodies, preferably.
He’s tired, has little time to work out, and his last meals have all been from DoorDash, the motivation to cook having not knocked at his door as often as the delivery guy recently.
Henry is just as exhausted, he sees it on his face. His dark circles are deeper, his face paler. The lack of time spent with his partner also leaves traces on him.
Like Alex, his fiancé is passionate about his projects. To say Alex is proud is a massive understatement. He loves seeing the sparkles in his eyes when he talks excitedly about the shelters and the children he’s met, the exchanges he has with them. The same animation as when he reads Alex the drafts of his literary projects, always eagerly awaiting his boyfriend’s precise feedback on his creations.
The blond has been a completely different person since his coming out. The beginnings were rough, his anxiety about disappointing his people and no longer meeting their expectations invading his mental space. By spending time in NY and finally being able to devote his time and passion to subjects that truly matter to him, Alex has seen the development of a more fulfilled Henry.
He gradually abandoned perfectly tailored suits with dull ties for a more relaxed style. It’s not uncommon to see him walking David in a cardigan and jeans, quite tight because they were given by Alex. He loves this version of Henry, not because he is stunningly gorgeous but because it’s truly Henry. The free version capable of expressing his personality.
His attitude has also changed, becoming more comfortable with touching Alex in public, succumbing to the temptation to hold his hand in the street or place it on his thigh at official events. Sometimes even stealing a kiss - chaste, because he remains terribly British - even if a few cameras are around. He radiates confidence and it doesn’t leave Alex indifferent. After all that this man has been through, if there’s one person who deserves to be happy, it’s Henry Fox. A twinge of pride crosses him at the thought of his contribution to the blond’s happiness.
He tries to get back to work and stay focused to have a glimmer of hope of reducing the tower resting on his desk. However, he is definitely discouraged when his secretary brings him a new folder of about ten pages. His gaze briefly lands on the photo of his fiancé resting in the frame on his desk.
Tomorrow Alex will curse him but so be it, the only thing he wants is to be with Henry, right now, immediately. He gets up from his chair, grabs his jacket, and quickly says, “Sorry, I’m not feeling well. I must have caught my sister’s flu. I’m going home.” He doesn’t give his colleagues time to respond before he’s already left the room.
He knows Henry is at home, working on his book.
To Baby ❤️ :
Not feeling well, will be home in 10’.
When he crosses the threshold, Henry is there waiting for him with worried eyes. “I just got your message, are you alright love? Do you have a fever?”
Alex throws himself into his arms. “I think I have a severe case of missing-Henrytis. Very serious case, need to touch you for the next 24 hours. At least”
Henry laughs, “I was worried, you cretin.”
He tries to pull away from Alex’s embrace but he holds him back, “No, stay here. I’m f*cking super serious. I’m not letting you go for the next few hours. I’m tired of being apart from you.” Even though he knows Alex is fine, Henry understands that there's a serious undertone in his boyfriend’s words.
Without letting go, he closes the door and leads him to the living room. He makes them fall onto the couch, making sure to press his chest against Alex’s back.
“Are you comfortable, love?” Henry asks
“Oh yes.” He rubs against him. “Best place in the world.”
As he’s about to fall asleep in the comfortable arms forming a protective cocoon around him, his gaze is drawn to a package on the table. “What’s that, baby?” The blond lifts his head. “Oh, it’s a little gift for you.”
Alex reaches out to grab the item and takes it out of the bag.
“It’s the movie you told me about a few weeks ago. You were disappointed not to find it on any streaming service so I went and bought the DVD.” He places a kiss on Alex’s temple. He continues in a soft voice, “We’ll watch it after a nap. Now, rest.”
A strong emotion washes over the younger man. He had mentioned the movie once during a FaceTime where he didn’t think Henry was especially focused on his words, given the late hour it was on the other side of the ocean. He had explained that he watched this movie with his father and June on nights when he was sick and that even though his mother spent her time criticizing the actors’ performances, she always ended up sitting next to them within the first 30 minutes.
He snuggles closer into Henry’s embrace and takes his hands in his, playing with the ring encircling his fiancé’s finger. “I love you so much.” He feels Henry smile against his hair,
“I love you more.”
“Too tired to argue.”
“Then sleep my love, I’m not going anywhere.”
Henry ends up falling asleep with him on the couch, with a ray of sunshine flooding the room with comforting warmth.
When they wake up, after Alex insists, they don’t separate to take a shower. They finish what they started in their bed, completely merging their bodies together.
When they prepare dinner, it’s Henry’s turn to be unable to keep his hands to himself and not just be handsome in the kitchen. Alex doesn’t care and relishes every touch with him. Each brush of contact satisfies his deprived body. His brain receiving its dose of dopamine or whatever substance is released when people in the search of happiness take drugs. Henry is his and he is grateful to never have to wean off him.
