Work Text:
The low rumbling of the bus kept Alex from falling asleep. That, and the fact that he couldn’t afford to miss his stop, as it was the last night he would get to spend with Henry before he returned home. The notion that they were out and public didn’t mean they could live together, apparently.
But then again, they both had lives in their own countries, and neither could afford to leave. Especially Henry, what with being royalty and all. Alex sat in the back half of the bus like he always did when he was trying to evade paparazzi and his own security (was there a reason? No, but it worked for some reason or other).
London was a maze that Alex couldn’t work out, but with the help of modern technology he managed to figure out how to find Henry (most of the time). It helped that Henry had a penthouse type living arrangement (courtesy of Her Majesty the Queen, because god forbid he taint Buckingham Palace with his queerness). He’d spent around a month with Henry, and it had been incredible. Minus the homophobia from some poor unfortunate souls.
They’d also got to hang out with Pez, which was super fun, and work with some pro LGBTQ+ charities and organisations. If his existence was good for something, he wanted it to benefit people like him. Heck yeah representation (and the fact that he was lucky enough to have money to aid his cause, but like, fuck capitalism).
Alex peeked out the window from behind his sunglasses / mask / hoodie ensemble to find that he was nearing his stop. The traffic had been bad and it was a lot later than he’d intended. The last traces of sunset were present in the sky, though it was pretty much obscured by the massive buildings all around. Discreetly as he could, Alex hopped off the bus at his stop and walked a block or so until he got to the apartment building where Henry lived, and where he had lived for the past month.
Henry had given him a spare key to his place, and Alex definitely abused its powers, pretty much claiming the couch in the living room as his own. When Henry was out, you could be certain to find Alex on that sofa.
Stepping inside, he shucked off the extra layers, and the masterful disguise of sunglasses, leaving them on one of the only chairs that wasn’t already draped in Alex’s clothes (he would have a lot of packing to do, and Henry’s house would be ten times cleaner once he had, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so yet).
Stepping softly down the hall, he peered around the door to Henry’s bedroom (well, his too, he supposed), finding him asleep on the bed. It looked like he hadn’t even bothered to change out of his suit, though Alex wasn’t complaining, two of his favorite sights were of sleeping Henry and Henry in a suit. It was ridiculous how good he looked in a suit.
Henry slept with his mouth marginally ajar, which meant a trickle of drool slithered down the side of his chin, but it didn’t bother Alex in the slightest. He found it endearing (he found everything about Henry endearing), and as Henry had said once, ‘would you rather I drool or die from lack of oxygen to the brain?’ Mouth breather.
Alex chuckled, gazing softly at the man on the bed. He must have dropped off, exhausted from princely duties (such as sitting through conferences, deciding whether to invest in more charities, having mindblowing sex with the first son of the US president the night before, all that jazz).
Alex gently climbed onto the bed and lay down next to him, mind lost in thought (surprisingly innocent ones, unlike usual). If Henry one day happened to inherit the throne, what would Alex do? Would they marry? Alex blushed, the thought of marrying the man of his dreams seemed just that, a dream and nothing more.
But really, if Henry were to become King, who knew if his kingdom was even progressive enough to allow him to marry a man. Why did that even matter? The only thing Alex could think of that might be vaguely problematic about two men together (apart from the deeply rooted homophobia of the world) was that they couldn’t have biological kids to continue the royal family. Except that adoption was always an option. Or having a surrogate.
Thinking about having little mini-Henry’s was too adorable. Alex didn’t think he was really a ‘kids’ sort of person, but that would definitely be an exception. Not that it would be accepted by most of the royal family anyway. Back to the ‘men can’t marry other men’ thing.
However, to be entirely fair, wouldn’t it be more ‘powerful’ to marry another man? You know, if you thought about it, wasn’t sexism a thing? If one were to apply misogynistic notions to the scenario, women were weaker than men and only really necessary for childbirth. (Not that Alex actually believed that, he thought women were by far superior to small minded men. But, for the sake of this hypothetical situation, shouldn’t marrying a man be more beneficial to the kingdom as a whole?)
