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Alex has always loved a challenge.
When he was younger, it was stupid things like jumping off the top of the monkey bars or climbing the highest tree in the park. It was winning races on his bicycle or getting the highest marks on that year’s science fair project.
His love of challenges never went away as he grew up. Instead, Alex found new ways to test himself, new methods of competition, though they were often only with himself. Whether it was beating his high score on a videogame or improving his cooking skills; challenging himself gave him an outlet for his too-busy brain and a surefire way for him to focus.
But then there were the more self-destructive challenges. How long could he stay awake studying? How many coffees could he drink without vibrating out of his skin? How fast could he drive down the dirt backroads, his foot pressed to the pedal and the trees whipping by in a blur? How long could he run, his feet hitting the pavement, blisters forming on his heels, before he had to stop?
Sometimes, the challenges that he gave himself were healthy. Others, not so much. It had taken a lot of prodding from June, and a fair amount of friendly nagging from Nora, before Alex put himself through the new challenge of therapy and gained the ability to recognize his healthy and unhealthy choices. He still made some interesting decisions, but he took them now as learning opportunities.
But then, there was Henry.
The moment that Alex had met him, he knew that Henry was a walking, talking, tea-drinking challenge. From his snarky attitude, his ability to match Alex’s rapid fire banter and Alex’s constant need to poke at Henry’s cool, detached demeanor, he took Henry’s entire existence as a challenge that he needed to win.
Because there was something thrilling about Henry’s reactions; the way his blue eyes would flash, the way his face flushed pink and the unfortunately hot way that vowel sounds curled into – you guessed it – Henry’s unfortunately sexy British accent. They are friends, so Alex doesn’t look too closely at it.
But there was no way in hell’s half acre that Alex was letting Henry get away with this.
The whole gang is at June and Nora’s for their weekly Friday get-together. It used to be an opportunity for them to go out to a bar or a club and dance the night away. They still do that sometimes, but now, it’s mostly a chance for them all to catch up and still be a part of each other’s lives.They’ve already had their regular Friday night pizzas and the half-empty grease stained boxes line the kitchen counters. They have all migrated from the table to the couches in the living room and are simply enjoying being in one another’s company after a long week.
Bea and Pez are curled up under a blanket, probably whispering about something British like tea and crumpets or world domination, Alex thinks. Nora’s got her arm wrapped around June’s shoulders as June smiles up at her, looking a little lovesick, in Alex’s opinion. He plans to tease June about it later.
Henry’s sitting beside Alex; his long graceful fingers wrapped around a bottle of beer that Alex gave him. He gets distracted, watching Henry pick at the label with his perfectly manicured, soft looking hands, so Alex doesn’t quite hear how the group starts talking about kissing techniques.
He doesn’t know how they got on the topic, but somehow, they are discussing who amongst them are the best kissers. Nora was smug when she was unanimously voted as a Best Kisser. Alex does reluctantly agree, as he has had first hand knowledge of Nora’s smooching abilities. It’s sometimes still awkward to remember, now that Nora is dating his sister.
Both he and Henry refuse to listen to their respective sisters talk about being good kissers. Pez is notoriously amazing at absolutely everything, so there’s no real argument there. But what really has Alex perturbed, twitterpated and motherfucking annoyed is the opinion that Henry is a better kisser than him.
This cannot stand.
“I refuse, I veto, I object,” Alex says, shaking his head vehemently. “There’s absolutely no way that you are a better kisser than me, Fox.”
“Methinks the lady doth protest too much, dearest Alexander,” Pez grins. “Our dearest Hazza did have quite a reputation during our Oxford days. Certainly, I have already regaled you with a tale or two?”
“I’ve certainly never had any complaints,” Henry tells him, his deep blue eyes boring into the depths of Alex’s soul. Alex feels a flash of heat rush up his spine. Those eyes should honestly be registered as weapons, but Alex isn’t going to let them derail him from his point.
“Nora, back me up here,” Alex says, turning away from Henry to face Nora. He can still feel the weight of Henry’s eyes on him. Nora has a thoughtful look on her face. “Remember when we dated?”
“Why, yes, I do, Alejandro.” She nods slowly, waiting for him to get to the point.
“You liked it when we kissed, I know it.” Alex states, ignoring the face that June is making.
