Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“We’re arriving at Heathrow soon, sir. We need you in landing position.”

Alex blinks at the intelligence report before him, realizing he hasn’t absorbed a word of it in the last ten minutes because of this damn pain in his stomach, then up at his Assistant to the President. “Thank you, Pablo. I’ll need this later. Classified.”

“Of course, Alex.” Pablo efficiently takes the paper from him and prepares to lock it away in his special briefcase. Alex’ll be reunited with it at the palace. It’s going to be a long night. 

It’s been a series of long nights since- well, since high school, probably. That’s what happens when you go from AP courses to Georgetown undergrad to Harvard Business school to the youngest congressperson ever elected to the Secretary of Housing and Urban Development, to the Democratic nominee in the 2040 election and officially the youngest president ever elected, beating out JFK by a cool twelve months. 

If he stops and thinks about the fact that he hasn’t had a break in … decades … he’s not sure he’ll be able to continue on, and it’s necessary that he does. He has everything he has ever wanted, he’s hit every part of his twenty year plan to a T, with some minor hiccups - expected and unexpected - along the way. 

He hesitates after Pablo has made his way back to the main seating area of Air Force One and dips into his personal stash of antacids, palming a few and crunching their chalky mintiness between his teeth as he heads to the front of the plane and buckles himself into his designated seat. Members of his staff buzz around him, discussing every piece of the upcoming summit as well as the fact that the Crown is letting them take over a wing of Kensington Palace for the stay. He tries to block out their chatter, their buzzing in his head, by focusing on the view outside, but all he can see is clouds. 

By the time they land, Alex’s nails are biting into his palm - the smallest indication of anxiety he’ll allow himself. He’s well trained after this long in the public eye. He knows exactly how hard to press to relieve his brain without bleeding and ruining his ability to shake hands for the rest of the day. 

As soon as they’re cleared, Alex is standing and Pablo is immediately at his elbow with a big black umbrella. 

“Ah, yes, it’s raining in London, it must be a day ending in Y,” Alex jokes, immediately annoyed at the pleasant smiles his staff give him. He misses Nora, misses the jab she would’ve immediately given his shoulder even as she rolled her eyes. She’s back in DC, think-tanking her way to fame and fortune, and their paths cross often enough, but not as often as during the Ellen Claremont administrations. 

It’s so strange, Alex thinks, to be in a position where a whole lot of people - an entire country, or at least the 52% that voted for him - would care if he died, and yet he doesn’t feel like he has a single friend that would really care.

“I look okay?” 

Pablo gives him the once over, then a brief thumbs up before tucking a curl behind his ear. “I’ll text Eugene and see if he’s available for a visit when you’re back at the residence. The curls are getting a bit unkempt.” 

Alex acknowledges it with a nod, already looking forward to the full shave he gets whenever the barber comes to maintain his perfect presidential hair. It’s the only time in the day he’s allowed to just sit there and not talk. 

He does the standard presidential wave from the door of the plane, descends with his umbrella covering both himself and his press secretary Angela, and makes his way swiftly to the motorcade under a hail of spitting rain and shouts for his attention from the press. 

Several hours later finds him sitting at what the Crown probably considers an intimate dinner of about twenty or so of the leaders of the upcoming summit on LGBTQIA+ rights throughout the world. 

The fact that he’s seated across from Prince Henry, his old ‘nemesis’ turned grudging acquaintance, doesn’t fail to tickle his irony. He and Henry have been thrown together in the same sentence for most of his public life - since even before Henry had been forcibly outed in his mid-20s by an asshole breaking an NDA and Alex had come out himself after his first term as a congressperson representing Austin. The first modern, out gay prince and the first modern, out bi president tend to be thrown together for a lot of things. Hence, the grudging acquaintance. He doesn’t really have the time or energy to keep up his side of whatever rivalry Henry wants to imagine between them. 

“Mr. President,” Henry had murmured when they’d found their seats earlier. 

Alex had given him a polite nod and a, “Your Royal Highness,” back. 

Despite the tepid exchange, there’s something - there has always been something - that draws Alex toward Henry. When he was a pre-teen with June’s magazines, it was Henry’s soft, golden hair. At their first meeting when Alex had just been the First Son, it had been Henry’s body filling out the lines of a crisp suit well. And when he’d been outed, it had been the firm set of Henry’s jaw as he defended himself from calls for abdication. 

Alex respects that jaw, that stubbornness. The fact that he has long wanted to pepper kisses up it is neither here nor there, but the thought always throws him ajar because he rarely thinks that sort of thing about anyone. 

