Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Sorry, Alex, I choose Pez," declared Nora.

Pez purred, continuing to fan June, Nora, and Henry as they tasted the spread.

Mango was the secret ingredient. Alex had served ceviche, carnitas tacos with mango salsa, and mangonada. 

Pez, inexplicably, created an Indian menu: raw mango chaat, mango dal over coconut rice, and mango lassis, all exquisitely plated. 

Alex had wooed June with mangonada. It was now down to Henry, the wild card: Mild palette, split loyalties. 

"Well, baby, you're the tie breaker," Alex drawled, batting his eyelashes and biting his lip, resolutely ignoring June's groans, Nora's whooping, and Pez's jeers.

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“Alex, you visited 34 states before even getting your learner's. Millions never leave their home state!” 

“Okay, point. But, we didn't have nannies and we went to public schools. We were latch-key!” 

Henry slinked into the kitchen as the siblings argued. It felt unwise to note that they were in a vacation home owned by a senator, given his own upbringing. 

Though, no one expected him to seem “middle-class.” 

“Honestly, your parents are a president and senator, and you're marrying a literal prince soon, you’ve forfeited your 'average American’ card,” June huffed. 

Time to intervene with biscuits before something broke. 

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Henry never felt sorrier for the cake fiasco at Philip’s wedding.

He'd spent hours on Alex’s birthday cake, and was at his wits’ end. He was sure the cake was too dry, despite his best attempts to keep it moist. The buttercream was too thick at first, and then too runny. 

At this point, he was sure his frustration was emanating heat and ruining his attempts to frost the cake, since it wouldn't stay put, and his attempt at the crumb coating had turned the circle into an oval. 

If he covered it with enough candles maybe Alex wouldn't notice.

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Oscar stared at the WaPo headline in disbelief when notifications from Alex came in quick succession:  

OMG - RAF!

like seriously wtfffffff

(╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻

(凸ಠ益ಠ)凸

Oscar replied with Alan Rickman’s table flip GIF, feeling guilty. He'd encouraged Alex to bond with Luna, welcomed that man into his family, perfectly positioned this Trojan horse motherfucker to screw Ellen over for re-election. 

A voice in the back of his head reasoned that something didn’t add up, that there must be an invisible factor for him to even stand in the same room as Richards. He buried it with rage and guilt.

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Henry had a conflicted relationship with English folklore. He knew there was a kernel of truth buried in the fantastical stories passed down through oral tradition, and that, oftentimes, those tales were tied to the exploits of his own ancestors. 

When he thought about the stolen nights with NDA-bound men, he wondered whether his own escapades would become part of the folklore at Oxford, and he dreaded what the stories might say. 

When his courtship with Alex was announced, he had no doubt that his love story would become part of the fabric of England’s stories, and he welcomed it.

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Henry expected that parenting decisions would bring intense feelings, but they’d effortlessly navigated baby names and childcare arrangements. He and Alex had handled the minefield of family traditions with immense discernment and had even agreed upon division of labor with alacrity and grace. 

So he was wholly unprepared for the Great Nappy Debate. “Imagine every single diaper our child ever soils sitting in a landfill for eternal time! That’s horrific!” Alex had declared vehemently. 

Henry resignedly studied Alex’s binder cataloging the merits of pocket diapers vs trifolds vs all-in-ones and various nappy wash routines and started shopping for another washer.

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Catherine had always been a strong-willed child but after the disastrous consequences of her life choices that left her a broken widow with two wayward children, Mary had expected Catherine to be more chastened. 

After everything Mary had done to restore dignity of the Royal Family, the absolute hubris of this girl to declare that the royal family accept a homosexual American suitor who was the product of a failed marriage.

And how dare she threaten Mary's throne and sanity? That should be grounds for treason, but these were wicked, wicked times and the world was being turned upside down. 

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Ma had taught Ellen how to read a room and how to count, and those skills had propelled her meteoric rise through Congress and into the Oval Office. 

Ellen knew what the critics whispered - that the only thing she worshiped was power, that she had abandoned her children and compromised her morals and sacrificed her marriage at its altar. 

