Chapter Text
In his defence, he was left unsupervised on the internet.
Alex took his meeting with Zahra over video call, seated at their kitchen table, his second coffee of the morning in hand. It was only four weeks until their wedding, and Zahra was in overdrive, with a long list of public appearances that he was expected to attend in the following weeks.
Henry was in London, overseeing final preparations for their royal wedding. He missed him terribly, though he supposed it was for a good cause. The last few years had been a blur of law school, clerking, bar exam prep and trans Atlantic flights as they both attempted to balance school, public life, charitable work and, most importantly, just being a couple. They had agreed ever since they were allowed to settle into the brownstone that they would put off marriage until Alex wrote the bar exam.
The morning after he written the bar exam, Alex had woken late. Henry was already awake, sitting up next to him in bed, sipping his tea and reading the newspaper. Alex had reached out to him, hand landing somewhere on Henry’s thigh, and he lazily stroked up, peeking at him from beneath half closed, sleepy lids.
“Good morning,” Henry said, putting his cup aside and turned to face Alex. Alex’s hands immediately went to work, exploring Henry’s exposed skin and tugging on the knot in the drawstring of his pyjama pants.
“‘Morning,” Alex murmured, nuzzling up against the hollow of Henry’s throat.
“So I was thinking,” Henry continued, seemingly ignoring what Alex was doing. “We’re going to be a bit less busy for a while.”
Alex groaned, backing off a bit, realizing he was probably not going to get what he wanted for a few minutes at least. “I’m not joining your book club.”
Henry laughed. “No, I was thinking of something else. I was thinking… maybe we could get married.”
Alex rolled over, pinning Henry beneath him. “Say it again.”
“I know I’m a little more poetic than this usually but… please… just marry me.”
Alex crashed his lips into Henry’s and then their mouths were too busy to say anything for awhile.
After, Alex was sprawled across Henry’s chest, who was running his fingers through his dark curls. Henry paused, then tugged on Alex’s necklace, the one he had worn for so long. The key and Henry’s ring both still hung from it.
“Can I borrow this for a second?”
Alex unfastened the chain and watched quizzically as Henry took the ring off. He realized what Henry was doing; it had dawned on him a long time ago that the signet ring was essentially a promise ring, a reminder that one day Henry would be his every sense of the word, even legally.
The ring didn’t fit, it barely touched the second knuckle of his finger, but they had still announced their engagement with a picture of it pinching Alex’s finger to their closest friends and family.
In the months since, there had been a great many meetings between the White House and Buckingham Palace, hashing out details, with an agreement that they would be married in London, with a reception in Washington to follow.
So that was how he was sitting at his kitchen table, listening to Zahra list off all the interviews, the photo shoots, the rehearsals, the schedule for fittings and when he was leaving for London. He mostly just nodded and agreed, since he knew that when Z got going, it was like jumping out in front of a speeding truck.
It was almost an after thought when she said, “Oh, we want you to share some of your favourite memories of Henry on social media for the next few weeks. It will be a good way to drum up interest for the 60 Minutes interview and the broadcast.”
Alex rolled his eyes but said nothing. A fair number of his favourite memories were detailed in the love letters that were stolen and published, but he’d go along with what the media people said.
Later that night, he was sitting on their bed, waiting for Henry to call him, scrolling through photos from that first year. Finally, he selected one of Henry in silhouette, lights strobing around him, holding up a bottle of champagne, from that fateful New Year’s Eve party.
He paused for a moment, lips pursed, thumbs hovering over the keyboard, then he typed out It’s easy to remember your anniversary when it’s New Years (Henry kissed me 20 minutes after this) 28 days until #henryandalexroyalwedding
He hit post just before the video call notification flashed and he clicked over.
“Our anniversary is New Years?” Was the first thing Henry said.
“The romantic answer is that was the night you stole my heart, which is true, but also I’m not sure almost fucking you against that painting of Alexander Hamilton counts.”
Henry flushed. “I think you’re wearing entirely too many clothes for this conversation.”
@msjennaofficial: You’re telling me I was at the party where Henry kissed Alex and I never knew?!?!
