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( January, 2024 )
Alex runs into him on a Thursday.
Like, literally runs into him. Out the door twenty minutes late, running faster than he should be with a thermos full of hot coffee in one hand, a briefcase in the other, he runs into him full force.
Him being his soulmate. Probably.
The soulmate thing is definitely a possibility, Alex thinks, because if soulmates are actually a thing, his has to look like this.
Blonde hair, blue eyes, sharp cheekbones, a chiseled jawline, and legs that don’t seem to end– he’s absolutely devastating. Alex wasn’t even aware they made people who looked like him anywhere other than heaven.
The sound of someone clearing their throat snaps Alex out of his awe, and his eyes lock with the other man’s. The other man, whose eyes are so blue, Alex is having a hard time focusing on his apology.
“I’m so sorry.” A good start, for someone in his state. “I wasn’t looking where I was going, and I shouldn’t have been running, and your shirt’s all covered in coffee now, and– oh my God, do I need to check you for burns?” He’s rambling, he knows, but there’s a possibility he just gave his hypothetical soulmate a first degree burn, and he really doesn’t want that to be their How-I-Met-Your-Father story.
The man stares at him, an amused look on his face. Alex doesn’t know what to do with the warmth that’s settling in his stomach, just because a stranger is smiling at him. A beautiful stranger, at that.
“Do you always talk at a rate of 100 words per minute?” The beautiful stranger says, cocking his head to the side as he eyes Alex up and down.
“Only when I’m nervous,” Alex replies without thinking, because his brain has never been good at controlling its impulses.
The man raises a curious eyebrow. “Why are you nervous?”
“Because I just spilled hot coffee on you, and I don’t want you to hate me for it.”
“I don’t even know you. Hating you would be quite an exacerbated reaction, I believe.”
“Exacerbated?” Alex asks, letting out a short laugh.
“Yes, it means to make a situation–”
Alex cuts him off, “no, I know what it means. I was just wondering if you always talk like you swallowed a dictionary.” Probably not the best thing to say when speaking to your future husband, but it’s not exactly his fault this guy has him completely off his game. He’ll workshop it later.
Fortunately for him– and his future plans– the man grins. “Only when I’m nervous.”
Alex knows he’s being mocked. He doesn’t know how to care, though, which is new, and grossly out of character for him. You learn something new everyday, he supposes.
“Do I make you nervous?” He asks, hoping he doesn’t sound too obvious.
The man shrugs. “Most pretty men do.” He says it like it doesn’t mean much, which is funny, Alex thinks, because he’s pretty sure it means everything.
“You think I’m pretty?” He asks, breathless and desperate, because that’s who he is now, apparently.
“You are familiar with the concept of a mirror, no?”
Alex nods a bit too enthusiastically. The man laughs, and he wants to preserve the sound in one of those seashell necklaces Ursula used on Ariel. He sounds crazy, he realizes, but he also realizes he doesn’t really care.
“Then I expect that you’re aware of what you look like,” the man continues.
Alex grins. “Sweetheart, you flatter me.” He tries not to feel too smug about the way the man’s cheeks flush a bright red at the petname. He didn’t mean for it to slip out, honestly, but now that it has, he can’t say he’s too disappointed in the results.
“Henry,” the man says, holding out a hand. “My name is Henry.”
Alex switches his briefcase to the hand also holding his thermos, takes Henry’s hand, and shakes it while he pretends that he doesn’t feel like he’s on fire. “Alex,” he says, holding onto Henry’s hand like he’ll disappear if he lets go. “Would you like to come back to mine?”
Henry’s face goes from amused to alarmed, and only then does Alex realize the implications of what he’s just said.
“I didn’t mean–” he groans, removing his hand from Henry’s and running it through his hair. “I meant for a new shirt. I live right around the corner, and I can lend you one while I wash yours.”
“You do know I have my own place, with my own clothes, and my own washer and dryer, right?” Henry says, looking like he cares about those facts just as little as Alex does.
Alex shrugs, shamelessly. “I assumed. Maybe I just want an excuse to keep talking to you. Plus, if you let me wash your shirt, it gives me a reason to see you again.”
“You don’t need to do my laundry in order to see me again, you know,” Henry laughs, “you could just ask me out like a normal person.”
“Is it weird to ask you out, even though we just met?” Alex asks, cocking his head to the side.
“You just offered to let me wear one of your shirts while you do my laundry, and you’re wondering if it’s too forward of you to ask me to dinner?” Henry says, looking genuinely shocked at Alex’s question.
“Well, when you put it like that,” Alex frowns.
Henry snorts. “Alex,” he says kindly, “go ahead. Ask me.”
“Right,” Alex nods, trying to process everything that’s just happened. He’s vaguely aware of the fact that his phone is blowing up in his pocket, and he knows for a fact that it’s his boss, probably seeking some sort of sign of life from him, now that he’s over an hour late. He makes a mental note to text him back, knowing Raf will understand the situation he’s in. He’ll just promise the guy a speech at their wedding, or something.
Henry’s staring at him expectantly, and who is he to keep him waiting any longer?
“How do you feel about summer weddings?”
Fuck.
—
( February 2025 )
Henry invites him back to his place after their fourth date.
Apparently, Alex’s unprecedented wedding proposal wasn’t as much of a turnoff as he’d expected it would be, if the way Henry agreed to have lunch with him right after it was anything to go off of. He’d taken the question in stride, and Alex had tried extremely hard not to let it get him too excited about anything further along any road they might possibly go down.
I’d prefer late spring; I burn quite easily, I’m afraid, had been Henry’s answer.
