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“Don’t get drunk in front of the press,” Arthur grinned at his son. “The photos won’t be pretty.”

“You really think I’ll get drunk on one caipirinha?” Henry raised his eyebrows. “Are you really old enough to have forgotten what university was like?”

“Hey, I’m sorry, but I didn’t go to Oxford,” Arthur rolled his eyes. “For all I know, all you guys do is row and play polo.”

“I really hate you sometimes,” Henry snorted, but he was smiling.

His eyes caught on a boy a few rows down. He was talking to two girls and a tall blond woman, throwing his head back and laughing and Henry forgot how to breathe for all but five seconds.

God, but he was beautiful.

He only snapped out of it when his father elbowed him. 

“Someone caught your eye?” he smirked, leaning in to follow Henry’s gaze.

“You’re so annoying,” Henry muttered, flushing as he quickly averted his eyes.

“Oh, Ellen Claremont’s son?” Arthur nodded. “Nice choice. He’s a looker. I mean, for someone who could be my son.” He grinned at him, and Henry made a disgusted face. “Want to go and introduce ourselves?”

Henry glared at him. “Don’t embarrass me.”

“When do I ever embarrass you?!” Arthur gasped, mock-offended. “Maybe I just want to talk to his mother! I’m all team Claremont-Holleran, you know?! I’d really like to see America with a female president.”

“Way to be publicly political, Dad,” Henry muttered under his breath.

“Who cares?” Arthur snorted. “Pip isn’t here. He can’t stop me.”

Henry laughed, unable to help himself, and Arthur slung an arm around him and led him down the row towards Ellen Claremont and her family. Their security team followed after them.

“Mrs Claremont,” Arthur smiled when he reached them, holding out his hand. “Arthur Fox. I’ve been dying to meet you.”

“Your Royal Highness,” Ellen said in her thick Texan accent, recovering quickly from the surprise of being faced with royalty as she shook his head. “It’s an honour.”

“Please, Your Royal Highness is my son,” Arthur waved her off. “I’m just Arthur.”

“Dad,” Henry groaned, long-suffering. By now, her son and the two girls he’d been talking to had turned towards them in interest. “I swear to God.”

Arthur just smiled. “My son, Prince Henry.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Royal Highness,” Ellen nodded, and Henry winced, grumbling: “Don’t listen to him, please. Henry is okay.”

“Henry it is,” she smiled. She gestured to her side: “These are my children, my eldest June and my youngest Alex. And this is Nora Holleran, Mike Holleran’s granddaughter.”

“So good to meet you,” Arthur smiled. He turned back to Ellen. “I have to tell you, Ma’am: If I were allowed to vote in the US - scratch that, if I were allowed to vote , period - you’d have my vote for sure. I am rooting for you and everything you stand for.”

“Thank you so much,” Ellen said, and they fell into a conversation about her campaign, making Henry’s eyes wander to her son.

Alex’s hair was just long enough to cover his ears. It was curly and slightly frizzy from the Brazilian humidity. He was wearing a tank top with a stars and stripes design and there was a yellow ipê-amarelo in the pocket of his white shorts. The skin of his biceps was glistening slightly from sweat. 

He was looking back at Henry, smiling crookedly, and Henry wanted to evaporate.

“Hi,” Alex said. 

“Hi,” Henry returned awkwardly.

Alex bit his lip. “So, your guy is doing quite well.” 

It took Henry a moment to realise that Alex was talking about the actual competition. 

“Oh, yes,” Henry nodded. “We have high hopes for him.”

“Well, our guys are tanking this, to be honest,” Alex smiled sheepishly. “Just here for the drinks and the people.”

Henry snorted. “Oh?” he grinned. “I think Matthew McConaughey is at the golf course, so you might have caught the wrong event if you’re people-watching.”

“I’m talking to you, am I not?” Alex grinned. “I think the Prince of England beats Matthew McConaughey.”

Henry raised his eyebrows. “Okay, you clearly haven’t seen ‘How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days’.”

Alex threw his head back and laughed. He saw June and Nora throw him a calculating look before turning away to engage in the conversation between Ellen and Arthur.

“I didn’t know the children of the Crown were fans of early 2000s romcoms,” Alex grinned.

“Well, everything produced after 2005 is hit or miss, so,” Henry shrugged. “The older, the better, in most cases.”

“You are different from what I imagined,” Alex smiled.

Henry bit his lip, frowning. “How so?”

“I don’t know,” Alex shrugged. He made a face. “You know that, when I was suddenly thrust in the spotlight through my mother’s election campaigns, I kind of channelled you?”

“Me?!” Henry asked, incredulous. “Oh my God, that’s a horrible idea.”

Alex laughed. “Well, I don’t know, you seemed to always have it all together when I saw you on TV - it seemed something to aspire to, I guess?” he glanced at his half-empty drink. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this,” he muttered, to himself.

“Believe me, it’s all a mask,” Henry stressed. “I never have anything together at all. Imagine me screaming on the inside in a five-second interval.”

Alex grinned. “That’s strangely comforting, you know, for someone like me, who’s just starting out with all of this shit.”

Henry smiled. “Glad to be of help.”

The crowd cheered and they both turned around to see what was happening. 

