Chapter Text
It is quiet. Alex’s mind is quiet. After the whirlwind of his mother’s reelection campaign, and sneaking behind reporters just to meet up with his boyfriend, everything has finally calmed. Now, Henry is preparing to come out. With a teensy-little threat to the Queen, care of Princess Catherine, and a spilled tea on Philip’s lap to shut him up, care of Bea, Henry is given the go signal, and they could not have been more excited. Well, to Henry it’s mostly nerve-wracking. But the brilliant smile with his eyes crinkling in the corners that he gave Alex when he said he’s doing it, is brighter than the sun or any stars against the night sky. It is a sight to behold, and Alex is reminded once again how much he loves him.
They’re in Kensington Palace. Alex is there for the emotional support. Henry is holding meetings upon meetings with several… uhm… royal… strategists? Alex isn’t really sure what to call them. But they’re planning the ‘perfect timeline’ for his coming out that probably consists of fundraisers, prestigious galas, and more of some good ol’ media manipulation to show the public that everything is the Crown’s idea in the first place, and they definitely did not shove the poor prince too far back inside the closet, locked the door, and swallowed the key for years.
It is late afternoon and they’re lounging in Henry’s sitting area in his room. Alex’s head is on Henry’s lap, and the latter is reviewing a relatively thin binder about the said ‘perfect timeline’ they’re working on. He’s absently scratching Alex’s scalp and carding his fingers through the tangled curls that’s honestly making Alex a bit sleepy. Meanwhile, Alex is browsing his phone gallery, looking through his Henry album which he titled as “dickhead🩷”, despite the man being there in the flesh.
There is a picture of Henry, a private moment, of him waking up in the morning. His other eyes crinkled close and the other opened just slightly, his nose scrunching. His blond hair a mess atop his head and his bare chest is illuminated by the sun, moles scattered like constellations. Alex can already feel the warmth radiating from the picture as he sighs, a soft smile making its way and curling his lips. He swipes.
Another picture of Henry, in his navy blue silk pajamas, legs pulled up to his chest, sitting comfortably on Alex’s couch in the White House, mug of tea in his hand, and laughing openly. Alex presses the picture, and it moves. Henry’s mouth gaping wider, letting out his gummy unguarded guffaw. Alex’s heart swells in his chest. To be allowed to see Perfect Prince of England’s hearts so open and carefree like this is a privilege that Alex is honored to have earned. With his armor completely off, kept away in a locked box, and his heart on full display for Alex to see and to hold. A precious little thing, so alive and so hurt, now in Alex’s hands for safekeeping. He guards it with his life, kissing it better with words whispered full of love and admiration. He swipes.
A picture, this time, of them both. A mirror selfie, a fit check, if you will, before they went to one of Pez’s fundraisers. They’re wearing three-piece suits under their coats, which they color coordinated: where Henry’s vest is the same burgundy color as Alex’s suit jacket. Alex is holding his phone up with his hand and cupping the back of Henry’s head in the other, a smirk on his face hidden slightly by his phone. Henry is attached to Alex’s back, face buried in Alex’s dark curls, his arm around Alex’s waist, holding him closer, and the other holding a bouquet they’ll be giving to Pez. Alex twists his lips in thought, as he zooms in the picture, cropping out most of Henry’s blond hair and leaving mostly only Alex in the frame, with the arm tightly wound around his waist, and the face buried on the side of his head. He’s thinking. He swipes.
Another picture of the two of them, taken by Bea. They’re walking by the beach, Alex holding Henry’s hand to his lips. Alex is looking up at Henry, heart-eyes in full force and shit-eating grin on his face. Henry is facing forward, only the back of his blond head seen, and the floral green shirt billowing behind him. Alex, once again, zooms in, framing it so that he’s the only one seen in the picture and Henry’s hand to his lips. He’s thinking. And, well, Alex never really thinks for too long.
“Can I soft launch you?” Alex blurts, his voice a little hoarse from disuse. The fingers in his hair stop for a moment, and Alex can practically hear Henry trying to comprehend what he just said. He could hear the gears turning in that pretty little mind of his. And then, Henry resumes carding his fingers through his curls, but he places the binder down on the coffee table giving Alex his full attention.
“I’m sorry, love?” Henry looks down at Alex, blinking his lashes prettily, like the prince charming that he is, and rests his head on his fist with his elbow on the back of the couch.
Alex shifts, wiggling, to face up at Henry, and nuzzles his head on Henry’s lap to fit the curve of his neck right at Henry’s thigh. Alex finds himself very comfortable.
“Can I soft launch you?” Alex repeats, and nods inquiringly.
“Soft launch?” Henry asks, confused, but expression soft and open. Besides, he’s used to Alex very often blurting out stupidly random ideas. Alex’s mind does run fast, that, on some occasions, Alex can’t catch up to until he verbalizes them.
“Soft launch.” Alex repeats again, waving his hand vaguely. When Henry just looks at him with an unsure eyebrow raised, he continues, “You know, when people drop these subtle-kinda-not-so-subtle hints on their Instagram or whatever that they got a beau.”