Henry turned on his side, facing Alex but still asleep. The end of the sunlight caught strands of his hair, causing a golden glow to illuminate his face. Alex only had a day left here, in England, with Henry. Then he had to go back to the states for a while. The time in between visits appeared to last for an eternity, but when they were together it went by in the blink of an eye.
Oh, how infuriating time could be. ‘Time is relative’, yeah, well, so was the distance between their homes, and both were annoying as fuck. Oh how he wished they could spend their days lying together in the sun, or under the stars, making love, eating good food, and not having to worry about responsibilities. Rather than all this royal business. Royal pain in the ass, more like.
Let’s just say they were able to get married. Would that make Alex the Queen? Or would they both be Kings? And to backtrack, if all those sexist men hate women so much why don’t they just marry a man? Problem solved? Anywho, none of it made much sense to Alex. There were too many contradictory opinions.
Couldn’t they all just live in peace? His relationship didn’t affect any of them, it wasn’t like he was forcing them to all be gay (although the world would probably be better if everyone was some shade of queer). So why did it matter? His brow furrowed.
Henry stirred, his perfect mouth stretching wider into a yawn (it was a fucking yawn, so why did it make Alex both flustered at how cute he was and horny?). His eyes blinked open, nose scrunching up. Once he finally came to and realised Alex was there, a smile broke out on his face.
“Why, hello there, handsome,” he croaked out, still feeling the remnants of sleep in his throat.
Alex grinned, stroking the side of Henry’s cheek. “Hey, sweetheart.”
Henry hummed. “What time is it?”
“Just after 7pm.”
He groaned, leaning into Alex. “And you have to leave tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” Alex sighed. “But let’s make the most of tonight. Any ideas?”
Henry’s lips turned up into a sly smile. “Hmm, I wonder.”
Alex flushed and laughed. “Before that, though.”
“What if - no nevermind. I’m not sure,” Henry said.
“What were you going to say?” Alex asked.
Henry let his head drop onto Alex’s shoulder, arms wrapped around his waist.
“Well… I thought it would be fun if… I kind of wanted to try and follow a makeup tutorial?” His posture drooped slightly, embarrassed. “I felt like… I just want to look pretty. You know, see if it was a good look or something. Only if you want.”
“But you are the most gorgeous person already!” Alex blurted. “And I think that’s a great idea. We can do it like that meme with the girls sitting on top of each other doing makeup!”
Henry frowned. “Which one?”
Alex shoved his shoulder, playfully. “Old man. I’ll find it, just a sec.”
“I’m barely a year older than you! Sorry if I’m not as meme-smart,” he laughed.
Alex pulled up the picture and Henry blushed. “You want to sit on top of me and do my makeup?”
“Well, I’ve never done it before so if it turns out shit you’ve been warned,” said Alex. “Do you even have makeup?”
“Yeah, I stole some from Bea.”
“Wow, resorted to theft, huh?”
“Oh, it was only a few things. She has loads,” he explained, and grabbed a bag from under the bedside table, emptying it on the bed.
“So there's… mascara, eyeshadow, I think this is eyeliner? And some other things that look like eyeshadow but I don’t think they are.”
“Okay, lie down,” Henry stated.
“Wha- now?”
“Not now?”
Henry stood up. “Let me at least turn on the light, you won’t be able to see what you're doing.” Once he’d flicked the switch, he lay back on the mattress. Henry picked out the palette with different eyeshadow colours.
“I have no idea what I’m doing. I apologise in advance.”
“I’m sure it’ll look great,” Henry encouraged.
“You have far too much faith in me. The only experience I have is watching Nora or June.”
“Oh well. Give a crack anyway, I’m sure it’ll be just as good as I could do.”
Alex straddled Henry’s hips, suddenly feeling like this was a very bad idea, for multiple reasons. He took out a small brush and chose a periwinkle blue shadow to complement Henry’s eyes.
“So I just… put it on?”
“Don’t ask me!” Henry laughed.
“Okay, um, close your eyes,” he said. “Wait, do we need a safeword?”
“Why? This isn’t sex?” Chuckled Henry.
“I don’t know? Maybe if you’re worried about me poking you in the eye?”