So, naturally, Alex had to bring him upstairs to his apartment, and kiss him up against the door until they both ran out of breath. They eventually got around to throwing Henry’s coffee-stained shirt in the washer– after they’d thrown it on to the floor, along with the rest of their clothing– and after, Henry had waltzed around Alex’s kitchen in nothing but briefs and one of Alex’s button-downs. Alex had nearly passed out from the sight of it alone.
When Henry invites him over after they’ve spent an hour and a half pretending like they don’t want to jump each other’s bones at some nice Italian restaurant on the upper East side, he doesn’t waste time saying yes. He tries not to sound too excited when he agrees, but he’s well past the point of self-preservation. He’s been past it since the day they met, if he’s being honest.
They stumble through the front door, smiling into each other’s mouths, still a bit wine-drunk from dinner. It’s disgustingly cliché, and Alex feels like he went to sleep and woke up in one of those terribly cheesy romcoms his sister used to make him watch, and he doesn’t want any of it to end. Like, ever.
Henry’s hands are on his hips, walking him backward as he kisses every coherent thought Alex has ever had out of his head, when he trips over something moving around his feet. Henry catches him before he can actually fall, and when he looks down, he finds himself face to face with a very confused looking beagle.
“Oh my God, you didn’t tell me you had a dog,” Alex says excitedly, dropping down to pet him.
“It never came up,” Henry shrugs, seeming very disappointed about the fact that Alex’s lips are no longer on his. It’s fucking adorable, and Alex kind of wants to bang his head into a wall. “This is David,” Henry says, smiling down at the overeager pup that has taken to licking Alex’s face very enthusiastically.
“Um,” Alex pauses, wrinkling his nose. “Why?”
Henry looks taken aback, more amused than irritated. “What do you mean, why?” He laughs.
“Like, did he come like that, or did you purposefully name him after your CPA?”
“I don’t have a CPA,” Henry says, rolling his eyes.
“Of course you don’t,” Alex says, standing back up. “You just named your dog after one, so you didn’t have to deal with that part of your adult life.”
“Do you have a CPA, Alex?” Henry asks, exasperated.
“No,” Alex replies easily, “but if I did, his name would probably be David.”
“He’s named after Bowie, if you must know,” Henry says, frowning and crossing his arms over his chest. He looks like a child, and Alex is having way too much fun.
“Why wouldn’t you just name him Bowie? That’s like, a million times cooler than fucking David,” Alex protests.
“That’s a bit on the nose, no?” Henry says, sounding every bit the posh motherfucker that he is. Alex has never been more attracted to someone in his entire life.
He laughs, shaking his head. “You’re so British, oh my God. Y’know, if we’d met a few centuries ago, you would’ve hated me.”
“You really know how to sweet talk a guy,” Henry says flatly, sending Alex into another laughing fit. “No, please,” he continues dryly, “do go on to tell me more about how my ancestors would have colonized yours. Nothing riles me up more than imperialism.”
“I didn’t mean to ruin the mood,” Alex laughs, pulling Henry back in by the waist. “Go back to the part where you were kissing the life out of me, please.”
“Well, when you put it that way, I’m not sure if I should. I wouldn't want you to die from kissing me,” Henry says petulantly, still refusing to melt into Alex’s embrace the way he has every other time.
“Oh, but what a way to go,” Alex says, leaning in so that their foreheads touch. Henry glares at him, but there’s no malice behind it. He’s adorable when he’s pretending to be mad, and Alex has a feeling that that’s going to become an issue somewhere down the line.
“You are detrimental to my resolve,” Henry whispers, his breath warm on Alex’s lips.
“Ooh, big words. Talk dirty to me, baby,” Alex smirks, causing Henry to swat at his shoulder halfheartedly. He’s about to tease him even more, when Henry’s hands come up to cup his face, pulling him in the rest of the way. Henry’s lips are soft, and his hands are in Alex’s hair, and Alex is pretty sure he’s died and gone to heaven. When Henry pulls back, Alex whines in protest, not even the least bit ashamed of the noise he lets out.
“Patience, darling,” Henry says with a smirk, “we haven’t even made it out of the foyer.”
Alex shrugs, “not a problem to me. I’d fuck you against your front door if you asked me to.” Henry’s face flushes, and Alex’s ego swells to twice its normal size.
“Perhaps another time, when my dog isn’t watching us.”
Oh, right. The dog. With a name that sounds more like a punishment, than an identifier.
“Fine. Bedroom.” Alex agrees, albeit reluctantly. He really shouldn’t have put the idea of fucking Henry against the front door out there, because now he’s not going to stop thinking about it until it happens. Worse things have plagued him, though, so he can be patient. (Probably. He’s never tried it before).
Henry grins, grabbing him by the hand and leading him further into the house. Alex tries to take in his surroundings, but the moment his back hits Henry’s dark blue sheets, he forgets how to care about anything but HenryHenryHenry. He feels a bit like he’s drowning, and he’d sooner die, than come up for air.
“You’re gonna kill me,” he tells Henry, truthfully.
“Hm,” Henry hums into his mouth, pulling back with a grin. “What a way to go.”
—
( May, 2025 )
In hindsight, it could have gone worse.
When Henry asked him to come to lunch with his family, Alex agreed without hesitation– because he’s a good boyfriend, and because he wants to know every part of Henry, and that includes the people that made him who he is today.
He knows about Henry’s childhood, and about his complicated relationship with his family. He knows his grandmother is a spawn of the devil, and that his mother grew distant after the death of his father. He knows they’ve been working on fixing their relationship, but that it’s going to take time, as all things do. He knows about the night that Henry had to beg his sister to go to rehab, and he knows about the day he came out to his brother, as well as the less than satisfactory reaction he had to the news. He knows that since getting married, Henry’s brother has been doing better at accepting who Henry is, and that he’s been doing more to learn how to be more supportive.