“Oh. So, you’re going to be dropping hints? About me?” Henry says slowly. Like he’s mulling it over—letting the words run around his head like one would do when tasting wine.
“Yup,” Alex says, popping the ‘p’. “But not like that pop quiz bullshit. Like, I’m gonna post a picture of me in a café angling two mugs, with a heart emoji. Like I’m announcing that I’m spending some time with a somebody. Or a photo of me on my IG story, which you took, and putting Lauv’s I Like Me Better over it. That kinda stuff.”
“I see you already have ideas.” Henry smirks and scratches Alex’s scalp for emphasis.
“Just a bit, yeah.” Alex fights not to purr at Henry’s nails dragging with just the right pressure. Henry is petting him, and he feels like melting for godsakes. Shit, he understands David so much now.
Henry hums, looks up, and makes a show of him really thinking about it. He’s jutting his chin out, plump lips pursing, and eyebrows scrunching in the middle. Alex can’t help himself. He raises his hand to cup Henry’s jaw, fitting so perfectly in his warm palm. He caresses the corner of Henry’s lips with his thumb and Henry catches his eyes. So blue, so deep, with a sparkle of mischievousness that Alex absolutely adores. Henry turns his head to kiss Alex’s palm.
“I suppose that’s alright.” Henry finally responds, a cheeky smile on his lips.
“Really?” Alex smiles as well, mirroring Henry’s.
“It won’t hurt.” Henry shrugs. “As long as you won’t really reveal too much about me before I publicly come out myself, of course.”
“Of course, baby.” Alex mocks Henry’s voice with an exaggeratedly posh British accent. Well, the best impression of the accent as he can, anyway. Henry rolls his eyes at him albeit fondly. “But they’ll definitely be talking. Dissecting everyone I hang out with or hung out with or have been hanging out with.” Alex confirms. He knows he’s the one who proposed this, but he must make sure that Henry is a hundred percent in on it, too.
Henry shrugs again. “There has been fanfiction about the two of us somewhere on the internet ever since our whole PR stunt. We’ve been named ‘Bromance of the Year’ by some tabloid. We probably already have a ship name—”
“Firstprince.” Alex nonchalantly supplies. He slides his arm down, and snakes it around Henry’s back instead.
Henry looks surprised with the speed at which Alex answered their ‘ship name’, eyebrows raising high above his forehead. “Is that how you spend your time online, darling?”
“My search history is between me and God.” Alex dramatically looks up at the ceiling, earning him a chuckle from Henry.
“Well. There you go. I don’t think the whole speculation about our relationship is new to the both of us.”
“So, you’re a hundred percent cool with it?” Alex reconfirms.
“A hundred percent, love.” Henry leans down and kisses Alex’s forehead. “I can’t wait to tell the whole world about you, too. And I guess, this is our way of doing it for now.”
Alex beams.
And so, that’s where it begins. Alex wreaking havoc by popping up in his Instagram stories to be an absolute menace? That isn’t new. It’s just typical Alex Claremont-Diaz behavior. So, wreaking havoc, he does.
The first soft launch post is more on the super subtle side of things. There are degrees, Nora. Alex had insisted when he talked about it with her. She doesn’t really get it. Tells him it’s cheesy. Alex isn’t surprised by her reaction. Whatever. She just hates fun. Or just an Alex hater in general. (That is, a lie, of course. She would kill for Alex the same way he would for her.)
Henry is in his early meetings, so Alex is left with his own devices again. At the palace. With 547 rooms, disgustingly opulent interior, too many suspiciously locked doors, probably an underground dungeon, and so many eyes just looking and lurking. Alex always gets some kind of bad feeling whenever he stays for too long in this palace. There’s something so eerie about every single corner of this place. So, he decides to walk David around just to get some energy out.
They walk to the gardens, and he releases David off his leash to do his thing, trotting and smelling and peeing here and there. He’s following the little boy and inhaling the rare clean air, taking in as much as he can in his lungs, holding it for a moment, and then breathing out slowly. He can feel all the tension leaving his body as he exhales, the knots of his muscles relaxing as he does a bit of stretching with his arms. The morning breeze billows through his hoodie, and he pulls his hood on, his curls bunching on his forehead.
“David?” Alex calls, losing the little beagle. The dog in question trots back on the path, shaking off some leaves, and looks at Alex expectantly. Almost like he’s raising an eyebrow at him, just like his daddy.
“Now don’t give me that attitude, young man.” Alex laughs and approaches David. “Watcha got there?”
Alex crouches in front of David and scratches his ear, the collar clinking lightly from the embedded metal name tag. Beside them is a vast patch of beautiful flowers blooming under the rare summer sun of London. Blue hydrangeas, the shade reminds Alex of Henry’s blue eyes. The flowers catch the sunlight and dance with the wind. The color is so vibrant you’d think it’s artificial. It might as well be. Alex wouldn’t put it past these people to artificially grow their flowers in a lab to make it look ‘perfect’ and undying. But these hydrangeas call to him like a pollen would to a bee. They look so cheerful that Alex can’t help but touch. He looks around, the PPOs out of sight, no royal attendants, palace guards, or Shaans in the area as well.