The movie plays in the background but the two men are more occupied whispering declarations of love and kissing slowly, savoring each sacred moment of the rare presence of the other, than checking if Alex’s mother was right.
____________________________
III.
The kitchen is filled with the scent of a blend of spices. The lighting is dim with only a few spotlights illuminating the countertop. Alex sways his hips to the rhythm of the Latin music playing from the speaker on the counter, mouthing the lyrics.
It's easy to say he’s in a good mood.
The case he’s been working on at the office for months has finally been wrapped up successfully. Most importantly, the end of this case means he has the weekend off both physically and mentally. Something that hasn’t happened in weeks.
But the cherry on top is that tonight, Henry is coming home. He’s been away in Paris with Pez for important fundraising meetings for their nonprofit organization. A part of Alex would have loved to accompany them, partly because of Paris's charm but mostly because of the significance that city holds for Henry and him.
It’s their city.
On numerous occasions, he’s been close to buying a pied-à-terre in the city, so they could go there whenever he wants Henry to declare his love to him with a perfect French accent. He will never tire of hearing him whisper, "Chaque jour je t’aime davantage, aujourd’hui plus qu’hier et bien moins que demain," even if he has no idea what it means.
He always responds in his very approximative French, "Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?" the phrase making him laugh even more since he learned what it meant. Anyway, it’s always appropriate when he hears Henry speak French (not as much as in Spanish, but still).
His fiancé has brought him back to reality by reminding him that they don’t need an apartment in Paris for him to speak French. Then he said it in French. So they made love. Alex concluded that it was healthier for his productivity not to buy an apartment in France.
The idea is still stored in a corner of his mind, just in case.
The sound of the door announces his man's arrival before he comes into view. The excitement of seeing him again brings a slight flush to his cheeks.
Henry places his coat on one of the chairs and comes up behind Alex to hold him and kiss his neck. “Good evening, love.” Alex turns off the heat under his pan—wanting to avoid past mistakes, thank you very much—and turns around to kiss him more passionately.
He wipes his fingers on his apron before caressing his cheek. “Hello baby, had a good flight?” “
Couldn’t go fast enough. I missed you so much,” he smiles.
“I missed you too,” Alex replies, taking him back into his arms.
They eventually part, the blond letting his partner finish the meal while he takes a shower and unpacks his bags. He comes back down with a bag he hands to the cook who is patiently waiting on his phone, sitting on a chair near the counter.
“I brought you some presents.” He takes out two bottles of wine from the bag and hands one to Alex, who examines it before looking at him with loving eyes.
“Is it—?” He stops, reading the label. Château Pichon Baron, 2015.
Henry nods, “It’s the wine we had the first time we went to Paris together.”
He blinks several times, hoping his long lashes will prevent the tears forming in his eyes from falling. This wine is probably the best thing that’s ever happened to him.
Henry takes his free hand in his. “The first time we drank this wine, I never imagined it was the beginning of all the mornings I’d be lucky to share with you. That I’d be lucky enough to wake up next to you for the rest of my life." He pauses "To be honest, I imagine it would have happened even without it, but I think we can thank it for speeding things up. I think we can thank alcohol in general for its push.”
Images of that fateful night come back to Alex's mind. Especially the memory of waking up with the complete feeling of safety he felt in the arms of his we're-cusual-friend-with-benefits. How Alex could ever have thought for a second that there was nothing more between them when his heart beat for the Brit, he doesn’t know, but he’s glad they got past that stage. When he thinks about it, there’s not a single moment he’s spent with Henry where he hasn’t felt a complete sense of deep serenity. As ironic as it may be, the pair being one of the most anxiety-ridden on this planet.
“You’ve got to f*cking stop doing sh*ts like this, Hen. I swear one day you’re going to fill my heart with so much love it's going to explode.” He pulls him close and holds him tightly. He buries his nose against his bare chest, enjoying the familiar apple scent of his shower gel.
“Mine’s been overflowing for four years and I’m doing pretty well,” Henry retorts. Alex kisses the spot where his heart is. “See, it’s sh*t like that you have to stop saying. How do I compare with my coupons for free kisses when you bring back from Paris the wine from our first night together?” The vibrations from Henry’s laughter ripple through Alex. “But I love your coupons, even if you make them as much for yourself as for me.” He pauses to kiss his curls. “And you’re always giving me gifts too. I could say that your very presence is a gift to my existence.”
“You’re so corny, Fox, we could pop you and sell you in theaters.” Henry breaks away with a loud laugh. “Well, I guess you don’t want the other present then?”
Alex’s eyes widen. He regrets teasing Henry about his very thoughtful gifts because now he lets him stew throughout their meal about his next surprise, just as long as Alex did with the meat they are savoring. At least he can console himself with the wine.
