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You Can't Dance and Stay Uptight

Summary:

A very lil tiny baby fic in which Alex finishes his final law exam and Henry tries to surprise him. I just needed a serotonin boost and thought someone else might need one too, so thought I'd share.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

Henry had left Alex sprawled on the couch. He’d left him sleeping like a baby, mouth open, head back and only half on his pillow, hand dangling over the side of the couch, and blanket splayed across his chest, which was almost comical. If Henry hadn’t heard the soft snoring he might have assumed Alex was faking it, but the soft breaths and occasional twitches of his eyes moving beneath the thin lids was a dead give-away that Alex was asleep.

So he’d thought it was safe to sneak out. Alex had taken his last exam as a law student, and while he still had to make it through the bar exam, this was a milestone. Law school had been rough on both of them between dizzying class schedules, trying to be in multiple places at once between London and New York and even D.C. … these past three years had been ones for the books despite all the crazy that lived between the lines.

They had dinner reservations for a new French restaurant tomorrow night (Fridays are for date nights), but Henry wanted to do something sweet for him now. Alex had worked so damn hard to make it through and get his degree, and he deserved to be taken care of tonight. So Henry had gone out to get a bottle of champagne and a bouquet of gorgeous pastel blooms, something he maybe should have thought of sooner, but better late than never, he thinks as he shuffles his bags and takes the brownstone’s entry steps two at a time. He’d also picked up an opera cream cake from the Whole Foods down the way, and blue icing he has every intention of using in an attempt to spell out ‘Congrats Alex!’ though he’s now contemplating if he has that skill set in him.

As Henry turns the lock with his key, his brow knits and his nose turns up at the smell of onions and garlic frying. Carly Simon is belting out about how Vain he is, and Henry can hear Alex’s distinct baritone belting out the lyrics slightly off-key.

Well. So much for a surprise.

Henry closes the door behind him and reaches down to scritch David between the ears when he snuffles at his knees, and lets out a puff of breath when he straightens and finally catches sight of Alex in the kitchen. He’s wearing his maroon apron, and his hair is a cloud of messy curls, and he’s rotating between singing into his spatula and stirring the aromatics in his skillet. The playlist moves on from Carly to the iconic opening notes of King Harvest’s ‘Dancing in the Moonlight,’ and when Alex starts up his fancy footwork, Henry enters the kitchen and plops his bags down on the island there. Alex looks up but doesn’t stop serenading his spatula, just with his attention now on Henry and not his onions.

It’s a supernatural delight, everybody was dancing in the moonlight!

Alex ditches his spatula and grabs for Henry’s hand, and for a minute they shuffle in the small kitchen as Alex kicks naturally into a perfect Texas two-step. His feet shuffle and tap to the beat as he sings along, and Henry’s grin is a bright crescent moon as he tries his best to keep up. Once upon a time, Alex had tried to teach him this dance, but his ballroom instincts always kicked in and ruined it. So now they just do a mash-up of the two, a perfect mix of their two worlds colliding in a way that leaves them both breathless with laughter.

Dancing in the moonlight, everybody’s feeling warm and right, it’s such a fine and natural sight, everybody’s dancing in the moonlight.

Alex twirls him out, and Henry barks out a surprised laugh as he rolls back in and presses himself up against Alex. “Ready for the dip baby?” Alex asks as the chorus plays again, and Henry’s caught off guard as Alex’s hand splays along his back and he leans into Henry’s space, prompting him to lean backward as one of his legs kicks out. Even though he’s got a few inches on Alex, his boyfriend’s grip is stable, and as quickly as he’d gone down Alex is hauling him back up with laughter easily spilling from his lips. Once Henry’s on level ground again he leans in to press a fervent kiss to Alex’s lips, which is matched in intensity as Alex savors the feel of Henry against his lips.

“I was trying to surprise you,” Henry mumbles against Alex’s lips, and his hands slide into the back pockets of Alex’s jeans. Their foreheads press together as they simultaneously work on catching their breath, and Alex side eyes the bags that are on the counter.

“You did surprise me. I was kinda taken off guard when you weren’t here when I woke up.” Alex pulls back and goes back to the stove to check his cooking. Seeing that the vegetables have softened he adds in some white wine and chicken stock, stirring the mixture as he goes. “What did you go out for?”

There’s a moment of silence, the only sounds that of the simmering pan and Henry shuffling through the bags. He pulls out the bottle of Veuve Clicquot and presents it to Alex, who grins wolfishly as he takes the bottle. “Can I pop it?”

“Well, I’d prefer if you not make a scene of it, considering it was rather expensive. But yes, of course you can do the honors. We’re celebrating you making it through your final exam week in law school, after all.”

As Hall and Oates pours out of the speakers, Alex carefully removes the foil and cage from the champagne. Henry reaches for two of their flutes from a cabinet, and with some wiggling, Alex manages to extract the cork from the bottle with the satisfying pop and then fizz of released carbonation. Henry feels as giddy as the bubbles inside of that bottle must, like they could just float through this life, living on the heady feeling Alex gives him forever. Henry offers him the glasses, and they’re quickly filled.

“Oh!” Henry turns, almost spilling his expensive wine, and grabs the bouquet. “For you, too,” he says as he hands Alex the flowers. It’s not a normal thing they do, flowers, but they were beautiful and something about the delicate petals had made him think Alex might like them.

For a moment Alex just contemplates the flowers, touches the pads of his fingers to the velvety petals and takes in the arrangement. Finally his eyes meet Henry’s, and they shine with what Henry hopes is joy. “They’re lovely, my love. Thank you.”

They’d had flowers in the house before, fresh cut stems from farmers’ markets, leftover centerpieces from events, and even some that were sent to them for big events or momentous moments. But gifting them to Alex now feels so personal, and Henry thinks he may have to start bringing home brimming, blooming bouquets more often. “They made me think of you. And I got cake, of course. But the flowers need to go in water before they wilt.”

Alex sets the parcel aside and clinks his glass against Henry’s before they both take a long sip of champagne. The bubbles are effervescent on his lips, and Henry watches as they float to the surface and pop, spitting wine up in a soft mist. 

“I’m going to finish dinner and then we can cut into the cake. Is that alright?”

“Of course, though I’d hoped to cook for you,” he admits sheepishly. Alex looks at him with nothing but love, and catches Henry’s cheek in his broad palm, then presses a kiss to the opposite cheek.

“As much as I love you cooking for me, I don’t think I can stand another bacon butty.”

Henry’s mouth gapes open in protest, and he grins as he leans in to stir Alex’s sauce carefully. “Hey! I can make things other than bacon butties these days, thank you very much.”

Alex chuckles as he reaches for his spatula, and Henry takes his wine glass up again to sip at it. His hip leans against the counter and next to the stovetop, and he watches Alex add some herbs and spices to the pan, forearms flexed, thick, corded muscle there on display as he works. Bowie’s ‘Starman’ comes on, then, and before either of them knows it, they’ve both broken out into song, sharing the spatula as their microphone and Henry playing a very convincing air guitar.

And so their night continues in this fashion – they eat dinner in no rush, lazy as the bubbles floating in their champagne. They put a movie on the television and pay it no attention, instead exchanging sticky sweet kisses and smearing buttercream across cheeks and chins, and Henry laughs as his tongue chases that sugar high, learns what every inch of Alex tastes like covered in sugary sweet goodness.

Notes:

I've had the idea of Alex serenading Henry with this song for a while now, I dunno where it came from, but here we are. This is the dumbest tiniest thing but I hope it brings you a lil bit of happiness. Also literally Henry buying bougie champagne like PLZ SIR.