Work Text:
It’s just past 8pm when he gets the email.
Subject: CD-10
To: Alex Claremont-Diaz ([email protected])
From: Natasha Wallace ([email protected])
Alex -
You know how you jokingly told me to let you know when Mayfield was vulnerable and/or not seeking re-election?
Tash
Alex reads the email five times before pulling off his glasses and rubbing tiredly at his eyes. Yes, he’d told her at a fundraiser three or four years ago that if the sitting Republican Congressman from his district was ever on his way out she should let him know. He didn’t actually expect it to happen . Wesley Mayfield has had a stronghold in the 10th since right before Alex and Henry moved out here from Brooklyn. He’s relatively young and has been, for at least the last few years, the darling of the Republican party in Texas.
And now Natasha is saying he’s giving up his seat?
“If you’re not careful,” the low voice of his husband murmurs, “you’ll be seeing stars in a not-fun way tonight.”
Alex snorts and looks over at Henry, small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips and some kind of bound proposal open in his lap. “Sorry, babe. I just got an email from Tash.” Henry squints in the way he usually does when he’s trying to remember one of the thousands of people that play a role in their lives. “From the Texas Democratic Party,” he offers, saving Henry from squinting too much and then declaring he’s unable to read anymore.
Henry opens his mouth to reply, closes it for a moment and then: “Ah.”
“Yeah,” Alex agrees.
“Am I to assume it’s not an email about needing a criminal defense lawyer?” he asks and Alex knows he already knows the answer to that.
The thing is, they haven’t really talked about it; there’ve been no discussions of him running for office since they were in their early twenties and trying to figure out if it was even possible for him to hold office if he was with a prince. They never really picked it up again because Alex had decided, after he and Henry were forcibly dragged from the closet without their consent, that he didn’t want a public life anymore.
Now, ten plus years later, he thinks maybe he wouldn’t mind it. The 2022 redistricting maps are complete shit and Alex spent a lot of time working with local lawmakers to try to fight it, but the Supreme Court is redder than Henry’s shoulders after a day on the water with no sunscreen and it was just … impossible. Maybe next time.
But next time would mean soon and if he had any say …
He shakes his head and comes back to the present. “No,” he answers finally. “She’s heavily implied that Mayfair won’t be in the race or he’s done something so colossally stupid that he can’t win reelection.”
“Ah,” Henry says again and Alex’s stomach twists. “I presume that means they’re tapping you for the seat?”
“Maybe,” Alex says, knowing he’s downplaying it. Anytime he’s at an event, no less than three people will mention him running for office. He always smiles and downplays it and thanks the person for thinking of him, but he’s happy in private practice and his husband travels for work a lot and they have a young son and …
And now he’s got a real opportunity, thin though it may be, to run for office and not get walloped.
“Alex,” Henry chastises in that way he has that makes Alex feel a little turned on but properly chagrined.
“Yeah,” he breathes. “Or at least that’s what I’m assuming. I don’t think she would have sent the email otherwise.”
Henry nods and puts a paperclip to mark his page, then closes the proposal and puts it on his nightstand. Alex knows his husband is moving a little slower than he normally would so he can gather his thoughts, but he kind of hates it right now. Part of him wishes Henry would outright tell him not to do it. Tell him it’ll be hard and it won’t work out no matter who they are and how hard they work. Tell him it’ll cost a lot of money and time with their son and could derail any plans he might have for the future involving politics.
Instead, Henry reaches over and closes Alex’s laptop, takes it from him and puts it on top of his own file. “And?” he asks quietly.
“And,” Alex repeats, “I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it seriously in years.”
“Okay,” Henry says leadingly, “but it’s obvious you’re thinking about it now.”
“Only because Tash carpet bombed our quiet night by sending that email,” Alex retorts. His tone is harsher than he wants it to be and he sighs, running a hand over his face. “Sorry,” he breathes, “sorry. It’s just … a lot.”
“I know, love,” Henry says quietly, reaching out to thread his fingers through Alex’s hair.
He takes the invitation for what it is and tips sideways so his head is pillowed in Henry’s lap with his husband's fingers gently carding through his hair and massaging his scalp. “It’s just … it’s going to be an open seat,” Alex tells him. “It’ll be a fair shot.”
“Will it?” Henry asks and Alex knew he would but it still stings. “Our area was pretty red before the redistricting. It’s redder now.”
“I know,” Alex groans, his hand moving up to trace patterns on the blanket covering Henry’s knee. “And it would be – it would be stupid, wouldn’t it? We’d have to rely more on Mom and Leo for Elliott because you’re not going to give up working on your foundation just because I’ve decided to run for fucking office. And then, on the off chance I actually fucking win , I’d be in DC half the year and it’ll be like …”
“It’ll be like?” Henry asks softly.
“It’ll be like it was when I was growing up,” he murmurs. “Mom always gone, Dad already gone.” He shakes his head. “I don’t want to do that to you and El.”
Henry nods. “But?”
It’s a testament to how well they know each other that despite Alex easily listing all of the reasons why doing this would be the worst possible idea, Henry knows that he’s got some up sides to it as well. He hates himself a little bit for it, if he’s honest.
“But …” He takes a deep breath. “But I could help people ,” he says. “People that I don’t reach in my practice.”
“You want to leave the world a better place than you found it,” Henry says quietly and Alex nods. “You know you’re already doing that, right? With Elliott and the people you help at work, the ones you help at the shelters. You don’t owe yourself to anyone, Alex.”
“Sometimes I feel like I do,” he whispers. “Sometimes I feel like I haven’t paid Texas back for getting Mom reelected.”
“That’s not your job, love. They voted for your mum because they knew she was the right person for the job.”
“D’you think I’m not the right person for the job?” he asks.
The fact that Henry grows quiet would have really irked Alex in the beginning of their relationship but now he knows that his husband doesn’t want to placate him. Alex running for Congress is something that would affect the whole family, not just him.
“No,” Henry says slowly, measured. “I don’t think you’re not the right person for the job. But I think maybe you’re taking too much onto yourself again. Weren’t you saying that you might want to help coach Elliott’s little league team? Running for office would prevent that. However , you’re brilliant and strategic and you care so bloody much.” He lets out a long, slow breath. “If it’s something you want to consider, I’m on your side. There’s no harm in meeting with Natasha, talking with people you trust. Go visit your mum and Leo, call your dad. Rafael. Nothing needs to be decided now. The election is over a year away.”