Alex wraps his hand around the stem, looking at David, and whispering, “Don’t tell anyone.”
Snap.
Alex glances around, chuckles to himself, then looks at David again who’s staring at him, head tilted questioningly. Like he’s sensing Alex’s elevated heart rate from apparently, well, maybe, he’s not sure if it’s counted as, stealing this flower.
“Wanna have a race, bud?” Alex says, his pitch a little higher. David recognizes the tone and stands in attention, his tail wagging behind him.
“Yeah?”—wagwagwagwag, bark!
“Well then!” Alex stands, inserting the stem of the hydrangeas in his hoodie, the flower peaking below his chin. “Last one doesn’t get Henry’s lap privileges!” Alex runs, and David, bless him, follows suit, tongue lolling out. When he actually outruns Alex, the latter only laughs breathlessly.
They sneak inside the palace’s thankfully empty halls, and they both pad up to Henry’s room, the only room Alex can navigate to blind in this whole palace. There is a drinking bowl in the corner of the sitting room where David immediately drinks, lapping up the water with loud noises.
Alex smiles and whistles, David snapping his head up to him. He throws the last of the treats in his pockets that David gracefully catches, chewing gratefully and situating himself on his dog bed.
Alex walks inside Henry’s atrocious bedroom. He carefully slips the flower free from his hoodie, still intact. The blue is effervescent, something akin to warmth rather than icy. The kind of blue that makes Alex think of the summer sky back in Texas, or the blue dress June wore in her first ever prom. Something nostalgic and familiar and comforting. It really reminds him of Henry’s eyes. He takes his phone out and captures a picture of him holding out the flower. And then, the adrenaline from, allegedly, stealing the flower, and racing with David still very much alive in his system, body still hot with it, he opens Instagram, clicks his stories, and adds the picture, putting a small “reminds me of u” with a blue heart and posts it without another thought.
Twitter, in the words of Nora in their groupchat, ‘died’. Alex knows. He sees the headlines, his phone alerting him for it. He sees the speculation of the public and how they’re starting their stalking, scrolling through all his social medias and all his previous public appearances, just scrambling for a scrap of something. But they don’t get to a conclusive answer. Not really. Only guesses and speculations. And Alex is starting to feel smug about it. It’s quite thrilling to announce Henry to the world in a way that is still quite private. Where he can show that he loves this man without a doubt and with every fiber of his being, without people dissecting Henry for him and making their own unsolicited rude judgements of whether Henry is the perfect man for Alex, and vice versa. He can show the world that he is in love but still have Henry all to himself—a thought that awakens Alex’s possessiveness.
“Well you look awfully smug about it.” Henry says as the topic of the soft launch has been brought up in their pillow talk after a few rounds of very sexy and very hot…cardio. Henry is nuzzled to Alex’s side and he has his arm around him, keeping Henry as close as he can that Henry’s golden hair tickles his face but he doesn’t care. It’s really tempting Alex to just superglue themselves to each other. But they have responsibilities and whatnot. What a load of bull to be honest. Every second Alex spends apart from Henry is a waste of time and space and air and matter. It’s simple science. The universe cannot keep them apart for too long—their chemistry is too good for that.
“I’m just the right amount of smug.” Alex replies, placing a kiss to the crown of Henry’s head just because. “Did you like it?” Alex asks.
“The sex was great. 10 out of 10, would recommend.” Henry drawls, sleep seducing him slowly now that he’s fucked-out, boneless, and sated.
“I was talking about the flower, dipshit. Also, you did not just eBay rating our sex.” Alex nudges Henry with his body.
Henry hums out his chuckle, Alex can feel Henry’s eyes drooping even if he can’t really see his face. He’s just a hairy mass attached to Alex’s chest right at the moment. “The flower is beautiful, love. Although I can’t guarantee your safety after you stole that.”
“Nobody caught me.” Alex shrugs. “What they won’t know won’t hurt them.”
“Hm. They’ll probably throw you in a dungeon underground. They also might throw me in there with you as well seeing as I lovingly displayed it in a vase in my room.”
“I already told you, don’t threaten me with a good time.” Alex buries his face on Henry’s blond head, smelling of his shampoo and clean linens. Not even smelling of sweat after their rigorous activity. Like a baby, Alex’s mind supplies—never really smelling bad, to Alex, at least. Well, he is Alex’s baby. “Also did you just say that y’all have an underground dungeon here?”
“I will neither confirm nor deny.”
“No way, H.” Alex wraps his arms around Henry and squeezes him, making the latter let out a squeak and weak protests in the middle of his giggling. “Let’s explore this castle oh my god.” Alex doesn’t let go. He pulls Henry up and rubs his face in Henry’s neck, blowing raspberries into it. And Henry, his limbs locked around Alex’s tight hold, can do nothing but accept his fate.