Overall, Alex would say he had a firm foundation going into his first interaction with the Foxes. They’re running a bit late, due to the fact that Henry didn’t provide a good enough argument for why Alex shouldn’t join him in the shower, but other than that, he thinks they’re on the right track so far.
When they arrive, Henry stops him outside the restaurant, looks him right in the eyes, and says; “Please do not break up with me the moment this is over.”
Because that’s exactly what every guy wants to hear before meeting the family.
“Sweetheart, I spend most of my days arguing with the government about human rights violations. I think I can handle your family,” he replies with a laugh, trying to get Henry to loosen up, if only a little bit.
“You’re saying that because you haven’t met my family,” Henry warns him, looking genuinely worried that this one lunch is going to erase the five months that Alex has spent falling in love with him. Not that he knows about that. Not yet, at least.
He rolls his eyes, places a quick kiss on Henry’s pout, and pulls him inside. He nearly jumps back as a woman with strawberry blonde hair pops out of her seat, a huge smile on her face as she waves them over.
“Henry!” She calls, and reality hits Alex at full speed; he’s about to meet Henry’s family. He takes a deep breath, and jumps in head first.
“Bea,” Henry grins, releasing Alex’s hand to pull her into a hug. When they pull back, Alex reaches a hand out, ready to introduce himself. He barely gets a word out before he’s being pulled into a hug even tighter than the one he just watched Henry receive.
“Oh hello,” he laughs, his voice muffled by her hair. They pull back, and Bea is positively beaming at him. “That went better than I expected it to,” he muses, not realizing he’s said it out loud until Bea laughs, and shoots Henry a knowing look.
“Trying to scare him off, are you Hen?” Bea jokes, and Henry rolls his eyes.
“I was just warning him,” he defends, reaching for Alex’s hand again. “I kind of want to keep him.”
“Kind of?” Alex scoffs, mocking offense.
“I take it back. You are a plague, and I would like you to leave now,” Henry deadpans, causing Alex to let out a laugh.
“You can’t get rid of me that easily, baby. No receipt, no returns,” he grins, smacking an overexaggerated kiss to Henry’s slightly flushed cheek. Henry shoves him off, but squeezes his hand nonetheless.
Bea looks at them, an unreadable look on her face. “You two are gross. Please don’t do this while we eat, I beg.” Something about her smile tells Alex that she really doesn’t mind at all.
“Are you going to introduce me to the rest of your family, or are we going to pretend you don’t know the three other people at the table? Either is fine with me, I just like to know the plan beforehand,” Alex says playfully, smiling when Henry lets out an exasperated sigh.
“I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?” He says, turning to Alex. “Please, do try to be civil.”
“I’ll be on my best behavior,” he replies, grinning overly sweet.
“I highly doubt that,” Henry mumbles, dragging Alex over to the table reluctantly.
Introductions are given, and Alex thinks it’s going as good as it possibly could, given that he has one-sided beef with a past version of a majority of the people seated at this table. He knows Catherine has been going to therapy, and that Philip has been working on unraveling the bigoted garbage their grandmother drilled into his head, but family wasn’t excused from the list of people who had hurt Henry, which meant that family wasn’t excused from Alex’s vicarious resentment.
“So, Alex,” Philip starts cautiously, “what is it that you do for a living, again? Henry mentioned something about law, I believe?”
Alex feels Henry’s hand squeeze his under the table, and he relaxes. “I’m a lawyer, yes,” he nods. “I specialize in immigration cases and wrongful deportations, but I do take on family cases in some instances. Mostly emancipation filings for children trying to leave situations in which domestic violence or abuse is involved, but I sometimes take on custody battles as well.”
Philip nods, looking as though he’s trying to process the concept of someone with a job title as highly regarded as Alex’s, being more concerned with human rights than making money. Alex doesn’t point it out, but the look isn’t new. He sees it almost every time someone like Philip asks about his job.
“That’s very admirable,” Philip’s wife, Martha, cuts in, a warm smile on her face. Alex likes her– he’s not sure how Philip ended up convincing her to marry him, but anything is possible, he supposes.
“It is, yes,” Philip agrees almost instantly, as if he could sense the impression Alex had actively been forming of him in his mind. “It’s very noble work.”
“Nice save,” Alex mumbles, barely loud enough for anyone but Henry to hear. He receives a kick to his shin under the table for it, but he also hears Henry stifle a laugh, so he knows he hasn’t gone too far yet.
“Henry tells me you volunteer at the shelter on occasion as well,” Catherine says, almost as if she’s providing him another opportunity to rub it in Philip’s face that Henry’s found someone like Alex, despite all the homophobia Philip inflicted on him growing up. Alex kind of wishes he could high five her.
“I do,” he confirms, taking a sip of the expensive wine Philip had ordered them. It tastes like every other wine Alex has ever had, but he doesn’t say that, of course. “I offer free legal advice to any of the kids who need it for whatever reason, but I also help them apply for college and other things like that. A lot of them just come to me with their homework, though,” he says, and Bea laughs.
“So you’re a glorified tutor, essentially,” she teases, and Alex shrugs.
“I’ll take it. As long as they’re asking for it, who am I to deny them help? They’re no different than any other kid trying to make it through high school.”
He glances over at Philip, who’s been quiet for a while now. Alex assumes it’s because this conversation topic isn’t one that he’s got any room to speak on, but his silence is still palpable.
“Is that how you two met?” Martha asks, looking genuinely curious. Alex wants to tell her that she should give her husband a lesson in how to engage in conversation, but his mother didn’t raise him without manners, and his goal is for Henry’s family to like him, so.
