Work Text:
| 2016 |
Arthur first hears of an Alex when he’s just gone into remission.
At the end of the great big surgeries, radiation, and every other thing that had it out for him, not a soul in his family had presumed he would make it out. Not even himself. And Arthur Fox is not a quitter of any sort. It had become a sort of waiting game, in which every single person was trying to prepare for the worst whilst simultaneously assuring one another that it would be alright.
He knew his children were struggling, but when the wretch that was his mother-in-law sent his daughter off to a rehabilitation centre, and Pip back to his post, it was just Henry in charge of both taking care of him, himself, and public appearances.
Catherine, bless her soul, put her whole self into caring after him. Henry tries to beg off of his appearances, and Arthur reassures him, and tells him he’ll be okay for the few days Henry is slated to make an appearance at the Olympics.
On the day Henry is set to return, Arthur gets the remission news. They call him from the plane, he answers in a fright, only to hear that his father would be getting better. But there was something off to Henry when he got home. Something offset . Extra time unfocused, blankly thinking of other things. But the whispers of an elusive Alex don’t come from Henry himself. They come from Percy. And, well, a conversation he really, truly , shouldn’t have been eavesdropping on.
And it’s not that he meant to. Truly . He’s wandering to the kitchen in search of a glass of water, and pauses just on the threshold when he realises Henry and Percy are sitting at the table, his son pouring himself a second glass of wine and slumping forward to put his head on the table. “It’s not going to happen .”
Percy smacks his lips together disapprovingly and sits back in his seat. “Darling, you are the Prince of Wales. This elusive Alex is not going to be out of reach.”
“That’s what you think.” Henry says miserably. “God, but he’s lethal. And I bollocked it up. I looked like a complete idiot.”
And there it is. His suspicions and inklings of years past, his son who spent a little too long looking at other boys and sitting alone, lamenting on feeling just too different .
He won’t say a word. Henry can come to him when he is ready. Until then, he can wait patiently in the wings, and attempt to know at least a little bit about his son’s life so he can attempt to provide support.
“Just have some patience, poppet. You never know.”
“I do know, Pez. It’s never going to happen.”
That’s it. That’s the rest he hears before he goes back upstairs. The mantra in his head. When he is ready .
| 2017 |
It’s February of 2017 when he meets Ellen Claremont for the first time.
After an invite to a dinner and visit to the White House was extended to Mad Mary, she gave the delegation to Catherine and Arthur instead. She deemed it important for them to meet the newest First Family, maintaining alliances within the political sphere and all.
They arrive in a flurry of snow to the White House, brought in by Secret Service and introduced first to First Gentleman Leo Castalazzi, who welcomes them graciously and seats them at the perfectly decorated dining room table. “My wife is in a meeting, the kids should be here soon as well.”
The pair of them nod, and Catherine immediately falls into a conversation with Leo regarding how he’s faring in the public world when Ellen strolls in. She’s no nonsense, blonde hair tied back, in a pencil skirt and flats. She appears almost startled at them, smiles graciously and offers her hand to shake to the pair of them. Arthur likes her immediately upon hearing her backstory of growing up in small town Texas and growing from there. It’s commendable. He loves an underdog.
“Well, the move from Austin was interesting. My daughter was less inclined, but my son started at Georgetown so he’s been staying here. He ends up cocooning himself into studying way too often. He should be here soon.”
And, as if on cue, the dining room door opens, and Ellen smiles. “Sugar. Lovely of you to join us. How was your day?”
Ellen Claremont’s son is tan skinned and curly haired, with the dark undereyes of a uni student, he pauses and looks at Catherine and Arthur, then back to his mother, as if she forgot to tell him about this visit. “This is Arthur and Catherine, Sugar.”
“As in…?” He asks.
“Yes, as in Princess Catherine.”
“Is… anyone else here?” he asks, eyebrows furrowing.
“No, Sugar, no nemeses today.” Arthur turns to her. She smiles wryly. “This is Alex. Introduce yourself, Sugar.”
And suddenly, it clicks. Looking at Ellen Claremont’s son- Alex- with perfectly curly hair and a bright smile he’s able to turn on immediately as he shakes their hands. “Alexander Claremont-Diaz, you can call me Alex, though.” The energy he exudes is electric. Effervescence in a person. He’s seen the articles on how charming Alexander Claremont-Diaz is, but this is the first time he’s meeting the boy. Of course this must be the Alex that Henry has mentioned. Of course his poor son froze up in the face of such a person.