Alex takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “Okay,” he says softly. “I’ll meet with Tash.”
…
Meeting with Tash is a terrible idea and he regrets every second of it. Because she’s smart and capable and determined and has a fucking list of reasons why he should consider running for Congress. And the thing is, he’s good at lists, great at them, but this list blows almost anything he’s ever written out of the water. (The list of things he loves about Henry is framed, hidden from the view of their son but remaining the best list in creation.)
“So?” she asks, hands folded on the desk in front of her. “Will you consider it?”
Alex licks his lips and determinately does not shift in his seat. “Who else are you looking at to run?” he asks. “If I say no.”
She blinks as if him saying no is the most preposterous thing she’s ever heard. “Oh, uhm. Well, I guess we’ll cross that bridge if we come to it.”
Something zings down his spine. It’s not pride, but it’s something like that. His name is currently the only one on their short list for this seat.
He hates that it makes his ego inflate a little bit. He decides he’ll have to figure out a way to tell Henry that won’t have his husband rolling his eyes and calling him egotistical. Even though he kind of (rightfully) is.
“Do you have a deadline?” he asks her. “I know the filing deadline isn’t until February and I haven’t seen anyone else file for the Democratic side. But do y’all have a deadline to hear back from me?”
Natasha purses her lips slightly and looks around the room. “Not anything firm,” she tells him, “but we don’t want to wait forever. Being able to get your name out there would do wonders in getting us ahead of the Republicans. It might even weed out a few that I’ve heard are considering running if their opponent is right.”
“Kay Granite?” he asks with an arched brow.
“We think floating your name might make her think twice. Lyle Horvath and Preston Gage too.”
“Fuck Preston Gage,” Alex says hotly. “He’s a dick.”
“He’s a rich dick with a wide social net,” Natasha clarifies. “But we think he might keep his money in his wallet if he sees your name on a poster or two.” She clears her throat. “I can give you three weeks before I have to start looking for someone else,” she tells him. “Through Thanksgiving.”
He nods once, resolute. “I’ll try to have an answer to you before then,” he tells her. “I don’t plan to drag this out.”
“Good,” she tells him, standing and offering her hand. He stands and takes it. “I look forward to hearing from you soon.”
Alex nods and leaves her office, eyes scanning as he makes his way through the warehouse Tash operates her leg of the TDP in. There are some older staffers he remembers from when he was working with these folks when his mom was running for reelection. He stops to shake hands with them, demuring when they tell him they’re looking forward to helping him get elected.
Once he finally makes it outside, he takes a deep breath, letting the chilly November air fill his lungs and cool his overheated cheeks.
The thing is, it sounds good. Maybe it sounds a little too good. Natasha’s known him since his mother was Speaker. She was a volunteer then but she’s worked hard and dedicated her life to the Texas Democratic Party and he thinks he might kind of owe it to her to do this.
Or at least give it some serious thought.
Before he reaches his car, he pulls out his cell. “Hey,” he says when it connects. “You home?”
“Sure am, Sugar,” his mom replies. “You gonna bring my grandson over for me to spoil some more?”
Alex snorts. “As if he needs it. No, Henry has him at one of his friend’s birthday parties. I was hoping you were available for some mother - son time.”
His mother is quiet for a few beats, long enough for him to climb into the car and get the phone connected to the bluetooth. “Where are you?”
How the fuck does she always know?
“Leaving Natasha Wallace’s office,” he answers.
“I’ll pour the Makers, you stop and pick up some barbecue.”
“I’ll see you in a bit, Ma,” he says with a grin before disconnecting.
When he gets there, he has a couple of bags from Interstellar and a strong desire to have his mother tell him what he should do. He knows she won’t, but he knows it would make things so much easier. A simple “of course you should, Sugar” or an appropriately toned-down “now probably isn’t the best time” would solve all of his problems.
Unfortunately, Ellen Claremont isn’t the kind of mother who makes decisions for her children.
“It’s not something I can decide for you, Alex,” she says around a big bite of pulled pork. “It’s something you’ll need to work out on your own. Not even Henry can tell you what to do.”
“I know,” he grumbles, “but it would make things so much easier on me.”
Ellen laughs and sips her whiskey. “I don’t think things like this are supposed to be easy. Do you remember when I first ran?”
“Not really,” Alex confesses. “I remember your presidential campaign and some of your reelection stuff but …” He shrugs. “I remember Dad’s first Senate campaign, and Raf’s, but you’ve been in office since before I can remember.”
“It’ll be like that for Ellie, you know,” she says quietly. “If this is just the stepping stone to more. He’ll grow up just like you did.”
“He’ll have Henry,” Alex shoots back defensively, “and I won’t be Speaker so I can be …” he trails off, the wind dropping out of his sails. “I can be here more than you could.”
“I know you think that now, Sugar, but I did too.”
Alex is so much like his mother that her words raise his hackles. He wants to tell her that she’s wrong, that maybe it didn’t work out the way she wanted it to but it will for him. He wants to tell her that he and Henry can make it work, unlike her and his dad.
He’s so much like her but in this, he really wishes he wasn’t.
“Do you think it’s a bad idea?” he asks softly. “Honestly?”
“Honey, I’ve thought you’d make an excellent politician from the start,”she tells him. “You’re bright and ambitious and you know the soul of your constituency. If you decide to run, it’ll be for the betterment of your district and the United States Congress.”
“But will it destroy my family?”
His mother wipes her mouth and moves around the table to wrap him in a hug. “Your dad and I had problems long before I ran for office,” she tells him. When she presses a kiss to his temple, he closes his eyes and lets himself remember a time when he needed his mother more than anyone in the world. “You and Henry are strong. Stronger than any couple I’ve known in my life.”
It balms his fears a little, knowing his mom sees what he feels, but it doesn’t really help. Yes, he and Henry are strong now . They’ve worked hard to figure out how to navigate their marriage and careers. Henry doesn’t travel in the weeks surrounding big trials for Alex and Alex keeps shorter office hours when Henry’s gone because neither of them want their son to grow up with absent parents.
That thought should be enough to dissuade him from saying yes to Natasha, but it’s not.
“Thanks, Ma,” he says quietly and brings his arms up to give her a squeeze.