“No,” Henry answers for him, looking smug. “We met because Alex assaulted me with hot coffee on his way to work.”
“Assaulted you? You ran into me,” Alex protests, turning to glare at Henry.
“You’re blaming a burn victim right now, darling,” Henry says, holding back a smile when Alex scoffs.
“He was literally fine,” Alex reassures a very amused looking Catherine. “It wasn’t even that hot. Plus, I offered him a clean shirt afterwards.”
“What a gentleman you are,” Bea says sarcastically, and Alex can’t help but laugh. She’s on track to being his favorite Fox sibling, at the moment.
Their food arrives, and Alex takes extra care to use the right fork for every dish. He had Henry give him a lesson in rich people dining for a reason– he was not going to fuck this up. Why he’s not allowed to eat salad and steak with the same fork, he’ll never understand. However, if eating salad with a pretentious excuse for a fork off of a plate that probably came right out of Marie Antoinette’s china cabinet is what it takes to win Henry’s family over, then he’ll do it all with a smile.
Everything is going great– mostly because there is food in people’s mouths, rather than words– and Alex has finally begun to relax. They’re in the home stretch, about to order dessert, and he thinks it’s gone much better than he’d feared it would.
And then, because the universe hates him, and never wants him to know peace, Philip opens his mouth.
“You know, Henry,” he says, sounding much more haughty than Alex thinks someone with a past as homophobic as Philip’s should sound, “Gran’s been asking about you.”
He immediately feels Henry stiffen beside him, and a brief urge to whack Philip over the head with his fucking cake fork flashes through him. His gaze flits over to Bea, who looks ready to do the same, and then to Catherine, who is trying her hardest to hide how tentative she is very clearly feeling about the developing conversation.
“Has she?” Henry says, entirely uninterested. Alex can’t blame him.
Philip nods, and Alex wonders if he skipped the etiquette lesson in reading a damn room. “She would like to know if you plan on coming home for the upcoming holidays.” So, there’s his answer. Definitely skipped the lesson.
Henry scowls, his hand tightening its grip on Alex’s thigh. “You mean London, do you? Because I am home, if you must know. This is my home now, and it’s appalling to me that she finds it appropriate to expect me to ever step foot in the same room as her again.”
Alex only feels a little bit guilty about the heat that brews in his stomach at Henry’s harsh tone.
“Don’t you think that’s a bit unfair?” Philip asks, and Alex’s hand starts to gravitate towards his cake fork.
Henry huffs out a laugh in disbelief. “Unfair, Pip?” He scoffs, “Do I think it’s unfair that I refuse to spend time with someone who referred to my sexuality as ‘repulsive desires?’” Cocking his head to the side, he shrugs. “Come to think of it, I don’t think it’s that unfair, considering she tried to put me through conversion therapy soon after my 18th birthday.”
Which. Alex was not aware of that. And now, he thinks Henry’s grandmother should die. Preferably by tomorrow.
“She what?” Bea says suddenly, looking equally as horrified as Alex feels. Catherine looks alarmed as well, tears gathering at her lash line.
“Henry, my darling,” she starts, reaching across the table for his hand. “Tell me you’re not serious.”
“Why would I lie about that, mum?” Henry deadpans, “does it even surprise you, after everything she had to say about my coming out?”
Catherine seems to consider it, a sad look in her eyes. “My baby,” she says softly, “I didn’t know. If I had known, I would have done something–”
“Would you, mum?” Henry spits, pulling his hand away. “It was right after dad died. At my worst, she found me buried by grief, and did her absolute best to ruin me further. And you were off in another world, pretending like you had no other responsibilities. Just because dad died, doesn’t mean that you were no longer a mother, you know.” It’s harsh, but it had to be said, Alex thinks. By the look on Bea’s face, she knows it as well.
It’s silent, and Alex selfishly wishes Philip had never spoken in the first place. It’s a necessary conversation, yes, but he’s of the opinion that it didn’t have to go down in the middle of a restaurant so elitist that the bathrooms have bidets.
“I deserve that,” Catherine says on a shaky exhale. “And I can do nothing to change it, I know. I am so deeply sorry, to all of you, for how I acted. I wasn’t there for you when you needed it most, and for that, I am truly sorry. You needed a mother, and I couldn’t even do that for you.”
Henry’s trying not to cry, Alex can tell, and he wants to do something– tell him that it’s okay, that anyone else in this situation would. He, surprisingly, can’t find the words this time.
“I’ve forgiven you,” Henry starts, “I would be a mess as well, had I been in your situation.” Alex feels him reach for his hand, and he takes it easily. “But in that moment– when she was lecturing me about how to feel, and who to feel it for–” he cuts himself off, swallowing hard. “It was the smallest I’d ever felt.”
And, because Philip apparently skipped not one, but all of his etiquette lessons, he speaks. Again. Never mind the fact that no one asked him to.
“I’m sure she didn’t mean any harm–”
“Well, that’s pretty fucking harmful, dumbass,” Alex blurts, his hand immediately flying to his mouth after he realizes what he’s said.
The table goes silent once again, and he feels a bit like a hole should open up beneath him, and swallow him alive. It’s not that he didn’t mean it, it’s just that now he has no room to speak on who got their etiquette lessons.
Suddenly, Bea bursts out laughing.
Catherine looks as though she’s trying to hold in her own laughter, and even Martha seems a bit amused. Philip, for his part, looks very unimpressed. Alex doesn’t really give a fuck about how he feels, though.