“Please do not bring up that time in my life,” Nora answers demurely. “It’s a time I’m trying to put past me and I don’t like it being dredged up.”
“NORA!” Alex glares at her.
She rolls her eyes and huffs. Nora waves a dismissive hand in his direction. “You were…fine,” she grudgingly admits.
“Well, you are obviously not a reliable source,” Alex grumbles. “How are we going to figure this out?”
“Alex, you don’t have to be competitive about everything,” June tries. She’s always been the voice of reason. Except during the Great Scrabble Debate of 2010; Alex still has flashbacks.
“Alex, it’s fine,” Henry murmurs, his hand tightening on the beer bottle, knuckles white. He shrugs his unfairly broad shoulders as his gaze focuses on the carpet, like the pattern is particularly interesting. “It doesn’t really matt–”
“Of course, it matters, Henry,” Alex interrupts, exasperated.
“Well, you know what they say, Alex,” Nora glances briefly down at June, before looking back at him. Alex can tell she’s holding back a smirk. “When you like it, you always come back for more.”
“Huh?” He’s confused, and he feels like there’s some nefarious plot happening behind the scenes but Alex can’t let Henry have this.
“Ooh, darling Nora, you have the most scrumptious ideas,” Pez says, a diabolical grin spreading over his face.
“I know, Pez. It’s true, I do.” Nora looks at Alex, a brow raised in a question. “Well?”
Alex holds his hands up, shaking his head. “I have no idea what you are talking about right now.” His eyes dart towards Henry, who also looks like he’s wondering what language Nora is currently speaking. “Explain.”
Nora sits up straighter, holding tightly to June as she does. “It’s simple. You and Henry need to kiss.”
Henry sputters. Alex narrows his eyes at Nora. “Excuse me? Why would we need to kiss?”
“How else are you going to judge each other’s technique?” Nora asks, leaning back against the couch. She looks relaxed as she reaches up to tuck a piece of June’s hair behind her ear. “And I mean, if you are as good at kissing as you believe you are, Henry won’t be able to stop at just one, will he? You guys kiss, and when you stop, the first person to lean back in for another kiss loses.”
Alex stares at Nora, thoughts on a spin cycle in his brain. June is suspiciously silent, her eyes closed as she leans her head on Nora’s shoulder. Pez looks very intrigued and like he is attempting to bite his tongue, fighting not to say the words that look like they are about to jump out of his mouth. Bea is quiet, her soulful brown eyes on her brother.
Alex takes a sharp breath in and holds it as he turns to look at Henry. His blond hair is messy, like he’s just run his fingers through it and tugged on it a bit. There’s a flush in his cheeks that has run down his neck and disappeared into the collar of the loose blue shirt he’s wearing. He’s set the beer down on the nearby coffee table and is fidgeting with his signet ring. He’s not looking at Alex.
Alex exhales. The living room is quiet and he can feel his heart thudding quickly in his chest. “Henry,” he says.
Henry looks at him, those dangerous blue eyes finding his and Alex bites the inside of his cheek. “Are we going to do this?” Alex asks.
Something flutters over Henry’s face too quickly for Alex to read, but it causes something in his chest to ache. Suddenly, Alex realizes something.
He wants to kiss Henry.
He’s waiting, holding his breath, for Henry to say yes or no. If he says no, Alex will play it off like Henry knows that Alex is the better kisser. He’ll hide the disappointment that he doesn’t want to examine, at the thought that Henry doesn’t want to kiss him.
And Alex can be honest, at least with himself. It’s not the first time that he has wanted to kiss Henry. Really, the thought of it has been in his mind for longer than he’d like to admit. But he hasn’t let himself think about it, aside from the occasional thought of the plushness of Henry’s lips or the sound he might make if Alex pulled him close. So yes, Alex wants to kiss Henry but does Henry want to kiss him?
Time stretches out, the living room silent while Henry makes his decision. Alex’s heart beats a rapid rhythm, his lungs expand, and his mind races with a million thoughts as he waits.
“Fine.” Henry finally answers, his voice so low that Alex almost doesn’t hear his reply.
He blinks at Henry. “Is that a yes?” he asks.
Henry nods, and bites his lower lip. “It is.”
Alex’s stomach drops down to his knees and his palms feel suddenly sweaty.