The truth was, everything she did, she did for the people she loved. She started her political journey to build a more perfect union for her two children and her first love. She was not about to throw away her shot.

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Arthur loved red in his life: The electric energy on red carpets at premieres. The vermilion streaks across the dusky horizon as he set up his telescope for stargazing. The childrens’ flushed cheeks after playtime. The rose blush coloring Catherine's cheeks as burgundy wine stained her lips. 

Catherine did not: her mother’s crimson lips pursed in disapproval, the feverish flush on Arthur's skin as the illness began to reveal itself, the many blood draws in sterile hospital rooms. The hollow bloodshot eyes of Pip, Henry, and Bea in the aftermath, and the burning red of her own rage and grief.

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“OF COURSE CEREAL IS NOT SOUP! IT ISN'T COOKED!” 

“WHAT. ABOUT. GAZPACHO.”

Henry groaned, massaging his temples and wishing the raised voices would go away. It was too fucking early for this, especially when he was promised a quiet weekend at the lake house. 

With a deep breath, he slipped into the room Pez and the girls were sharing. Pez had noise-cancelling headphones on and was looking unbelievably zen, given that frames on the wall were quaking. 

“Pez, we have to separate them before the PPOs come rushing in. You go collect your two and I'll take care of Alex.” 

Chapter Text

“Alex.”

Alex shook out of his reverie. He’d started studying around eight am, and it was now past sunset. His laptop screen was the only source of illumination in the room.

Henry had a crease in the space between his brows. He wanted to smooth it out.

“Have you moved at all today? Have you eaten?”

Alex’s eyes fell on the lone coffee thermos.

“I had... three bean soup?”

“Three bean soup?”

Henry looked nonplussed.

“Yes- broth with coffee beans, vanilla beans, soybeans, dash of cinnamon, sugar...”

Alex admired the beautiful laugh lighting up Henry's face.

“Let's get dinner, baby.”

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Ellen’s skill with masking was inevitable given her teenage years spent hustling in her mother's bar. Her favorite mask: fearlessness. Never let them see you sweat, she'd say to the mirror as she readied herself each day, especially once she reached the highest offices.

Even when woken up at all hours of the night to run the Situation Room, she wore fearlessness as a second skin. Now, however, fear followed as she ran to the West Wing.

“Madam President, your son has been outed. The White House email server has been compromised. We need you in the Situation Room now.”

Chapter Text

Alex felt the tension easing away as featherlight fingers danced in spiral patterns in his hair. He must've fallen asleep working again.

Henry’s warm bulk was on the couch next to Alex, his arm resting on Alex’s back, and the stack of binders that had been in that spot were now on the floor.

Two warm mugs and a plate of cookies were on the coffee table, as were his glasses. Alex stretched languidly, wiggled his toes, and wrapped his arms around Henry.

“Thanks, baby. I think you just unscrambled my brain,” he said, pressing a kiss into Henry's jaw.

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When June blushed, she looked radiant - not just her cheeks. The color would spread across her clavicles and down between her breasts.

Watching June sing karaoke, Nora thought there ought to be mathematical models graphing the way the gradient spread across her body, the way creosote blossomed to rose across June's skin.

You know, for science.

So she paired up with Pez in teasing and riling June up for the rest of the night, and once the three of them made their way into the suite, she gently peeled back June's kimono to see just how far the blush spread.

Chapter Text

Alex just had a fucking religious experience. An absolute miracle. It wasn't just the mind-blowing orgasm he just experienced.

He blinked at the tiny phone screen and searched for words.

“Baby. There was a moment when... There were literal rainbow colors and dazzling lights. I cannot believe I'm saying this but, it was like I actually saw something divine.”

Henry laughed and glanced upward.

“Love, there's skylights in this room. It must've just been the sunshine shifting.”

Alex laughed and doubled down.

“Oh, don't bring logic into this. That’s the heavens celebrating us and I refuse to consider anything else.”

Chapter Text

“So we treat our love like a firefly, like it only gets to shine for a little while”

Liam nursed his coke on the front stoop, watching the glints of light in the grass. The evening sky had a fading sliver of pink behind the treeline.