He listens to Alex chatter about his classes and goals, and how excited he is for the opportunity to be so close to politics. He asks Arthur for his real opinion on the Queen, and holds their attention, with the energy of lightning in a bottle, until he returns to his room to do his homework. Arthur tucks this experience away. It feels too important to forget about. And he doubts that- politically or socially- this will be the last time he sees Alex Claremont-Diaz.
| 2018 |
Arthur Fox is sure by spring of 2018 that he has made a lifelong friend in Ellen Claremont.
Truly, it was an off chance that they’d be as good of friends as they’ve become. But they truly, truly have. Out of all the politicians and dignitaries Arthur has met in his time as a Duke, Ellen is perhaps the only one who doesn’t have a rod for a spine and constant no nonsense attitude. She may be serious when it comes to running her country, but she’s fun all the same. He hopes that even when she isn’t in office that they stay friends.
However, Arthur is also sure that this friendship may have a wrench thrown in it on the basis of Alex hating his son.
It’s not like he wasn’t aware of this. It was a part of the rumour mill right after Ellen’s inauguration, when Alex shook Henry’s hand at one of their very first supposed meetings, only to shove past him and away. The papers printed the carefully neutral expression on Henry’s face. But Arthur saw the flush of his cheeks and the way his eyes were slightly too open, showing his shock and mortification. But really, Alex just cannot stand Henry. And Arthur can’t understand.
His son is kind, he keeps to himself and spends the majority of his time reading or writing in his bedroom. Everyone who has ever met him at social events have declared him to be the most kind and genuine person they’ve met. And they don’t even get the full Henry. Perhaps that’s what Alex needs. To see the Henry that is only seen by those close to him.
Today they are hosting a garden party, and he is sitting at a table chatting with the Swedish Prime Minister, almost absentmindedly, as he watches Alex march his way across the green grass towards Henry, fold his arms in frustration, and make some comment that Henry immediately deflects. He manages to build somewhat of a conversation with Alex like this. Good on his son, for not letting the barbs get to him. They exchange comments back and forth until Alex huffs, rolls his eyes, and stomps away again. Just as he’s doing so, the Swedish Prime Minister is jabbering to the end of his point, and being swiftly side stepped by one Ellen Claremont, come to save the day. “There’s my favourite Bond.” She chuckles. He does the same, only absentmindedly, and she sighs.
It isn’t lost on him how Alex finds and approaches Henry at any chance he gets.
“I’m sorry my son is such a stubborn little shit.” She jokes. “I’m sure Henry is lovely. He’s only been kind when I’ve met him. Alex is just… a different kind of stubborn. And I wish I could say that comes solely from one parent or the other, but he was saddled with it from the both of us.”
Arthur nods. “I understand. It’s quite alright. Some people take longer to warm up to others.” he offers, still watching as Henry scrubs a hand down his face while he presumes no one is looking, heaving a heavy sigh before his grandmother steps in, taking him off to force him to mingle with an heiress of some sort.
He wonders how long it is going to take them.
He’s already quite certain it’s an inevitability. He’s sure of it. Just as he is his friendship with Ellen Claremont.
| 2019 |
If Arthur hadn’t deemed all Royal Weddings disasters waiting to happen on the basis of his own, he’s more than sure he would do so now.
Sure, his was stuffy, and Catherine hated her stupid dress, lamented on the fact until she was able to change out of it. But there was nothing catastrophic . Catherine has two younger sisters. And neither of the two of them ended up on the floor of the ballroom covered in their wedding cake.
It all happened so quickly, too. Cake, then, no cake, except that of it left on the floor. Henry whisked in one direction, Alex in the other. He tries to tell Catherine it could have been worse, but his oldest is red as a tomato and wearing a hole in the ancient flooring outside the ballroom as his youngest is practically dragged from the room, covered in buttercream with a nasty cut over the ridge of his cheekbone.
However, he notices barely a couple weeks after this catastrophic event, after the papers stopped printing photos of him and Alex on the floor, and instead pictures of the pair of them in comradery, that there is… a change. He watches as Henry pauses more often on their walks, focused on his cellphone. Sending text messages in between meetings, his face a sort of annoyed fondness. He’s content . Arthur is relieved.
