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Henry has always loved the rain.
He knows where this adoration stems from. It looks far better to be hiding out in the palace, moping from room to room like a misguided ghost, when there’s a reason to not go outside. You can’t attend a charity polo match and give winning smiles to the crowd if the match is post-phoned due to undesirable weather.
So many of his teenage, post-father years were spent in the same way - curled up under the duvet with his head poking out, listening to the rain tap against his ancient windows. This was fine, but it was even better when he could muster up the energy to sit up in the window seat and rest his head against the cool glass, looking every bit the cliche but not caring. He would imagine he were a character from an old book, in the middle section where everything seems hopeless, despairing and monologuing and waiting for their love to return in the final act. Where the happy endings live.
Back then, he never expected to get to the last few chapters of his story. He figured his life was that middle portion - bogged down with sad details and mundanity and the sad realisation that happy endings were not written for boys like him.
Now, however, he is completely and happily wrong. He has Alex now - boy made of sunshine, of warm smiles and wandering hands and bright, blinding light. Henry is not in the middle of the story, but neither is he at the end - the middle is simply stretched out, rewritten, everything he knew about those morose endings thrown out the window.
Alex stirs in his sleep, shaking Henry from his thoughts. It surprises him a little and he feels himself blush - here he is waxing poetic about Alex when he’s got him right here in his arms.
At the foot of the bed, David twitches. He’s on his back, paws twitching, and under the faint light Henry can just about make out the greying strands of fur that now adorn his coat.
Henry shuffles a little, presses his lips against Alex’s forehead. He can feel his boyfriend waking now, slowly coming to life limb by limb, and Henry feels a little giddy at the prospect of sharing another day with him.
Christ. This beautiful boy in his palace bedroom, the two of them wrapped up in each other on a dreary English morning, all dark clouds and fat rain drops... If only teenage Henry could be told of what his life would become.
“Mm.” Alex mumbles. “Hen?”
“Yes, love?”
“Make the rain shut the fuck up.” Alex grumbles, and he abruptly rolls over so his face is pressed into Henry’s armpit. Henry actually squawks - a very dignified and regal sound - and pushes him away. Alex laughs. It’s Henry’s favourite laugh, too - deep and throaty and worn from disuse, and the vibrations run right through him.
Alex props himself up on an elbow and looks down at Henry. His eyes are still bleary and his hair is a travesty and Henry is so, so lucky.
“I’m surprised I’m still in your bed.” Alex mumbles, as he rubs at his eye with one hand. “I thought for sure your grandmonster was gonna have the guards haul me to the dungeon or some shit.”
Henry chuckles. They’re only over for a few days, mostly to make some public appearances, but also to visit with Bea and Henry’s mother. Unfortunately this means that by extension Philip and his grandmother also factor in to the visit.
The queen mother had stuck up her chin upon greeting them the day before, and then made a sharp comment about having one of the guest rooms ready for Alex. She managed to look almost sheepish when she was not met with agreement, instead by a powerful glare from Catherine and Henry’s teeth clenching together so tight his jaw had almost cracked.
“She actually did send a whole fleet up here to take you out. Armed guards, assassins, the whole nine yards.” Henry says, lip twitching. “Don’t worry, I took care of them. It’s lucky you’re a deep sleeper.”
“My hero.” Alex says, and he leans down to press kisses to every possible inch of Henry’s face.
Noticing the commotion - Alex making exaggerated lip-smacking noises and Henry trying his best not to giggle - David barks and toddles up the length of the bed, desperate to be in the middle of it all.
“Hey, buddy!” Alex gasps. His hands are pressed to Henry’s cheeks, pursing his lips, and he laughs at the sight before releasing him and instead scooping up the dog. “Good morning, little guy. Goooood morning! Hi, hi, hi!” Alex coos like he’s talking to a baby, holding David to his chest as the dog wriggles excitedly under the attention. Much like Henry, David was not used to being so fussed over before Alex came along - now he can’t get enough.
“Hm.” Henry says, dropping back down on his side and pressing his face to the pillow. “I think, David, you’ve stolen my boyfriend.”
David licks the side of Alex’s face once before deciding, actually, he’s had enough. He jumps down from his arms and finds a new spot to sleep, leaving Alex laughing with his eyes scrunched up. One of Henry’s favourite sights.
“Huh, guess he’s over it. Good thing I have your undying affection.”
Henry rolls his eyes - even though they both know it is so, so true - and opens his arms when Alex comes back to him.
The rain is picking up outside, the wind all but howling through the trees, and Alex exhales. “So. What time do we have to leave?”
Another meeting awaits them, though this time it’s with Pez and some members of their nonprofit. It’s one part of the trip that Henry is actually quite looking forward to.
“Hm, around one, I believe.”
“Oh, sweet. That means we can laze around in bed for a while.”
“I did say to Bea we’d join her for morning tea…”
“Ugh. Fine.”
“That’s not another hour or so, though.”
Alex perks up, and he runs one hand down Henry’s chest, coming to rest against his stomach. Alex’s hands are warm and Henry sighs, his mind three steps ahead of him. He can picture the two of them taking their time, really making a meal of it, lazy kisses and sleepy smiles and- “We can do a lot of stuff in an hour, Henners.”
And then Alex opens his bloody mouth and ruins it.
“Nope.” Henry says, and Alex is already cackling as Henry pushes him off and sits up.
“Aw, but Henners!"
At a dinner the night before, they’d had the misfortune of running in to some boys Henry went to school with. The lot of them were still as sleazy, pompous, and quietly judgemental as Henry remembered, though this seemed to be amplified as they took in the sight of the first son of the United States stood next to him, their fingers intertwined. They made polite small talk for a while, though it was hard to avoid the uncomfortable glances being shared between them and the tension in the atmosphere.
Despite this, Henry had found the whole experience somewhat tolerable. Predictable, even. Just another small meeting to get through. Until one of them clasped his hands together and said, “Okay, Henners, we best be off. We'll leave you to it.”
At hearing the old nickname, Henry wanted nothing more than to call Shaan over and have him throw this old ‘friend’ out of the nearest window. Instead he just gave them his best smile while feeling Alex’s sudden glee beside him, the absolute prick.
As soon as the group had left their earshot, Alex planted himself in front of Henry. His smile was wide and his eyes bright. “Henners? Henners? Holy fucking shit."
Alex is laughing, still, when Henry caves and leans over him, framing his face with his hands pressed against the mattress. “You’re terrible.” Henry says, not meaning it even a little. He leans down and starts pressing kisses to Alex’s neck. Alex’s legs wrap around his middle.
“Hey, I’m not the one who gave you such a bad nickname. You’ll have to take that up with, like, Bartholomew and Harrison and Reginald and-”
“Terrible.” Henry repeats, nudging at Alex’s chin with his nose.
“Guess you’ll have to sort me out.”
“Hmm. Tough work, but somebody has to do it.”
All Henry can hear is Alex’s laughter, his breath against his ear, and the steady, familiar fall of the rain outside, the two of them content and happy and right in the middle of their story.