Alex was off on a campaign bus along with his mom.

This wasn't the first summer Liam spent stuck in Austin while Alex went on the campaign trail. But this was the first time their text thread was so silent.

“Oh, promises we made when we go walking, That's just me and Charlie talking”

Chapter Text

Amy was nervous. This was her first time meeting someone from her former military life as herself. Ron Butterfield was now in the Secret Service, and they’d met for a morning run.

“Thanks for taking the time to chat, Chen. I think you should apply. Can't make any guarantees but I personally think you'd be great.”

Amy held out her hand, but Ron offered a hug instead, especially given “everything you and I have been through together.”

Amy blinked away sudden tears, laughing out loud “well, if you don't mind the sweat...”

Ron replied solemnly, “Women don't sweat, they glisten.”

Chapter Text

Alex trudged into the dark house, weary from the twelve hour work day. He'd missed bedtime for the fourth day in a row. Three more days until the launch date, he told himself. Alex headed to their bedroom, easing his tie and cuffs as he went. Maybe he could coax Henry into joining him for a shower. Henry wasn't there. Did he doze off with Artie? He sat down to peel his socks off when his phone buzzed: Love, can you come out to the back porch?

Alex could hear soft low tones and excited but hushed chirps as he made his way through the back den onto the porch.

“Papa! The forest fairies are having a little summer party! With sparklers!” Artie exclaimed, pointing at the trees.

The night sky was a deep blue, with countless stars glinted. Mature pine trees sharply jutted against the sky with jagged edges. The flashes of light twinkled gently against the inky black of the trees - fireflies flew that high up? It looked straight out of Pixar. Henry was seated cross-legged on a towel, a cozy throw wrapped around his broad shoulders. Artie was in his lap, back leaning against Henry's chest, sucking on his thumb and gazing intently at the trees, crowned by dark curls. Alex eased onto the ground next to Henry, feeling every muscle in his back ache in protest from the long hours at his desk. The tension he hadn't realized he was holding began to ease as Henry wrapped an arm around him, and Artie rested his cheek against Alex's side.

“I know it's late, but I saw the fireflies and I just had to,” Henry murmured into his ear, pressing a kiss in his hair.

“Oh I'm so glad you did, Hen - I forgot it's that time of the year again,” Alex replied.

The night air was cool. Crickets were chirping. “That's the dance party music for the forest party, Papa,” Artie said earnestly. “The fairies are happy it's June.”

“It sounds like they're having a rave over there, with all those strobe lights,” Alex laughed. He was watching the night sky with the souls he loved the most. All was well.

Chapter Text

There were times Henry appreciated Pez’s ability to stay serene. This wasn’t one of them.

Pez starting singing “Gravity, Peace, Serenity...” floating around the room and rifling through drawers.

Henry resisted the urge to lob something at Pez’s florescent hair. At least he was nicer about it than Bea.

“You know you can get newer versions of the paper,” Bea had said. The sound of a cushion bouncing off her head had been satisfying.

Bea popped back in - “Look what I found in the recycling!”

Henry carefully placed the issue of Le Monde back on his nightstand, ignoring their coos.

Chapter Text

“I think I hit the record button?” Arthur peered into the video camera’s viewfinder.

“Darling, are you sure you know how to operate that?” Catherine chuckled. “Pretty sure you're standing on the wrong end of it.”

“Not today, love - I'm staying behind the camera, the stars are Pip, Bea, and Henry!”

Pip waited on the couch, silently reciting a poem he'd prepared.

Bea tossed her hair back and forth in the middle of the room, flailing her limbs to a beat only she could hear.

Henry nestled beside the couch, suckling his thumb and intently observing Bea.

“Quiet! Roll ‘em!”

Chapter Text

It was a fundraising dinner arranged by the roundtable of tech companies. Not really his usual scene, but the board of his own company felt that in his capacity as the outgoing CEO, he was well-positioned to connect with the Democrats and “bring them to the 21st century.”

Leo ran through the talking points as he walked in - rural internet infrastructure, modernizing intellectual property regulations, funding STEM programs...