For Alex and Henry to be over this whole mess, whether it’s been long overdue or not, well, that’s something he’s been waiting for. It feels like an inevitability. Two people dancing around each other for long enough. But when it becomes phone calls and constant texting, well, Arthur sees something in Henry’s eye that he understands. He just hopes his son lets himself have this.
Then, Percy is arriving at Kensington to sweep Henry off to the states for New Years Eve, and when Henry retells this story to Arthur a year later, he’ll say this is well and truly where it all started.
| 2020 |
PART ONE
Henry arrives home on New Year's Day in a state. He’s shaken up and Arthur is sure it has nothing to do with any residual hangover or jet lag. There is something else bugging him, something under his skin making him feel agitated and stressed. When anyone tries to ask him about New Years, he gets cagey and refuses to tell a soul anything.
“It was fine, Dad. I’m just tired. Those Americans sure know how to party.” but Arthur knows there is more.
Henry’s phone will buzz with texts and calls that go entirely unanswered, he won’t even look at it half the time. To talk to him at any point a text will no longer suffice. If he wasn’t going to actively search his son out in the palace, he simply wouldn’t hear from him. Something was off.
But Henry wasn’t speaking. And he wasn’t going to pry. Instead, he watched his son walk David through chilly palace gardens and curl up in an armchair to reread the books he loves. But there’s a pinch in his brows. And he will stare off into space too often and shake his head and try to get out of it.
One night, Arthur finally cracks. Because goddamnit, at the end of the day Henry is his son, and whatever is going on with him might be something he can fix. He approaches him as if he’s approaching a scared animal, sitting beside him and putting a hand on his knee.
“Hen? Can I ask you something?”
Henry looks at him and for a split second he appears horrified at the prospect, but it quickly fades as fast as it appears, and he simply nods.
“Well, I noticed you have been a bit… off, recently. Since New Years, really. Are you alright?”
His son looks down at his lap, then up at the ceiling. “I’m… I’m okay, Dad. I’m just… I… don’t like New Years.”
He knows that Henry is hiding something more, but if he’s going to give this tidbit of information, he will have it. “Oh darling, I understand. What can I do for you?” he asks softly. Henry manages a chuckle.
“Not much you can do for me right now, I’ll be alright.”
And he lets it go. Because really, really , what else can he do?
| 2020 |
PART TWO
The truth is, the big reveal happens so suddenly that Arthur is half sure he’s completely imagined it.
Of course, it begins with Philip being too pushy.
Arthur loves his kids. Truly, all of them. They are his pride and his joy and everything other than Catherine that he thinks he’d ever truly need. But the difference between his oldest and his youngest is staggering.
It’s a rainy day in September, the third or the fourth, and despite still being under the umbrella of summer , the autumn rain is already in tow. Philip is in for breakfast this morning, hounding Henry about his gap year and him finding a wife. Finding it necessary for the family or whatever other tosh has been fed to him by Mary. Arthur will always regret not pulling Philip closer to him when he was young and at such a transitional point in his life. He’s not sure about how he’ll make that right.
Especially not now , when Philip is droning on and on at the table.
“Henry, you have to understand that this is your duty and meandering around with your friends isn’t going to get you anywhere in life.” Philip states. “You are being foolish. People are going to talk-”
Henry huffs. Rolls his eyes. “Oh bleeding Christ , Pip. People will talk like they always talk. That is our bloody life. You may be the next King, but I’m not.”
“No, but you are the one who is supposed to rule in my stead should something happen to me.”
“Technically, I’m-” Bea tries to cut in.
“Beatrice. This does not concern you. This concerns Henry and his duty to the Crown and his Country. He is being immature and ridiculous. Just go on the bloody date! God knows people are speculating because you haven’t been on one in months, while traipsing around with your little American friend- ”
“Well, Pip, the fact of the matter is that all of this ‘duty to the Crown and Country’ tosh is a load of
shite
. I am sick of you trying to put your responsibilities on
my
shoulders. And the fact of the matter is that it doesn’t matter how many dates I go on with every woman in this fucking country, because I am, in fact,
very, deeply, gay.
