Work Text:
“Hey, baby. I need you to look at this.”
Alex throws the office door open and props himself up on Henry’s desk, pushing everything in his way away. Henry scrambles to grab his laptop and the few files he has on his desk—no work at home, they’d said when they moved in, and then promptly threw the rule out the window when Alex’s classes started—before they fall to the floor. His glasses slide down his nose as he gives Alex an unimpressed look.
“Alex, you have a chair.” He pointedly stares at Alex’s desk on the other side of their office. Alex barely offers it a glance before he collects his legs underneath him, a grin on his lips. A loud sigh leaves Henry’s lips. “I don’t know why I try.”
“You love me,” Alex is quick to dismiss, and before Henry can object—not if you keep doing that, Alex can imagine him saying, which is a bold faced lie because both of them know the messy, over the top Alex is Henry’s favorite—plops the iPad in front of him. “I need opinions,” he says and pulls up what he’s been working on.
Henry adjusts his glasses. Takes in the multiple scrawls all over the page. One of his brows quirk up. “What am I looking at?”
“Ideas for a new signature. For me.” Alex zooms in to his top choices, biting the inside of his cheek at how ridiculous it looks all of their surnames combined. “See, I was thinking. My signature is my surname, and obviously that’s not going to work when we get married.” Henry makes a wounded noise at the back of his throat, but Alex promptly ignores him and barrels on. He’s probably fine. “And, H, I love you, but I’m not taking a royal surname. It feels like a betrayal to my heritage. But,” and this is where Alex pulls up his top choice, a beautiful scrawl, the letters big and bright, “I thought I could add Fox. To honor your father. And, well, Fox-Claremont-Diaz has a much better sound to it than Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor-Claremont—“
“Alex.” Henry’s voice is quiet, but the crack in it causes Alex’s words to halt. He realizes Henry’s holding onto the hem of his t-shirt tightly, fingers curled into a fist, blue eyes wide as he stares at the screen in front of him. Alex’s heart suddenly drops some layers below the surface.
“Or not,” he says immediately, clutching the iPad. “We don’t have to combine our surnames. It’s okay. No pressure at all." Fuck. He’d assumed Henry would want him to use Fox, but Arthur was a sensitive subject and Alex should’ve asked—
Henry’s hand moves to his wrist before Alex can pull the iPad back, blue eyes bright with unshed tears. “You want to take my surname?” he asks, voice muffled through the sobs he’s holding back, and the situation finally it hits Alex. The knot in his throat dissolves and he stares at his idiot of a boyfriend, who still imagines the worst after all the years they’ve been together, who swallows down any of his wishes just in case it crosses Alex’s boundaries, who’d ask for nothing from Alex and give everything if only Alex wanted him to. Suddenly, the iPad doesn’t matter at all; Alex puts it aside to take Henry’s face in his.
“You’re an obtuse fucking asshole,” Alex whispers, and a surprised laugh escapes Henry’s lips. Alex smiles with him and gently tucks Henry’s hair behind his ears. It’s a mess, as it always is when he’s been working hard; Alex remembers before they moved here that Henry used to comb his hair to pristine conditions all the time, afraid of even one strand being out of place. It’s maybe Alex’s inability to keep his fingers away from the soft curls, or him just relaxing into a more comfortable look now that he’s not under the scrunity of the crown, but Henry usually lets his hair astray now, even when they’re going out, not quite caring who sees him. “I can’t believe you think,” Alex continues, tilting Henry’s face so their lips are merely inches apart, “after two years, that I don’t want everything you’re willing to give me. Hen, I love you, and someday, when I’m potentially not dying from classes I’m gonna ask you to marry me, and if you let me I’m gonna take your surname because I want the entire world to know I’m yours forever, no matter how patriarchal and outdated the tradition is—“ He doesn’t quite get to finish before Henry’s lips crash onto his, pulling him down the desk so much that Alex feels like he might topple over. His fingers grasp Henry’s shoulders and he tilts his head, sliding their lips together, dizzy with happiness, with the promise of the future. It doesn’t feel real to Alex sometimes, that he gets to have this with the love of his life, but at that moment he knows deep within his core that this is forever.
“Darling,” Henry whispers once he finally pulls back, fingers tugging Alex’s hair so reverently that Alex almost feels tearful. Love radiates out of Henry when his eyes meet Alex’s. “I’d be honored to share a surname with you.” Henry’s lips curl into a lopsided smile, and Alex has to kiss him again, pulling his chair together with his ankle, fingers cupped around Henry’s cheeks.
Later, when Alex finally manages to pull his lips away from Henry long enough and curls in his lap on the chair that really isn’t built for two people, he steals a peck from his chin. “You’re not allowed to steal my signature, though,” he murmurs, tucking his face in Henry’s neck. “I worked hard on that. It’s mine.”
A laugh bursts out of Alex when Henry shoves him to the ground.