“I think that Chinese guy just overtook your dude,” Alex commented. 

“Oh, well,” Henry shrugged. “It was too good to last.”

Alex looked at him. “So,” he said slowly. “June, Nora and I plan to go to the beach and have a lot more of these later.” He held up his caipirinha. “Would you like to join us?”

Henry hesitated. “Dad?” he asked, turning to his father. “Do we have anything planned after this?”

Arthur looked between him and Alex and smiled. “Nothing that can’t be cancelled,” he announced.

Henry grinned at Alex and Alex’s smile widened.

“Yeah, I’m starting at Georgetown in a couple of weeks,” Alex sighed. “I’m not really sure how that’s all supposed to work yet. Like, I finished High School on the campaign trail, so I haven’t been in an actual school building in at least a year.”

Henry hummed, frowning as he took another sip of his drink. Nora and June had stripped to their bikinis and were bathing in the shallower parts of the water as the sun started to set. Alex and Henry were spread out under a sun umbrella a few feet away, watching their stuff.

“I mean, Nora and June have been doing it, so I know it’s possible,” Alex amended. “But I think it will be different if Mom actually wins.”

“I’m sure it will be,” Henry nodded.

“How are the logistics with you at Oxford?” Alex asked. “Sorry if I’m prying, I just never get to talk to anyone outside of June and Nora about this stuff.”

“Don’t worry,” Henry smiled. “Security is always there, so it’s not really a normal university experience the way others have it. I am accompanied from one place to the next and watched closely wherever I go. If I want to go to a social event, people have to sign NDAs beforehand.”

Alex winced. “That sounds annoying.”

“Yup,” Henry nodded, popping the ‘p’. “You get why I’m not necessarily a popular guest.”

“You have apartments on campus?” 

“Well, ‘campus’ is a relative term in Oxford. I have an apartment in town. Security rents the apartment downstairs.”

“I see,” Alex nodded. “I’m staying with Mom and going to classes from there. Even if we win, I’ll go from the White House.”

Henry nodded. “Would you have chosen Georgetown if the campaign wasn’t happening?” he asked. 

Alex frowned. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I haven’t thought about it. I am pretty involved with everything, so it never felt like an option to me to go anywhere that wasn’t close to the action.”

“If you’d had the choice,” Henry pressed. “Where would you have gone?”

Alex chewed on his lip. “Stanford?” he mused. “It’s not far from my Dad, and I always liked California. Or, maybe NYU? New York is cool. Or I would have tackled Harvard, because I’m totally smart enough and I would have enjoyed driving those stuck-up Ivy League bastards insane.”

Henry grinned. “You’d have your fun at Oxford, then.”

“Oh, I’m sure I would.”

They fell into a comfortable silence. Alex emptied his drink and got up to get them both another one from the beach bar a few feet away.

“So,” Alex said, handing him the drink. “Not to sound like I’m hitting on you or anything -” Henry tried not to flinch - “but can I have your number?” he waved with his phone. “I, like, don’t have that many friends, especially in the public sphere, and I’d really love to do this again. If we’re ever, like, on the same continent again.”

Henry smiled. “Sure,” reaching out for Alex’s phone to type in his number. “But just so you know, I’m expecting a steady stream of caipirinhas every time we meet now.”

Alex smirked. “Challenge accepted, Your Royal Highness.”

‘You didn’t mention anything about the Professors either acting like they’re your best friend or pretending like you don’t exist.’

Henry stared down at his phone, his marker poised over the literature for his seminar with the title ‘depiction of love in Regency novels, and how it’s relevant for our perception of love today’. Henry felt like they might have added this seminar just for him.

Another message. ‘This is Alex, by the way.’

“Ahh,” Henry nodded. He quickly saved the number before replying.

‘Sorry, my bad. Wait until you meet those who try to give you a bad grade just because they hate you from the papers. I actually took a class once with a doctorate student who was a classmate of Philip’s at Eaton and HATED him, so he hated me by proxy. Very Severus Snape.’

He put down the phone and tried to go back to his reading. He only got one paragraph in before his phone vibrated again.

‘Oh my God, what an asshole! I bet we have tons of old white republican professors here who want nothing more than to see me fail my classes. Well, bad news, they picked the wrong Claremont-Diaz. I can argue myself off a cliff if I have to.’

Henry answered: ‘I’m no doubt that you could. Give them hell.’

‘I will,’ came the immediate reply. Then: ‘What are you doing?’

Henry took a shot of his text. ‘Reading about how Jane Austen changed our perception of love forever.’

‘Dope,’ Alex wrote back. ‘Does it mention how ‘Pride and Prejudice’ is basically the original ‘Enemies to Lovers’ trope?’

Henry closed his marker and started typing. He had a lot to say.

‘I swear, if that oaf running against your mother wins, I’ll make personally sure he’s not offered any biscuits at Buckingham Palace.’

Henry was watching the last presidential debate on live stream on his laptop. He should be in bed, really, but he couldn’t sleep, as so often, so he might as well work himself up. He groaned when that Neanderthal on TV made another plainly homophobic comment.

‘And the bad tea,’ he added. ‘The PG tips.”