He listens to Henry detail his business trip with Pez before telling him about his last few days. They’re not much different from those he spends when Henry is there, and they’ve already told each other most things during their FaceTimes, but neither of them ever tires of hearing the other one talk.
At the end of the meal, Alex’s playlist plays a Selena song, and he takes Henry into a dance in the middle of their kitchen. He presses their hips together and makes him move to the rhythm of his own, singing the lyrics into his ear. He wraps his arms around his waist while Henry’s arms are around his neck. His mouth traces a line from his ear to his sternum, leaving a few red marks where Alex’s shirt can cover them. The music mixes with the laughter of the two men.
At the end of the song, Henry presses his mouth to his ear. “And no, I didn’t forget to bring you today’s Le Monde newspaper. Come to the living room so I can read it to you.” He nibbles his earlobe and Alex has to use the two functioning neurons left to break away.
He grabs his arm and pulls him toward the stairs, in the opposite direction of the couch. “No, this is going straight to the bed.”
Henry barely has time to grab the newspaper as they pass by his suitcase.
____________________________
IV.
"That's not the issue, Alex. The issue is that you could at least pretend to be interested in the preparations for this stupid wedding." Henry's calm voice doesn't reflect his level of annoyance, Alex knows that. He doesn't scream. They never scream. Unlike his eyes, which thank God, don't have the ability to shoot the lightning bolts they seem to be throwing at him.
"What do you mean 'stupid'?"
"That's not what I meant. And don't change the subject. I waited an hour for you at that damn appointment" He looks at him, arms crossed over his chest. Alex mimics him. "Well, since you think it's so stupid, no need for me to put much energy into it then?"
Henry sighs. "Since you insist on hearing what suits you, there's no point in talking." He heads toward the entrance and grabs the leash before attaching it to David's collar. "I'm going for a walk."
Alex stands in front of the door that just slammed in his face for a few minutes, incredulous. When he came home earlier that evening, apologizing to his fiancé for missing the appointment with the caterer, this wasn't the turn he hoped the conversation would take. After an unexpected call disrupted his work schedule, he admits he forgot he was expected on the other side of city to choose between beef and lamb as the third dish for their wedding.
He also admits that he doesn't care which one was ultimately chosen. It's not that Alex doesn't care about the wedding. On the contrary, he can't imagine a greater joy than finally becoming Henry's husband. To let the whole world know they belong to each other. Even if the leak of their emails five years ago did a big part of that work.
No, what bothers him is this princely wedding.
Yet in the beginning, it seemed like a good idea. Alex has always been committed to fighting for equal rights, for representation, and making everyone's voice heard. Being the boyfriend of the Prince of one of the oldest and most elitist monarchies in the world allowed him to fight from the inside.
In five years, he had to defend his own legitimacy within this family many times. The media always looking for the slightest scandal to invalidate him, searching for a million and one reasons how the perfect Prince Henry, so pure and sweet, could fall for a man like Alex Claremont-Diaz, of Mexican origin, loud, not always a stickler about protocol, and whose mere existence seemed enough to destabilize an institution established for centuries. His mother may have been the first woman President of the United States, but it still seemed like a lot of power for one person.
He has endured constant attacks on his family, his origins, his sexuality, his personality.
Moreover, the attacks didn't only come from dubious magazines but also from ill-intentioned snakes within the crown itself. While the couple could find great support from Bea, Catherine, and more recently Pip, the more distant family members had difficulty accepting the idea that an American with non-white origins could be officially legitimized in the family, and at a much higher rank than theirs. Henry often joked that they must be frightened by the idea that the inbred blood they had preserved for hundreds of years might finally diversify for the pleasure of an heir liking having a dick up in his ass in bed. His own words, Alex swears.
The royal wedding would be a good "f*ck you" to all their detractors, whether motivated by hom*ophobia or racism. To show them that it's the 21st century and their love is no less legitimate than that between two distant cousins of different sexes. That we live in a world where it's just normal and okay.
It would also allow them to thank the people for all the support they have received. While the media loves to criticize their hands that are often a lit bit too wandering for official public figures, their encounters with the people give them a completely different impression. At each of their engagements for the crown, they have been greeted with deep affection and respect.
It wasn't uncommon for a teenager to thank them for what they represent or for another to explain that thanks to them, they finally had the courage to come out to their family. Alex's soul, and undoubtedly Henry's too, vibrates for these kinds of moments. It's precisely the impact he wants to have in this world. The thousands of letters, messages on social networks that his fiancé spends his time reading and re-reading prove to them every day that what they do makes sense and resonates in people's lives. This wedding is also for them, those who didn't have the right to express their love out loud.
Little by little, the crown also saw the positive public opinion of the princely couple and its involvement in the preparations gradually increased. Inversely proportional to Alex's enthusiasm for a wedding that resembled them less and less.