“Of course, Sugar,” she says and kisses his hair before straightening back up. “You know,” she adds nonchalantly as she returns to her seat, “when you win, I’ll get more Nana Time and I’m never against that.”
Something heavy forms in the pit of his stomach at the thought of how little time he’d actually have with his son, but he forces a smile nonetheless. “I’m sure he’d love that.”
After lunch with his mother, he decides to head into the office for a bit. Henry and Elliott are going to be at the party until dinner and he’d rather not wander around their house alone letting his nerves get the best of him.
He tries his best to concentrate on the file of an eighteen year old kid who was obviously in the wrong place at the wrong time, and who’s locked up pending a hearing in three weeks because he couldn’t make bail, but he can’t. He keeps thinking about Natasha and Henry and running for Congress and all the good he can do for everyone in Travis County, Texas, the country, and not just the small subsection of the population who walks through his doors now.
He has FaceTime up before he recognizes that he’s grabbed his phone at all. “How did you know you wanted to give up being a lawyer to legislate?” he asks.
“Hi, Alex,” Raf says sarcastically. “I’m great. How’re you? How’s Henry? And my godson?”
“Everyone’s fine,” he answers impatiently, likely undercutting the sentiment, at least where he’s concerned. “How did you know?”
“I’m still a law—”
“You don’t practice,” he interjects. “Don’t … don’t play games. Just … how did you know?”
“I may have given up my job as a lawyer,” Raf says after some consideration, “but I didn’t change my goal. I became a lawyer to help people who couldn’t help themselves. Why?”
“Wesley Mayfield isn’t running for reelection,” he answers. “I got the email on Wednesday. Met with Natasha Wallace today.”
“Shit,” Raf breathes. “That’s … something.”
“Eloquent,” Alex snorts.
“So you’re running?” he asks, ignoring him.
“Maybe,” Alex answers truthfully. “They’ve asked me to. I’m the only name on the short list right now.”
“And so you’re calling me to find out why I made the jump from litigator to legislator,” Raf says with a nod. “You talk to your dad yet?”
“He’s camping in Yosemite this weekend. I talked to Mom a little while ago. Wasn’t as helpful as I’d hoped it would be.”
Raf hums and Alex watches as he reclines back on his couch. “What answer did you want her to give you?”
And that’s the thing of it, isn’t it? He doesn’t know . He wants the support to run but also the permission to say no. “I don’t know,” he says after a few minutes. It’s honest and it makes his chest hurt. “So far, Natasha’s given me some really great reasons to run and everyone else has given me better ones not to. And Mom wouldn’t just fucking tell me what I should do, which sucks.”
Raf laughs, hoarse and low, and Alex sighs. “Unfortunately, there’s not a soul on this planet who can tell you what to do. What does Henry think?” Without much of a pause, he adds, “You have told Henry about this, right?”
“Yes I told Henry,” Alex snipes. “He’s … supportive in the way I expect him to be. He’s never wanted a public life, though, and since he’s backed away from his royal duties, he hasn’t really been in the public eye at all.” He swallows. “He’s able to focus on the Foundation and the shelters and Elliott.”
Raf hums. “You think he would be willing to step back into the public arena?” he asks. Alex is pleased that his voice is more curious than disbelieving. “I know he’s gone back to London once or twice for things, his mother’s coronation, a couple of appearances for charities he supports … but he’s been largely absent since you two moved to Texas.” He pauses and considers his next words carefully. “He and Elliott would be out there too. You remember what it was like with your dad. He’ll be in it as much as you and Henry.”
“I know,” he groans. “It’s just … I guess it makes me think about the fact that if he decided he wanted to pack up and move back to England and start doing all the Prince shit he hasn’t done in years, I would be there for him. I like to think he’ll be here for me.”
“Okay,” Raf says as if it’s that easy. “I wouldn’t put it like that when you talk to him, but I definitely get the sentiment.”
Alex rolls his eyes but perks up when he sees a figure in the background. “Hey, Professor Westbrook!”
Oliver shuffles over to the back of the couch and grins at the screen. “Claremont-Diaz. Dismantling the patriarchy today?”
“Not yet. Reading case files and avoiding my empty house.”
“Right on,” he replies before shuffling away from Raf and back towards where Alex knows the kitchen is.
“Sabbatical life, huh?”
“Shut up,” Raf scoffs. “As if Henry wasn’t shuffling around the house at odd hours when he was writing his book.”
“Henry shuffles around the house at odd hours now ,” he answers with a grin.
There’s a noise off screen and a low curse and Alex can’t help but laugh. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
“Fuck,” Raf swears. “Yeah. Let me know what you decide, okay? I’ll come out and campaign for you.”
“Two non-hetero brown guys in red territory. Sounds like the perfect plan.”
Raf laughs. “We’ve never lost before, Kid.”
And then he winks. And then he’s gone.
And Alex is left with the undeniable truth of Raf’s parting words: they’ve never lost before.
…
When Alex gets home that evening, Henry and Elliott are just arriving as well.
“ Papi !” Elliott yells, his sandy blond hair long and messy around his ears. “There was a camel!”
Alex catches his son and shoots an inquisitive look to his husband who, it appears, did not apply enough sunscreen to his face. “Bounce house,” Henry tells him, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek. “Good day?”
Alex keeps Elliott in his arms as they head inside, locking and setting the alarm behind them. “Long day,” Alex corrects with a smile, dropping their son onto his feet and watching him run to look for their dog. “I talked to Tash, Mom and Raf.”
“Your dad’s camping?” Henry asks as he toes off his shoes and brings his fingers to his nose, wincing at the heat. “He’s back Monday, right?”
“Yeah, he has a fundraiser Monday night with all the rich ass lawyers in Brentwood.”
“Ah, so that’s why you told him you’re in trial prep,” his husband grins. “You didn’t want to have to go hobnob with your former colleagues.”
“One, the Big Law lawyers in New York are not nearly as stuck up as the ones in LA. And two, you’re absolutely right. We’ll go to the one he’s doing at the community center next month,” Alex tells him, leaning against the back of the couch. He watches Henry for a moment, his heart filling at the ease with which his husband moves around their home. Sure, they’ve been here for years but it still makes his pulse race seeing the man he fell in love with more than ten years ago content in the state he loves.
