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Henry knows he’s being an awful boyfriend. This particular depressive episode is not lifting, no matter what he or Alex tries, though Lord knows it’s Alex that’s doing all the heavy lifting. He’s been brought soup and crackers and tea in bed like he’s sick, he’s been read to and had his hair stroked until he fell back in a restless sleep, he’s watched countless hours of Bake-off while Alex spoons him from behind and tries to study on his phone. And when Henry hasn’t even had the energy to care for David, Alex has been the best dog-dad and taken him for walks and played with him at the doggy park and in general just been a better human being for David than Henry can right now.
And yeah, his logic tells him that’s the depression talking, that he loves David and Alex and this is all just temporary, but his depression brain doesn’t seem to want to let the logic through.
He feels so, so guilty when Alex gets home from another day of classes and finds him in bed still, unmoved, David curled up at his back. The one thought that penetrates the fog is how tired and sad Alex looks, too. Because no, this particular depressive episode probably won’t lift until Henry’s back from England a week from now, on the other side of a week of family dinners and the annual Mountchristen Inc. board meeting at which the Mountchristen Family must present a united front.
Alex sighs, sitting down on the edge of the bed and running his fingers through what Henry knows must be greasy and disgusting hair. “I think you should cancel the trip.”
That makes Henry jolt with twin, dueling feelings: absolute relief at the thought of an out, and absolute terror at disobeying his grandmother.
And family tradition (trauma) wins out, because he works himself up to a seated position against the headboard, much to David’s chagrin. “I’m expected to go.”
Alex crawls over him so he can sit against the headboard too, and takes one of Henry’s cold hands, threading their fingers together. “I know, but…how much abuse do you have to take before you say ‘fuck it’? I’m so worried about you, baby.”
It’s the ‘baby’ that always makes Henry melt, and Alex knows it, but Henry can’t resist anyway, leaning his head onto Alex’s shoulder and gripping his hand tightly.
“I’m worried you’re thinking about hurting yourself,” Alex whispers into a room gone dead silent except for David’s renewed grumbling snores.
It takes Henry a few seconds to respond, and he knows the silence is telling. “I haven’t been thinking about hurting myself.” Again gets left unsaid, but it’s clear as anything said out loud.
Alex blows out a breath, wrapping his arms around Henry and hugging him as tightly as possible. Henry feels his lips brush over his forehead. “Good, that’s- that’s good, H.” Another press to his forehead. “I love you so much, baby. I know I don’t act like you’re my entire world when I’m caught up studying or hyperfixated on something, but you are…you are my ultimate hyperfixation. I will always drop everything for you, Henry. Always.”
Henry feels tears prick his eyes, then they’re doing more than that, falling freely to his cheeks because Alex has always encouraged him to be open with his emotions and it seems like his body knows that even if years of holding things in are working against it. “I love you,” he whispers back. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”
“I think I should go with you- no, wait,” Alex tries to reassure before too much adrenaline bolts through Henry’s system. “Look, as far as she knows, I’m your best friend, right? It would make sense for you to bring me for some London sight-seeing. I’ll book a hotel room while you stay at home. We’ll tell Bea to keep everything she knows quiet, but she can support you, too. You won’t have to face the dragon alone.”
The last sentence makes Henry snort. “I told you that if you keep calling her dragon, you’re going to say it to her face someday.” But the offer does give Henry some energy. He’s already remembering all the ways to sneak out of his house at night that he’d discovered as a teen. He turns in Alex’s arms so that they’re face to face again. “Okay. Please, come with me, Alex.”
“Anything for you, baby.”
Alex leans down for a kiss, and Henry stops him with a finger on his lips. “Just one thing to clarify though, love. You are my best friend. You may be my boyfriend, but you’re my best friend, too.”
Alex grins as he dips his head to bring their lips together.
The Dragon sends a private jet, because of course she does, which means that he and Henry can’t act like boyfriends on the trip in front of spying eyes. He’d learned to assume years ago that the Dragon has eyes everywhere, and she’s not above punishing Henry for even the slightest of slights, like going to the Brooklyn Pride Festival and posting about it on social media, even if he’d said it was as an ally in the post. And though Henry makes enough at his office job to cut the purse strings, it’s the emotional guilt the Dragon wields that keeps Henry coming back. He has yet to find a way to disengage from his love for his mom, his sister and sister-in-law, his niece and nephew. And she does hold the purse strings for most of them through Mountchristen Inc., so if he wants to see them…he has to be good, straight, boring Henry.
And yes, Alex knows Henry is good. So, so good. But he’s not the other two things, not by a long shot, and it absolutely kills him to see Henry forced back into a box just to visit London.
They sit side-by-side, their fingers brushing every now and again but never closing over each other. Henry mostly dozes or looks out the window - probably dissociating - and Alex buries himself in his Torts book but barely reads a bit of it as he’s trying to focus all of his positive energy on Henry. The six hour trip feels endless.
