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Prologue
Alex wakes up to a dead phone, too much sunlight streaming through his bedroom window, and his neighbor clomping downstairs for her 8:30AM class. For a split second he thinks maybe he’s mistaken, maybe it’s actually Tuesday instead of Wednesday, but no, unless he slept until fucking Thursday it’s most definitely the day he has a massive exam worth entirely too much of his final grade in less than twenty minutes. Fuck.
Somehow, things only get worse. He throws on whatever clothes he finds on his floor and stumbles out of his room still wearing his glasses, only to find that his asshole roommates drank all of the coffee that he set up to brew on an automatic timer for this morning. After three measly hours of sleep—about two more than he intended to get— there’s no way he’s going to make it through this exam without caffeine, no matter how much adrenaline is currently pumping through his veins. His favorite coffee shop is more or less on the way, but of-fucking-course there’s a not insubstantial line when he gets there. Maybe it’s just wishful thinking, but it looks like it’s moving relatively quickly, so he decides to risk it. He spends the time scrolling haphazardly through his notes on his barely-charged phone, still half asleep, and gets so wrapped up in it that he almost walks right into the counter when he gets up there. One order for a drip coffee with a couple pumps of cinnamon syrup later (no time to wait for them to pull espresso shots), and—
No no no no no.
Alex paws through his bag, his movements growing more and more frantic by the second, but he still fails to uncover his wallet. It’s not possible, he hasn’t taken it out of there in days, how is it missing now of all times? He catches sight of the time on his watch, and he’s actually going to be late, this isn’t fucking fair. Suddenly there’s an elephant on his chest, and he squeezes his eyes shut as he tries to get a grip, but it’s feeling kind of like a lost cause at the moment. He’s going to fall apart right here in the fucking coffee shop, because any one or two of these things he could handle but all of them at once is just too fucking much.
He’s barely aware of the person behind him stepping forward until he catches a whiff of some kind of fresh-smelling cologne over the omnipresent smell of coffee. “I’ll get his,” the man says, the words lilting in an unexpected British accent. There’s something so unbelievably soft about the voice, as if Alex could sink into it like a pillow, but before he can so much as glance at his savior, reality yanks him back to the direness of his present situation.
“You’re a fucking lifesaver, man,” he says with a heavy sigh of relief, his attention focused on the cup of coffee being handed over the counter by the barista. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
“Well, you could—” the man starts, a little tentatively, but unfortunately Alex simply cannot wait to find out what he wants.
“I’ll get you back sometime!” he calls with a backwards wave as he leaves the shop at nearly a sprint. Never mind that he doesn’t even really know what the guy looks like.
I
There’s someone sitting at his desk.
Ok, it’s not like the desk has his name on it, and this library doesn’t do reservations, but Alex has been using this desk every Tuesday and Thursday morning at this time of day for the last year and half, ever since he discovered how much nicer this library is to work in than the too-crowded law library. Everyone else who comes here knows. Yet today there’s a guy just sitting there, typing away on his laptop with piles of books strewn around him like he owns the place. He’s dressed rather too sharply for a study session in a fucking tweed blazer with elbow patches and grey slacks, long legs stretched out under the table and slightly floppy blond hair falling just so over his forehead in a way that is inexplicably irritating. Alex might have assumed he was a professor except he looks too young, and anyway professors have their own offices and don’t occupy Alex’s desk at the library.
Alex inches a bit closer, hoping that maybe the man will notice him lurking and realize the error of his ways, but he’s apparently too absorbed in his work. His full lips are pursed in a thoughtful pout, and the warm light of the table lamp next to him highlights the small furrow between his brows along with his long, straight nose and frankly unfairly sculpted cheekbones. He looks like a fucking model, not the kind of person you’d happen across at a university library, and Alex is kind of mad about it. Even if he were to take a nearby—inferior—desk, he’d be too distracted to be able to get anything done with Mr. Academic Wet Dream sitting over there.
Distantly, Alex thinks Nora might have been onto something with her recent assertion about his latent bisexual tendencies, made after he’d had one too many drinks and gone on a rather effusive rant about Henry Cavill’s ass. Possibly. Maybe. He’s certainly not going to tell her about this, though.