He hears Henry sighing, but when he turns to face him, there’s a fond smile on his face, and it’s directed right at Alex. Overall, it’s not the worst reaction he’s ever received for something he’s said impulsively.
Philip is staring at him with his mouth open, as if he wants to say something, but can’t. Alex can’t help but smirk at him.
“He’s right, Pip,” Bea says, still trying to control her laughter. “There’s no reason for you to defend her. She’s a witch in a cardigan and a pencil skirt.”
“There was no need to be so vulgar,” Philip finally scowls, earning him a swat on the arm from his wife. Alex is genuinely confused as to how Philip convinced her to promise herself to him in sickness and in health.
“There was, dear,” Martha says, clearly disappointed in her husband’s actions. “You were being a twat.”
Philip fishmouths, looking around at the rest of them. He sighs, looking resigned. “I suppose you’re all right.”
“I typically am,” Alex can’t help but say, and this time, he doesn’t even care that his mouth beat his brain to it again.
“I apologize, Henry. I cannot understand how difficult that situation must have been for you, and I am sorry for making excuses for her. I’m still working on unlearning all the rot she drilled into me,” Philip says, looking genuinely apologetic. Alex hopes he’s telling the truth, not only for Henry’s sake, but also for Philip’s safety. That cake fork is still an option, after all.
“Thank you,” Henry replies, “I appreciate your apologizing. I do hope you continue to work on it, though, as it has become abundantly clear that you have a long way to go.”
“I suspect I always will,” Philip says carefully, “you can never learn enough, no?”
“Baby,” Alex whispers, leaning into Henry, “there’s this guy across from me being humble and I think he did something with your brother.”
Henry snorts, jabbing an elbow into Alex’s ribs. “Behave,” he scolds him lightheartedly.
“I suppose you can’t,” Henry says, acknowledging his brother’s sentiment. “And as much as I miss you all, I will not spend the holiday season– or any season, for that matter– in the presence of someone who treated me like I was anything less than a human being deserving of love.”
“I respect that decision,” Philip says, and Catherine nods along with him.
“Maybe we could come to you, sometime? I hear Christmas time in New York is supposed to be beautiful,” she says, smiling warmly.
Henry relaxes, then, smiling back. “That would be nice, yes.”
“I mean, London isn’t out of the question forever,” Alex says, “she’s got like, what? A maximum of five years left to terrorize this planet?”
Bea bursts into another laughing fit, complaining about how her stomach hurts from it. Henry sighs, turning to look at Alex with a soft smile.
“Never change, love,” he says, pressing a quick kiss to Alex’s cheek, all while Bea nearly falls out of her chair laughing.
Later on, after they return home, and Henry has him pressed up against his front door, Alex can’t help but point out that it could have gone way worse.
—
( July, 2025 )
They’re arguing.
Alex worked later than he’d promised to again, and he’d missed the date they’d had set for weeks now, and Henry had barely put up a fight before he stormed out of the room. He feels a familiar sinking feeling settle in his stomach, not dissimilar to the one he felt every time the front door of his childhood home would slam, following a thorough screaming match between his parents.
The thought makes him want to hurl.
Him and Henry don’t fight– they’ve had minor disagreements, sure, but Alex wouldn’t classify them as fights. None of them have ended in one of them storming out, leaving the other all alone, wondering what the state of their relationship is. Standing in the aftermath of their first real fight, he can’t say he likes being stormed out on. 0/10, wouldn’t recommend.
Although Henry has left the room, he hasn’t heard the front door slam– something he had unconsciously been waiting for. He drops onto the couch, letting his head fall back against the cushions. He pinches the bridge of his nose, attempting to relieve himself of the pressure building up in his head, making it impossible to focus on working out the best way to go about handling this situation.
He’s not really had the privilege of growing up with role models of healthy communication; everything he knows how to do, he’s taught himself. He does everything he can to not embody them, and yet, in this moment, while Henry sits in God knows what room of their apartment, refusing to cave in first– Alex has never felt more like his parents in his entire life.
He paces the room, because in some backwards, twisted way, it helps his brain focus if he’s in constant motion. He can’t sit still, lest he go insane. He bites at a hangnail, and the sting of pulling off too much skin has Henry’s gentle voice echoing through his mind, reminding him not to do so. He feels a little sick at the fact that he’s not hearing Henry’s gentle voice in person, but he supposes that might be his fault.
After about 20 useless minutes of nearly wearing a hole into the stupidly expensive area rug Henry insisted on buying, he decides to bite the bullet. If he doesn’t want to be his parents, he’ll start by actually talking to his partner. Baby steps.
When he reaches the end of the hall, he takes the sight of the closed bedroom door as a sign that that’s where Henry’s run off to. He takes a few deep, steadying breaths, and raises his hand to knock.
Before his hand can even meet the door, though, it’s swinging open, and revealing a very exhausted looking Henry. With a red nose, glassy eyes, and messy hair, Alex thinks he’s got to be the most beautiful person on planet earth. Not for the first time, it hits him that if he ever loses this, there’s no chance he’ll survive it.
“Hi,” he says, swallowing the lump in his throat that keeps threatening to make his voice waver.
Henry, to Alex’s relief, cracks a weak smile. “Hi.” He’s about to speak again, opening his mouth at the exact moment that Alex’s brain decides to get the best of him, cutting Henry off completely.
“I love you.”
Which. Not what he meant to say, but it works. It’s not like it’s a lie, either, so there’s that.
Henry stares at him, his mouth still open, seemingly frozen in place by the statement. For what it’s worth, Alex wasn’t expecting it either. Although, he’s a bit proud of himself for keeping it in for so long, seeing as his track record with keeping secrets isn’t the best.
“You what?” Henry finally says, breathless and trepidatious.
