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“Arthur? What do we say when someone gives you a thoughtful gift?”
“Um… Thank you?”
“Right. Why don’t you go say that to Uncle Alex? He flew all the way from America for Christmas, you know?”
It’s an innocent pair of words, and yet when they leave Martha’s mouth as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, Henry’s heart jumps to his throat.
The thing is, it’s not the first time Henry thought of Alex as Arthur’s uncle. Even though they aren’t married or even engaged yet—he has a ring , but he hasn’t gathered the courage to ask Alex yet; just for the minuscule possibility that Alex doesn’t want a forever with him—Henry can’t help thinking of Alex as his partner, just as much Arthur’s uncle as Henry himself is. Too many times, the words Uncle Alex almost left his mouth until he bit his tongue, stomach churning with dread that Alex wouldn’t want that.
The last person he thought would see Arthur as Alex’s nephew— well, maybe behind the Queen and Philip, but Mary pretends that Alex doesn’t exist most of the time anyway—was Martha. And yet. Yet. Martha smiles as she nudges Arthur in Alex’s direction, completely unbothered by the implications of what she just said. Henry’s hand grip tightens so much around Alex’s hand that his boyfriend gives him a weird look, but before he can ask Arthur turns a curious look at Alex. “What’s America?” he asks, and if Henry didn’t feel too tense he would’ve joined in the laughter.
“That’s where Uncle Alex is from,” Martha explains, and Henry’s heart does something impossible in his chest again. He refuses to look at Alex’s expression—if he’s bothered, if he doesn’t want to be Arthur’s uncle, Henry doesn’t know if he’d recover from the heartbreak—and instead firmly stares at Arthur, reaching forward to steady the kid when she stumbles a little bit. Alex’s gaze burns a hole behind his head, but he still doesn’t look back, lips pressed into a tight line. “Remember, Art? We visited them a couple of months ago. Uncle Henry played the piano for you, right?”
Arthur, for a second, looks thoughtful, but then a giggle leaves his lips. He holds onto Henry’s sleeve to steady himself and blinks up. “Thank you, Uncle Alex,” he whispers shyly, cheeks dotted with pink. “For the…um. Gift. And the candy.” Henry feels Alex’s nails bite into the back of his hand. With his free hand, Alex reaches forward to ruffle Arthur’s hair, presumably a smile on his face, but Henry can almost feel how forced it is. Suddenly, he feels like throwing up, but with Alex still holding his hand and Art holding onto him, he’s trapped.
“Of course, little guy,” Alex whispers, brushing his thumb over Art’s cheekbone. Henry finds himself staring at Alex’s empty ring finger before he manages to look away. “Your wish is my command. Whatever you want from America, I got you, okay?” Arthur’s eyes light up as Martha sends Alex an unimpressed look.
It would’ve been more effective if she didn’t sound fond when she spoke, tucking Art in her arms when he finally walks back to her. “Don’t you encourage him,” she rolls her eyes, pushing away Art’s hair from his face. She changes the topic, talking about how Arthur’s already started to raid cabinets looking for candy, and Henry tries to forget the last few minutes, heart as heavy as Alex’s palm in his.
“Do you not want me to be Art’s uncle?”
The question catches Henry so off guard that he almost drops the mug in his hands. His eyes flicker to the suitcase, the black velvet box hidden under multiple sweaters haunting him; he gulps to gather any sort of courage to face Alex and still feels terrified when he meets the steely brown eyes. Alex wears his expression like a blank mask, but Henry knows him too well; he sees the storm brewing behind his gaze, fear and anger wrapped around each other so tightly that it’s hard to pick one apart. Henry’s mouth feels too dry to speak before Alex continues.
“When Martha called me Uncle Alex. You didn’t even fucking look at me, Henry.” Alex’s voice cracks at the name and he has to shut his eyes, fingers curling into fists. Henry feels his heart lodge in his throat. The blank mask on Alex’s face has slipped off, leaving behind shaky lips and wet lashes; another day, Henry would’ve pulled him into a hug. Now, he feels like a brittle paper inside of a storm, ready to break at the smallest push. He just watches as Alex’s nails dig into his palm. “I know we’re not married or whatever and you don’t owe me… You don’t have to see me as family, but I just thought… I see him as my nephew.” A tear slides down Alex’s cheek when he looks up. “I thought you felt the same.”
“Alex.” Henry mouths the words, but he can’t get his voice to work. I feel the same, he wants to say, to scream from the top of fucking Kensington, but it’s almost too much. It’s too much, and Alex is crying now and Henry feels so fucking helpless—
“Forget I said anything,” Alex whispers, and Henry makes a desperate noise at the back of his throat. Somehow, he finds himself in front of Alex, feet moving on their own accord. He wraps his fingers around Alex’s wrist when he tries to move away.
“Alex, wait.”
“Don’t fucking…” Alex bites down on his lip, but before he can draw blood, Henry pulls it away with a gentle tug. Another tear escapes Alex’s eyes. “ Please, Henry. Can we forget I said anything? It’s fine, I swear—”
“I have a ring.” The words leave Henry’s mouth before he can properly think about it. Alex freezes under Henry’s grip.
“You have—”
“A ring,” Henry whispers; now that it’s out there, he doesn’t even know why he’s been so worried about it in the first place. He remembers Alex’s words; the desperation behind it, the way he mumbled how he saw Art as a nephew, the hope and heartbreak… It’s so fucking stupid that he didn’t see it before. “I’ve had it for over a year. I’ve been meaning to… I just wasn’t sure if you would want it—”
“What,” Alex breathes, and suddenly Henry feels dizzy under the intensity in his gaze, “did I do to make you ever think this wasn’t forever for me, baby?” Henry opens his mouth, but there’s no answer, really. Henry remembers, all those years ago, Alex standing in front of all of America and telling them without hesitation, He is my choice. He remembers Alex barging into Kensington, calling him an obtuse fucking asshole, fighting for them when Henry didn’t have the courage to. He remembers falling asleep in Alex’s arms every day, with his love confessions in his ears; remembers Alex calling David his little brother and Bea his sister, remembers Alex’s jokes about their wedding and how they should elope just to piss the Queen off, remembers the Thanksgivings he spent in the White House even though he’s a British prince just because, in Alex’s words, his family wouldn’t be complete without him. A flush creeps up his cheeks as he ducks his chin and laughs.
“I’m stupid,” he whispers and he’s not even offended when Alex snorts in agreement.
“An obtuse fucking asshole.”
“Yeah.” He meets Alex’s eyes again, and this time they’re soft, the brown filled with so much love that it should overwhelm Henry, but he just feels at peace. He offers Alex a wet smile and tucks his hair behind his ear, meeting him in the middle, his tilted world finally righting itself back into its axis. He lets himself get lost in the kiss, the promise of family and future and forever all wrapped in the press of Alex’s lips on his.
It’s only two hours later, when they’re all tangled up in bed, that Alex remembers. He shoots up the bed so suddenly that Henry almost falls over. “The fucking ring!”
Henry can’t quite stop laughing as he digs the box out of his suitcase and goes down on one knee, the words that’ve been stuck in his throat slipping out easy as honey. “Alex,” he whispers, watching tears fill the brown eyes he loves so much no matter how much Alex tries to fight them back. “Will you marry me and make my future the brightest it’s ever looked?”
Alex blinks away his tears. “You’re a fucking idiot,” he whispers, and Henry lets out a wet laugh. “ Yes . A billion times yes. I cannot fucking believe you thought—”
Henry captures Alex’s lips in him to shut him up. The ring doesn’t quite make it to Alex’s finger until about thirty minutes later.