He leaves the library, resigned to finding somewhere else to work this morning. It’s not worth making a big deal about it. He’ll probably never see the guy again anyway.
II
He’s on the train.
It’s not an odd thing in and of itself, surely this guy must need to move around the city same as anyone else, but not even a week after the library incident he shows up on the same train as Alex, headed to Brooklyn. What the kind of guy who wears tweed blazers to study in the library is going to do in Brooklyn, Alex certainly can’t guess. Maybe he meant to get on a train uptown to Columbia and messed up. Alex is on his way to the LGBT+ youth shelter where he volunteers in the legal clinic, same as he does every Monday night, which means fighting through rush hour crowds leaving Manhattan. Today was a federal holiday, though, so the train is markedly emptier.
When he’d gotten on the subway at West 4th Street, most of the seats had already been taken, but he’d spotted a couple open spots next to each other toward the middle of the car. Alex had hurried over to grab one, but before he’d gotten there his gaze had snagged on someone else approaching the seats from the opposite side of the car. Polished oxfords, a long, camel-colored wool coat so fine it must be cashmere, a neatly tucked Burberry plaid scarf, and then— Fuck. It’s him. Mr. Academic Wet Dream is here, on Alex’s train.
Alex really has to stop calling him that in his head.
For a moment Alex just stands there, seemingly frozen by fact that this guy is apparently tall enough that he has to look up into startlingly blue eyes so deep he could drown in them, and all of this is terrible. More terrible is the spark of recognition in said eyes, and the way the guy’s lips start to tug into a tentative smile. He settles into one of the seats, eyebrows lifting in silent invitation to take the empty one next to him, and Alex does the only thing he can do: he flees to go stand on the other side of the car like he hadn’t been intending to sit at all.
Look, he’s not proud of it, and he doesn’t really know why he doesn’t just sit like a normal person, but he can’t bring himself to do it. He’s still kinda salty about the library desk, and if the guy recognized him then that might mean that he actually knows who Alex is and did it on purpose. Anyway, Alex is saved from having to justify himself any further because there’s a little old lady standing on this side of the train, so he gestures back toward the empty seat next to his nemesis without looking that direction at all.
The train steadily fills up, and he loses track of Mr. Academic Wet Dream the Desk Thief by the time he gets to his stop. Which is fine, he truly does not care who this man is or what he’s doing. He doesn’t have time to dwell on it, anyway. After a quick pit-stop at a coffee shop on the way for an Americano that will hopefully fuel him through what is likely to be a long evening, he makes it to the shelter just before the clinic is supposed to start. He’s just hanging up his coat on the rack next to an oddly familiar camel-colored wool one when Rafael Luna, the attorney he’s assisting tonight, calls him over and successfully diverts his attention from strange coincidences.
The legal clinic is always busy, but they’re particularly swamped that night, and Alex barely gets a chance to breathe, much less take a break. Retrieving coffee for him and Raf from whatever’s left in the pot in the shelter’s kitchen decidedly does not count. He’s rifling through the spice cabinet, looking for cinnamon, when the shelter’s director sidles up to him with a glimmer in his eye like he wants something. Today he’s wearing a bright fuchsia shirt that complements the teal of his hair, and his myriad rings sparkle as he idly drums his fingers on the counter.
“Alex, my dear, you’re looking well today,” Pez Okonjo says, his teeth gleaming in a broad smile.
Alex snorts at that, because he’s pretty sure after the week he’s had he looks like death warmed over. He hasn’t slept more than a few hours a night and his under-eye circles have dark circles. “What can I help you with, Pez?” he asks. “It better be doable in approximately thirty seconds.”
“You know, it just occurred to me that I don’t think you’ve ever met my best mate Henry. He volunteers here, like you, and he’s also a grad student at NYU.”
“That’s awesome,” Alex replies with a tight smile, trying to sound more enthusiastic than he feels. He really doesn’t have time for chit-chat tonight. “Maybe another time, though? We’re really—”
“Alex!” Raf shouts, right on cue.