“I love you,” Alex repeats, sounding just as sure as he was the first time around. Henry looks too shocked to respond, so Alex continues.
“I love you, and I hate that we fought, and I’m not entirely sure how to fix it because I never learned, but I’m sorry, and if there’s any way for us to prevent this ever happening again, I’d really like you to let me in on that, because you were gone for less than an hour, and it felt like I was losing my mind.” He’s rambling now, but he can’t stop.
“Also, I’m sorry for springing this on you in the middle of a fight, but I’ve been holding it in for like, seven months, so I think I should get some kind of credit for that, but that’s not the point right now. I just…um,” he pauses, trying to catch his breath, “I just love you, and I don’t ever wanna fight with you again, so. Yeah.”
Henry swallows, the beginning of a smile creeping onto his face. “You love me?” He asks, his voice smaller than Alex wants it to be.
“I love you,” Alex confirms with a nod.
Henry ducks his head and reaches for his hand, gently lacing their fingers together. “Are you sure?”
Alex scoffs, squeezing his hand. “Never been more sure of anything in my entire life. Haven’t you learned anything about what happens when you doubt me, baby?”
“No one’s ever been in love with me before,” Henry says quietly, and Alex sincerely hopes he’s lying. He’s not really sure how that’s even possible, seeing as loving Henry feels like something he was born to do, but if he’s the first one to do it, he’ll be damned if he’s not the last as well.
“Well then,” Alex says, inching closer to him, “allow me to be the first.”
Henry grins, dropping his forehead to rest on Alex’s. “I love you,” he whispers, his breath warm on Alex’s lips. “And I’m sorry for walking out instead of talking to you. I know that probably brought up some past trauma, and the last thing I want you to believe is that we’re the same as your parents.”
“I know,” Alex sighs, pressing a soft kiss to Henry’s lips. “I really hate when we fight.” Henry smiles sympathetically, and wraps his arms around Alex’s waist, pulling him in so that there’s no more space between them.
“I know, love,” he says sadly, “but couples fight. I can’t promise it won’t happen again, but I can promise that no matter what, from now on, we will talk it out. I don’t ever want to go to bed angry with you.”
“Me neither,” Alex replies, letting out a breath of relief. His parents never used to talk about it. They used to sleep in separate rooms, and Alex used to pretend he didn’t see his dad getting ready in the guest bedroom, rather than the one he was supposed to be sharing with his wife. Alex’s parents didn’t really work things out; instead, they opted to let the point of the argument grow more and more insignificant as their workloads increased, and took over their lives as the greater stressor. Alex used to watch it all happen from the top of the stairs, his head hurting and his eyes stinging.
Here, in Henry’s arms, he feels his most deeply-seated fear flicker out like a lightbulb that’s been burning too long. The fear that he’ll wind up continuing the cycle, and find himself in a relationship where all he does is argue, leaves his mind for the first time in years, and he would be lying if he said that Henry had nothing to do with it. Therapy helps get to the bottom of his fears, but Henry helps deconstruct them.
“Alex,” Henry starts, pulling his face back, but not making any move to create any distance between them. “I love you, and because of that, I need you to start taking better care of yourself. I can’t be the only one who wants you to have a somewhat regulated sleep cycle, or to drink enough water every day so that you don’t rupture your stomach by the time you turn 30, all because you’ve got more coffee than blood in your body.”
Alex opens his mouth to protest, and Henry covers his mouth with a gentle hand, a knowing look on his face. “Don’t fight me on this. I know it’s your job to argue, and I know you love your job and that you want to make a difference, I do. Trust me, it’s one of the many things I love about you so much. But if you do not start prioritizing your health more, I will personally call your boss, and tell him to put you on sabbatical.”
Alex swallows, nodding. Henry moves his hand away from his mouth, cupping Alex’s face and pulling him into a kiss.
“You’re hot when you’re mad,” Alex mumbles into the kiss, causing Henry to pull back with a sigh.
“Did you hear any word of what I just said?” Henry deadpans, looking extremely unimpressed with Alex’s sudden revelation.
“Yes,” Alex defends, “but I also have eyes. I feel like it’s only fair that I use them, since some people don’t get the luxury of sight, y’know.”
Henry shakes his head, rolling his eyes fondly. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And?” Alex pushes, leaning into his space obnoxiously.
“And I love you,” Henry resigns, unable to hold back a smile. “For a reason unbeknownst to me, though.”
“Mmm, unbeknownst,” Alex hums, burying his face in Henry’s neck, and placing a trail of kisses down to his collarbone. “Talk dirty to me, baby.”
Henry groans, attempting to shove Alex off of him. It doesn’t work, because Alex just clings tighter to his waist, but it was a valiant effort. “Seriously? We just fought and you’re trying to seduce me?”
“What?” Alex asks, shrugging when he pulls back. “Don’t tell me you’ve never wondered what makeup sex would be like.”
Henry seems to consider this, tilting his head to the side in thought. Alex smirks, locks eyes with him, and rolls his hips just enough to make Henry cave. “I hate you,” he groans, entirely unconvincing as he hauls Alex back into their room, and shoves him up against the now-closed door.
“Actually,” Alex grins as Henry makes quick work of undoing the buttons on his shirt, “I have it on good authority that you love me.”
—
( March, 2028 )
“Marry me.”
Henry freezes up, his eyes going wide the moment the words leave Alex’s mouth.
Which is fair, Alex supposes, because it’s not like there was anything leading up to it, or some speech he’d prepared. Mostly because he hadn’t planned for it to go like this in the first place, but that’s besides the point.