“We don’t need a safeword, Alex.”
“Just choose one anyway.”
“Okay… what about…cravat?”
“What’s a cravat?” Alex asked.
“Oh, I think you Americans call it an ascot. You know, the necktie thing,” he clarified.
“Ohhh. Alright. Close your eyes.”
Alex began to brush some of the colour on his eyelid. It was tricky trying to hold his hand over his face without leaning on his nose. The other eye was easier once he got the hang of it, though the blue was a little patchy.
“Should I add another colour so it isn’t as plain?” Alex queried.
Henry sat up on his elbows. “Can I have a look at the palette?” After a moment's inspection, he pointed to a royal blue in the corner. “How about this? Just in the corner of my eye or the outside. I think I saw something like that once.”
Alex dabbed a little on the edge of the blue, darkening the outside a little.
“It actually doesn’t look that bad,” he remarked. He picked up a tiny pocket mirror from the bag and handed it to Henry. “Have a look.”
“Oh my god, you’re doing great!” He pecked Alex on the lips. “It looks nice already.”
“Should I try the eyeliner?”
“If you want to, though I heard it’s quite difficult,” Henry added.
“It can’t be that bad,” Alex said, with unearned confidence.
He removed the lid from the eyeliner pen, leaning back over Alex. He began to draw a line along the top of his eyelid.
“Oh shit, this is hard,” he laughed. He brought the pen all the way to the outer edge of his eye, then started to make a line up.
“You know, today I was thinking about what would happen if you became the king.”
“Well, we’ve got to get through my mother and Philip first, at least. Probably Bea too. It’s unlikely that I would inherit the throne any time soon, if at all.”
“Yes, but hypothetically. If you did… become king. Would you be allowed to marry a man?”
Henry jerked his head, and the eyeliner spiked up the side of his face.
“Fuck, you moved!” He assessed the damage. “Actually it kind of looks like Bowie now. Ziggy Stardust sorta thing.”
Henry cleared his throat as Alex continued his attempt at eyeliner.
“Well… I don’t know if I would be allowed to. Marry a man, that is. I guess it depends where the world is at in however many years.”
“Would you want to?”
“Marry a man?”
“Yeah. Or, you know, marry me?”
Both of their pairs of eyes widened exponentially.
“No - wait - that wasn’t a proposal! Not that I wouldn't want to propose, but not like that - not now - that is, just forget I said anything.”
He put his face in his hands and groaned.
“I would marry you. If I could,” Henry replied. “But well… you know how the royal family is. There would have to be some pretty big changes.”
“I - yes.”
Alex maintained his concentration on trying to draw a wing on Henry’s face. He also tried to ignore Henry’s searching eyes. Alex set aside the eyeliner and grabbed the mascara. It took him some time to figure out how to put it on Henry’s beautiful eyelashes. Avoiding Henry’s gaze was like diving into the ocean and trying not to get wet.
“I’m done.” Alex shifted off Henry’s lap, letting him get up and walk over to the mirror.
“It’s… actually not too bad.” He peered at the wobbly eyeliner. “I mean, there’s obviously room for improvement.”
Alex groaned. “I’d like to see you do any better.”
“Challenge accepted. Get on the bed,” Henry commanded.
Alex bit his lip. “I love this side of you.”
“Stop being horny, golden boy.”
Alex lay down and Henry crawled over to sit on top of him.
“You know, I actually feel rather pretty,” Henry murmured from his seat on top of the First Son of the United States. He picked up a glittery highlighter. “I think this would look nice too.”
Alex took the compact from him and dabbed a bit on the tip of his elegant nose. “Wow, it’s shiny! You’re so cute.”
“I prefer the term, ‘handsome’, or maybe ‘ravishing’. I don’t think cute suits me.”
“Well I think you’re pretty fucking cute.”
“Shut up now, I need to do your makeup. And then we’ll compare, and see who’s more skilled.”
“Probably you.”
“I am reasonably dexterous.”
“I’ll say.” Alex winked.
Henry leaned down and kissed him on the lips.
“Later,” he mumbled against his mouth.
“Oh, I’m counting on it.”