Alex grabs his sadly cinnamon-free coffee mug, along with the one for Raf, and offers Pez an apologetic smile before he runs off again. Somewhere in the distance behind him, he thinks he hears Pez speaking to someone with a British accent; he probably should have guessed that Pez’s best friend would be British too. In any case, he doesn’t have time to worry about it now. Whoever this Henry is, Alex is sure he’ll meet him eventually.
III
“And he was just sitting there!” Alex exclaims, gesticulating wildly into the air in front of him.
Nora barely looks at him as she wolfs down chili cheese fries. “As opposed to…?”
“Any other bench in the fucking park?” he huffs. He slumps down in the booth, takes a long sip of his beer, and considers switching to something stronger. This fucking week. “That’s my bench.”
“Are you actually trying to claim a bench in public park in a city of eight million people?”
“You don’t understand, it’s my favorite place to go when I just need a break. It’s got the perfect view, but it’s kind of tucked away from the main path, so no one bothers you,” Alex tries to explain. Based on Nora’s skeptically cocked eyebrow, he’s not really selling it to her. “I go there every Friday afternoon, but today he was there.”
“You still haven’t told me who he is,” Nora points out with a wave of the fry in her hand before she stretches up a bit to look out into the bar for June, who’s supposed to be meeting them there.
“The asshole who’s apparently made it his fucking job to inconvenience me,” Alex nearly growls. “This isn’t the first time. It’s like he knows exactly where I want to sit and then takes that seat just to spite me.”
Nora looks even less convinced of this argument than she did before. “I’m sure it’s just a coincidence.”
“It’s not.”
“Have you tried, I don’t know, talking to him? Perhaps politely asking if he’d be willing to move? I know, it’s a radical idea.”
“Fuck you,” Alex huffs again. “He’s too… I don’t know, tall.”
“Even when he’s sitting?” Nora counters with a smirk.
“Yes. He’s, like, not a real person. He’s got these stupid long legs, and this stupid perfect hair, and he always dresses like he’s fishing for chili peppers on Rate My Professor.”
“Wait, is he a professor?”
Alex shakes his head and snags a fry for himself. “He’s our age.”
“So he could be one of those academic prodigies that lands a tenure-track job before they’re twenty-five,” Nora argues.
“Don’t,” he groans. For some reason the idea that his ridiculously attractive seat-stealing nemesis is also brilliant makes something uncomfortable curl in his gut.
“Real talk, though,” she continues, as if she didn’t hear him, “how many chili peppers would he have? You know, if they hadn’t removed them from the site.”
“A lot,” Alex grits out. That’s just the objective truth. It doesn’t mean anything.
“Who are we talking about?” June asks as she materializes next to their table, making him nearly jump out of his skin.
Nora grins up at her. “Alex’s crush who keeps taking his favorite spots.”
“I don’t have a crush on him,” he denies vehemently, noticing the pronoun too late.
“Him?” June echoes. Her eyebrows are doing their level best to disappear into her hairline as she slides into the booth next to Nora and grabs her half-full beer to take a sip. “Is he finally admitting he’s attracted to guys?”
Alex groans again. “I’m going to get another drink, and when I come back we are not going to talk about this.”
“Get us some too!” Nora calls after him, but Alex just flips her off and keeps walking.
To their credit, Nora and June don’t push him for the rest of the night. Just talking about it with Nora has left him too keyed-up, though, and after a week of midterms and whatever the fuck is going on with this guy, he might not keep track of the number of drinks he has as well as he should. Whatever, it’s Friday, he’s allowed to try to drown out the mess of his thoughts, even if he’s going to pay for it tomorrow morning.
He might pay for it tonight, too, though. Perhaps it wasn’t such a great idea to combine beer, whiskey, margaritas, and chili cheese fries. In desperate need of some fresh air, he pushes himself out of the booth, muttering something about the bathroom, then goes stumbling down the back hallway and practically throws himself out of the emergency exit and into the alley behind the bar. The air is bitingly cold at this time of year, but the sting of it in his lungs is a relief as he stands partly hunched over, one hand pressed to the cold brick wall of the building. He doesn’t know how long he stands there before the door opens behind him, but then he’s turning too quickly in response and the world spins treacherously around him. When he tries to grab for the wall again it’s suddenly not there, and the asphalt that should be under his feet is rapidly rising to meet his face.