The point is that Henry is wearing an old college t-shirt of Alex’s, holding a plate of fresh tamales, the recipe book Alex’s abuela gifted them two years ago as a housewarming gift open on the counter behind him, and Alex is tired of waiting for the ‘right moment.’ Whenever that’s supposed to be.
Apparently, his brain has decided that it’s going to be right now.
He’s had the ring for a while now, but Henry doesn’t know that. A while now, meaning that he bought it after their six month anniversary. Some would call it eager, he would call it confident.
The thing is, Alex hadn’t been confident in the idea of people being permanent until Henry. After his dad left, it confirmed a deep-seated fear that he’d subconsciously held onto for most of his childhood– that eventually, everyone would leave. It happened time and time again; Alex would become too much, and people would leave. The only constant in his life for the past four years has been Henry, and it’s been that way since the day they first met.
Which is why Alex didn’t falter when the jeweler asked him how long they’d been together, eying him skeptically when Alex admitted that it hadn’t even been a year. He hadn’t even felt the need to prove to the guy that Henry was a forever kind of thing. He knew, and that’s all that mattered. And if no one else thought they would last, then Alex really didn’t give a fuck about what anyone else thought.
So when he spontaneously asks Henry to marry him on a Sunday morning in the middle of Spring, he isn’t even surprised that he’s said it. It was inevitable, after all, so he’s not really sure why Henry seems so shellshocked by it either.
They’ve discussed it before– they know they’re it for each other. They established that a long time ago. Alex knows that Henry’s always wanted kids, and that he doesn’t want to live in the city forever. They both know all of those things, and yet, Henry still hasn’t said a word. In fact, he’s got this adorably confused fish-mouth kind of thing going on, and Alex has to try extra hard not to burst out laughing at it.
“You alright there?” He asks, biting his bottom lip to keep from laughing.
“You’ve just proposed to me, and you’re asking if I’m alright?” Henry gawks, the plate of tamales still in his hands, steam rising off of them as he stands stock still.
“Well, you didn’t answer the first question I asked, so I thought I’d try a different approach. Maybe warm you up to the idea of a ‘yes,’” Alex teases, crossing his arms and leaning back on the doorway to the kitchen.
Henry narrows his eyes, seemingly unimpressed at the humor Alex appears to be coping with. “Ha ha.” Ironically, he doesn't sound too amused.
“I asked you to marry me and you stared at me like a deer in headlights. What else did you want me to do?” He replies, matching Henry’s serious look.
Henry glares at him, setting the plate of tamales down on the island between them. “Wait. For like, literally one more hour.”
And Alex is officially lost. “Huh?”
Henry rolls his eyes, and pinches the bridge of his nose in irritation. “I had a ring, too. And an entire speech and everything– I literally spent all day in here, making sure I didn’t ruin this recipe, because it had to be perfect for tonight, and then you came in here and just–”
“Wait,” Alex interrupts, “you were going to propose tonight?”
“Yes, Alex, I was. I wrongfully assumed you could be patient just this once. My mistake.” For someone who was about to ask Alex to spend forever with him, he's got quite the attitude.
Alex snorts, rounding the island so that he’s standing toe to toe with Henry. “So,” he says coyly, smirking up at him, “is that a yes?”
“Are you dense?” Henry shoots back, sounding a lot less malicious than Alex assumes he’s aiming for.
“You’re saying everything but yes, sweetheart,” Alex says, leaning up with a grin.
“I thought the ‘yes’ was implied when I told you I was meant to ask first,” Henry huffs, crossing his arms over his chest adorably. Alex kind of wants to shrink him down and put him in his pocket.
Alex shrugs innocently. “I like to have a clear answer. Consent is sexy, and all that.”
Henry rolls his eyes, but makes no attempt to move Alex from where he is. “I hate you.” The look on his face says otherwise, and it makes Alex’s stomach flip over itself.
“Yeah, maybe,” he says, smiling up at Henry. “But you’re still gonna marry me.”
Henry sighs, his arms finally coming up to rest on Alex’s shoulders. His hands weave their way into his curls, using them as leverage to pull Alex in so that their foreheads are touching. “I am.”
Alex beams, yanking Henry into a heated kiss, and tightening his grip around his waist. Henry’s hands tighten in his hair, before sliding down to cradle his jaw. Alex smiles against his mouth, unable to keep from laughing into the kiss.
Henry pulls back, his hold on Alex’s chin never wavering. “I am going to finish making us dinner, and you are going to sit there and eat it, and when I ask you to marry me, you are going to pretend like I beat you to it.”
Alex just stares at him, unable to find a response. It’s not his fault that Henry being bossy is exceptionally attractive. All he can do is nod like the lovestruck idiot that he is.
“Good boy,” Henry smirks, placing a quick kiss to the corner of Alex’s mouth before pulling away.
“Hey, that’s not fair!” Alex whines, reacting to the praise nearly habitually. “You can’t say that and then expect me to make it through breakfast. That’s cruel and unusual punishment.”
Henry hums, completely unapologetic. “You’ll live,” he grins, going back to setting up the kitchen table.
And when Henry sinks down on one knee, speech and all, Alex makes a lewd joke that has him threatening to rescind his proposal, as well as his acceptance of Alex’s previous one.
—
( December, 2030 )
“I think I want a baby,” Henry says without warning, causing Alex to choke on the bite of pancake he’d just shoved into his mouth.
He coughs, all his food going down the wrong pipe, and reaches for his coffee, desperate for something to wash it all down. The entire time, Henry just stares at him quizzically, as if he hasn’t just brought up a conversation that has severely life-altering consequences.