Maybe deep down Henry is right, he's not invested enough in the preparations. But it's not because he thinks their wedding is stupid. The idea that Henry might think so saddens him deeply. Marrying Henry is probably the thing he's most proud of in his life. If he thinks that about their future union, what's stopping him from thinking their entire relationship is stupid?
His heart is heavy when he realizes Henry has left and he's not even sure if he'll come back. This isn't their first argument, but it's the first time one of them has left. He stays there in a state of lethargy, not really knowing what to do with himself without Henry. Tears flow without him realizing it. Minutes pass, he couldn't say how many. All more painful than the others at the thought of having hurt Henry with his unintentionally inconsiderate behavior.
It's wrapped in a blanket on the couch with swollen, red eyes that Henry finds him upon his return.
"Oh Alex, my love." He quickly heads towards him, putting down what he was holding in his hands on the credenza, not taking the time to remove his wet jacket and shoes.
He crouches to gently take his fiancé's face in his hands and wipes his tears with his thumbs before kissing his lips. "We’re not going to divorce Alex, stop whatever nonsense you are making up in your head."
The word divorce seems to snap Alex out of his stupor. "We can’t f*cking divorce if we are not even married." He retorts with a loud sniff.
The blond strokes his cheeks with his thumbs. "We already are in my head." Alex raises his eyes to him. "So why would you f*cking call it stupid? You do know I want to marry you, Hen, don't you?"
Henry looks at him with a questioning look and stands up, making sure to kiss his forehead. "I’m going to make us some hot drinks, take off these wet clothes while you eat the Helados I bought on the way, and then we’re going to calmly discuss all this, okay?"
Alex's eyes land on the ice cream box on the credenza that the man in front of him brought. He takes the package, nodding, touched by the delicate attention of his future husband.
It's something Henry does, buying these ice creams when they're angry. Surely in the hope of soothing the anxieties that arguments bring up in Alex. Henry doesn't try to avoid them, believing that repressing everything wouldn't be in his partner's best interest, but he always feels guilty. He's aware that Alex experiences them with an intensity multiplied by a thousand due to his history with failed relationships in his family. In any case, the technique is terribly effective.
Henry returns a few minutes later with two mugs in hand, wearing pajamas matching Alex's. He puts them on the table before settling under the blanket, taking Alex's hand in his. "I didn’t say it was stupid for us to get married, love, but I think all these preparations are becoming ridiculous. And don’t make me believe you don’t think the same, Alex." He pauses, trying to catch Alex's gaze.
"At first you were bouncing around at the slightest mention of flowers and now you don't even remember the appointment with the caterer." Although he had seemed confident since the beginning of the evening, his voice breaks. "If you no longer want to marry me, it would be simpler if you told me, you know?"
Alex shakes his head, incredulous. He puts the pot of Helados next to the mugs and sits up. "Is that why you left? You thought I didn't want to marry you anymore?" When Henry nods with tears in his eyes, it's the last straw for Alex. He closes the space between them to hug him tightly.
He barely understands the words his fiancé whispers in his ear through his sobs. "I thought maybe you had finally gotten tired of the restrictive life I had to offer you."
"Baby, first, I could never get tired of the life we’re building together. The only restrictive thing about it is having to put up with your stupid face every day. So yeah, it's okay, I think I can manage. And secondly, I want to marry the f*ck out of you. I do. Hell, I do, Henry."
Henry stifles a smile. "Interesting choice of words."
"Well, I want to tell them in front of our friends and our family." He takes a deep breath. "It’s just… I’ve been thinking that... maybe I don’t want to tell them in front of the whole world anymore."
"You don’t want a royal wedding?" Henry raises an eyebrow.
Alex shakes his head. "I’m sorry baby. But no. I don’t think I want one anymore. I really wanted it at first, but since the crown is determined to decide on every f*cking aspect of it, it loses all its magic. I don't want Elizabeth-Mary scattering petals before our passage when her father is the biggest hom*ophobic asshole this planet has ever carried. I don't want to make concessions for our wedding. You don't deserve that, our love doesn't deserve that. It should be celebrated as f*cking glorious it is. But I love you, and if that's what you want, then I promise to get more involved so that the day at Westminster is the most beautiful of your life."
It literally kills Alex to know that the crown has found a new way to control Henry after all these years. But now, he’s by his side and he doesn't want to let that happen.
The blond lets out a small laugh. "Bloody hell Alex, I don't want one either. But you’ve been so vocal about showing those knobhea*ds how wrong they were that I didn’t want to take that away from you. I know the symbolism meant a lot to us, but maybe people don't need to witness our wedding for it to still matter. I feel like we give a lot of ourselves. I think I’d like the wedding to be just for us and no one else."
He feels the knot in his stomach unraveling as Henry speaks. With both of their minds reassured, they agree to revisit the event's organization. This would likely include some very heated discussions at Buckingham, but they don't care. If Henry wanted a barefoot wedding in a seedy restaurant, Alex would gladly give it to him.