Oh.
He’s going to kiss Henry.
Henry stands from the couch and turns to face him. He looks at Alex, a serious expression on his face and his chin thrust out like he’s trying to be brave. “Well, are we going to do this or not?”
That spurs Alex into action. He stands, grabbing Henry’s wrist and pulling him out of the living room. There’s a chorus of disappointed groans from Pez and Nora and quiet, relieved thank Gods from Bea and June. Someone, probably Nora, calls from the living room, their voice echoing down the hall and ringing in Alex’s ears – “I bet you can’t only have one!”
Alex pulls Henry into the spare bedroom and shuts the door. “We aren’t doing this in front of an audience, sweetheart,” he tells him, dropping Henry’s hand.
Alex locks the door and leaning against it, he watches Henry. Henry runs his long elegant fingers through his blond hair again and he keeps glancing at Alex as he paces back and forth.
“How did you - I mean, er, how are we going to do this?” Henry asks, stilling in front of Alex and fidgeting once more with his ring.
“I thought you were experienced at kissing, H? Did you need me to walk you through the basics?” Alex teases, a small smile on his face. He feels on a more even keel when he banters with Henry. It's what he’s used to, it’s what he knows. “Should I make a step by step list? Draw you a diagram?”
“You’re a numpty,” Henry groans. “Of course, I have kissed someone before. Plenty of someones, in actual fact. Did you not hear Pez talking about our Oxford days, you bloody demon?”
“Hey, I consider Pez an unreliable source, to be perfectly honest,” Alex drawls. “You were probably leading the witness. His testimony is purely subjective. Unless he was one of the blokes you were kissing at Oxford? Hmm?”
“Oh god, I beg you to not,” Henry grimaces. His nose scrunches in distaste and Alex doesn’t find it adorable. “Percy is like my brother.”
“Oh, I know where his loyalties lie,” Alex murmurs. “Which is why I don’t trust his version of events.”
Henry stares at Alex, his eyes narrowing and the corner of his mouth tightening. Alex isn’t sure if it’s from frustration or a grin that Henry’s trying to hide. It makes something in his stomach flip.
Henry takes a few steps closer but still remains out of reach. Alex’s hands twitch against the wooden door.
“Well, I suppose I will just have to provide evidence then,” Henry says, voice low and determined.
And Alex, he has a well documented love of challenges. But he’s now starting to suspect that Henry does too. It’s there in the straightening of his broad shoulders, in the flash of defiance in his eyes and the quick rhythm of arguments that the two of them fall into. Alex has never held back with Henry; never stopped the constant flow of random thoughts or chatter from his scattered brain and Henry has always answered back with startling jabs of wit and a sharp sense of humour that Alex can’t seem to get enough of.
It’s…nice.
Alex’s fingers tap against the door and he shuffles his feet. He feels about ready to jump from a very tall something; the anticipation is killing him. He looks up at Henry from beneath his lashes and grins. “I suppose you will,” Alex says. “C’mere.”
When Alex had thought about kissing Henry, he’s always pictured that it would happen quickly, in the heat of the moment. That perhaps they’d be arguing about something and Henry, exasperated, would stop Alex in his tracks by planting a kiss on his lips. That it would be fast, furious and out of control, like a forest fire.
Kissing Henry is nothing like that.
Henry walks closer slowly, purposefully, like he’s being pulled forward by a force outside his body. Like there’s a rope attached to his chest that pulls him ever closer to Alex. His gaze is fixed on Alex’s lips, tracing their shape with an intensity in his deep blue eyes.
When Henry leans down carefully, Alex doesn’t even realize that he is lifting his face to meet Henry’s until their lips connect. Henry’s hands come up to cradle Alex’s face, their lips sliding gently together and his mouth tasting slightly of the beer he’d been nursing.
When the kiss deepens, Henry’s tongue expertly teases Alex’s lips apart, scraping his teeth over Alex’s bottom lip and his fingers grip on to Alex’s hair, diving deep into his curls. Alex groans and grasps Henry’s waist, pulling him closer as he returns each press of lips, each swipe of Henry’s tongue.
Kissing Henry is like the ocean meeting the shore; it’s like the tide, relentless. It washes away the memory of any other kiss before Henry’s and sweeps him up in an undertow of sensations. It takes his breath away.