God, how he ever thought anywhere but Texas could ever really be home is … insane.
“That’s fine. I have to go to the LA shelter sometime before Christmas anyway. Get the date and I’ll schedule it for around the fundraiser,” Henry tells him. “And now we can stay with your dad and he won’t bug me about when he’ll get to see Elliott again.”
Before Alex can respond, their son comes clomping down the stairs with their basset hound, Walter, following behind. Alex always worries the poor thing is going to step on one of his ears and tumble down the stairs in a horrible accident.
“Abuelo Oscar?” Elliott asks as he pushes his blond fringe from his eyes.
“Mhm,” Alex agrees. “And we can probably bring Walter too. Unless you want to leave him with Nana and Pops,” he adds.
The little boy looks down at the dog, who looks up dolefully, and then says, “We’ll see if he behaves.”
Alex doesn’t lose it laughing, but it’s a close thing.
Dinner is a quick and easy bowl of cereal since Henry and Elliott ate at the party and Alex had so much barbecue for lunch he’s not hungry at all. It could also be the nerves building up in him because he wants to talk to Henry about running for Congress. He won’t do it when Elliott is around so he has to wait until the inevitable sugar crash takes hold.
After they eat, they take Walter on a walk down by the lake. Halfway through, Elliott starts leaning hard against Henry so he picks him up. The boy is asleep before they turn back towards the house. Unsurprisingly, Walter slows down about fifty feet from the back porch, so Alex hefts him into his arms and both of their boys are carried in and up to Elliott’s room for bed.
Once they’re both down, Henry and Alex retire to the living room with beers. They’re both on the sleepy side as well but Alex knows Henry wants to hear about Alex’s meetings and would probably have trouble sleeping if they didn’t talk about it.
Alex decides not to make his husband wait. “Natasha had some good arguments for running,” he says. “Including the fact that we’re only seven flipped seats shy of a majority.” Henry hums and Alex continues, his words coming quickly. “And she said that I might be the only democrat with the chops to give the R who runs, or wins the primary, a real race. With the redistricting in ‘22, no democrat’s come close to putting up a fight. And she thinks that me running would keep a few of the worst of the worst from trying to get the nomination on the republican side.”
He stops and chews the inside of his cheek while Henry sips his beer. “It’s not that difficult to believe that you’re the best chance your party has,” he says honestly. Alex wants to call it our party but he doesn’t want the fight. Henry votes because it’s important to Alex, but twenty-odd years of not being permitted to have an opinion doesn’t leave a man easily. “And a majority in the House would be game-changing, so long as you can also keep the Senate. Did you talk to Rafael about that?”
“I just talked to him about the possibility of me running,” Alex answers. “And it was kind of a mixed response from him. I can’t really tell which way he’s leaning, but he brought up some good points. About you and El,” he adds. “He and Mom made basically the same points. About El having a similar childhood to mine if I run. And that’s … that’s a big reason not to run.”
“Were you unhappy?” Henry asks him and Alex is confused. Henry continues, “When you were a child, were you unhappy that your mother was in Congress?”
“I … don’t think so,” Alex admits, “but I don’t remember much of the early years. She was in Congress when my parents split, I know that, and she was Speaker when she met Leo. Dad was ready to run for Senate by then and I was kind of focused on that.” He clears his throat, “But I’ve always loved politics. Loved that my mom was elected and my dad was running. And I was obsessed with Raf. It was just … everything to me.”
“Do you think it’ll be different for Elliott?” Henry asks and Alex … well, he’s not sure. Their son is so much more like Henry than he is Alex and he knows how much his husband struggled with his own fame growing up.
“I don’t know,” he answers honestly, “but kinda? I think El is so much like you and I know how you felt, you’ve always said how much you hated the spotlight and if he’s like that, like June was … I shouldn’t put him through that, you know?”
Henry nods and Alex watches him retreat into his own mind. It used to bother him when Henry did this, but he’s come to accept that while Alex likes to talk things through, even if the conversation jets in twenty different directions, Henry likes to organize his thoughts before speaking.
“If I asked you not to do it, would you turn it down?” Henry asks him eventually.
“Yes,” he answers without hesitation. It’s the one truth he knows. If his husband wasn’t behind him one hundred percent, he would walk away. He may think about it, consider it a lost opportunity, but he would never do it without Henry’s full agreement.
Henry lets out a breath and nods. “You also know I would never do that, right?” he asks softly. “If this is something you want, I won’t deny you the opportunity. You’ve done so much for me and our family, I would never …”
“Do you want me to run?” Alex asks, putting his beer down and climbing into his husband’s lap. He takes Henry’s beer from him as well, stretching to put it on the end table. He needs Henry’s full attention, needs to be able to look into his eyes and see the truth.
Henry smiles when Alex moves his hands to his cheeks. “If it’s something you want then yes,” Henry tells him. “Would I, without any provocation, tell you to do it? No. But if this is something you want, if it’s in your blood and your heart and your soul, I’m with you.”
Alex takes a breath, then another, then leans in and kisses Henry. It starts out as just a kiss, no real intent, but as Alex plays Henry’s words over and over in his too-fast brain, he can’t stop himself from changing directions, from kissing his husband a little harder, a little deeper.
A little dirtier.
Like always, Henry catches the shift and smirks against his lips. Alex can’t help the breathless laugh that escapes him as Henry gets his hands under Alex’s ass and stands. “Don’t be too noisy,” he murmurs. “If you wake Elliott, you’re handling getting him back to sleep and I’m having a wank in the shower, alone, before bed.”
“Just hurry the fuck up and take me upstairs, dickhead,” Alex chuckles against Henry’s lips.
“So romantic,” Henry snorts.
“Are you going so slow because you’re old and can’t carry me that far?”
“I will literally drop you where I stand.”
“Good for both of us if I land on my knees …” Alex says leadingly.
“Christ,” Henry whispers before moving towards the stairs at a pace more frequently used ten years earlier.
…
“Hey, Pa,” Alex says with a smile as he answers his desk phone Monday morning. “Good trip?”
“Fucking freezing out there,” Oscar replies. “Why did I want to do that again?”
“To prove you’re not as old as you look?”
“Little shit,” his father affectionately retorts. “What’s up? Your message sounded like it was important.”