He did not expect Alex to answer, but he received a response throughout the next commercial break.

‘I have no idea what ‘PG tips’ are, but I approve of this message. I hope we’ll get all the good stuff, though.’

Henry grinned. ‘You’ll get the Jaffa Cakes from Aldi.’

‘What the hell are Jabba Cakes, and why do they come from Aldi? Now I feel like you hate us even more.’

‘No! The Aldi ones are the good ones! And it’s JAFFA cakes, my god. It’s got nothing to do with Star Wars.’

‘Now I’m even more disappointed.’

‘Fine, then you’ll get the jubilee tarts from the palace kitchens.’

‘That’s more like it.’

‘But they are too sugary and taste like rhubarb. I warned you. Should have taken my comfort biscuits. I only wanted what’s best for you.’

There was no reply and Henry realised that the debate had started up again. He put his phone down and continued watching.

Alex’s reply didn’t come until the next morning.

‘I have asked Zahra to acquire your Jabba cakes. She looked at me like I was insane (which, fair, isn’t a rare occurrence in this house). But inquiring minds need to know.’

Henry couldn’t stop grinning for the rest of the day.

‘Am now addicted to your strange British snacks. Hate you.’

The message came with a photo of Alex and an almost empty box of Jaffa cakes, frowning into the camera. Henry burst out laughing.

“Okay,” Pez shook his head, watching him. “Who are you texting all the time?! You don’t laugh like this when you get messages from Bea.”

Henry bit his lip. “None of your business,” he said succinctly as he typed out a reply.

‘I have no regrets. Will send you a package full of the Aldi ones. I swear they taste even better. It’s magic.’

Pez tried to grab his phone but Henry dodged, glaring at him. 

“Who are you flirting with and why don’t I know about it?!” he whined. “I am your official wingman! You don’t hook up with people without my help!”

“I’m not hooking up with anyone,” Henry flushed. “It’s just a friend.”

“Uhuh,” Pez said flatly. “And my hair is just a bit colourful.” He pointed to his neon-pink hair.

“He is!” Henry insisted. “He’s straight! At least, I’m pretty sure he’s straight,” he mumbled the last part.

“And who is ‘he’?” Pez asked, eyes narrowed.

Henry cleared his throat. “Alex Claremont-Diaz?” he shrugged. “The son of -”

“The presidential candidate, Ellen Claremont?” Pez finished, his eyes widening. “Holy shit, Haz, he’s hot! When did you meet him?”

“In Rio,” Henry shrugged.

“Rio?!” Pez called, and Henry shushed him desperately. Some others were starting to glance at them from across the café. “Henry, that was two months ago! I feel betrayed! How come you didn’t tell me?!”

“There is nothing to tell!” Henry insisted. “We got drunk together, we exchanged numbers, we’ve been texting. That’s it.”

“Yeah,” Pez rolled his eyes. “ Sure.”

Henry’s phone vibrated again. Henry purposefully didn’t check it. Pez smirked. 

“Go ahead,” he said sweetly. “Answer him.”

Henry glared at him before unlocking his screen. 

‘You’d better. You’re my biscuit dealer now, Fox. (Is your last name Fox? Do you have a last name? I’m confused.)’

Henry couldn’t stop the soft smile from spreading across his face as he read the message.

“‘Just friends’, my arse,” Pez muttered.

‘I do not remember asking for tea in my Jaffa Cake order.’

‘You need to have good quality tea in your house, Alex, do not argue with me, you will lose.’

‘Is that a challenge, sweetheart?’

Henry flushed as he stared at the screen. His finger hovered over the keyboard. 

‘I forgot who I was talking to for a moment.’

‘I thought so.’

‘Still, good tea is a must. And do not even DARE microwave it or I will block your number.’

‘I have met you before, Henry. You made me buy an electric kettle.’

‘I cannot believe you didn’t own one.’

‘Well, there was no need for it until you tried to re-colonize me! Just wait till the next time you’re in the States. I’ll feed you Helados and make you wait in line for Barbecue in Austin.’

‘I don’t think I’m legally allowed to do that.’

‘Don’t fuck with me, of course you are!’

Henry grinned. ‘Fine, if I’m off university and royal duties for more than a day at a time, I’ll make sure to schedule in Texas for you.’

‘You’d better. I need to take revenge and make you addicted to foreign food in return.’

Henry had a suspicion that Alex was taking his revenge another way, by the way, his heart was beating wildly in his chest, but he could hardly say that out loud.

Henry frowned when a call from Alex blinked up on his screen. It was late. Not that Henry was asleep - it was election night and Henry was on his phone, trying to follow the results, but the American voting system made his head spin.

He wondered if it was a butt dial. Surely, Alex had other things to do than call him. But when it kept ringing, he picked up the call.

“Hello?” he asked cautiously.

“Um,” Alex said, his voice hesitant. “Hi.” A pause. “Sorry. I don’t know why I called. This is stupid.”

“Alex,” Henry said. “Are you okay?”

“I’m just,” he sighed. “I’m freaking out. And Nora keeps rambling off data and June ran off to the buffet because we’re driving her insane and - uh - I needed someone to tell me it would be okay.”

Henry’s chest felt tight. “It will be all right, Alex.”