Leo’s mind went blank as he stared at the brightest eyes he'd ever seen.

“Mr. Castalazzi? Hello, Ellen Claremont. Thank you for supporting the progressive cause.”

“Please, call me Leo,” he stammered.

Chapter Text

Casual intimacy was not something Henry was accustomed to, not with his hookups.

Between the NDAs and the thrill of bedding a member of the Royal family, many never got past “Your Royal Highness,” and if they did, his broad shoulders and powerful thighs meant the nicknames tended to be more along ... paternal lines? Henry cringed at the memories.

However, that brash, chin-dimpled, mouthy American looked up at Henry's six foot frame and decided “baby.”

He saw past the facade and found the boy who wanted to be cherished, who needed his nightmares soothed away and demons kept at bay.

Chapter Text

The change crept up on him. After getting his ADHD diagnosis, several weeks into his daily morning dose of Strattera, Alex realized his mind was just *quiet*.

He was sitting at the breakfast table just reading the headlines. There were no competing to-do list items, the furniture store jingle not on loop as a soundtrack.

He certainly wasn't in a state of overwhelm, options for dinner with Henry and the growing grocery list competing for bandwidth with his law school reading list and next month’s travel plans.

He could just read the newspaper, be in the moment.

Alex could exhale.

Chapter Text

Ellen so appreciated June. Just twelve, and she was already getting herself ready for school, prepping breakfast for herself and her younger brother, and walking them both to the bus stop.

Between her campaign commitments and Oscar’s case load, it was just difficult to be home daily before school and at night. Maybe her mom were still around -

Ellen pushed past the grief, refocusing on the calendar. Zahra was already doing a Herculean job blocking off pockets of family time at least twice a week.

If June wasn’t so dependable, there was just no way Ellen could’ve made it work.

Chapter Text

Just because he was bi, people thought he was consciously choosing who he fell in love with. “It’s no different for me than it is for the rest of you,” Alex wanted to shout.

Of course he knew that a relationship with Nora or any of the pre-vetted girls that Zahra had filed away NDAs for would bring fewer complications. But they hadn’t captured his heart, lit his soul on fire, made him feel like he was drowning and flying all at once. And - for that matter - Liam hadn’t, either.

Alex did consciously make the choice to follow his heart.

Chapter Text

Alex followed the muffled giggles to the attic of his childhood home. 

June and Henry were peering through photos, looking positively gleeful. 

Alex pouted - he’d stepped away for two seconds, and these two already started scheming!?  

“This is an absolute gold mine… This one is going on the wall!” 

Henry paraded a photograph of a two-year-old Alex dressed in one of June’s puffy princess costumes, curls in two spiky pigtails.   

“Hey! That’s mine! Give it back!” 

“What happened to what’s mine is yours?” Henry retorted cheekily. 

Alex plotted to ring Bea and Pez up for ammo at the first chance.

Chapter Text

For years, Henry expected to feel fear or shame if his secret was ever revealed. But as he sat in the barricaded music room with Bea, he felt brave.

Over Philip's ranting and the ringing palace phones and Bea’s soothing murmurs and the blaring headlines and echoing silence from across the pond, one phrase reverberated through Henry's mind: “your spine is a ridge i'd die climbing.”

Philip was wrong - Henry was not a coward or pushover.

So, when Shaan finally brought over a phone with Alex on the line, Henry steeled his spine, saying “I'm not sorry that people know.”

Chapter Text

“... So I told June, even if that campaign doesn't end successfully, it doesn't mean she hasn't done an excellent job as their communications director. Her worth isn't measured by ballot wins.”

Alex paused to wrap Henry's arms closer around him, nestling his cheek into that spot on Henry's clavicle and feeling the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

“Basically, I told June to practice non-attachment. I contain much wisdom.”

Henry snorted, chest falling sharply.

“And great humility?”

“If you consider my humility as one of my greatnesses, I will not stop you.”

Alex delighted at Henry's peel of laughter.

Chapter Text

Overlapping voices pounded in Alex's head, needling him about failures and fears: real and imagined headlines, Twitter threads, pundit sound bites.

