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In the aftermath of their first fight, there is quiet.
Alex has been pacing around the living room for hours, muttering to himself. He’s mostly trying his best to avoid thinking about the fight while absolutely thinking about the fight.
It wasn’t pretty. They both said harsh things, things they didn’t mean. Alex can barely remember what the fight was about, most likely something as unimportant as whose turn it was to do the dishes or who left the bath towels on the floor, but what it was about didn’t matter when they’d both been exhausted and at their limit and all it took was one tiny stupid thing to tip the scale.
Alex stops in the middle of the room and closes his eyes to take a deep breath. It does nothing to soothe the discomfort crawling up his skin, to ease the need in his veins to find Henry, see where he stormed off to, to see him and hold him and—
When he opens his eyes, David is looking at him expectedly from his place on the couch. Go on, he seems to say. That beagle is too smart for his own good.
The bedroom door is closed when Alex makes his way upstairs, drumming his fingers on his thigh. He stands there in the hallway and forces himself to stop the anxious tapping; it only half works.
He’s about to knock when the door opens.
“Oh,” Henry says, eyes wide in surprise. “I thought— I was just coming to find you.”
“Hi,” Alex says quietly.
The silence stretches out for a long moment. Alex takes the opportunity to scan his eyes over Henry’s face, his stomach twisting when he finds puffy eyes and bloody lips – Henry only pulls at the skin of his lips when he’s really stressed, and the fact that Alex was the reason behind it only makes matters worse. God, Henry must be furious with him.
“I’m sorry,” they say at the same time, and when Alex meets Henry’s eyes, startled, there’s something soft there, a hint of a smile. Maybe… maybe he’s not that angry. Maybe Alex can still fix this.
He tentatively takes a step closer, takes Henry’s hand in his gently. “I’m sorry I yelled,” he whispers, hating the memory of Henry’s hurt expression when Alex raised his voice.
Henry turns his hand over so their palms slide together more comfortably, lacing their fingers together, and something tight and uncomfortable loosens in Alex’s chest. Henry takes a step forward and leans down to press their foreheads together. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing the back of Alex’s hand.
“I really hate it when we fight,” Alex hears himself say, and he didn’t mean to say it, not really, not when his voice comes out faint and crackly, and he knows what he must sound like and he knows Henry will see right through him—
“Alex.” Soft palms cup his cheeks and he closes his eyes on instinct, leaning into the touch. “Love, look at me.”
Henry’s voice is the furthest thing from forceful but Alex stubbornly keeps his eyes closed, until Henry nudges their noses together slowly and a shaky exhale leaves Alex’s lips. When he opens his eyes again, he sees Henry’s face through a thin curtain of tears blurring his vision and immediately bites his lip to keep them from falling.
“I love you,” Henry says; quietly, like it’s a secret; firmly, like it’s an unconditional truth; easily, as he always does, as if those are the words that come the most naturally to him.
“I know,” Alex whispers – and it’s true, he does know it, but right now he needs to hear it and Henry knows that and it’s so stupid because he knows one stupid fight doesn’t mean—
“Alex, we’re not your parents,” Henry says with a kindness that tugs at Alex’s chest, his thumbs already there to catch the tears at the corners of his eyes. “I love you. There’s no fight in the world that could ever change that.”
Let’s not test that theory, Alex wants to joke to lighten the mood, but his voice feels too fragile for that. “I know,” he says again instead, and it comes out a little wet but the panic clawing at him before is nowhere in sight now, replaced by the gentle curve of Henry’s mouth as he smiles and the soft hands brushing his tears away. “I know, baby. I love you too.”
“You better,” Henry says, and Alex laughs a little, the tension finally leaving his body as he leans up to press his mouth to Henry’s, pulling him into a sweet kiss that rearranges his insides and leaves him feeling lighter than a feather.
“I love you,” Alex says again when they part. “And I’m sorry we fought. Just,” he adds to quiet Henry when he opens his mouth to protest. “I know. But I hate fighting with you and I know you hate it too, so I’m sorry. I don’t want it to happen again.”
“I don’t either,” Henry says, pulling Alex into his arms for a long hug. “I’m sorry too, love. I know…” He pauses, kissing the top of Alex’s head. “I know we can’t promise we’ll never fight again, but… we can talk about this and do our best to prevent it.”
“I’d like that,” Alex agrees quietly against Henry’s collarbone, and then he feels Henry yawning against him, the exhaustion clear in his body. Emotionally charged moments like these always drain him completely. “In the morning, though? I just wanna go to bed and cuddle with you right now.”
Henry smiles into his hair, places a soft kiss on Alex’s temple. “That sounds perfect, love.”
When they crawl under the covers that night, their bodies so close together there’s no telling where Henry ends and Alex begins, Alex tucks Henry’s head under his chin and presses a thousand kisses on his forehead. Then he waits for Henry’s breaths to even out, for the arm around his waist to tighten before it relaxes as he drifts to sleep, and Alex smiles.
Henry is worth all the fights in the world.