“Yeah?” Alex asked. “Because right now, it looks like we’re losing.”

Henry looked at the graphics on his screen, trying to make sense of it. 

“Does it?” he asked. “Because I honestly have no idea what’s going on.”

Alex groaned. “Right,” he mumbled. “European.”

“Hey,” Henry said mildly. “I am here for moral support, not factual.”

“That’s appreciated, too,” Alex said, and he could hear a soft smile in his voice. “Tell me something. Anything. Something that hasn’t got to do with politics.”

Henry hummed. “My dog David ate my face cream today.”

“No!” Alex called, laughing helplessly. “Is he okay?”

“He threw up so much,” Henry sighed. “All over the antique carpet.”

“Oh my God.”

“We brought him to the vet. He’s knocked out in his dog bed now, the poor sod. The cleaning staff tried to clean out the vomit for five hours, Alex.”

Alex laughed. “Maybe I should get a dog, just so he can vomit all over George W. Bush’s ugly interior design in the White House.” He sighed. “That is, if we win.”

“A cat would do the job, too,” Henry said. “My sister’s cat Mr Wobbles keeps scratching up antique furniture. Drives the Palace staff mental.” He paused, then added: “And you will win.”

Alex sighed. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Henry insisted. “I’m sure of it.”

Henry fell asleep sometime around four in the morning. When he jerked awake, he frantically checked his phone.

‘CLAREMONT WINS THE PRESIDENCY!’ read his Google alert, and Henry sagged in relief.

Beneath, there was a message from Alex.

‘Thank you.’

“So, would it be inappropriate to invite you to the inauguration?” Alex asked over the phone.

“I’m afraid so,” Henry said gently. “I can’t be that political in public.”

Alex hummed. “What about a private blowout after at the White House?” Alex asked. “Would you be allowed to come to that?”

Henry smiled. “I don’t see why not.”

“Good,” Alex grinned. “Then you’re officially invited.” He paused. “Or unofficially. Whatever.”

Henry chuckled. “How private is this thing? Do I come alone or do I bring someone?”

“Who do you want to bring?” Alex asked, a bit too fast.

“I don’t know,” Henry shrugged. “Pez?”

“Oh,” Alex exhaled. “I mean, sure? It’s mostly gonna be family, friends and campaign staffers.”

“And the odd royalty in between,” Henry grinned.

“You count as ‘friends’, asshole.”

“Right.”

“So, you’ll come?” Alex checked.

“Yeah,” Henry smiled. “I’ll come.”

“Great,” Alex exhaled. “I mean, as much as I love June and Nora, it’s nice to have someone else to talk to at these things, for a change.”

“I can imagine,” Henry smiled. 

There was a moment of silence before Alex said: “Bring Jaffa cakes. And some Assam tea.”

“You’re already out?” Henry laughed.

“Shut up,” Alex groaned. “It’s good when I’ve already had too much coffee that day.”

Henry cackled.

“I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to turn up to a White House party with presents,” Pez said, watching him with amusement as he lugged two huge paper bags (one of them an Aldi bag) out of the car. 

“Shut up,” Henry said. “I’m illegally importing British goods for an addict.” He glared at Pez. “You could help me, you know?”

“And deprive myself of the pleasure of watching you carry all of this up to the house?” Pez grinned. “I don’t think so.”

Henry huffed and grabbed the bags. At least, biscuits and tea weren’t heavy. 

The Secret Service looked at him dubiously when they opened the door, but as soon as Alex called: “MY TEA!” they stepped aside, letting him peruse the goods like a starving man handed food after a successful hunger strike.

“You are the best,” Alex declared, taking the bags off him and handing them to a secret service agent called Amy. “Come on, I think I promised you a steady stream of Caipirinhas whenever we met.”

Henry laughed. “I had forgotten about that,” he admitted.

“Well, in that case, let’s change that promise to ‘any kind of alcohol we can find’,” Alex grinned at him. “Oh, hi, I’m Alex,” Alex said belatedly, introducing himself to Pez.

“I’d gathered,” Pez smirked. 

They reached the room where clearly, the party was happening. The newly inaugurated President was just toasting with a group of women, including June and Nora.

“Hi, Mom,” Alex called, pushing across the room, and making her look up. “Bye, Mom!”

Ellen snorted as she looked after them. “Hello, Henry!” She called. “Glad you could make it.”

“Thanks for having me!” he called back. “Congratulations on the presidency!”

She raised her drink at him in thanks and then, Alex pushed out of the room and into the corridor.

“Are we not staying?” Henry asked in confusion.

“No,” Alex declared. “Because we aren’t allowed to drink in there, and I think I deserve a fucking drink after almost two years of campaigning.”

“Sounds fair,” Pez nodded.

“I keep forgetting you aren’t allowed to legally drink in your own country yet,” Henry said. “The US is a mystery to me.”

“Yes, we can unpack the hypocrisy of our drinking age later,” Alex waved him off, herding them up the stairs. “For now, follow me.”

“I swear, I almost fell into the rosebush, in front of all these cameras!” Alex groaned. “Like, does it ever get easier?”