@soccermom343: OMFG they kissed at midnight?! It’s like something out of a movie
The next day, he chose a picture of Henry’s bedside table with the copy of Le Monde, the one they now have framed and hanging in their bedroom, two teacups and Alex’s glasses arranged around it. A souvenir from one of our first dates.
The third day, it was a photo of him and Henry walking in the London gay pride parade, hand in hand. They were wearing rainbow tie dyed t-shirts emblazoned with History, huh and waving to the crowds, massive smiles on their faces. One of the greatest moments of my life walking in @LondonPride parade with @HRHHenry
“Would you kill me if I posted that picture of you and that poster?”
“What- oh god.” Henry groaned.
“Oh come on, it’s cute!”
Henry is wandering around Westminster Abbey, while the wedding planning committee nattered about floral arrangements and candles in the background. Alex is pretty sure they should both be involved in that discussion, but this is much more interesting.
“Ok, if I can post the poster picture, I’ll post the one of us at the polo match tomorrow.”
A slow smile spread across Henry’s face. It’s a particular favourite of Henry’s, seeing the two of them smiling politely, just moments after wrecking each other in the tack room. It had become something of a tradition, after Henry had discovered how much Alex enjoyed his polo matches.
That night, Alex tapped out a caption to the photo: fun fact: one of my first celebrity crushes was Henry, after I found this picture of him in one of June’s magazines. When we moved in together, she very kindly framed that same page for us. Thanks June!
The photo was of Henry looking confused, holding up the framed photo, while June laughed in the background.
@HRHHenry kindly invited me to a polo match when we were first dating and I was surprised how much I enjoyed it!
The polo photo feels a little tame compared to others, just another press photo, but Alex and Henry both know. That night, Henry answered Alex’s FaceTime in his polo uniform shirt, smirking.
The following days were similar: Henry reading Jane Eyre lying in a hammock at the lake house, the two of them wearing Santa hats in front of the tree at the palace, one of their engagement photos, kissing under the tree that started it all.
Alex was starting to go crazy. Him and Henry had gone longer without seeing each other of course, but he had gotten used to having him and David there, leaving toast crumbs and tea bags in the kitchen sink, books on the couch, holding him through the night.
Also, he was horny as fuck and Henry spent their evening Facetimes absolutely fanning the flames. He seemed to thrive on the way Alex would basically start drooling and panting every time he saw him in his polo shirt or aggressively eating a Cornetto.
And so one night, when the countdown had reached t-minus 15 days to go, five days until he would join Henry in London, Alex was in bed, one hand gliding across his abs, perusing his photos for the evening upload, when one in particular popped up. It was from that first birthday they celebrated together, in New York.
Maybe it was the late hour, maybe it was feeling half mad with excitement for his wedding day and desire for his fiancé. Actually, it was very likely his brain was melting from his desperation to feel Henry’s mouth on his body, and he would tell Zahra that if she asked.
He looked deep into Henry’s blue eye that was gazing back at him and taped out a caption: Henry and I’s birthdays are only three weeks apart! This was the first year we celebrated together and Henry surprised me with cupcakes. 15 days until #henryandalexroyalwedding”
He probably should have anticipated that dropping a photo like that would cause a splash as big as a boulder in a bathtub. It showed him and Henry, a pile of rumpled pillows behind them, both shirtless and pink buttercream smeared across their mouths and chests. Alex had his eyes shut and was smiling sappily, and Henry was kissing his cheek as he held up his phone for the selfie.
He loved that photo, it reminded him of the giddy early days of their relationship when they would rearrange plans just so they could fly across the ocean for a few hours of time together. When they never knew if there was a future, but they both wanted one.
His phone signalled an incoming Facetime, and Alex answered excitedly.
“Hey baby,” he crooned. “Take your clothes off.”
Henry was was way ahead of him, already yanking his shirt off. “Hello, love. I saw your post.”
Alex laughed. “You like that? It’s one of my favourites. God, I can’t stop thinking about that night and licking all that icing off your-“
Henry interrupted him by lifting a slice of cake, heaping with pink icing. Alex’s mouth went slack.