“It sort of is. Or at least time sensitive. I kind of want to get started on it if I decide to do it, you know?” he asks. At his father’s silence, he chuckles. “No, you don’t know, because I haven’t told you yet.”
“Look at you becoming self-aware. Your husband is finally rubbing off on you.”
“Shut it, old man,” Alex shoots back with no heat. “I’ve been tapped to run for the 10th.”
“No shit,” his dad breathes after a little too long. “Took them long enough.”
Alex forces a laugh and runs a hand through his hair, messing it up in a way that’ll mean having to fix it properly before his Zoom call later. “That’s mostly my fault,” he admits. “I told Tash not to call me until Mayfield wasn’t running again.”
“I hadn’t heard he wasn’t,” Oscar says slowly. “Who told you?”
“Tash,” Alex answers, “and she gave the names of some people who are considering running who would never primary Mayfield, so it’s legit.”
“So you’re doing it?” he asks curiously.
“I think so,” Alex answers slowly. “I wanted to talk to you about it first though. I’ve talked to Tash and Raf and Mom and Henry but I didn’t want to make a decision without talking to you. Because you held off on running when Mom was in Congress, right? You’d wanted to run but you both decided it should be her?”
Oscar sighs. “It’s a little more complicated than that, mijo . Your mom has always been more outspoken than me, and when we both mentioned wanting to run for office, they picked her as the best candidate. And I was okay with that because I definitely wasn’t going to primary my wife, and also, because I know how your mom is.”
“Meaning?”
“It’s the way the two of you are most similar,” his dad says. “You throw yourself into achieving your goal wholly. I needed to stay behind for you and June.”
“Was it too much?” Alex asks quietly. “Did it cost you Mom?”
“Your mother and I were already halfway to divorce before her first campaign,” Oscar says seriously. “Are you thinking about you and Henry?”
“Yeah,” Alex answers on a breath. “Yeah. I mean, Henry said he’s in if I really want it and I believe him but … will I lose him if I do this? If I win?”
“I can’t answer that, mijo . I wish I had an answer for you. But I do know that you and Henry aren’t me and your mother. Not even close. Do I think the two of you could survive a long, hard campaign? Alex, I think you already have.” He’s quiet so his dad goes on. “When Richards leaked your emails, what the two of you went through after that, it was much harder than anything they could throw at you now. I think you’re older, wiser and better equipped than you were back then. I think you could not only do this, but eventually do more. And I’m right there with you if you decide to do it. Los Bastardos can take DC by storm again.”
His father’s words knock the wind out of him. They don’t usually do the whole feelings thing, that’s more his mom’s area, but this feels genuine and real. He’s always been closer to his mother in attitude and expression, but right now he feels like maybe he’s growing more to be like the man his father is. Honestly, he doesn’t hate it.
“Thanks, Pa,” Alex says after he catches his breath. “That means a lot.”
“You let me know when you need me to come to Austin, yeah? I need to spend more time with mi gringuito .”
“Stop calling him that,” Alex laughs. “Jesus.”
“Never,” his dad responds. “He’ll be twenty five on his wedding day and I’ll still be calling him that.”
“You’re the worst. I gotta go,” he adds when his paralegal knocks and pokes her head into his office. “Love you.”
“You too, mijo . Let me know when you’re coming in next month so I can have the guest rooms made up.”
“Will do, Pa,” Alex answers before hanging up. He nods for his paralegal to come in and focuses on his work. He can think more on Congress later.
…
That night, Alex is no closer to having a decision than he was before he spoke with his family and Raf. There’s one person he knows won’t bullshit him, but he never knows when the kids are sleeping or when she’s in a meeting, so calling is out.
Plus he doesn’t know if he’d be able to listen to her tell him he’s got no business running for office.
Alex
Hey, Zee. What do you think about me running for office?
Zee
You’d be an asset to the party.
Alex
Hi, Shaan. Have Zee text when she’s got a minute?
Zee
It’s me, jackass.
Alex
I don’t know how to respond to this. I’m beside myself.
Astral projecting. I see myself, I see my phone, I see the words
… but it does not compute.
Zee
And this conversation is over.
Alex
No! Wait. Please. Don’t block me.
You’re serious?
Zee
Would I have said it if I wasn’t?
Alex
Probably not.
Zee
You’re thinking about running for Mayfield’s seat?
Alex
You heard he’s not running? Dad hadn’t.
Zee
You’ve waited days to reach out, Diaz. You think I haven’t talked to your mom?
Alex
You mad I didn’t call you first?
Zee
I’m glad you didn’t. I would have told you to fuck off.
I’m out of politics. I’ve got a kid and some cats now. Don’t need the bullshit.
Alex
So you’re saying you wouldn’t come run my campaign if I decided to do it?
Zee
That is not at all what I’m saying.
Alex
You think I could do it? Win in the 10th? Be a Congressman?
Zee
I think you would be stupid not to try.
I can be on a plane on Friday.
Alex
Tell me which airline. I’ll buy the ticket.
Zee
Goddamn right you will.
…
When there’s a knock on the door, Alex grins and runs to open it. He expects to see Zahra with a couple of suitcases and a thermos of coffee. What he actually sees is Nora with a duffle bag and narrowed eyes.
“Nora?” he asks in shock, stepping back and letting her in. “What’re you doing here? I thought you were in, like, Belgium or something working on your algorithm or whatever.”
“I was,” she says, removing her bag from her shoulder and shoving it at him. “And then your sister texted me and asked what I thought of you running for fucking Congress and I had to pretend I knew what she was talking about.” She pushes the door shut behind her. “I need a shower and a nap and then I’m going to properly chew you out for not telling me. And then I’m going to help you run some numbers. Got it?”
“Mhm,” he agrees because what the fuck else is he going to do? “Zahra’s on her way in too. Henry’s—”
“Right here,” his husband says entering the room. He wraps Nora in a hug, which she accepts, and then she punches him on the shoulder. “Ow, christ ! What was that for?”
“You didn’t tell me either,” she says simply. “Shower, nap, ass reaming, strategy,” she adds before grabbing her bag back and stomping upstairs.
Alex turns to Henry with a forced smile. “Nora knows.”
Henry laughs and kisses his cheek. “Probably won’t have to freeze the extra lasagna then. What time is Zahra due in?”
The doorbell rings again. “I guess right now.”