He is, however, delighted to hear the more enticing ideas his fiancé proposes. Apparently, the thought of a more intimate wedding didn't start yesterday. He attentively follows the suggestions, often accompanied by photos on his phone. Sunset, Oscar as the officiant, Pez picking his suit, June holding a box of tissues—Henry’s not delusional about his ability to keep his eyes dry—them walking toward the aisle together.
When Henry mistakenly opens his notes app, Alex barely has time to glimpse a note with his vows written on it before Henry puts his phone away, cheeks red, and forbids him from snooping. He hasn't started writing them, knowing very well that no existing words could express the love he feels for the man nestled in his arms.
His comforting warmth makes him want to keep him close for a few more minutes, the end of the ice cream now melted.
"You couldn’t have told me all that instead of leaving?" Henry winces. "Sorry, old habit." Alex nudges his shoulder. "It’s not funny, idiot." He intertwines their fingers while Henry defends himself, saying he had just gone to walk David but apologizing nonetheless, fully aware of the effect seeing a loved one leave has on his fiancé. Alex reassures him, thanking him for thinking of the Helados.
He kisses his head and adds. "Actually, what do you think about the lake house for the wedding?"
____________________________
V.
It’s a cold and rainy November afternoon in Austin. The rain pounds loudly against the large windows of the house, waking little Alma from her nap. In the nearby office, Alex is busy wrapping up his last files before fully enjoying his weekend with the two loves of his life. The room quickly empties, however, when he hears a noise coming from his daughter’s room.
Opening the door, he discovers the four-year-old girl sitting on her bed, watching the raindrops trickle down the windows. He observes her for a few moments. Though she is the spitting image of Alex physically, with her mischievous brown eyes and brown curls, mentally she is Henry’s double, living in a world reshaped by her thoughts. Imbued with a beauty perceived differently than by the eyes. Sometimes, this worries Alex. Her calm temperament and great empathy make her a child with a highly developed emotional intelligence. He fears the day when her dads won’t be there to protect her in a world that isn’t kind to overly good people. Life may be kinder to her than it was to Henry, at least he hopes so.
Then he remembers that Henry’s personality is his main strength and not a weakness, and that it’s one of the main reasons he fell in love with him.
That, and his enormous ass, of course.
“Good afternoon, mija.” He approaches and sits on her bed before kissing her cheek. “I think we’re going to have to find another activity besides biking, mi amor.” She nods, still slightly sleepy. He picks her up before standing up. “I think Daddy is making a cake, do you want to help him?” She wraps her little arms around his neck and smiles, “Oh yes, I’m going to put lots of chocolate in it!”
Then she whispers, “I’ll watch the oven all the time, so the cake won’t be all mushy like last time.”
Alex can’t hold back his laughter. “Yeah, maybe don’t tell Daddy that.” He responds, kissing her forehead.
She giggles as they reach the kitchen. Henry is perched on the countertop, adding sugar to the mixture in front of him. The kitchen is rather orderly, which is quite unusual when the blond cooks.
Even though he makes considerable efforts, having doubled since Alma’s birth, cooking is not a domain of excellence for him. The quiches no longer contain any traces of eggshells, Alex acknowledges. However, for some time, quiches have been set aside for his new obsession: baking. If at first, Alex had trouble understanding how it was possible to mess up an apple pie, it’s been a few months since he could fully enjoy his crumbles and other desserts without having to pretend to appreciate them. In any case, he never tires of seeing his husband in his monochrome black apron tied at the front, perfectly highlighting his shoulder-to-waist ratio.
At the sight of his husband with their daughter in his arms, Henry gives them a tender look. “Already awake, pumpkin?”
“Yes, the rain is too noisy daddy.” She gets down from her father's arms to cling to the other’s legs.
He washes his hands so he can stroke her cheek. “Oh, I’m sorry, my love. Do you want to help me put the chocolate chips in the biscuits?”
“They are cookies, Daddy,” she says with a very serious tone, climbing onto a small stool that allows her to reach the counter.
Alex’s laughter echoes in the kitchen. “Yeah Henry, they are cookies, duh.” He barely dodges the towel that was previously on Henry’s shoulder.
“It’s unfair that she has an American accent AND vocabulary, you know?” he pouts. His husband passes behind him and plants a kiss on his cheek. “The next one will be free to speak like an old-world aristocrat, I promise.” He grabs a ready-made cookie from the first batch. He takes a large bite before leaving the two apprentice chefs to finish the second batch while he completes his paperwork.
When he comes down a few minutes later, the living room is filled with a sweet chocolate scent and a soft melody played on the piano reaches his ears. Glasses perched on his nose, he grabs a book and sits on the couch near the piano where the other two are seated. However, the book’s reading progresses little, as his eyes are rather fixed on the pair playing next to him.