“Woah, steady on,” someone says, and then broad hands are grabbing onto him and carefully lowering him to the ground. Alex collapses into a sitting position with the frigid brick at his back and drops his head between his knees, taking deep breaths through his nose as his rescuer rubs gentle circles between his shoulder blades and murmurs a soft litany of, “You’re all right, it’s ok, I’ve got you.”
There’s something so comfortingly familiar about that voice and its soothing British accent. His sluggish brain keeps hanging on it, like it’s important somehow, but he can’t quite manage to grab onto it. He doesn’t know many British people, so where…
He breathes in deeply again and the scent of the other man’s cologne slots something into place. The coffee shop, the morning of his exam.
The door opens again, and he hears June say, “Alex? Oh shit, are you ok?”
The hand slips away from his back, and by the time his head snaps up—owwww—to look for him, his British guardian angel is gone, replaced by June crouching in front of him with a concerned look on her face.
“Where’d he go?” Alex slurs.
“Who? The guy who was out here?” she asks, her brow furrowing. “Who was that?”
Alex sighs and lets his head thunk back against the wall. “I don’t know.”
IV
Alex knows he’s maybe too picky about what seats he likes to sit in at the movie theater. Especially in an older one like this, where the seats are still arranged on no more than a gentle slope, there is a key row that is neither too far back nor too close, and his enjoyment of the movie is definitely contingent on getting a seat at the middle of that row. That’s why he shows up early to the showing of Empire Strikes Back, which he’d bought a ticket to weeks ago. The quirky indie theater near campus runs matinees of older movies during the week, and when he saw they were doing a Star Wars series he knew he’d have to carve some time out of his schedule for Empire at least. Of course, no one else wanted to go with him, but screw them. It’s not like you really need company during a movie anyway.
The first thing Alex notices when he walks into the rear of the theater is that someone else is already there, sitting roughly in the middle of the theater. Unfortunately, it becomes obvious as Alex makes his way down the aisle that the guy is in fact sitting in the optimal row, exactly in the seat that Alex would have chosen for himself. The lights are slightly dimmed, but it’s clear that he’s tall, with slightly floppy blond hair, and when Alex gets far enough forward he gets a glimpse of the features he’d been dreading to see. At least, he’s pretty sure that’s what the way his stomach flips at the sight of him means.
Alex retreats back down the aisle as quietly as he can to try to figure out his next move. Fortunately, the Seat Stealer doesn’t seem to have seen him. Clearly, this is not an accident or a coincidence, no matter what Nora might say. He’d suspect the guy of following him except that it’s the other way around, he’s always there first, seemingly predicting exactly where Alex wants to be when he wants to be there. He doesn’t get the sense that his nemesis is watching him—outside of that time on the train, he’s never even seen the guy look his direction—but something weird is going on here. The reasonable course of action would be to ask, but that runs the risk of Alex sounding like the crazy one. He can almost hear June saying it’s not always about you, Alex.
Never mind that Alex is pretty sure this is about him. He just can’t figure out why one of the hottest guys he’s ever seen is all of the sudden constantly getting in his way, nor does he really know what he wants out of it. Well, except his favorite seats back. Somehow he feels like he’d be dissatisfied if that were the only outcome, though.
In the end, Alex waits until they lower the lights completely and darts into the row in front of his nemesis, hoping maybe he won’t be noticed. It’s not like he could sit behind him. This time Alex’s complaint about him being too tall is completely valid. He spends most of the movie feeling like there are eyes on him, but the one time he gives in and glances backward, the guy is staring up at the screen. The way that the glow of Cloud City paints his features in soft blues and yellows is utterly arresting in the worst possible way, and Alex has to force himself to look away before he gets caught staring.
When the movie ends he chances another glance back, but this time he’s not lucky enough to get away with it. The guy gives him a look of silent question, as if daring him to say something, and though Alex lives for a challenge he’s decidedly not ready for this one. He thinks, maybe, that he needs to figure some shit out first. He needs a plan, and next time this happens, he’ll have one.