Kissing Henry is like nothing Alex has ever done before.
He doesn’t want to stop, but he does need to breathe, so he pulls away slowly, panting into the small space between them. Henry makes a soft noise, like he doesn’t want the kiss to end. His pulse beating rapidly, Alex’s hands tighten on Henry’s waist, keeping him close. Henry seems to understand; his hands are still in Alex’s hair and his thumbs trace Alex’s jawline, soft against his end of day stubble.
The only sounds in the next few moments are their panting breaths and the soft rustle of clothing in the quiet room. Alex can’t hear any noise from the living room either but a full marching band could have paraded through the apartment and he wouldn’t have noticed.
Alex swallows when Henry leans back, feeling Henry’s gaze take in his flushed face and swollen lips. He can’t look up just yet. Alex feels Henry’s shoulders lift and his chest expand as he takes a deep breath in and holds it. In the silence, it’s like he can hear Henry thinking but has no clue what those thoughts might be. Alex just knows that it’s about him. Is Henry regretting the kiss?
Henry breaks the silence with his name, said softly as he exhales. “Alex.”
The word sounds different when Henry says it, like it means something more than just his name. It makes Alex look up at Henry’s face. He sees the same flush and swollen lips that he’s sporting but when they are painted on Henry’s paler skin, they remind Alex of roses.
Henry’s blue eyes are dark and inscrutable. Alex can’t parse out the meaning written in the shape of Henry’s mouth or the expression in his eyes. But knowledge is a flash of lightning that hits him squarely in his solar plexus. Alex’s heart is in his throat when he realizes. He takes a sharp breath in.
Alex never wants to stop kissing Henry.
Something that started as a silly bet, another challenge that Alex had been so sure that he would win, has caused that particular truth to come to light. It’s not new, it’s just something that Alex had never let himself look too closely at or examine too hard. He thinks Nora sees too much, if she was able to figure this out before he did.
But Alex is startled out of his thoughts when he feels Henry shifting away from him. He must have taken too long to respond because Henry looks wretched, like someone kicked his dog and no one should ever be mean to David. They have to go through Alex first.
“Henry, stop,” Alex says, his voice soft and low. “You don’t have to leave.”
Henry stills, looking at Alex. “Don’t worry,” he replies, face grim. “I’ll tell them that you won the bet.”
“Oh. Did I win the bet?” Alex asks.
Henry sighs as he fidgets once more with the ring on his pinky. “Yes, Alex,” Henry whispers. Alex has to strain to hear him. “You won the bet.”
“I am glad to hear that,” Alex says. “How?”
Henry’s hands still and his brow furrows in confusion. “What do you mean?”
Alex closes the distance between them and grabs one of Henry’s hands in his. He squeezes it gently and lets his thumb brush over Henry’s knuckles. “I mean, how exactly did I win the bet?” Alex asks. “Was it my superior kissing techniques? Were you wowed by my smooching skills? My macking mojo?”
Henry huffs in frustration, but he doesn’t pull his hand away. “For goodness sake, Alex–”
“Or,” Alex interrupts. He hopes that he isn’t wrong about this. “Did I win the bet because you can’t only have one kiss? Is it because you want to keep kissing me, the way that I want to keep kissing you?”
Henry’s eyes widen and his jaw drops slightly open in awe. He blinks at Alex and he looks like he’s trying to comprehend what Alex just said. He grips Alex’s hand tightly. “You want to keep kissing me?” He asks tentatively, unsure.
“Absofuckinglutely,” he answers. “Is that something that you want too, sweetheart?”
“Yes, Alex. I want to keep kissing you,” Henry admits. “I’ve wanted it longer than I would like to admit.”
Alex grins, his smile taking over his entire face. Henry smiles back at him, affection shining in his blue eyes and Alex simply can’t wait another second.
So he pulls Henry back in, trailing his mouth across Henry’s jaw, peppering his forehead with kisses, before their lips connect in another kiss that makes Alex lose track of anything but Henry’s mouth on his and Henry in his arms. Alex kisses Henry so much and for so long that he decides not to count the kisses or think about it at all, because one kiss could never have been enough for either of them.
In fact, Alex is prepared to bet that a million kisses with Henry would not be enough. It’s a challenge he thinks he can win.