“No,” Henry said plainly. “Two years ago, at an event in London, I stepped into a pothole and faceplanted. The press ran away with it for months.”

“I have photos,” Pez grinned. “There was a meme.”

“It wasn’t funny,” Henry glared. “I twisted my ankle.” He sighed. “At least, thanks to me and my twisted ankle, London started to properly reimburse citizens who get hurt because of road damage. That’s something, right?”

“The power you have,” Alex grinned, saluting him. 

“Now, Alexander,” Pez said, fixing Alex with a look. “I have to ask. Your sister.”

“Yes?” Alex said slowly, raising his eyebrow.

“What do I need to do to get introduced to her?” he prodded. “You want a lifelong supply of Assam tea? Jaffa cakes? Because you have it, my friend.”

“Hey, I’m his drug dealer!” Henry called, realising a moment too late that he was probably already slightly drunk.

Alex snorted, getting out his phone. “Wait, I’ll call her.” He pulled up her contact and put the phone on speaker. It rang three times before June picked up. The other side of the line was loud but they could still hear June when she called: “Yes? Alex? What is it?”

“Can you come here for a while?” Alex asked. “Henry’s friend wants to meet you.”

“ Who’s Henry’s friend?” Nora, not June.

“Pez Okonjo,” Pez said into the phone. “Student at Oxford, heir to Okonjo Industries, philanthropist, absolutely enchanted individual.”

“He’s the one with the blue hair,” Alex said helpfully. Henry reflected that he, too, might be slightly drunk.

“Sounds good,” Nora answered for June. “We’re coming.”

“Bring more booze!” Alex called before hanging up.

June and Nora appeared ten minutes later with one bottle of whiskey and one bottle of vodka. Pez decisively handed Henry the vodka before introducing himself to June. Henry glared at the back of his head and gave the bottle to Alex, who cheerfully poured some into his glass and mixed it with coke.

He watched Alex get progressively more drunk over the next hour or so. Not that he minded, exactly. Alex was a fun drunk. 

Also, the more alcohol he inserted, the closer he shifted to Henry.

Eventually, he dragged Henry out of the room. 

“You have to see this, Henry!” he insisted, only slightly slurring his words. “Like, I know you’ll appreciate it.”

He led Henry out into the garden until they were stood under a Linden tree, with a perfect view of the house. Alex gestured. Henry raised his eyebrows.

“Yes?” he said tentatively.

“I mean, look at this!” he said, still wildly gesturing to the White House, illuminated at night. “There’s over two hundred years of history here, and this is my home now! At least, for four to eight years, depending upon how good of a job my Mom does. Isn’t that insane ?!” He looked at Henry, who was smiling. “I mean, I know you grew up in Kensington Palace, of all places. Doesn’t it blow your mind sometimes?”

“Oh, it does,” Henry admitted. “It’s a bit different from your situation, though, I think. The weight of royal inheritance always feels a bit… oppressive.”

“Ah,” Alex blinked, a moment of sober understanding on his face. “Fair.” He looked back at the White House. “I’m obsessively learning the history of every room in this house.”

Henry laughed. “That can be fun. Do you know that my family lives in a wing that is called ‘The Queen’s Apartments’ because it was originally built for Queen Anne? Mum jokes about it all the time.”

Alex smiled, moving closer until their hands were brushing together. “I knew you’d understand,” he breathed.

Henry gulped, his throat suddenly feeling dry. Their eyes locked. Henry knew Alex was drunk but suddenly, his gaze looked so clear and focused.

So when Alex leaned in to meet Henry’s lips with his, he did not stop him. 

Instead, he let himself kiss Alex back, let himself feel the softness of his lips, ignoring the taste of vodka on his tongue and focusing on the warmth of his mouth, how it spread through his chest and across his skin as Alex’s fingers dug into his bicep, held onto his waist.

And then, Alex jerked away, looking at him with wide, horrified eyes.

“Sorry,” he breathed. “I - we’re - drunk. I didn’t mean -”

“Alex,” Henry muttered, shaking his head, but Alex didn’t let him speak.

“Forget I did that,” Alex shook his head, dragging trembling fingers through his hair. “Sorry,” he said again before turning around and walking back to the house in fast steps, almost stumbling over his own feet, as unstable as he was from the alcohol.

All Henry could do was stare after him, stunned and frozen, his heart frozen.

When Henry finally made it up the stairs to Alex’s room, he met Pez on the way.

“We should leave,” Pez told him.

“But I need to talk to Alex,” Henry protested.

“Not tonight,” Pez snorted. “He just came back to the room, ran straight for the bathroom and threw up.”

Henry winced. Pez clapped his shoulder. 

“Whatever it is, it can wait till tomorrow?” Pez suggested. “You can call him?”

Henry pursed his lips. “I guess I don’t have much of a choice.”

Pez frowned at him. “What happened?”

Henry sighed. “I’ll tell you in the car.”

“I knew it!” Pez called triumphantly. “‘Just friends’, my arse!”

“He ran and threw up right after kissing me, Pez,” Henry sighed. “That’s barely a promising start to a relationship.”

“So his liquid courage betrayed him,” Pez shrugged. “It happens to the best of us. Let him sleep it off, contact him tomorrow.”