Although Alma is still young, Henry gave in to her desire to play the instrument after her numerous requests and hours spent listening to him play. When she was a baby, Henry regularly played at bedtime to help her fall asleep. The habit has remained over the years, with Alma often requesting this or that piece from her father.
She is currently comfortably seated on his lap, pressing the key in front of her with great excitement and diligence when he signals her. Henry smiles despite the clumsy rhythm of the melody, regularly pressing kisses into his daughter’s hair.
Alex could die from the cuteness offered by the sight. He loves his life so much. Here, in Texas, with his Prince Charming husband and their adorable daughter.
Maybe, in the end, he doesn’t give Philip enough credit. Without his stupid cake, he might never have had this life. However, the thought of having to thank Philip repulses him, and he prefers to think that, if it hadn’t been for a £70,000 cake, Henry would have found a way to him anyway.
There’s no universe where him and Henry don’t end up like this, together and filled with happiness. He lets his mind extol the praises of his romantic relationship with the background of various songs played by Henry, their daughter having apparently decided she had learned enough for the day.
His eyes reopen when he hears whispers followed by Alma’s laughter. It’s the one she makes when she’s excited or ready to do something mischievous. The two seem to be apply in this case. Henry’s whispered words reach his ears even though they are not meant for him, “I think you’re ready, pumpkin, we’ve been practicing for weeks!”
The Texan sits up to better examine them. “What are you two plotting?” Detaching from her father’s ear, his daughter gives him a wide smile, “We have a gift for you, Papi!” “You do?” She nods and signals her father to start.
He complies, and Alex recognizes the tune from the first notes. How could he not recognize it? This piece has been played millions of times over the years. During late nights in their brownstone in NYC where their two bodies swayed gently to its rhythm, each seeking comfort in the presence of the other. During the first dance at their wedding where all their loved ones gathered to celebrate the official union of their love, having witnessed the unofficial one in every moment shared with the couple.
Tears quickly well up as he listens to Your Song echo between the walls of their home, their cocoon. It’s been a while since his husband last played it.
This version has an entirely new flavor compared to the many previous ones. Alma’s off-key notes, with Henry having given her more responsibilities than on the earlier Mozart and Schubert pieces, add an extra layer of emotion because it’s Alma, precisely.
The fruit of their love playing their song.
With her angelic face determined to succeed in her mission and carry out the surprise secretly organized for her papi, her little tongue sticking out of her mouth and her brows furrowed just like her English father.
A wave of pride and gratitude fills Alex as he watches the spectacle unfolding in front of him. He didn’t know how it's possible to generate such a quantity of love, but no matter how, what is certain is that it is very much present and continues to grow every second he spends with these two beings.
His cheeks are soaked at the end of the moving gift they have just given him. He wipes them before applauding and thanking them, blowing kisses.
“Henry Fox, you little sh-,” he cuts himself off at his husband’s reproachful look. “Are you aware that it’s very much wrong to use our dearest lovely daughter to make me cry?”
Alma turns to Alex. “His name is Henry Fox Claremont-Diaz, Papi,” she says with the same serious tone she used earlier.
Henry just laughs.
____________________________
+1
Arthur and Alma are sleeping. Henry is completing the children's photo albums. It's a task he takes great pride in accomplishing every week. It practically started right after Alma's birth, when she delicately blinked her eyes for the first time and squeezed Alex's thumb with her five frail little fingers. Henry, not without a hint of panic in his voice at the thought of letting precious moments slip away, immediately rushed to grab his phone and made a promise to document everything to make sure he never forgets anything.
Excitement is at its peak this week since Arthur ate his first jar of baby food last week.
Alex often teases him about documenting every single detail of their children's lives in these albums. Deep down, they both know that Alex spends more time immersed in the albums than Henry does. Whether it's after a return from a trip or after a long day of work, it's not uncommon for Henry to find his husband engrossed in the books, with a silly smile and tears in his eyes as he reminisces about moments spent with their children.
Alex has been searching for THE gift for Henry for a few months now.
There's no particular occasion. They rarely wait for a special one to give each other the cheesiest or romantic stuff anyway.
But Alex is happy, and he wants to give his husband a beautiful gift, just for the sake of it.
The idea came to him a few weeks ago when he saw Henry filling the albums.
He's trying to find Arthur's film camera, the one he used so much to photograph his three children and his wife, judging by the astronomical number of family photos Alex has seen over the past 13 years. After all, Henry's photography habit doesn't come out of nowhere. Anyway, Alex knows that this gift would make an impact on his husband.
The search began with a call to Catherine. He hesitated to call her at first. The Queen surely had other concerns than finding her late husband's old camera, probably in a doubtful working condition. His son-in-law's intention genuinely touched her, but she quickly apologized for her ignorance about the fate of the object. She had no idea what had become of it after Arthur's death, as the meticulous filling of the albums abruptly stopped after the announcement of the grim diagnosis. However, she informed him that the belongings of the James Bond actor should still be in a rarely used room at Kensington Palace, as no one had ever really had the heart to throw them away or sort through them. He got the green light to take a look.