”
And there it is. Henry says it, and seems to process it right away, staring in horror as the words register in Philip’s brain. Shaan is at Henry’s side nearly immediately, as if he heard of such a thing from kilometres away and knew his charge needed support.
“Are you out of your bloody mind? Have you actually finally gone mad? You are being ridiculous. You are not a child, Henry. And it’s time you act like a goddamned adult, put aside any of this selfish shite you might be feeling because you have responsibilities. You are simply misguided and convinced that this is all so, so important, but one day down the line you will recognize what is most important. I know it. I bloody know it.” He’s in Henry’s face now, as Shaan tries to placate. Henry doesn’t seem to be there anymore, though. He’s looking around, at Bea, then his mother, then to Arthur, and turning around and rushing upstairs.
Arthur looks to Catherine, and she stands to grab one of Philip’s arms in an attempt to calm him down, as Arthur leaves the room to follow after Henry.
Through the cracked door to his rooms, he hears it. Henry, pacing back and forth in a panic, talking quietly on the phone.
“No, no, I shouldn’t have woken you. It’s not the end of the world. I could have just sent you a message. I just-” He stops, seemingly as the person on the other end speaks. “No, my love. You need to sleep. I’ll be fine. I… likely need to speak with my family over all of this. I’ll tell you what happens. Yes, I will call again if anything goes wrong. It’s- I’ll be fine. Go back to sleep.” Another pause. Then, he hears Henry sigh fondly. “Yes, I love you too. Give me a call when you wake up, yes? Alright. Goodnight, love.” he hears his son sniffle as he hangs up the phone.
Arthur knocks just after. “Hen?”
A beat. Then, “Come in.”
Henry looks wretched when Arthur opens the door, his nose is red and there are unshed tears in his eyes. “Oh, my boy.” Arthur says quietly, crossing the room to pull Henry into a hug. “You know it doesn’t matter to me one bit, right? I love you just the same as I did yesterday, and the day before, and every single day before that.” He promises. Henry lets out a sob, and Arthur ushers him to sit as he lets Arthur go to wipe tears away furiously.
“I just… I didn’t want you to hate me. Or think it was- was wrong.”
“Nothing about you is wrong, darling. You are kind, and smart, and brave , and you are all these things and that is what makes you so incredible. Don’t listen to what anyone else has to say about it.”
Henry sighs. “For you to understand this… how I feel, I need you to understand all of it. All of how I learned of it and how Gran treated it and how it all came to be like this. It’s not so simple.”
And he tells a story. He tells a story he’s never told before. He hears Henry talk about his teenage self at Eton, not quite like all the other boys. The only other outcast, who wasn’t afraid to be different his very best friend. Discusses his struggles with himself, especially during Arthur’s surgeries and chemotherapy and every other awful thing. He tells Arthur about how Mary summoned him when he was freshly eighteen, and told him to tamp it all down. It fills Arthur with a white hot rage that he quickly attempts to diffuse. It’s not time for him to go to Mary and tear her a new one, right now is time for him to take care of his son.
He lets Henry cry over every wretched thing he’s been told about himself, lets him try to feel it and move past it. To just breathe. To let it go.
“Well, you say the word, and I’ll be there to tear your gran a new one. I promise. I won’t let her do another thing to you, you hear me, Henry? I’m… I’m sorry I couldn’t be there sooner.”
Henry nods. “I know, Dad. Thank you.” he says thickly, before clearing his throat. “There’s… erm… there’s something else.”
“Hm?”
“I… I have a boyfriend.”
Arthur smiles at him. “You do? A secret boyfriend? Well, who the Hell is he?
“That’s the thing it’s… it’s complicated because of who he is. I love him. A lot. And we’re… we’re serious. But it’s been complicated.”
“Oh?”
“It’s Alex.”
And everything makes more sense. Every trip to the States. Every photo he’s seen in the news of Alex and Henry, together again somewhere else in the world. The light in his son’s eyes.
“Correct me if I’m wrong… but I thought that boy couldn’t stand you.”
Henry laughs. “Well, you wouldn’t be wrong. At least not at first. I guess we… talked enough for him to realize that he didn’t really hate me. D’you remember New Years? When I came home a mess? It’s because I… I kissed him, and thought I’d ruined everything . Then I went back for a state dinner, and suddenly he was interested in me, and the rest is… history, I suppose.”