Henry frowned. “You think?”

Pez raised an eyebrow at him. “Do you like him?”

“Yes,” Henry said softly.

“Then don’t let him back out of this,” Pez shrugged. “He’s probably already feeling super embarrassed. Call him tomorrow to let him know it’s no big deal. I’m telling you, it will be fine.”

It was not, in fact, fine. Pez was officially fired as his romantic advisor.

Because when Henry tried to call, Alex did not pick up the phone. He also ignored each and every one of Henry’s messages over the following week. 

“Sweetheart?” Henry’s mother said tentatively. “Are you quite all right? You look out of it.”

He looked up at his parents, who were both watching him curiously across the breakfast table at Kensington Palace. He was spending the weekend with his parents for his grandmother’s birthday celebrations. There was a parade and everything.

It had been three weeks since he’d come back from Washington, and Alex hadn’t answered a single of his messages. He knew he was alive, seeing that pictures of him kept popping up online, but that was about it. Henry had gone from frantic to annoyed to angry to frustrated to sad and had now reached apathetic. 

He didn’t understand. He’d thought he and Alex were, at the very least, friends. 

“H?” His father said gently. “What’s up?”

“What do you do,” Henry asked slowly, “When a bloke kisses you, but he was drunk, and then he runs and doesn’t answer any of your texts for weeks?”

His parents exchanged a look.

“That depends,” his mother said. “Do you like that boy?”

“Very much so,” Henry breathed, as if in defeat. 

She smiled at him softly. “Well, then frankly, I’d raise hell and demand an explanation,” she said, her smile widening. “Who does he think he is, ghosting the Prince of England?”

Henry snorted, rolling his eyes, but he was starting to smile.

“Is this about Alex Claremont-Diaz?” his father asked. “Because I had a feeling when I saw you two together.”
“What, that he was the type to kiss and run?” Henry deadpanned.

“No,” Arthur rolled his eyes. “That you two fit together.”

“You couldn’t have possibly known that after those few minutes,” Henry accused.

“I knew with your Mum,” Arthur grinned, glancing at his wife, who was smiling into her coffee cup. “Sometimes, that’s all it needs.”

“I forgot who I was speaking to, sorry,” Henry rolled his eyes. His father kicked his foot under the table.

“Come on,” he smirked, “I know you’re as much of a romantic as your Mum and me. I know how many times you’ve read ‘Pride and Prejudice’, son.”

“Kindly shut up.”

“You should pull a Mr Darcy and go after him,” Catherine encouraged. “But without the marriage proposal, please. Not that we wouldn’t support it, but it would send your grandmother to the grave, and as much as I like to joke, I don’t think I’m ready for the hassle of being Queen yet.”

“I can’t just fly to Washington!” Henry called. “I have uni!”

“But I am flying to Washington next week,” Arthur said breezily. “There’s a state dinner next week for our PM. I am invited along.” He smirked at Henry. “I can get you invited, too, if you think you can drag yourself away from your books long enough.”

Henry stared at him. His fingers squeezed his cup of tea ever so tighter.

“All right,” he said, clearing his throat. “Thanks.”

Arthur grinned at his wife. “I love meddling in my children’s love life.”

“Now, if you could please break up Pip and Mazzy, I’d be ever so grateful.”

Arthur cackled. 

When Henry and Arthur entered the East Room of the White House, it was already buzzing with activities. They smiled for the cameras. Meanwhile, Henry was scanning the room for Alex.

He finally found him across the room with Nora and June. He was looking right at Henry, his expression unreadable, but when their eyes met, he quickly looked away and aggressively talked at Nora.

Henry frowned at his father who just snorted. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” he warned. “This is your big romance plot, not mine. I’m just the helpful side character.”

Henry sighed. “What if he won’t talk to me?” he muttered.

“Make him,” Arthur shrugged. “Channel your Mum. You think she ever took no for an answer?”

Henry hummed, nodding.

“Shaan,” he said quietly, half an hour into the event. “I need to talk to Alex.”

“I can talk to Miss Bankston and arrange -” Shaan began.

“No,” Henry interrupted. “I need to talk to him alone.”

Shaan looked at him for a long moment. Henry thought the poor man must be seeing his life flashing before his eyes.

“I - can ask his security to send him to the Red Room,” he said slowly. “But we’ll all have to wait outside.”

Henry considered. “That’s good enough,” he decided.

Henry was pacing the Red Room. It was ridiculously red, he decided. And Alexander Hamilton seemed to be reproachfully facing away from him in his portrait. Henry sighed, wringing his hands. 

Finally. the door opened and Alex was bodily shoved into the room.

“Amy, I don’t underst-” he was saying, but he quickly fell silent when he spotted Henry. Amy, his secret service agent, closed the door behind him.

“Um,” Alex said dumbly. Henry wanted to throttle him.

“Hi,” he said tersely. “Sorry for the assault. I figured this was the only way you’d talk to me.”

“Err,” another one-syllable response. Henry hated himself for still wanting to kiss him.

“Listen,” Henry sighed. “I’ll understand if you’re not attracted to me. I promise I won’t be weird about it if you reject me.” He’d be heartbroken, but Alex didn’t need to know about that. “But I thought we were friends , at the very least, Alex!” he stressed. “Kissing me and then proceeding to ignore me for an entire month is just not… fair.”