It wasn't his first time battling his brain, and it wouldn't be the last, so he enacted his response. He texted Henry - an ocean away: “Bad brain day. Miss you.”

He turned up his music, drank cold water, grabbed squares of cheese and a handful of grapes from the fridge, forcing them down as he tried to steady his breaths.

He called June, voice wavering: “Bug, can you tell me a story? I can't be alone with my brain.”

Chapter Text

“June, what's this?” asked Henry, unwrapping the package.

“A housewarming present, now that y'all are officially living together,” smiled June sweetly.

Too sweetly. Was she inching towards the stairs? Alex narrowed his eyes.

Henry sputtered with laughter, staring at a framed copy of a well-worn J-14 magazine featuring himself.

“BUG! YOU PROMISED!”

“Should've asked for a pinky swear, I crossed my fingers behind my back so it didn't count.”

“I think it'll complete the guest room, what say you?” mused Henry sanguinely. “And there's a handwritten note to go under the frame!”

Alex chased June upstairs as she cackled triumphantly.

Chapter Text

His written words were always meant for posterity. Henry was under no delusions that his journals, emails, his psychiatric evaluations, and even piles of NDAs would be laid bare for historians to catalog and analyze.

He did, however, expect to be dead before said analysis, rather than seeing it play out in real time, with notifications on Shaan’s tablet while he entertained preposterous conjectures from his grandmother.

As he took in the crowds outside Buckingham and saw “history, huh” signs through tears, he reveled at being living proof of possibility rather than a dead archive of what might have been.

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When he was feeling more cynical, Alex almost wished his parents had split up over an affair. At least then it would be easier to explain, even if it were awful. “Mom slept with a coworker, so dad left the marriage” was a much simpler story than whatever this was. 

“Dad left his family behind because winning over a Californian constituency was easier for someone of his background?” 

Or was it, “Mom’s polling numbers looked better when she wasn’t pictured with Dad?” 

Or “Neither parent was cut out for family life and Alex on top of everything else broke them?”

Chapter Text

“We have to be very quiet,” Dad whispered, dramatically treading down each step. Bea bit back giggles, trying to match his steps. 

“Watch out, that step creaks,” he cautioned, skipping past the second step from the bottom. She followed. At the final landing, he squatted down so that she could clamber up his back. She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face into the crook of his neck. He gently stood back up, one strong arm anchoring her. 

“Now, remind me where we’re headed?” 

“Music gallery at the V&A” 

“Right you are, darling! Now off we go!” 

Chapter Text

Alex surreptitiously slid a note over to Liam’s side of the table. Liam carefully pulled it toward himself while keeping his eyes on the board. He didn’t fancy getting caught by Mr. Hundley and having to read it out to the entire class.

As soon as Mr. Hundley turned toward the board, he glanced down at the loose-leaf paper, carefully torn along a folded crease.

Messy scrawl in blue ink, decisively slanted forwarded: “I asked MIT Nora out last night - she said sure!”

Suppressing the urge to crumple it up, he drew “:)” and slid it back to a besotted Alex.

Chapter Text

“Dad! We having Sunday sundaes!”

Henry blearily cracked open one eye - Arthur was bouncing with each word, chocolate syrup smeared across his cheeks.

“Huh?”

Henry pulled himself up to a sitting position, reaching for his phone while keeping his eyes fixed on the four-year-old. He did not want Arthur getting chocolate onto the quilt.

“Sunday Sundaes! Sunday Sundaes!” Arthur chanted.

Henry glanced at the screen - 6:07 am.

“All right, love, let’s head to the kitchen.”

He hoped his voice sounded soothing, even if he was imagining Alex strapped to the most creative torture implements the British museum had displayed.

Chapter Text

A large part of being an elected congressman was knowing how to plead for money. Hours of Oscar’s time were spent in the building a few paces down from his congressional offices, hunched over the meticulous set of notes about each potential donor to fund his upcoming reelection campaign.

It was an unsavory part of the job on the best of days, but this election cycle, it was revolting.

No one gave a damn about his legislative agenda. Every phone call turned to questions about Alex’s leaked e-mails.