His hotel room feels lifeless, too, without Henry there to make it a home away from home with him. He sets up his charger, takes a quick shower to wash off the feeling of airplane air, and changes into a pair of tan chinos, a light blue button up, navy suit coat, and blue and gray striped tie. He feels silly, this dressed up just for a family dinner, but the Dragon insists.
He expects he’ll have to hire a car to get himself to the ‘palace,’ but the front desk calls, telling him his driver has arrived, and he suspects that it’s either Bea or Henry’s doing. Bea had been waiting for them at the airport - Alex wouldn’t have let Henry go to the Dragon’s palace all alone. He hopes Henry and Bea have had a chance to chat and that Bea is looking out for her younger brother.
He’s nervous as he slides into the black town car, fiddling with the buttons on his suit jacket and sliding sweaty hands over the leather. He would make small talk with the driver, but there’s a window screen up between the front and back seats - the Dragon probably hates talking to people like the driver.
The palace is just as Henry has described it - big, old, ugly, and obviously expensive. The butler that opens the door makes Alex feel as if he has the wrong address, but luckily Bea and Henry happen to be walking by, and Bea pulls him through the door for a hug because Henry can’t kiss him.
“We’re meeting in the parlor for pre-dinner aperitifs,” Henry murmurs, looking devastatingly handsome in his own navy fitted suit.
“How quaint and colonial of us,” Alex snarks, making Bea snort and Henry grin.
“At least the children get to dine on their own. I remember those happy, happy days.” Bea sighs as she opens the parlor door for them all.
If Alex had been in a joking mood, he would have found the greeting process funny, especially how the greetings move from enthusiastic (Martha: I’ve heard so much about you from Henry and Bea!) to neutral (Phillip: Hello, Alex, glad you could come) to caustic (Mary: Oh. Hello.) to the sad, silent nod of acknowledgement Catherine gives him.
Henry hands him some type of dry appetizer alcohol that he just sips from; he wants to keep a clear head for Henry and he has a tendency to overdrink in situations like this where he feels inferior - or where people are actively trying to make him feel inferior, in the case of Mary.
He tries to stay with Henry, but at some point his mom pulls him away for a conversation and Alex wants to let that happen, too. Everyone grieves differently, of course, but he wishes, a lot, for Catherine and Henry to be able to talk to each other openly once again. Henry misses his mother so much, especially as his only parent left.
“I just think entering into politics is so vulgar, don’t you?” Mary asks, downing her sherry with a gulp as Martha and Phillip nod sycophantically. Her voice is loud enough, of course, for Alex to pick up on it from several feet away.
“Actually my parents are both in politics.” Though Alex is sure Mary already knew that, considering the tabs she keeps on Henry to keep him in line.
“Oh, right. And divorced, aren’t they? How… American.”
“Born and bred, and proud of it,” Alex replies with a deliberate Texas twang that makes Martha giggle and Phillip even crack a half-smile.
Mary just sniffs, handing her cup to Martha without even asking her politely for another drink. Martha, however, knows exactly what she’s demanding, and scampers away to get it. “It’s such an unseemly choice your mother made, to get into politics when you were still so young. Then again,” Mary pauses as she looks Alex up and down, “Your mother made lots of interesting choices, didn’t she.”
You’re such a fucking bitch, Alex doesn’t say to the microaggression. “Well, since they’ve led her to become the governor of Texas, I’m not judging.”
“Indeed, Mr. Diaz.”
“Claremont-Diaz, if you please.”
Mary’s face looks pinched at the correction, but she’s distracted by Martha coming back with the next round of sherry, and then Henry is at his elbow, and he calms, just a little, looking at his boyfriend’s face.
Henry opens his mouth to say something, but a servant appears at the parlor door to call them to dinner, and it’s lost in the movement. Still, Alex meets his eyes and gives him a surreptitious squeeze on his elbow as they move along, to try and send him strength through the small connection. He thinks it works, because Henry’s lips tip up in a small smile.
As he’d been hoping, he and Henry are seated by each other at the far end of the table, away from Mary’s toxicity.
As if Mary’s toxicity could be contained to one side of the room.
No, she’s several drinks in now, and getting loud about her belligerence.
The Foxes all look like they’re used to it but poor Martha, sitting across from Alex, is blushing in embarrassment. “So, Alex, you’re studying to be a lawyer?”
“Yes, I’d like to specialize in civil rights, especially for trans youth, but I’m a ways from that yet, I’m only in L2, uh, year two.”
“Have you heard the nonsense the youth are peddling these days? Identifying as this and that as if you can’t be happy with what God gave you,” Mary intercedes to keep the attention on herself.
There are varying looks of shock, denial, and embarrassment around the table now.
“Ah, so you don’t approve of cosmetics?” Alex challenges, even though he knows it won’t do any good. He can’t help himself. “Lots of people walk around covering up ‘what god gave them.’”