Alex’s shoulders slumped and he closed his eyes. “You’re right,” he muttered. “I’m sorry. That was horrible if me. I’m such a prick.” He met Henry’s eyes again. “I was just so… ashamed of my behaviour. I mean, I basically jumped you. I was half expecting you to have me thrown into the Tower!”

Henry blinked slowly. “We haven’t taken prisoners at the Tower since World War II,” he said carefully. “It’s mainly for tourists now.”

“You know what I mean!” Alex groaned, covering his eyes, and gesturing between them. “I just - I’m really sorry! I shouldn’t have kissed you!”

“Alex,” Henry said, slightly incredulous. “You remember me kissing back, right?”

Alex was silent for a moment. Then, he lowered his hand, a frown on his face.

“No?” he said, but it sounded like a question.

Henry looked at him flatly. “I’m gay, Alex!” he snapped. “And I’ve been lowkey flirting with you for months!”

“You are?!” Alex called, blinking. “You have?!”

“Yes!” Henry called, exasperated. “Did you really think I didn’t like it?!”

“Well -”

“I thought you were going to tell me it was a drunk mistake and tell me to leave you alone!” Henry continued. “It didn’t occur to me that you’d think I wasn’t into you!”

“Um,” Alex blinked, another monosyllabic answer. And Henry still wanted to kiss him again. Something was deeply, deeply wrong with him. 

He groaned and crossed the distance between them, cupping Alex’s cheeks. 

“Do you like me?” he clarified.

“I think I’ve had a major crush on you since I first saw your picture in a magazine when I was twelve,” Alex blurted out. He flushed, groaning. “Why am I like this around you?!” he groaned. “I swear, I’m usually charm itself! I’m never this pathetic! It’s all your fault!”

Henry smiled. “Well, I’ll gladly take responsibility, if you stop behaving like an obtuse idiot and kiss me.”

Alex smiled, his arms coming around Henry’s waist and pulling him close. 

“I can do that,” he breathed, and then, they met halfway, and they were kissing again.

And this time, it was everything. Alex’s lips were eager and passionate, tender and loving. He clung to Henry as he deepened the kiss, moaning into his mouth, pressing himself against Henry’s chest, and Henry melted into Alex, his fingers in Alex’s curls as he got lost in the moment.

When they came up for air, they were panting, and Alex was straining on his toes, chasing after Henry’s lips, making him laugh.

“Wow,” Henry breathed, resting his forehead against Alex, holding him still for just a moment.

“Yeah,” Alex agreed, gulping. His fingers tightened in Henry’s suit jacket. “I just want to put it out there - I didn’t mean the magazine thing in a creepy thing. I’m not, like, a creepy follower of the Crown or something.”

Henry laughed. “I did not take it like that, Alex.”

“Good,” Alex nodded. “I just want to make sure.”
“Would you feel better if I told you that, when I first saw you, I thought you were the most beautiful boy I had ever seen?” Henry smiled.

Alex blinked. “A lot, actually.”

“Well, there you have it, then.”

Alex hummed. There was a moment of silence before he said: “Can I ask you something?”

“I don’t think I could stop you if I tried,” Henry grinned. 

“Well, kissing is very effective,” Alex said reasonably. 

“Tempting,” Henry chuckled. “But ask your question first.”

“You said you are gay?” Henry nodded in confirmation. “But as a Prince, are you, like… allowed to be?”

“Well, not according to Gran, no,” Henry shrugged. “But my parents know and support me. Dad basically organised my attendance at this event single-handedly when I told him what had happened.”

“Oh God,” Alex groaned. “Your Dad knows how much of an ass I made of myself?!”

“Afraid so.”

“Kill me. Now.”

“That would not serve my interests, I’m afraid.”

Alex grimaced, but he pulled back slightly to catch Henry’s eyes again. He looked nervous again.

“So, if I ask you to be my boyfriend, will the MI6 come after me?” 

Henry smiled softly. “No,” he breathed. “They won’t. But I might make sure you’ll suffer an embarrassing death on the toilet if you don’t.”

Alex smirked. “Well, I guess I don’t have a choice, then.”

“No,” Henry agreed. “You don’t.”

“I can’t believe we are doing this,” Alex grumbled under his breath. “We should have kept this a secret.”

“Just be glad I kept the PowerPoint for your eyes only,” the President drawled, and Alex groaned, burying his face in Henry’s shoulder.

“And you, be glad we didn’t bring your grandmother,” Catherine smirked at him across the White House meeting room table. “Or Pip.”

Henry shuddered. “Do you hear me complaining?” he asked weakly.

“Right,” Ellen said. “Thank you for coming all the way from England. I know we could have done this via Zoom, but I feel much better knowing we can’t be hacked.” She looked at Henry and Alex sideways before looking back at Catherine and Arthur. “I just want to make sure we have our ducks in a row regarding our narrative. We all know this is a but of an ethical clusterfuck.” She paused. “Sorry for my language.”

“Curse as much as you want,” Arthur smiled. “I much prefer curses over smashing invaluable historical objects. I always tell my family that.”