Arthur laughs and wraps an arm around Henry’s shoulder. “Well, I suppose I ought to provide a good shovel talk, hm? Next time he comes to visit?”
“He was just here, actually, but I’ll let him know you’ve said so. Perhaps it’ll make him come back to visit faster. However, you’d be surprised at how scary Bea has been. Honestly, you’d be wise to take some pointers from her.”
Arthur laughs. “I suppose I will have to, then.”
| 2020 |
PART THREE
The first time he properly meets Alex as his son’s boyfriend, is well and truly the worst time it could have happened.
He’s spent the day comforting one son, and holding the other away from said son. It’s been a mess, a flurry of technology torn from them, and shouting and anger, until Bea whisked Henry away behind a music room door with a bottle of whiskey, and assured her parents he wouldn’t be drinking his sorrows away unsupervised.
Arthur aches for Henry. For the way his words were taken for him. His right to speak on his own terms.
He’s contemplating all of this, pacing back and forth in the foyer, when someone walks through the front doors of Kensington, stopping in his tracks.
In the nearly four years since he met Alex Claremont-Diaz the first time, Arthur hadn’t seen much change. Not until now, where he can truly take a look at him. Now, he sees Alex, no longer a fresh faced eighteen year old, but someone who has weathered a rough storm at far too young an age. He looks more determined, like he has more to fight for than ever before.
“Arthur- um, shit- Mr. Fox.” He stutters and stumbles, as though the charm he’s always had and his ability to talk to dignitaries has become null and void solely due to the presence of Arthur Fox. No longer simply a Duke, or James Bond. But Arthur Fox. His boyfriend’s father.
“Alex, please. You can call me Arthur, we’ve been through this. Why is it any different now?”
Alex flushes, chuckles to himself a little halfheartedly. “You know why, Arthur.”
Arthur just laughs despite himself and this nightmare of a day. “I know you are probably more than antsy to see Henry. But, would you mind sitting with me for a moment?”
He finds it funny how Alex immediately squirms under his gaze, but complies, and they wander into a nearby sitting room to talk.
“Now, I won’t keep you for very long, and I know Bea has definitely scared you enough, so I’m not here to try and scare you or any such thing. I just want to talk to you. To say… thank you.”
“‘Thank you?’”
“Yes, thank you. There’s not many people I’ve met who have taken the time to know and love everything about my son. And believe me, I’ve known him his whole life. I’ve seen the struggles and the feelings and… I’ve only seen a select few who have actually taken the time to know all of him.”
But Alex simply chuckles like it’s nothing. Which, Arthur supposes, is fair. “It’s not a hard thing. Not really at all. I mean I was… stubborn enough for so long to not see all of that, but then I actually got to know him, the real him, and I couldn’t believe I’d missed it . How could I not have known? It’s… he’s… I love him. All of him. And I spent… a lot of time when I was younger afraid of feeling something like that. I thought ‘well, anything can all go to shit at any given time, so I’m better off staying far away from it’. And then I met him and it was just… I didn’t have to be afraid anymore.”
Arthur puts an arm around Alex, and Alex shakes his head. “I can’t imagine having anyone else in my life. And I know it sucks right now. It’s so fucking awful. But I want to be here. And keep fighting. Because he’s worth fighting for. I don’t… I don’t give a fuck about a career in politics anymore or anything like that. I just want him. He’s been through enough already.”
And isn’t that the truth? That his youngest son, burdened by a crown that would likely never graze his head, but was just close enough to be suffocating, had been through so much already? The youngest, not quite old enough for any of his cousins, the younger, quieter one. He wasn’t tenacious as Bea or confident like Philip. His youngest, who liked to sit and read quietly or pick flowers, who was forced to be everything he didn’t want to be.
“You’re good for him, Alex.” He says honestly. “I don’t think anyone else would be able to make him as happy as you do. So I just… wanted you to know. I’m here. And thank you, for all of it. Thank you for fighting. We’re going to fight for you, too. I promise.”
Alex nods his head, and Arthur stands up. “I’m sure Henry is in a right state. You ought to go and see him.” As Alex begins to make his way upstairs, Arthur laughs behind him, and adds one more thing. “Oh, and Alex? When you get back to the States, do tell your mum she needs to come and visit soon. It has been far too long since we had a proper chat, and clearly there is more to discuss now.”