V
Unfortunately, he is no closer to a plan by the time he sees his nemesis again. Naturally he’s sitting at Alex’s favorite table at the coffee shop, the one that Alex usually spends hours at on any given afternoon. He needs the quiet of the library to study for classes, but when he’s writing up case studies he prefers to work here, in front of the window, where he can watch the world zip by outside as he formulates his thoughts. Not to mention it gives him easy access to copious amounts of caffeine, which he usually needs by this point in the day.
Despite the fact that he’s no more prepared than he was at the movie theater, Alex is in no mood to wait around any longer. It’s been a long day full of minute annoyances, and this is just one more than Alex can handle at the moment. He has to know, one way or the other, and he wants his usual fucking spot. The guy is sitting at the table with his own drink, reading a book, but there’s also a coffee sitting in the place across from him, so he must be expecting someone. Better that Alex make his move now, before the two of them get too settled in. He marches over with a scowl on his face and arms folded over his chest, not bothering to hide his irritation.
“Are you trying to get in my way?”
To his utter surprise, the guy’s lips tip into a teasing smirk as he carefully closes his book and sits back in his chair to look up at him. “Took you long enough to notice,” he says, and Alex blinks at him, momentarily stunned by the answer along with the fact that he’s apparently British.
“What?”
“I really thought you’d come talk to me earlier.”
“You…” Alex starts before he falters. He never expected him to own up to it. “You wanted me to confront you?” The guy tips his head in silent confirmation. “Why?”
He gestures to the seat across from him. “Why don’t you sit down?”
“Aren’t you waiting for someone?”
“Yes,” the guy confirms. “You.”
For perhaps the first time in his life, Alex is struck speechless, and he doesn’t really know what to do other than slowly lower himself into the seat. Opposite him, his nemesis’s smirk softens into an almost tentative smile as he nudges the coffee cup toward him. Alex eyes it uncertainly, then gives it a cautious sniff. Cinnamon.
“I feel like I should be creeped out right now,” Alex manages eventually. “How do you know so much about me? Have you been following me?”
“I haven’t been following you,” his nemesis protests immediately, but then he ducks his head slightly as a blush climbs up his cheeks. Alex hates how attractive it is. “I have… seen you around. We spend a lot of time in the same places.”
“No way,” Alex counters. “I would have noticed you.”
The guy quirks an eyebrow at him. “Is that so?”
“You’re too fucking hot not to notice,” Alex says before he can stop himself, and ok, maybe that was a little too honest. It’s hard to regret when his nemesis’s blush deepens and he huffs a soft laugh.
“Apparently not.”
“You’re telling me you usually study at that library?”
“At a different desk, yes. It’s the closest one to my department. I’m an English PhD student.”
“The park?”
“I walk my dog, David, there every day.”
“Ok, we’re coming back to that name later,” Alex says before plowing on. “What about the train?”
“I volunteer at the shelter, just like you.”
At that, something twinges in his memory. British, NYU grad student, volunteers. He stares at the man in front of him and fits the information into place piece by piece. “You’re Pez’s friend, aren’t you? Henry?”
He smiles knowingly. “I tried to tell Pez not to meddle, but he just can’t help himself.”
Alex is, frankly, having a hard time wrapping his mind around the fact that he’s spent this much time in close proximity with this guy—Henry—and somehow never knew it. June’s always saying that he’s terrible about getting caught up in his own head, especially when he’s working, to the point that he’s hardly aware of anyone else around him, but still. Now that he’s seen him, Alex can’t imagine not noticing Henry all the time.
“How’d you know I’d be at the movie theater?” he challenges.
“I have to admit that was a bit of a lucky guess,” Henry says with a shrug. “I overheard you arguing with someone about which Star Wars movie is the best, so I had a hunch you’d be there. I don’t share your opinion,” he adds, “but I do love the movie all the same.”
“Well, you’re wrong, but that’s beside the point. Right now I need to come back to: why?”
Henry is silent for a moment, staring down at his cup as he fiddles with the lid. “I didn’t intend this little game at the start. I only thought I’d engineer a meeting, as it were, but you seemed very intent on ignoring me,” he says eventually. His lips quirk back into a small smirk as he looks up again, a teasing spark in his brilliant blue eyes. “Then it started becoming rather fun to mess with you.”