Oscar gritted his teeth, ruing the day he chose politics over family.

Chapter Text

For weeks, Evan’s parting pleas reverberated through every cell.

“Catalina June Claremont-Diaz, Dutiful Daughter, Devoted Sister: Are those the words you want leading your obituary? Because I’m telling you, the Times and the Post and every other major paper will print it and right now, that’s what they’ll open with. Let them lead with something that’s wholly you. You wanna leave me? Totally understandable, I’m just Evan. Not feeling Sacramento? Completely okay. DC? Living in the White House? Center of action? Incredible, go for it - if you’re doing it for you. Just fucking be you, dammit.”

Who was she, though?

Chapter Text

Ellen sat at the Resolute desk for the last time. The pardons were signed. She sealed her letter to her successor and placed it in the drawer. Had it already been eight years?

“Ma? You okay?”

Ellen looked up to see a curly head peeking in - Alex must have arrived for the inauguration. Alex was a freshman when she took office, and here he was, finished with law school and prepping for the bar.

“Splendid, sweetheart, why do you ask?”

“You were gazing rather wistfully at George Washington. Planning on pilfering it?” he quipped.

At least some things never changed.

Chapter Text

Hunter surveyed the remnants of the brief he had spent all weekend drafting. So many words were scratched out, with scathing commentary in red ink on every available white space.

“This looks like it was attacked by a demon!” he huffed, making his way back to his computer.

He glanced over toward Alex, asking “how’d yours fair? Did Bankston shred it up as well?”

Alex shrugged noncommittally. Alex’s brief at least seemed to have some white space.

“If I figure out how to write a brief that she likes, I will be sure to share the secrets,” Hunter offered, gallantly.

Chapter Text

Alex wandered into the kitchen to get another cup of coffee and stretch his legs.

Henry was at the bar counter reading June's memoir, his sandwich forgotten next to him. Alex kissed his cheek before tasting the sandwich. The sharp contrast of vinegar and peanuts left him sputtering.

“What on earth is this!?”

“A peanut butter and pickle sandwich.”

“What the actual fuck.”

“I'll have you know that the New York Times calls it an American classic,” Henry replied sanguinely.

“Fake news,” Alex muttered, downing his coffee to override the aftertaste.

Henry giggled, reclaiming his sandwich and finishing it off.

Chapter Text

It was Ellen’s mercurial nature that drew Oscar to her. Her passion, wit, brilliant strategic mind and the tactical titan that she was made her so irresistible.

It was Ellen’s mercurial nature that made their union combust. Her hot-and-cold approach to marriage, to parenthood, to anything routine or domestic led him to resent her, to see her overtures of contriteness with contempt.

It was Ellen’s mercurial nature that made her an astute law student, an effective speaker of the house, and a formidable president.

Watching her deliver her second inaugural speech, Oscar hummed “cause she’s always a woman to me.”

Chapter Text

Henry had no idea how he ended up cornered in the pantry by Nora. One moment, they were all engaged in a lively game of volleyball out by the lake, and here he was, very uncomfortably trying to subtly exit the conversation with Alex's ex about Alex's sister with the promised bag of crisps in hand.

Not that he disagreed with her assessment:

“Honestly, Henry, it's ludicrous how completely oblivious they are, like both of them! Claremont-Diaz siblings: they've got the looks, they've got the smarts, they've got the sheer blindness to things happening right in front of their noses.”

Chapter Text

There were many things that Arthur loved about Catherine: The sharp lines of her nose, her soft hair, the brilliance of her eyes. The way she would deliver the most scathing retorts when angered, as though she were merely commenting on the weather - and the cheeky grin she’d flash at him in the aftermath.

Sitting around a table with her and his friends as they played another vicious round of Spoons, Arthur was delighted that he could observe all those things this fine evening.

That is, until he realized that the game was down to just the two of them.

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“Do you trust me?” he'd ask her, and she'd take the leap every time.

When she gave her PPOs a slip to have a whirlwind night with this charming actor, when they decided to turn this fling into an actual relationship, when they first began discussing marriage.