The idea of asking for help from Bea crossed his mind, but he reconsidered. On the one hand, because she rarely spent time in the palace since her marriage, and on the other hand, he didn't want to force her to delve into memories of a painful time in her life. The same issue arose when Philip's name popped into his mind.
Plus, there was no way he was going to ask someone who wasn't family to open Arthur Fox's precious boxes.
Martha's help was still valuable though, as she informed him that it was Philip who had packed most of his father's belongings after his death and that he had mentioned putting some of his father's photography accessories in them, without really having the heart to take an interest in them. She apologized for not being able to go herself to look for them, as her third pregnancy was proving more challenging than the previous ones, with a need to be on bed rest after a scare in the second trimester.
He resignes himself to wait for one of their trips to the UK. It turns out to be Pip's third child's premature birth that allowed him to go himself to the famous room. While all eyes are on the small but yet healthy newborn, he makes sure that Henry's gaze, as usual, is too busy on their children to notice his absence. Once he confirms this, he slips into the castle corridors.
After nearly breaking two locks while trying to force them with the key Catherine has given him earlier in the day, he finally finds the right door.
He once hoped to stop getting lost in the maze that represented his husband's childhood home, but he has since resigned himself to accept the inevitable: he's doomed to end up in front of the toilet instead of a sink during his insomnia-fueled nocturnal escapades.
He silently closes the door behind him and begins his long search. The boxes are mainly filled with clothes and accessories. Mostly everyday clothes, nothing to satisfy the appetite of the James Bond fan that Alex is. Other knick-knacks, such as Father's Day gifts apparently made in primary school, gives the impression of greater sentimental value. He promises himself to talk to Henry about it, hoping that it would encourage him to come and delve into his father's boxes without triggering an emotional landslide.
He takes his time, feeling like a burglar in his own home. He isn't comfortable with the idea of delving into the past, especially with the void left by his stepfather's death. He feels like an intruder among memories to which he doesn't belong. His discomfort ends when he finally finds the holy grail. The box is at the back of the room on a shelf. The inscription "photo" could have been a good lead in his search if he had seen it earlier.
He picks up the box with both hands and places it on the floor before sitting next to it. His heart quickens with contentment as he opens it and sees the film camera resting in its case, seemingly in perfect condition. He carefully takes it out before turning his attention to the rest of the contents of the box. The camera is surrounded by old films, used or unused, and albums that he dares not open. He sets them aside, promising himself to let Henry and his siblings discover them.
He meticulously keeps the films away from the light, aware that he probably holds the last photos taken by Arthur of his family.
He is nevertheless surprised to find also old Hi8 tapes, all annotated and carefully arranged in chronological order. Not that the surprise is justified, after all, these are the belongings of actor Arthur Fox. Of course, the man spent his time filming his children. There is no trace of the camera that had been used, however, much to Alex's dismay.
Upon their return to America, he immediately takes the negatives to a photographer, a friend of the couple - their trust issues regarding the disclosure of their personal information not having disappeared over time - hoping that time hasn't too damaged the precious memories. Since then, he has been eagerly awaiting his call to pick up his precious surprise.
He had meanwhile managed to get the camera working. It's an afternoon when he's alone with the children, Henry being busy in one of his shelters. He takes the opportunity to try out the camera. It's when he presses the shutter release button with the lens aimed at the two faces covered in red ink laughing in front of him that he notices there's a film in the camera. He takes advantage of it to finish it by taking pictures of his children for the rest of the day.
Once during bath time, twice during mealtime.
Once of Arthur showing a toothless grin -even though judging by their recent nights, that shouldn't be the case anymore soon-.
Once of Alma with her teddy bear in one hand and her illustrated version of Pride and Prejudice in the other, bundled up under the covers waiting for her Papi to come read it to her. After she falls asleep, he plants a kiss on her black curls and goes to stash the camera, in the drawer of his desk, before his husband. He will take the last film to the store before heading to work the next day.
He receives the call from the photographer on the morning. The day drags on monstrously slowly with the impatience he feels at the prospect of finally being able to give his gift to Henry. Even if Alex isn't a disaster when it comes to gifts and little attentions, he can't deny that Henry has a head start on him in this department. After more than a decade by his side, he has to admit that his husband is a damn romantic, greatly helped by his gift with words and his unbridled creativity.
After finishing his sixth coffee of the day and glancing at the clock which hasn't moved since his last five glances even though Alex could swear at least 30 minutes had passed, he gives up on his ability to concentrate for the day and puts on his jacket before rushing to the photography store.
He spends more time there than expected, rearranging the photos in the albums to make sure each one is in its place. Judging by the ones he has at home and the snapshots on the table in front of him, about a year and a half of life unfolds before his eyes.