“Unless it’s another of your ex girlfriends coming to yell at you for not telling them about your plans to run for office.”
“Ha-fucking-ha, baby. Go away.”
Henry grins and kisses him again and then disappears back into the kitchen. “Don’t forget that Elliott has a playdate with Mindy this afternoon. You said you’d have him there at two. I’ve got my conference call at one-thirty.”
“Got it!” he confirms before rushing back to the door and opening it to find Zahra, just as he expected her.
She shoves one of her bags at him and crosses the threshold. “Let’s get to work.”
…
“I’m sorry,” he says for what feels like the hundredth time. “I just – I lost track of time.”
Henry, who is washing his face in the en suite, hums. “I know.”
“It’s just … you know how I get when I’m focused on something,” Alex tries to explain.
“I do,” Henry says and Alex wants to scream.
He knows his husband is disappointed in him. He’d promised to take Elliott to the park to meet with his friend Mindy while Henry had a conference call with someone in his Berlin shelter and he’d gotten so wrapped up in strategizing with Zee and Nora that he’d just … forgotten. And when Henry came out of his office to find Alex on the couch and Elliott in his playroom, Henry had just shaken his head and made a call to Mindy’s dad.
So, yeah, a few days in and Alex is already fucking up.
“It won’t happen again,” he tries.
Henry rinses and dries his face and then turns off the light before joining Alex in their bedroom. “Yes it will,” he says softly, pressing a kiss against Alex’s forehead. “But we’ll figure it out.”
So, yeah, Alex goes to bed feeling like shit and wondering if telling Natasha that he would explore running for Congress was a bad idea.
…
“I’m surprised to see you here, Claremont-Diaz.”
Alex turns to see Jason Allred, a democrat from CD-14, approaching him. He smiles and shakes the man’s hand. “Are you? I’ve always been a big party donor.”
Allred grins. “Mmm, maybe. But you don’t look like you’re carrying around your checkbook tonight.”
“My husband has it,” he jokes. “Just wanted to come out and see some familiar faces. And some new ones. Gemma Hertford?” he asks.
“She’s going to be a force. Running for the Texas House, I’ve heard. She hasn’t made an announcement yet. I think she might be waiting to see who’s running for the 10th.” Allred pauses and then slants Alex a knowing look. “You hear anything about who might be throwing their hat in the ring?”
“Maybe,” Alex says with a nonchalant shrug. “Nothing official.”
“Well, I think if everyone’s choice does decide to run, they’re going to help turn the House blue again and help reverse some of the shitty policies and laws that have gone into effect in the last few years.”
“Oh?” Alex asks. “And who’s everyone’s choice?”
Allred claps him on the shoulder. “Just tell me where to send my donation, Alex. And let me know if and when you want to do something jointly.”
Alex feels the familiar flutter of excitement rise in his chest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he lies, a smile on his lips.
Allred hums and moves on, leaving Alex feeling invigorated. He finishes his drink and, with a determination he hasn’t felt in a long time, steps into the crowd and turns it on .
…
“You’re looking quite proud of yourself,” Henry says with a smirk as he leans against the doorway to Alex’s office. “Did you smack down a prosecutor this morning?”
“Hey, baby!” Alex says, jumping up and circling the desk to kiss his husband. “No prosecutors, but I’ve got a dinner meeting with Kirsten Moyer.” At Henry’s blank look, Alex continues, “She’s the primary shareholder in that biotech thing that Pez has been going on about for months.”
“You’ve gotten him a meeting?” Henry asks, delighted.
“No, baby, me . I’m having dinner with her. If I can get her backing for this campaign …” He trails off, a faraway smile on his face. “God, H, it’ll be incredible.”
“Right,” his husband says slowly. “And this dinner is …?”
“Thursday night,” Alex says. “And I’ll definitely be done before our meeting at El’s school. I have it booked in my calendar and have four warning alarms set. I’m not going to fuck this up.”
“Alright,” Henry says and it feels a bit skeptical. Alex pushes that feeling off, though, because he knows Henry’s still a little upset about him missing Elliott’s play date. “Are you ready to go now?”
“Yeah,” Alex agrees. “Just need to grab my coat and let Jess know I’m out for the rest of the day.”
“You’re going to need a business partner, you know,” Henry says idly once they’re out of his office and headed for the car.
“What for?” he asks, confused.
“Unless you’re planning to close the firm once you win?” Henry asks slowly, a hint of concern in his voice. And fuck , Alex hadn’t thought about that. He can’t give up his practice; there are too many people in Texas who need his help.
“No,” Alex says. “We’ll worry about that after I officially launch though.”
“Alright,” Henry says. Alex feels like he’s hearing that word a lot more lately and he doesn’t really like it.
He makes a mental note to prove to his husband that he can do this and not fuck up their lives at the same time.
…
“Sorry,” Alex breathes as he speed walks into Elliott’s classroom. Henry is seated in a chair in front of their son’s teacher’s desk, hands folded in his lap and lips pinched. “There was an accident on Stewart and I got stuck.”
“That’s okay, Mr. Claremont-Diaz,” Miss Holland says with a smile. “Henry and I were just discussing Elliott’s favorite subjects.”
Alex flops down into the seat and feels a chill run up his spine when Henry doesn’t take his hand. He’s only ten minutes late and it wasn’t even his fault. He tries very hard not to clench his jaw and show his husband how aware he is of what’s happening.
“Reading, right?” Alex jokes. “He’s Henry’s little mini me.”
“Actually,” she says with a smile, “he’s been very interested in social studies. I suppose that’s to be expected with your family history. He keeps lists of people he wants to learn about.”
“Lists?” Alex asks, his hands growing a little cold and clammy. “Should we—” He cuts himself off and looks at Henry. “Do we need to—”
Henry shakes his head and finally puts a hand over Alex’s. “Do you see any other behavior in him that might lend the thought to seeking out an ADHD diagnosis?” Henry asks.
“I’m not a behaviorist,” Miss Holland says, “but he tells me he keeps lists because his Papi does.” Alex swallows around the lump in his throat and nods. “But if you’re worried, I can ask the school resource officer if they have any suggestions.”
“No,” Alex croaks out. “Not - not yet.”
Miss Holland smiles. “Elliott is a good student. He’s not disruptive, asks questions if he’s unsure, and does well in his work. He’s a very bright boy. You two should be very proud.”