“Oh I’m sorry, dear, did I forget to tell you the baker brought the cake samples round?”
“You’re going to be the death of me.”
Alex woke up to about a thousand notifications from… everyone. He tried using “I’m so horny my brain melted” but Z didn’t appreciate it.
June called next. “You know, I shouldn’t be surprised. You guys have always been horn dogs.”
“Says the girl in the off again, on again throuple.”
He could hear her rolling her eyes. “Are you still flying out Thursday with me?”
“Not if I can help it.” Alex went to the closet and got his suitcase. “I’m picking up my suit and flying to London tonight.”
“Does Mom know?”
“No, but that sounds like just the job for my best lady.”
Buzzfeed: Our Favourite First Son Is Breaking The Internet And We Are Here For It
Alex Claremont-Diaz has been gearing up for his upcoming wedding by sharing some of his favourite pictures of him and his fiancé, His Royal Highness, the Prince of Wales. So far we’ve had a peek into the early days of their relationship (including the confirmation that their first kiss was at the 2020 New Year’s party at the White House) and a look at them at home.
But it was his post on Thursday that really added fuel to the fire when he shared a selfie of him and Prince Henry apparently celebrating their birthdays in 2020, messily sharing some cake, but what really raised eyebrows was that they were sharing said cake in bed without their clothes on.
UrbanDictionary.com reports that sploshing is the day’s top searched term
By the time he got to Kensington Palace, the previous nights post had gone viral. Alex raced up to the door where Henry was waiting and yanked him in close for a scorching kiss.
“Upstairs,” he groaned, Alex’s hands already tugging up Henry’s shirt.
They tore each other’s clothes off as soon as the door was closed behind them. Alex was backed up against door, shirt off, pants down to his knees when Henry pulled away slightly
“I almost forgot,” Henry said impishly. He waved at the nightstand where a slice of chocolate cake sat. “I saved you some cake.”
“Oh my god, I want to eat you alive,” Alex groaned against Henry’s neck. They had both already cum twice, but Alex still felt wild; he couldn’t keep his hands off Henry.
Henry squirmed away a bit. “I had a devilish idea.”
“Whatever it is, I’m in.”
Alex posed himself leaning back against Henry’s chest, Henry tipping his head forward to kiss him on his temple. Alex held up the slice of cake (some of the icing was missing but no one needed to know), while Henry held up his phone, a slightly tidier update to the previous night’s post. They shared the cake while Alex typed out a caption. Feels good to taste test some wedding cake with my fiancé, 2 weeks until #henryandalexroyalwedding
Surprisingly, Alex hasn’t gotten that much flack for his posts, other Z’s grumbling (which have been a reflex more than anything), even the cupcake icing one. However, the most recent one had gone what could only be called super viral. Alex was woken up by a very loud phone call from Zahra, who had several choice words about his recent Instagram posts and leaving early for London.
“I could overlook the first cake photo, but to stage another one-“
Alex glanced over at Henry who was pacing back and forth along the hallway, as he also got chewed out by someone at Buckingham Palace. Henry caught his eye and made a face, one hand imitating someone talking incessantly.
Him and Henry had had many conversations in the last couple years about the email leak. They both had a lot of anger and pain, obviously, but then it also made them a little reckless. When your deepest thoughts and feelings are made public, well, people seeing you in a swimsuit or shirtless in bed doesn’t seem so bad.
And frankly, they didn’t much care what the Palace and the White House had to say anymore.
Sex Sells When It Comes To The Royal Wedding
How Prince Henry and First Son Alex Might Be Saving The Monarchy With Their Thirst Traps
The next few days are busy with suit fittings, menu planning, consultations with florists and photographers. But the best part was the quiet time they got late night or early in the morning, just to be with each other. They lay wrapped around each other, and picked out the photo for the day. Henry joined in as well, posting his favourite picture of Alex and David walking in Central Park, sunset coloured leaves underfoot. Alex was looking back towards the camera, mid joke, while David carried an enormous stick in his mouth.