“You couldn’t have just asked me out like a normal person?” Alex demands hotly, trying not to think about the implication in that question, that Henry should have just asked him out. That he might have wanted such a thing. That he might still want it.
“Well,” Henry says carefully, staring at him intently like Alex is still missing something, “I did buy you a coffee, and I was going to ask you then, but…”
It takes Alex a second to realize he doesn’t mean the coffee currently sitting in front of him, but when it hits him, it’s like a fucking truck. The fact that Henry was his nemesis had distracted him from that voice, but now he can hear it, clear as a bell. “That was you, that morning when I didn’t have my wallet,” he says, thunderstruck. “And outside the bar, making sure I didn’t fall over.”
“It was,” Henry confirms.
“Fuck,” Alex says, so overwhelmed by this revelation that he has to stare blankly out the window for a minute just to process it. “I can’t believe you’re my seat-stealing nemesis and my British guardian angel.”
Across the table, Henry makes a slightly strangled sound, but when Alex looks over at him his expression is a little too delighted. He presses his fingers over his mouth for a moment as if trying to hide his smile before giving it up as a lost cause. “Sorry, what was that second part again?”
“Nothing,” Alex huffs quickly, feeling his face heat. He tries to glare at the man across from him and mostly fails. “You’re fucking annoying, you know that?”
“And yet you’re still here,” Henry points out smugly.
“Maybe I just want this table.”
“We could share.”
“You’re ridiculously distracting,” Alex protests, and it sounds uncannily like flirting. “I wouldn’t get any work done.”
Henry opens his mouth to reply, but before he gets anything out his phone buzzes on the table next to him with a call. He frowns down at the screen, then glances apologetically up at Alex as he grabs it. “Sorry, I should take this.” Alex nods, and he taps it to answer. “Bea? What’s— Oh, shit. But everything is…? Yes, of course. Soon as I can. Love you too.” Henry looks unmistakably troubled as he hangs up, and when he looks up at Alex again his tight smile is far from convincing. “Looks like you got your wish,” he says. “I’m afraid something’s come up and I have to go, so the table is yours.”
“Oh,” Alex says, trying to smother his disappointment. “I guess I’ll… see you around?”
“Maybe so,” Henry offers with a small smile, and then he’s gone, leaving Alex no less confused than he was before.
+1
He does not, in fact, see Henry around, much to his chagrin. And Alex looks, everywhere, in all the places that Henry claimed he usually spent time. He’s not in the library, even at a different time of day, nor the coffee shop. There’s no sign of him, with or without a dog, at the park, nor on the Brooklyn-bound subway, and Pez isn’t at the shelter that Monday so Alex can’t even ask him where Henry is when he goes to volunteer.
(The legal clinic is actually slow for once that night, and Alex ends up having a rather enlightening conversation with Raf during their downtime about being queer in their field, which leads to Raf accidentally being the first person that Alex officially comes out to as bisexual. He’s not even really thinking about it, it just kind of spills out, but Raf gives him an encouraging smile and a hug, and he feels lighter afterward. He feels lighter still later that evening when he drops it casually into conversation with June and Nora, and they grin and tease him gently but it’s not a big deal, and it’s perfect.)
The thing with Henry just doesn’t make sense. Sure, they’d had a bit of an antagonistic back and forth, but he’s sure that Henry had been enjoying it as much as he had. Because Alex had enjoyed it, unquestionably, and it wasn’t just that he likes arguing with people (though he does). There’d been something else there, something sizzling between them. Clearly Henry had been interested in him, and now Alex knows that he’s very definitely interested in Henry, so he can’t figure out why it seems like Henry is suddenly using everything he knows about Alex to avoid him.
It’s been almost a week and a half of no Henry, and although Alex hasn’t stopped looking out for him at his usual spots, he no longer feels that little thrill of hope each time. At least that means he also no longer gets the lurch of disappointment that follows. Henry certainly proved he could find him if he felt like it, so Alex keeps on doing what he’d always done before on the off chance that Henry will feel like it again eventually. That’s how he ends up walking through the park toward his favorite spot on a Friday afternoon, the usual tangle of school and work and the future in his head joined by thoughts of Henry. He doesn’t know how one guy could show up in his life and so thoroughly turn it upside down in a matter of weeks just by being in his way, but somehow Henry had managed it.