“We are,” Henry assures her. “Is there anything he should work on?”
Miss Holland looks down and clears her throat. Alex feels his stomach clench but then he notices she’s trying not to smile too widely. “Perhaps schooling his facial expressions when he disagrees with someone?” she suggests. “He’s very expressive.”
“He’s rolling his eyes and wrinkling his nose, isn’t he?” Henry asks flatly.
She can’t hold in her giggle. “It’s really adorable on his sweet face but yes, there are certain things that he’s been known to express his disagreement with by snorting or crossing his arms. Adorable, like I said, but not very helpful.”
“I’m absolutely going to be blamed for that,” Alex tells her and she laughs again.
“At least he knows it’s his fault,” Henry grins.
“I didn’t say I am to blame,” Alex shoots back, laughing a little himself. He turns back to Elliott’s teacher and grins. “I’ll work with him on that.”
“Thank you,” she says before picking up a folder and handing it to him. “This is some of Elliott’s writing and artwork. May I ask … who’s Walter?”
“Our basset hound,” Henry says, the curiosity evident in his voice. “Why?”
She lets out a startled laugh and shakes her head. “The children had a writing assignment,” she tells them and nods for Alex to open the folder. On the top, there’s a lined piece of paper with Elliott’s large and messy handwriting on it.
When Walter farts it smells so bad I think I might barf.
“Oh my god,” Henry groans and Alex cannot stop himself from laughing so hard he nearly falls out of his chair.
…
“Are we going to Nana’s for Thanksgiving?” Elliott asks at the breakfast table the Sunday before the holiday.
“Mhm,” Alex confirms around a bite of English muffin. “And Tia June will be there too.”
“Who else?” Elliott asks.
“Who else do you think should be there?” Henry replies curiously as he sips his coffee.
“Auntie Zee and Miss Nora and Miss Tasha and Mr. Booker and Mr. Latham and Mr. Talbot and Miss Jamie and Miss Lisa,” Elliott lists carefully, ticking the names off on his fingers.
Alex blinks. “El, why should they all come to Thanksgiving?” he asks.
“Because you spend all your time with them now,” the six year old responds and Alex feels like there’s a lead weight in his stomach. “I thought you would want them to come too.”
Alex looks up and meets Henry’s eyes, but he can’t hold the contact for long. He forces a smile and clears his throat before standing. He kisses Elliott on the head and Henry on the cheek before heading for the front door. “Love you,” he calls out, voice choked. “I’ll be right back.”
He hears their son asking Henry where he’s going but doesn’t hear his husband’s reply.
…
He doesn’t really know how long he sits outside in the cool November air, his feet hanging off their dock, just staring at the lake and thinking.
It hasn’t been the full three weeks that Natasha had granted him, but he’d told her he would explore the possibility of running. He’d gotten a small committee together and started attending the necessary meetings and functions. It felt good to be back doing what he’d always imagined was his life’s calling.
But the look on his son’s face, so innocent, when calling him out on being absent … it makes him feel like he’s going to be sick.
“You better not catch cold and get us all sick on Thanksgiving,” a voice says from behind him and he squeezes his eyes shut.
“Hi, Ma,” he murmurs.
She lowers herself beside him and wraps a blanket over both their shoulders. “How’re ya doin’, Sugar?”
“Not great,” he answers, the lump rising back into his throat. “Did Henry call you?”
“He did,” she freely admits. “Thought it might be easier for you to talk with me about it.”
Alex nods. “Yeah,” he whispers. “He’s kinda mad at me anyway.”
“I think he might be more concerned than he is mad, Sugar. Maybe disappointed.” She reaches down and takes his right hand in her left. “Talk to me.”
“This isn’t how it was supposed to be,” he tells her. “I was supposed to be able to do it all. I was - I was going to be a dad and run for Congress. I was going to be here for my son and my husband and the people of Texas.”
“Campaign not kicking off well?” she asks and he knows she knows the truth of it.
“That’s the thing. It’s going great. I have a ton of supporters already, I’ve gotten a few donations already, Tash has been getting great feedback, the volunteer well is deep.”
“But?” Ellen asks and Alex sighs.
“But I’m not being a good husband and dad. I’ve fucked up a ton of things already.” He runs his free hand over his face. “I’ve missed play dates, I was almost late to our conference with El’s teacher, I’ve missed bedtime like, five times in two weeks.” Alex shakes his head and turns to look at his mother. “I don’t think I can do it all,” he admits softly.
She nods but stays quiet. He knows she wants him to keep going but he doesn’t really know what else to say. He leans over and rests his head on her shoulder so she releases his hand and wraps her arm around him, pulling him close. “Then I think you need to choose,” she says and he knew it was coming but fuck , he didn’t really want to hear it.
“I know,” he whispers.
He wonders if it’s going to be easier giving up on his dream the second time around. He’s been happy with Henry and the life they’ve built together. Until Natasha emailed him, he’d barely thought of running for office and when he had, it was in a disconnected, not-really-him-running way.
He loves politics. He loves meeting people and helping people and solving problems. He loves the fight.
But he doesn’t love the idea of losing his family. He doesn’t think he’d survive if he lost Henry and Elliott.
His mother presses a kiss to his curls. “There’s no shame in choosing not to run,” she tells him. “In fact, choosing your family over politics is one of the bravest things a person can do. Someone else will fill that seat but no one can fill your place with Henry and Elliott.”
Alex takes a deep breath and lets it out, watches the cloud from his breath spiral and disappear over the lake. “I guess there’s some conversations I need to have,” he says.
“Mhm. Starting with your husband.”
“Yeah,” he says on an exhale. “And then Zee and Natasha.”
She nods and jostles his shoulder before standing up. “I’m going to go grab my grandson and take him to Pinballz so you can do what you need to do. I’m gonna bring him back around dinner so stuffed with sweets you’re not going to sleep all night.” She reaches out her hand and he takes it, lets her pull him to his feet. “Alex?” He looks over to her and she smiles. “I am so fucking proud of you,” she tells him.
“Thanks, Ma,” he whispers. “For everything.”
She gives him a wink and then snatches the blanket from over his shoulders. “You’re welcome. Don’t fuck up your apologies.”
Alex rolls his eyes. “Don’t give my son diabetes.”
“No promises,” she sing-songs as she heads up the dock and back towards the house.