That night Alex chose a photo from his mother’s second inauguration. They were slow dancing, foreheads pressed together. Alex remembered it had been towards the end of the night; other guests had been beginning to leave, but the band was still playing. It had felt like the first time that they had been able to connect, not being dragged one place or another. No more hands to shake, no more photo ops. Just them. The photo had been published in Vanity Fair as part of their coverage of the day, and it might have won some award, Alex couldn’t remember. Henry chose another professional photo that night too, one from a GQ profile. They were posed dramatically against a brick wall, wearing vintage Star Wars t-shirts under suit jackets, leaning against each other.
The Americans all arrived the next day, and Percy, June and Norah joined Alex, Henry and Bea at Kensington Palace for copious amounts of alcohol and terrible singing.
That night, Alex posted the picture of Henry, June and Norah, the one that had been cropped once as a cover story after the elevator footage got leaked. Henry posted one of him and Alex in their silk kimonos, from that night in LA when they had done karaoke.
They were into the single digits in the countdown now. That night, they were expected at Buckingham Palace for a formal dinner to welcome all the Americans.
Queen Catherine welcomed them all warmly, but the pageantry was beginning to wear on them. That night, they both chose photos from her coronation, Alex’s a shot of Henry checking himself in the mirror as they were being rushed out the door, Henry posting Alex asleep on his shoulder at the end of the day.
Four days to go.
Alex wanted to sleep, he wanted to cry, he wanted to grab Henry and run away. He just wanted to be married and be done with it all, and they could go home to Brooklyn.
The one thing that cheered him up was the parcel that had been delivered by courier that morning. He ripped opened the brown paper and took out the two small jewelry boxes. Then he really did cry a bit.
Henry, impeccable timing as always, startled him by pushing open the bedroom and called, “Darling, the car is on the way."
Alex sniffled and wiped his eyes quickly. “Yeah, just a sec.”
Henry heard the tremble in his voice and rushed over. “Alex?”
He turned around and smiled, tears still clinging to his lashes. Henry swept him up in a tight hug, stroking his hair. “What’s the matter?”
Alex sniffled again. “I’m ok, just tired and really happy.”
Henry looked at him more closely, wiping away the moisture under his eyes, cupping his cheek. “Are you sure?”
Alex laughed, his voice finally steadier. “I was going to save these, but…”
He picked up one of the boxes and put it in Henry’s hand. Henry lifted the lid carefully and his face lit up like the twin suns of Tatooine. Alex found himself being pushed back against the desk, Henry’s hands buried in his hair and being kissed hard enough to send him to a galaxy far, far away.
“I thought we had to go,” Alex gasped, as Henry moved to his neck and started fumbling with Alex’s belt.
“I guess we better make this quick then.”
That night, they both posted the same picture, matching jewellery boxes arranged on the nightstand, a half empty glass of wine in the background. Both boxes were open, displaying the matching pairs of cuff links Alex had had made for them; each were shaped like the Rebel Alliance crest, tiny diamonds sparkling in the centres.
Alex’s caption read “for the Leia to my Han”
Henry’s said “From my Han, to his Leia”
Harrison Ford and Mark Hamill both spotted wearing “History, huh?” T-shirts after Prince Henry and Alex Claremont-Diaz post Rebel Alliance cufflinks
Time seemed to stop and start, running fast then slow then fast again. The night before the wedding, after much discussion, Alex and Henry both put their foot down about them sharing a bed. It seemed like everyone else insisted that they stay apart, but they had already spent too many away from each other.
It seemed only appropriate to watch Star Wars as they cuddled in bed that night. For their final posts, they took a photo of themselves, foreheads touching, smiling softly at each other.
Alex captioned his post “Oscar Wilde in a letter to Sir Alfred Douglas: My dearest boy, This is to assure you of my immortal, my eternal love for you. Tomorrow all will be over.”
Henry captioned his “Dear Thisbe, you tore down the wall. Love, Pyramus”
A Short History of Queer Love Letters & Why They Matter
Everything You Missed From The Royal Wedding
Prince Henry, Alex Claremont-Diaz Rumoured to Honeymoon in France, Greece