Ellen blinked at him. “Is that an actual worry at your house?” she asked, intrigued.

“Oh, only last year, Pip broke a vase that belonged to Anne Boleyn,” Catherine sighed mournfully. 

“And he very much hates cursing. Thinks it’s improper,” Arthur noted with an eye roll.

“Alright,” Ellen nodded. “Well, I hope emotions won’t climb quite as high today.” She looked at her notes. “We just want to get ahead of the narrative. Make sure the press doesn’t run with this.”

“So do we,” Catherine sighed. “No offence, but the British press is on another level when it comes to royal scandals. Better to get it straightened out before it gets too bad.”

“Honestly, I don’t know what you’re worried about,” Arthur frowned. “Alex is a decent choice. Politician’s son, a student at Georgetown - it could have been so much worse.”

“Well, apart from the fact he’s a man, he’s American, brown, a democrats son - shall I go on?” Catherine counted off, but she looked amused as she faced her husband. “You know, if they’d counted on a man, they’d have expected it to be at least someone posh.”

“And that’s exactly how it could have been worse!” Arthur countered, making both Henry and Catherine laugh. “I mean, look at Mazzy! So proper! So boring! At least Alex has character.”

“Well, thank you, Sir,” Alex smirked. 

“You’re very welcome,” Arthur nodded graciously.

“We’ll put you in charge of the press release, then,” Catherine said. When Henry made a sound of protest, she smirked at him. “I was joking, sweetheart.”

“You’d better be,” Henry grumbled.

“My question is, do we have the green flag from the Queen to go public?” Ellen asked.

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Catherine waved her off. “We’ve got that covered.”

Henry was, in fact, not allowed to join his parents in the ‘conversation’ they had with the Queen about his relationship, and he got to hear very few details about it. 

All he knew was that she had eventually relented to their demands and that the Palace and the White House were going to release a joined statement about their relationship, announcing Alex as Henry’s official suitor.

When Henry asked “How?” and “Why?”, all he got was rebuffs, so he just stopped asking. 

Bea came home from uni when she heard and took him out to celebrate.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me, you tosser!” she called. “What is he like?”

Henry smiled. “Well - his opinions on Star Wars are very strange, indeed,” Henry started. “He drinks a ridiculous amount of coffee, which is why it’s good that I got him hooked on tea because he would have slowly but surely killed himself. He is allergic to shutting up. He cares so much about things that I suspect they tear him up from the inside sometimes, but he also tries to always seem unruffled.” He grinned at Bea. “He can talk circles around everyone, but when he’s with me, he keeps fumbling his words.”

Bea watched him as he spoke, her eyes sparkling. “He sounds perfect,” she decided.

“He is,” Henry agreed.

“I don’t understand why we’re taking our royal portrait at Oxford,” Alex muttered as they posed in front of the Radcliffe Camera. “I don’t even go here.”

“They want to sell the student angle, I guess,” Henry muttered. “And Georgetown wouldn’t have been as symbolic, nor as British.”

Alex sighed and smiled for the camera. “Do we at least get to make out in your apartment?” he asked through his smile.

“Of course,” Henry murmured. “Did you really think I didn’t especially schedule that in?”

Alex’s laugh in response to that was genuine, not staged.

Having Alex in his apartment, on his couch, his fair fanned out against his throw pillows, was screwing with Henry’s mind, if he was perfectly honest. 

He couldn’t stop kissing him. Or touching him. 

“You have a seminar in twenty minutes,” Alex gasped, pulling at Henry’s hair when he sucked at that spot behind Alex’s earlobe that made him go weak. 

“I could skip it?” Henry suggested.

“It’s the Byron one,” Alex murmured. “You love that one.”

“The sacrifices I make for you,” Henry shrugged. 

“No,” Alex shook his head, pushing Henry off him with a strength that Henry didn’t process at the moment. All his thoughts revolved around Alex and his wild curse and that bruise on his neck. “No, I’m not letting you miss that seminar. You go, and I’ll be waiting here when you return.”

Henry groaned. Alex grinned and kissed his nose. “I have an essay to finish, anyway,” he shrugged. “So when you’re back, you can do a lot of nasty things to me. And then we can go and have dinner somewhere.”

Henry’s head short-circuited at ‘nasty things’, but he nodded. “How you expect me to concentrate when I know you’re waiting for me is beyond me,” he muttered, getting off the couch.

Alex grinned at him. “I know it’s hard,” he said conversationally. “I’m really hot, after all.”

“Didn’t take long for you to become cocky,” Henry glared, throwing his shoe at Alex. Alex caught it, laughing. 

“In my defence, I was always cocky!” he called. “Just not around you!”

“Well,” Henry smiled, crossing the distance between them to kiss Alex’s neck again. “As long as I can still reduce you to a stuttering mess, I guess I can deal with a bit of cockiness.”

“I - uh - yeah,” Alex gulped, clearing his throat, and making Henry smile victoriously against his lips. Then, he pushed him away, frowning. “You’ll be late, asshole!”

Henry plucked his shoe from Alex’s hand and put it on. Then, he pecked him on the lips.

“See you later, love,” he smiled.

“See you,” Alex grinned.