It’s not that Alex hasn’t thought about it, or that he doesn’t want kids. It’s far from that– the complete opposite, in fact. He has thought about it, extensively and on end, pretty much since the day he met Henry. He would be lying if he said one of the first things he thought about upon meeting Henry wasn’t what their future children would look like. Unhinged and unprompted in the moment, sure, but Alex isn’t known for his patience and nonchalance.
The only reason the question’s taken him by surprise, is because Henry hasn’t brought up the concept of having children since the first time they’d ever discussed their future, which was about five months into their relationship. So, about six years ago.
He hadn’t wanted to push, because he knew Henry had a complicated upbringing, and losing his father at such a young age had ignited an entirely new fear within him, that there was a possibility the same could happen to his own hypothetical child. He’d told Alex he’d always wanted kids, and that had been it. That was all they’d gotten to talking about regarding the subject.
And now, he’s sitting across from Alex at the kitchen table, hair still mussed from sleep, shirtless and breathtaking, asking to start a family with him. So. One could understand why Alex was so taken aback.
“I mean,” Alex says, regaining his voice, “I’m down. I’m just not sure you have the biology for that, sweetheart,” he smirks, knowing it’ll drive Henry up a wall.
It does, which is evident in how hard Henry rolls his eyes. “Don’t do this, I beg.”
“We can definitely try,” Alex continues, smugly. “You know I’d do anything for you. If defying science is on your wishlist, I’ll find a way to put a baby in you, sure.”
“Alexander.” Henry says, exasperated. Alex likes when he gets like this, and Henry hates that he does.
“You can’t spring that on me and expect me not to make a joke about knocking you up,” Alex complains, crossing his arms over his chest like a petulant child.
“If you don’t want one, you don’t have to say yes, you know that right?” Henry asks him, earnestly.
Which, no. Alex has to shut that down immediately.
“Oh, I want one, baby. Hell, I’d gladly have seven if that’s what you wanted. Don’t go thinking that I don’t want this, because I have since I met you, idiot.”
“I’ve always enjoyed your range of pet names," Henry says, leaning back in his chair. “Please, go on. Call me baby and an idiot all in the same breath.”
Alex grins. “You know you love it.”
Henry sighs, shaking his head. “God help me, I do.”
Alex beams, and Henry can’t help but reciprocate. It’s silent between them for a moment, both of them content to just sit with each other.
Unfortunately, Henry decided to start something today, and Alex isn’t about to let him forget it.
“So,” he starts, breaking the blissful bubble of domesticity they’d unconsciously settled into. “A baby.”
Henry ducks his head, his cheeks flushing.
“Don’t go all shy on me now, you’re the one that brought this conversation up,” Alex reminds him.
“It’s not–” Henry raises his head, his face conflicted. “Obviously, it doesn’t have to be now.”
“Well no shit, babe, none of our options are capable of getting a baby to us right this second,” Alex jokes, but Henry doesn’t laugh. Instead, he fixes Alex with an unamused glare. “Sorry, I’ll be serious.”
Henry seems satisfied, continuing on. “I just…” Henry trails off, his eyes focused on something Alex can’t place. “I never thought I would get to have this.” He gestures between them, “I’d never dreamed there would be someone I could see myself starting a family with.”
“And now?” Alex asks, snapping Henry’s gaze back to him.
“Now,” Henry smiles softly, reaching across the table to take Alex’s hands in his own. “Now, I have you, and there’s nothing I want more than to have a mini version of you running around and terrorizing me just as much as you do.”
Alex tilts his head, pretending to contemplate it. “I wouldn’t call it terrorizing,” he says, causing Henry to roll his eyes. “I’d call it testing the limits of your love for me.”
“Jokes on you,” Henry says, smiling. “There are no limits on that.”
“You’re such a fucking sap,” Alex laughs, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to Henry’s nose. “I love you. So much that it makes me go insane sometimes.” He pauses, taking a moment to appreciate the man in front of him; the one who loves him unconditionally, even when he’s being annoying, and gets too in his head about things that don’t matter. The only person who’s stayed long enough to change his belief in love itself. “If you’re ready for a baby, then we can have a baby. God knows I’ve been ready since our second date.”
Henry looks torn between shock and adoration. “That early on, darling? Really?”
Alex shrugs, “earlier, if picturing what our children would look like counts as being ready to have them. I was just waiting for you to catch up.”
Henry stares at him in disbelief. “You really want to do this?”
“Fuck yeah I do,” Alex smiles, “I’m offended you even have to ask.”
“Well, I wasn’t just going to come home with a baby and force you to go along with it,” Henry teases.
“And I appreciate your consideration,” Alex laughs, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of Henry's lips. “But now that you’ve asked, I’m saying I’m ready. However you want to do this, whenever you want to do it; just know that I’m ready.”
Henry swallows, tears gathering at his lashline. “I might have already asked Bea if she would be our surrogate.”
“You what?” Alex says, feeling way too smug about how all-in Henry seems to be about this.
“I was drunk and you weren’t there,” Henry protests, “naturally, I got emotional about it. I may or may not have mentioned that I wished there was a way for us to have a child that looked like both of us.”
“Now I’m just pissed off I said yes to working late last week,” Alex grins, “I would’ve had a field day.”
Henry rolls his eyes, continuing his story. “The next morning, Bea brought me an Advil, a cold glass of water, and offered to be our surrogate. I might have cried all over again. The details aren’t important.”
“Oh, baby, they’re so important,” Alex smirks, cupping Henry’s face in his hands. “And if that’s how you want to do this, I’m all in. Just know that any child with my genes is going to be just as insufferable as I am.”
Henry cocks his head to the side, pretending to think about it.
“I think I’m quite alright with that.”
Alex can’t do anything but kiss him about it.