Alex takes a moment to watch her, to simply breathe, to come to terms with the undeniable fact that he will never hold a federal office. At least not while Elliott is home.
He waits another fifteen minutes before making his way back up to the house. Henry is in his office when he gets there, eyes fixed on his computer screen. “Hey,” he says softly.
Henry turns and looks up at him. “Your mother stole our son,” he says and holds out a hand.
Alex goes readily, easily. He slides onto Henry’s lap and wraps his arms around him. He presses his face into the space between his husband’s neck and shoulder, rubbing his nose against the soft skin there. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.
Henry’s hand slides slowly up and down his spine. “I know you are,” he says and Alex’s heart squeezes. “It’s just been a rough couple of weeks. I’ve been busy and—”
“No,” Alex cuts him off, sitting up slightly so he can make eye contact. “No, it’s … it’s me. I’m the one who—” He cuts himself off and shakes his head. “I can’t do it. I can’t be your husband and Elliott’s father and run for office. And there’s only one of those things I can live without.”
“Horrible thing to say about our son, really,” Henry replies quietly, the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.
“Don’t be a dick,” Alex laughs, wiggling so he can shove at Henry’s shoulder. “I’m trying to be serious here.”
“So you’re – you’ve changed your mind?” Henry asks him and Alex notices for the first time that there’s hope in his voice. Alex knows without a doubt that Henry would have stood by him every step of the way, from pre-announcement to post-results call and beyond. He wouldn’t have made a fuss or told him to stop the campaign.
Alex exhales slowly. “Yeah,” he answers. “Yeah, I’m not – I won’t risk our lives—”
“Alex,” Henry interrupts but he just shakes his head.
“No, H,” he says resolutely. “It’s not worth it. It’s not worth missing things for El or screwing up your schedule. It’s not worth losing my law firm and the people who need my help losing their shot at justice.” He leans in and presses a firm kiss to Henry’s mouth. “I will never regret choosing our family over running for Congress.”
“I love you,” Henry says simply and Alex feels it settle in his bones.
“I love you too,” he answers and he falls in love with the corner of Henry’s mouth all over again.
…
“I’m sorry to just show up like this,” Alex says when Natasha answers her door.
She blinks a couple of times but shakes her head. “No, it’s fine. Come in.”
“No thanks,” he says. “I can’t stay. I just needed to speak with you for a minute?” He shifts slightly and stuffs his hands into his pockets. “I wanted to thank you. For the opportunity,” he adds and he can see the moment Tash understands what’s happening.
“Alex—”
“I’m sorry,” he says again, “but I’m not going to run.”
He watches as Natasha clenches her jaw and tries to work out what to say. He’s suddenly glad he rehearsed what he was going to say with Henry. He knows Natasha was set on him running, knows she’s good at getting people to do what she wants. But he’s not compromising on this. “Are you sure? Everything I’ve heard makes it sound like no one on the right wants to challenge you.”
“I’m sure,” he tells her honestly. “These past couple of weeks have shown me that I can’t be the candidate people want and the husband and father my family deserves. I’m happy to meet with you and run through other potential candidates if that’s something you want, but it’s not going to be me.” He takes a step back. “I didn’t want to make you wait to start looking for someone else.”
She sighs and leans against the door frame. “This could be your best shot at it.”
Alex grins and shrugs. “I’ll be more disappointed if I don’t get to coach Elliott’s tee ball team than if I don’t go to Congress,” he tells her and it feels so right to say it out loud that he can’t stop the short laugh that escapes him. “I’m sorry, Natasha. Keep in touch. Like I said, I’m happy to help.” He steps back again and down the stone steps. “Have a good night.”
“You too,” she says and he knows she kind of doesn’t mean it but he really doesn’t care. He made the right choice. He knows that in his bones.
Now he just needs to tell … everyone else.
…
Oddly, Zahra is the easiest to tell. He gives her this whole rehearsed speech about his family and his law practice and what having a lasting legacy means and she just says “I get it” and tells him to make sure he brings Henry and Elliott for a visit in the summer and hangs up on him.
His father is a little more difficult. He tries, at least for a few minutes, to convince him that he really can do it, tells him that he’s not his mother and he’s not him and things would be different. Oscar tells him that the first couple of months are the hardest but things settle down. But when Alex breaths out a sad but resolute, “Dad,” his father cuts himself off.
“Sorry, mijo ,” he says. “I was just really looking forward to seeing you more often.”
“You can come to Texas any time you want,” Alex reminds him. “We have the room and Elliott would love to see his abuelo more.”
Oscar sighs and promises to think on it and reminds him that he’s got a community center fundraiser on the 16th of December. Alex promises he, Henry and Elliott will be there.
And then there’s Raf.
“I don’t blame you, Kid,” he says in his rough voice. “If I had what you have, I don’t know that I would have run either.”
“Yeah?” Alex asks a little breathlessly.
“Yeah,” Luna confirms. “Glad to see you’re not as dumb as some of us.”
“I always knew I wasn’t,” Alex rejoins and Raf barks out a laugh, calls him a little shit and hangs up the phone.
When Alex climbs into his son’s bed that night, he wraps his arms around him and holds him close. “Would it be okay with you if I’m home more often, mijo ?” he asks softly.
Elliott scrambles to turn over in Alex’s arms and presses his hands to his father’s cheeks. “You mean it, Papi ?” he asks.
“Yeah. Maybe in the spring you can sign up for tee ball and I can coach your team.”
Elliott lets out a half scream and launches himself tighter against Alex. His small arms circle Alex’s neck and he holds him close. “Yay!” he yells. “That sounds like the best thing ever .”
Alex squeezes his eyes shut and holds his son close and knows, without a doubt, that he wouldn’t trade this moment for anything in the world.
…
One election night, Henry and Alex sit on their couch and watch the returns. They each have a beer in hand and when Preston Gage is announced the winner of the 10th Congressional District. Alex expects a pang of regret to run through him but it doesn’t. He’s pissed because Preston Gage is a dick but—
“Why does that man remind me of my brother?” Henry asks distastefully.
“Because he’s also a generic looking rich prick?” Alex asks.
“Ah, yes,” Henry agrees. “That’s it.”
Alex laughs and Henry grins and he’s so goddamn happy that he knows he made the absolute right decision.