That earns him a glare from Mary as the soup course is served.
“And are you seeing anyone then, Alex? I only ask because I’ve a friend who would love to show you around London while we deal with all the boring family stuff over the next few days” Martha attempts again. “She and I went to prep school together.”
“Oh, thank you Martha, but I am seeing someone.” While they might be hiding their relationship, Alex can’t deny Henry completely. “He’s, well, he’s wonderful actually. I can’t wait to get back to New York to be with him.”
Mary looks like she might have a heart attack as she throws back another drink…and stews. She’s distressingly quiet for the rest of dinner.
It’s only as they’re making their way back to the parlor for after dinner drinks, coffee, and dessert - and seriously, this whole dinner is such white people nonsense - that she makes her move, waiting until just Alex is left in the dining room and sinking her claws into his arm painfully.
“Ow, what the-“
“You are going to go back to your hotel, pack your bag, and get on the next flight back to your beloved America, Mr. Diaz.”
“No, I’m-“
“If you think that my family will be associated with some half-breed fag-“
“Mother!” Catherine gasps from the door to the parlor, but before Alex can even blink, Henry is somehow right by his side.
“Get your hands off of him and shut your evil mouth, Gran.” Henry’s voice is deadly, quiet steel slicing through the charged silence of the foyer.
Henry tugs his arm from Mary’s grasp, though Alex can still feel the imprints radiating pain - he’s sure there will be bruises tomorrow. And then- and then Henry runs his hand gently down Alex’s arm and threads their fingers together. “You will not touch my partner ever again.”
Mary looks furious now. Out of the corner of his eye, Alex sees Phillip look confused and turn to Martha and mouth, ‘Wait, I thought he said he had a boyfriend, is this one of those poly- poly-whatever things?’ And then almost bursts into laughter when Martha just rolls her eyes and mouths back, ‘I’ll explain later.’
“You will not lay a hand on any of my children, Mother, whether related by blood or not,” Catherine commands, pulling herself up a little in height.
“Oh, Catherine, like you care,” Mary replies coldly, her face still red and sweaty around the temple. “You’ve been useless since well before-“ she pauses, taking a breath around her rage and gripping onto the side table, “Since well before your street urchin died.”
“God, you’re vile,” Henry murmurs, putting himself between Mary and the rest of the room because he will always be the bravest man Alex has ever known, hands down.
“You’ll hold your tongue in your head if you don’t want me to-“
“What, Gran? Cut me off from the rest of the family? I live across the Atlantic, how much more cut off could I be?”
“What’re you talking about, Haz?” Apparently Phillip has finally found his voice again.
“I’m fucking gay, Pip. Gay as a fucking May Pole and she couldn’t have her perfect little family image ruined at the company or the ‘board would rebel’ so if I wanted to be true to myself, be happy and out, I had to leave England. If I stayed, either I had to marry a woman and stay in the closet forever, or she would write you all out of the company.”
“That can’t be true,” Phillip replies, but Catherine is already shaking her head.
“Before I got pregnant with you, Pippy, she tried to pay Arthur an obscene amount of money to break up with me and disappear. You’re the only reason she allowed me to marry him. I don’t doubt what Henry’s saying for a second.”
“Gran?” Bea asks, drawing their attention back to the older woman, who’s leaning heavily against the side table and clutching her shoulder.
Before anyone can reach out to steady her, she collapses to the ground.
“What do you need from me, baby?” Alex whispers as he climbs into the hotel bed beside Henry.
It’s been a long few hours, and a lot. They’d called 999 of course, but there’d been no resuscitating Gran.
And while Henry supposes he should feel sad, the only thing he can feel is the lifting of a heavy yoke off of his shoulders. When they’d left the house for the hotel, everyone had been heading to bed in a shocked sort of silence - after Pip and Catherine had apologized to him.
Honestly he’s not sure which is not shocking, the death, or being out, finally, and free, with his family.
“I think I need sleep…and you.”
“I’m here.”
Henry sighs with relief as they lay down, as Alex’s arms wrap around him.
“You know, I didn’t think anything could top a Claremont-Diaz dinner with an entire divorced couple in attendance but…”
Henry lets out a little huff, then feels Alex relax behind him at his reaction to the joke. “We can laugh,” he promises. “It’s okay.”
“Thank you for defending me even when I was supposed to be there to defend you.”
Henry turns in Alex’s arms and pulls him in for a kiss. “No one touches my man.” He brushes his fingers lightly over the dark marks already showing under the sleeve of Alex’s sleep tee, then kisses them too, little butterfly kisses against the bruises.
He feels Alex brush a kiss over his forehead. “I love you, Henry Fox. And I’m so proud to be your boyfriend.”
“I love you.” Henry pulls back so he can meet Alex’s eyes. “And I was thinking maybe we should think about making that ‘fiancé’ instead.”
Alex’s eyes widen before he grins and pulls Henry into a harder kiss.