“Look where it got me,” she would think on the bad days, staring at the empty space next to her in bed.

“Look where it got me,” she would think on the good days, surrounded by their children and grandchildren, seeing glimpses of him in their mannerisms and smiles and turns of phrase.

Chapter Text

The fireplace was merrily crackling. Eliza and Artie’s voices were overlapping in their sing-song cadence as they decorated their tree.

“Can you please not fall down? You're hurting my feelings,” pleaded Eliza earnestly with the ornaments. Meanwhile, Artie hummed made up Christmas lyrics as he methodically emptied out the totes of decorations.

Henry was bringing in a tray with tea and freshly baked cookies.

Alex breathed in the fresh pine, burning wood, bergamot, and vanilla. The year had been taxing, and the final weeks of December were going to be incredibly hectic, but this moment right here was perfectly cozy.

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It was a rare unscheduled evening. Bea was strumming at her guitar and Henry was playing familiar chords. Elton John. Dad's favorite when they'd all perform together after dinner as children. He'd avoided the song for years but now it felt comforting.

Suddenly a clear alto voice and an unpracticed baritone picked up the lyrics: “someone saved my life tonight, sugar bear”

Henry started, fumbling the notes. Bea gave a delight laugh and added fervor to her strums as Phillip and Mum harmonized, casually leaning against the wall.

As the song crescendoed to a close, Bea exclaimed “we're SO back!”

Chapter Text

Instead of the familiar sight of David's wet nose, Henry's waking view is a riot of dark curls on the pillow next to him. Alex. This hadn't been a fever dream. Visions of the previous night start to play - Alex's angry voice cutting through the storm. Alex's dripping clothes and trembling hands as he followed Henry to his room. Alex's hint of a smile as he said “Tell me to leave.” The feel of Alex enveloped around him and splitting him from the inside out.

Henry should feel guilt for allowing this beautiful man back in. Instead, he feels hope.

Chapter Text

It started with a gift set labeled “The Ultimate Tolerance Builder” and a three-day block on his calendar, ominously labeled “Growth Mindset.”

Here he was coughing and crying ugly tears as the heat seared through his sinuses while Alex solemnly sang “Close your eyes, give me your hand, darling…”

Rather than refilling his glass with milk, Alex dramatically continued the song, finishing with a crescendoed, “Is this burning an eternal flame?” Pez, meanwhile, intercepted the napkins Henry was lobbing at Alex.

“All right Hazza, it is now time for the third sauce in the line up,” Pez proffered another wing.

Chapter Text

Certainty was a mainstay for Catherine. Her life path afforded security, predictability, and opportunity. Catherine took it for granted. Even as she digressed from the path Mary intended for her, she still felt certainty in Arthur's love, in the knowledge of her books, in joy for her children. Then came grief, leaving her reeling. Confronted with debilitating doubt in her ability to navigate the world without him, her aptitude for parenthood and public life, Catherine shut down.

Mary's brand of risk-averse certainty would protect the children much better than her own foolish certainty that the universe was a kind place.

Chapter Text

Sitting in a nondescript office in front of a placid-faced woman who was walking Bea through endless questions, Bea felt restless. Against all the years of etiquette training, she jangled her left leg. She dug her nails into her palms, hoping the crescent-shaped indentations would ease her urge for anything to return her back to the comfortable haze. Anything to numb the painful reality of life.

Then, an image flickered before her - Henry, big blue eyes glazed over with tears, looking both impossibly young and impossibly old, telling her he’s gay, beseeching her to stay alive for him.

Bea acquiesced.

Chapter Text

The other side of the bed was still smooth and cold. Alex never came to bed. The bedside clock read 1:09.

Henry padded barefoot down the hall to peek in the study. That's when he heard distant music. He followed the music down to the kitchen where Alex was crooning along to Juanes while doing dishes.

“What on earth are you doing? It's past midnight!” Henry exclaimed.

“So,” started Alex, grinning, "I was listening to Juanes as I worked when I decided to eat, and it got me thinking about elotes, so behold-”

The oven timer beeped.

“Elotes pizza!”