The day is unseasonably warm but there’s still a chill in the air as he meanders down the path, his eyes fixed on the ground in front of him even as he manages to avoid joggers and couples walking hand-in-hand in the bright winter sun. The number of people thin out the closer he gets to his favored corner of the park, and though the sound of the city never truly fades away, it dwindles to a low background hum. That just means that the voice that speaks from somewhere in front of him is utterly unmistakable.
“Sit, David. Good boy. Yes, I know, that squirrel was taunting you.”
Alex’s head snaps up, and there he is: Henry, on his bench, looking down at a slightly wiggly but well-behaved beagle sitting on the ground next to his feet. There’s a soft smile on his face, and Alex’s stomach does some kind of complicated swooping motion at the sight of it, and at the way his hair glows like spun gold in the sunlight. He’s so fucking beautiful that Alex isn’t sure he’s not imagining his presence here, dreaming up a specter of him tinted by the rose-colored glasses of absence.
“Just a little longer,” Henry says to David, reaching down to rub his head. “He should be here soon, if we’re lucky.”
He’s so focused on the dog that he doesn’t notice Alex’s approach until Alex stops next to him, but when he does his face lights up with a brilliant grin that he makes no effort to suppress. If Alex is dreaming, then he really doesn’t want to wake up.
“I, uh,” he starts, uncharacteristically tongue-tied. “You’re sitting on my bench.”
Henry’s grin widens momentarily before he presses his lips together in a pantomime of a more serious expression, clearly trying to play along. “Is that so? I didn’t know it was reserved.”
“Yeah, see,” Alex says as he carefully sits down next to him on the bench. From his position between their feet, David tips his head backward to look up at him, hoping for pets. “You probably don’t know this, but I come here every Sunday afternoon to take a break from everything else going on in my life. It’s part of my routine.”
“Oh. Should I leave you to it, then?” Henry asks, something painfully earnest and hopeful in his gaze. He would leave, if Alex said so, but it’s plainly the last thing he wants.
Good thing it’s also the last thing Alex wants right now. He sways a little closer to Henry, until their shoulders brush, eyes dropping to his mouth before they snap back up. “No,” he murmurs, shaking his head as he slides a hand over Henry’s where it rests on his knee, slotting their fingers together. “You should stay.”
“Good,” Henry says. He shifts his hand, turning it over so their palms press together, and Alex could swear a little zing of electricity shoots through his arm at the contact. “Because I, er, brought a bit of a picnic of sorts,” he admits, grabbing a bag Alex hadn’t noticed before with his free hand. “I mean, only if you’d like, we don’t have to—”
“I’d love to, Henry.”
They actually leave the contested bench behind, then, because Henry brought a fucking blanket with him, which he spreads out on the ground nearby before settling down onto it with the bag. After a moment’s hesitation, Alex drops down next to him close enough to make sure their shoulders press together again, and Henry shoots him a quick grin as he pulls out some kind of fancy-looking cheese, a container of figs, and a loaf of crusty bread. He even brought a bottle of wine, which he pours into discrete, opaque plastic cups to skirt around the open container laws before tucking it away again so it won’t be seen. Henry, as it turns out, was not fucking around when he planned this surprise date.
David only makes a slight pest of himself, snuffling at the cheese and climbing into Alex’s lap to get pets, which Alex happily supplies until Henry diverts David’s attention with some kind of treat stick for him to gnaw on. Once Alex’s hands are free, he laces their fingers together again and doesn’t let go even when it makes eating a little awkward. Then Henry uses it as an excuse to feed him a wedge of fig, and Alex considers that the hand holding might actually be strategic on Henry’s part. His fingers linger against Alex’s lips in a way that is unmistakably deliberate, and Alex’s next breath hitches in his throat. Jesus fuck, who is this guy?
Well. One way to find out. It turns out Henry is frighteningly easy to talk to, and their teasing banter about favorite movies and music (David perks his head up at the mention of his namesake, and Alex has to grudgingly admit it’s actually a pretty good name) weaves organically into more sober conversations about messy family histories and uncertainty about the future. Alex finds himself telling Henry about things he never talks to anyone about, but somehow it doesn’t feel like too much. Somehow, when Henry stares at him with those deep blue eyes, he feels like it’s ok that he might not know everything right now. Somehow, with Henry’s hand still twined in his, he feels like he already knows himself better.