He feels a surge of emotion at the sight of the younger version of his husband, visibly less marked by life. He seemed more radiant, more smiling, more confident, freer than the Henry he met a few years later in Rio. He looked much more like the Henry he moved in with a few years ago on their farm in Austin, which warms his heart a little.
Once satisfied with his creations, he puts them in a box with the other albums he found in Kensington, not forgetting the three other packages next to them, each destined for Bea, Pip, and Catherine.
If Alex has no doubt about the joy that the reunion with memories of his father will bring, he has fears about the sadness they can also bring up. That's why he hands the package to Henry with an unsteady hand, scrutinizing every feature of the man in front of him.
"I have something for you, sweetheart."
Henry raises an eyebrow and glances at his phone screen before a panicked look appears on his face. "Did I forget an important anniversary? I'm so sorry, Alex, but the date doesn't ring any bell." Alex gives him a mischievous smile. "Or maybe you just happen to have the best husband on earth who likes to cherish his gorgeous favorite man." He pauses. "Like you don't romanticize the hell out of me every day of my life." The blond's eyes soften as he reaches for the offered package. "I do have the best husband," he grins, "thank you, love," he kisses him.
He slowly unwraps the package, careful not to tear the wrapping paper when an impatient Alex is close to snatching it from his hands to open it himself.
It's wrapping paper, it's literally meant to be torn, all the fun lies in that.
His impatience dissipates when he sees Henry's astounded expression after he finally finishes unwrapping the gift and takes out the object from the large cardboard box.
"Alex, is it…?"
"Yes, baby. It's your father's."
Henry's mouth is quickly covered by his hand, trying to conceal his surprise as he sits back down on the chair beside him. He inspects the camera, fixing every scratch on the plastic, turning it between his fingers. He slides his thumbs over the control buttons before opening the back door.
His features betray the disappointment of finding the empty space. Alex hastens to add, "There was a film, I erm, I took the liberty to develop the negatives." There is hesitation in his voice. Perhaps he had intruded a little too much into his husband's past, maybe he had gone too far. "It's in the box. I promise I didn't look at them more than I needed to." Henry nods then widens his eyes at the sight of the rest of the box's contents. He seems unable to utter a word.
He delicately takes out the albums but remains motionless for a few minutes in front of the first photo before letting out a sob.
Suddenly, Alex is not at all certain that his gift is as good as he thought. His voice chokes, "Are you okay, Hen?" At the sound of his nickname, the interested party seems to snap out of his stupor and raises his watery eyes to his husband. He grabs his hand and pulls him towards him. "You have no idea how much this means to me, love. Thank you so, so much."
Alex encircles him and plants a kiss in his hair. "Why don't you get comfortable on the couch while I make us some tea? Then you can tell me every single story linked to those pictures?" Henry nods before detaching himself and heading to the living room.
Alex joins him a few minutes later with two cups in his hands. He puts them on the coffee table before sitting next to him. He hugs him, his chest against Henry's back, covered by a soft blanket.
The night isn't that young anymore as Alex carefully listens to every word coming out of Henry's mouth. Sometimes shaken by an uncontrollable laughter at his and Pip's younger shenanigans against their sister, sometimes choked with tears at the painful reminder of his devastating loss. Each one of them is wiped away by the reassuring kisses or caresses from the Texan on his cheek. He strokes his hip, respecting the necessary pauses for his husband.
They are interrupted by Arthur's cries. It's Alex who takes care of reassuring their son and massaging his sore gums with cold, leaving Henry alone with his photos for a few minutes. He rocks him a few minutes, keeping him close to chest. He's not able to resist the urge press kissing on his soft baby-smelling skin. Luckily, he falls back asleep easily without waking his sister. Alex puts him back in his crib, stroking his blond hair before leaving the room.
When he rejoins the living room, he finds Henry nestled over the box. He stands behind him and rests his head on his shoulder, encircling him with his arms. "There were films too, I had them transferred to an external hard drive, like the photos, if you want to watch them. The camera wasn't there."
"Pip has it." He immediately responds without taking his eyes off the box. "I want to watch them but not tonight. I'd like Bea and Pip to be here, if that's okay?"
"Of course it's okay, H." He kisses his shoulder. "Actually, I made copies of the pictures for them. And for your mom, of course."
Henry raises his head and turns to snuggle Alex. He explains that he didn't know his father had continued taking photos of them. As if his world hadn't stopped at the time of diagnosis, like his son's had.
When they both decide to way past their bedtime and that they should go to sleep before Alma wakes up, Henry squeezes his hand. "Thank you so much, love. I'm so grateful to have you in my life." He inhales deeply against his husband's neck. "You have no idea how much I love you."
Alex lets out a soft laugh. "Oh, I think I do, actually."