Alex laughs. “Sure.”
| 2026 |
Arthur Fox has spent over thirty years being a Duke. Over thirty years seeing his wife’s sister’s have their weddings, he’s had his own bloody wedding, Pip’s, and several more they’ve had to attend. But in terms of energy, and community. None of them have held a candle to Henry’s.
He arrives in Austin on a warm summer evening with the rest of his family. They spend a week in Austin, being shepherded around by Alex, with Henry in tow, showing them where he grew up, where his son is moving and going to be living for the foreseeable future. It’s charming. Nice. somewhere with enough life for the pair of them, but not on the level of anywhere they’ve been living in the last however many years. Pulled back. Somewhere to wind down. And Christ knows they need it.
The morning of the wedding, they are picked up from their hotel by one Oscar Diaz, with a wide smile on his face. “Good morning! Ready for a wedding? With hopefully no cake on the floor?”
Somehow, even Philip has a small chuckle at that. It’s taken a lot of discussion. Many conversations, many of them not nice in the slightest, and Martha, bless her soul, who made Alex an ally in her corner the first time they’d properly spoken after the whole email ordeal. According to Martha, Alex brought her a small replica of her destroyed wedding cake as an olive branch, and she found that he was hilarious. Arthur likes Martha. She’s got a good head on her shoulders, and much more fun behind the scenes when she’s not being forced to be the agreeable future Queen of England.
Their drive to the lake house is full of laughter and conversation. They turn the radio up and get excited for the day ahead of them. They carry their dress clothes from the car into the house, to the sound of ranchera music, as the extended Diaz family cooks breakfast in the kitchen. The place is decorated to the nines, with lights and ribbon. The perfect amount of class within the house. Then, there is Ellen and Leo, setting chairs up outside.
And outside is a wonderland in it of itself. With chairs set up and plenty of flowers. There’s a large canopy covered in lights with tables underneath it, plenty of room to dance and make some memories. And of course, the lake as a backdrop. It’s perfect.
“Hey! There’s my favourite Bond!” Ellen hollers. “How the Hell are you?!”
“Couldn’t be better.” He says honestly.
Then, they’re setting up chairs and heading inside to get dressed. Cat is fixing his hair in that perfect way, and he’s leaving to wander the house, to find a certain someone. His son.
Said son is fixing his hair while his sister gives him a pep talk. “Bit, you’re going to be fine.” She says. “You’re getting married to the love of your life. What are you nervous for?”
Alex just chuckles self deprecatingly, and looks at June. “I’m not nervous about marrying him. But what if I fuck something up? What if I knock over my own cake?”
Arthur clears his throat, pipes up. “Well, perhaps we’ll just have to keep you at arm’s length from the cake until it’s time to be cut, hm?”
Alex’s head whips around quickly, and he smiles. “Guess so. What are you doing in here? Shouldn’t you be with Henry?”
“Well, sure. But I wanted to check in with my other son first.”
With a fond scoff, Alex rolls his eyes. “We’re not married yet, Arthur.” but he doesn’t miss the way Alex starts to tear up.
“No, but you’ve been my son for the last six years already, marriage or not. I just… wanted to tell you, that I am so, so excited to make this all official. It’s going to be marvellous. I promise. And, for the record, getting to call you my son-in-law will be the honour of a lifetime.” he says, before Alex gets up from where he’s been sitting to do his hair, to wrap his arms around Arthur.
“Thank you. Thank you.” Alex says wetly.
“You don’t need to thank me for a bloody thing. You’ve done so much for me and my family, Alex.”
And so, he spends the rest of the day watching as his son’s get married. He watches them dance and laugh, watches Henry shove cake in Alex’s face and listens to every other toast people make. Makes his own. Watches Alex pull Henry up to dance. Thinks of the lightning in a bottle eighteen year old Alex he met for the first time in a White House dining room. Compares him to the Alex he knows now, nearly ten years later, singing along to Crocodile Rock , arms wrapped around Henry.
He thinks of Henry. The years he spent trying to make himself smaller. To not feel so much. Be so much. Watches him laugh and sing along pitchily, dancing like nobody's watching him. By God, he’s grateful that he’s managed to live long enough to see this.
The sun goes down, the lights go up, and he pulls his wife up to dance. Looks to the stars above, and thanks the heavens for the gift that is his life.