“You know, I looked for you,” Alex says when the conversation falls into a lull. They’ve drunk the wine and eaten most of what Henry brought, and David has polished off the cheese they didn’t get to. “You weren’t around.”
“I was in London,” Henry tells him. “Family emergency.”
Suddenly, Alex feels like an idiot. Even knowing he’s British, even after overhearing half of his phone call at the coffee shop, he never considered the possibility that the reason Henry disappeared could be that he was out of the country. “Is everything ok?”
“Oh, it’s nothing too serious. My mother broke her arm, so I went home to help out, until my sister pretty much booted me out.” Henry huffs a soft laugh. “She, uh… told me to stop using it as an excuse for stalling.”
“Stalling what?”
Henry slants a look at him sideways and squeezes his hand. “This,” he confesses quietly. Then, as if steeling himself, he takes a deep breath and looks at the sky, a determined set to his chin. “It was one thing, getting in your way in an attempt to get you to notice me. It was quite another when you actually did. After I left the coffee shop I might have started overthinking things, and I just…” Henry sighs, and finally turns to meet his eyes. “I didn’t want to mess this up. I like you, Alex. Probably more than I should, certainly more than I should be admitting, considering we hardly know each other—”
He doesn’t finish, because Alex reaches up, slides a hand behind Henry’s neck, and drags him across the scant distance between them until the rest of the words are lost in the press of their lips together. A soft sound of surprise escapes Henry’s throat, but he wastes no time at all before returning the kiss with no small amount of enthusiasm. His hand comes up to tangle in Alex’s hair, fingers twining in the curls as his lips move gently but deliberately against Alex’s. He kisses Alex like he’s already memorized every inch of his mouth, like he’s been studying the shape it for weeks; Alex supposes that maybe he has, from a distance. It’s a heady thought, that Henry wanted him all that time, and Alex has to pull back a moment just to breathe.
“I like you, too,” he says, once he can find the words, “in case that wasn’t clear.”
“Alex,” Henry sighs, as if he just wants to feel the weight of the name on his tongue. Then he tips his head so that their noses brush together, and Alex decides he’s had enough breathing.
He loses track of time, after that, because nothing seems more important than Henry’s mouth on his, than the slide of his tongue, than the scrape of his teeth as he tugs gently on Alex’s kiss-swollen lips. They might be in public but they’re far enough off the beaten path that no one has walked by them in quite some time, and Alex is contemplating abandoning all sense of decorum and straddling his lap; it wouldn’t be the weirdest thing anyone’s ever seen in the park, anyway. It appears, though, that someone else has other ideas. Suddenly there’s a warm, furry body pushing between them and a wide, slobbery tongue lapping at their chins, and they break apart with matching startled laughs.
“Ew, David, no,” Henry says, trying to push him away, but David has clearly decided he’s not being left out any longer. Henry shoots Alex an apologetic look as he wraps his arms around the exuberant beagle. “I’m sorry about that, he’s usually better behaved.”
“Nah, it’s fine. He’s just good at getting in the way, like his dad.”
Henry laughs at that, and Alex decides it’s his new favorite sound in the world. “I suppose I deserved that. Should I apologize for the severe emotional distress I caused by taking all your favorite spots? Promise to stay out of your way from now on?”
“Don’t you dare,” Alex shoots back as he drags Henry in by his coat for another kiss over a wiggling David, who’s clearly just excited to be in the middle of things. “I want you in my way on a permanent basis.”
“Permanent, huh? And you’re quite confident you won’t come to regret that?”
“Yeah,” Alex says with a grin, “I’m pretty fucking sure, sweetheart.”
There’s someone at his desk at the library, and on his bench at the park, and at his table at the coffee shop—and later, on his couch, and in his kitchen, and in his bed. He’s annoying and distractingly beautiful and brilliant, and Alex loves having him in the way more than he ever thought possible.
Alex still makes him sit in the second best seat at the movie theater, though, except for when they go see Return of the Jedi.