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She better be fucking kidding , Alex thinks as he stares blankly back at the interviewer. We’re already sharing a fucking couch. Isn’t that enough? It should be enough. I don’t want to be any closer to him. But she doesn’t look like she’s kidding and Zahra said I have to play nice. Something about the sun shining out of his dick.
Fat fucking chance, Zee .
Alex chances a glance over at Henry, who looks somehow like he’s both glued to this ugly couch and half a second away from bolting. His face is pinched in a way that should definitely be unattractive but is, much to Alex’s chagrin, not. Regardless, he looks at if that seemingly innocent request is making Henry consider garroting himself with his ugly tie.
Alex doesn’t blame him. In fact, he sort of wishes he had his own tie to bring a swift end to this torturous interview.
He forces a smile, wondering if he looks like he’s going to vomit at the prospect of being closer to His Royal Dickiness. He certainly feels like he might.
By some silent understanding, they both agree to shift closer to the center of the couch. He moves about half a foot, knowing there should still be room between them if Henry moves the same distance. When he looks to his left, he’s pretty sure Prince Douchebag of Wales only moved half an ass cheek towards him.
Alex seriously hates this dude.
When Henry glances at him, it’s clear he recognizes that they aren’t as close as they should be. If Henry thinks Alex is going to give in and move closer, he can fuck right off. When Alex holds steadfast, definitely not planning to move another centimeter, he sees the flash of resignation on Henry’s face. It gives him a sense of victory when HRH Prince Jackass looks like he’s swallowed a lemon and shifts closer again.
Not that he wants Henry to be closer to him, but the very nice interviewer asked them to be closer and since it’s Prince Dipshit’s home court, he should be the one to make all of the stomach-churning concessions.
“Right,” the woman says, smiling brightly at them, “first question is for you, Alex.”
Alex smiles, straightens his back, and turns it on .
..
The interviewer asks him and Alex to move closer and Henry feels like he may vomit. Alex looks like he would rather chew off an important extremity than be even a millimeter closer to him.
It pains Henry to say he feels the same, if only because he desperately wants to be closer to Alex, though he could do without the camera and interviewer in the room.
He clenches his jaw and moves minutely closer to his companion. When their eyes meet, Alex has moved a much greater distance than he has and Henry knows this isn’t going to cut it.
Then Alex displays a toned-down version of his very sexy smirk and Henry wants to die. Right about now, he thinks that would be the only humane way for this terrible, terrible morning to end.
He hopes his gulp isn’t too audible as he gathers the remainder of his pride and scoots just a little closer. He smiles tightly, feels his cheeks heat to a place that will definitely make them look pink on film, and flexes his hands against his thighs.
“Right,” the woman says, smiling brightly at them, “first question is for you, Alex.”
Henry breathes a sigh of relief and lets the tension in his shoulders release. He can do this.
He hopes.