After he’d come out as bisexual in his late twenties, he’d been both intrigued and mortified to realize that hadn’t been his ‘final’ label. It had come out of a conversation with someone at a summit like this, about asexuality and the ace spectrum, and he’d read the definition of demisexual and just- just realized, that’s him. But he’d felt shame - still feels shame - because he knows his political opponents will throw around words like “phase” and “wishy-washy” if he were to announce something like that. He’s the first out bi president, except he’s not. And if he secretly yearns for the gray-purple-white of the demi flag, no one has to know. 

He mostly pushes food around his plate and makes polite small talk with Henry and their surrounding dignitaries. His stomach still hurts like hell for reasons Alex doesn’t want to actually stop and contemplate. When the time comes for coffee and tea, though, he pounds his first cup like it’s manna from heaven and immediately signals for a refill. 

“Old habits die hard, I see,” Henry teases over his own cup of tea. 

Somehow, Alex realizes with a start, he and the prince are now on their own here, an intimate corner of the room somewhat sheltered from the other guests. Maybe it’s that Henry commands his attention so much that he hadn’t even noticed the others move away, but he doesn’t want to admit that to himself. 

“2041, and they haven’t yet figured out how to IV drip this into my blood yet, so yeah.” He gives his charming smile; the one everyone tells him is charming, anyway, because flirting with - being nice to - Henry brightens his day just a little. 

“Your family is well?”

Alex gives a polite nod back, even though it’s not small talk he wants to have with Henry. It seems like that’s all he does with anyone anymore. All he has time for. “June’s latest book is on the bestseller list, and Mom’s pretty firm on the college-lecture, commencement speaker, book tour circuit. Dad hasn’t slowed down yet. Coming up on his 15th reelection as a rep, if the term limits amendment doesn’t pass.”

“I am equally familiar with family members who refuse to slow down. My grandmother was cutting ribbons and knighting folks until the very end, and my mother is even more diligent, though focused on issues that I’m sure has Gran spinning in her gilded coffin.” 

Alex’s smile is more genuine this time. “I really do enjoy every time Her Majesty suggests something progressive and the Tories lose their shit, I have to say.” 

Henry makes himself busy with his cup, then looks up at Alex through his lashes. “Me, too,” he says as he offers a secret smile that feels like it’s for Alex to understand only.

Despite the sweet moment, acid rolls in his stomach, gnawing there and causing a flare of pain that he can’t quite hide from Henry, who perks up from his more casual stance in the chair. “Are you all right?” 

“I’ll be fine. Just stress. I have antacids back in my room. Which, by the way, thanks for the choice digs.”

Henry waves that away, a frown still gracing his lips. “Are you sure? I could ask my equerry to bring you something.” 

“I’m fine,” he reassures. 

“Well, I suppose you know where I live, if you need anything.” Now Henry’s lips tip up again, and make Alex’s hurting stomach flutter. 

“Watch out, I’ll remember that offer for later.” 

“Oh, dear, the devastatingly handsome POTUS knocking on my door at midnight? What a threat.” If Alex isn’t mistaken, Henry flutters his lashes at him before laughing and walking away to chat with some of the others. 

Did he just flirt with me?

Alex is left gaping after the prince, his stomach churning and mind spiraling over an entirely new set of possibilities. 

It’s those possibilities that have Alex pacing in front of the door to Henry’s suite at Kensington later that night. At least, he’s been told by the secret service member accompanying him - Charles, because Cash and Amy had moved onto management and training positions in the administrations between his and his mom’s - that it’s Henry’s suite, although he wouldn’t put it past Chuck to play a joke on him to get him back for keeping him up at all hours of the night. 

The bodyguard has stationed himself discreetly at the end of the hallway, his back turned to Alex’s pacing. 

His mind is a spiral of thoughts, his hands clenching and unclenching as he paces and makes a list and attempts to run the numbers like Nora would. 

1. Henry definitely flirted with him. 
2. Alex loves flirting with Henry. 
3. The thought of doing something…more…with Henry doesn’t immediately make his stomach turn. 
4. He would like to get to know Henry better. 
5. Henry definitely flirted with him.
6. He’s getting way too old for this fluttering heart and stomach shit.
7. The only way he can get to know Henry better is to knock on the fucking door. 

Knock, knock.

Adrenaline spikes through his system when he realizes that he’d actually just tapped his knuckles against the Prince’s door. 

He immediately starts pacing again. “Oh shit, oh shitohshitohshitohshitoh-”

“Alex?”

Alex spins around, and oh- oh fuck, Henry looks devastating, a red brocade robe clinging to his broad shoulders and tying at his waist and showing off his disgusting(ly handsome) shoulder-waist ratio even at 43 fucking years old. Even worse, it’s clear he’s not wearing anything underneath the robe, at least, anything Alex can see. 

“Oh, fuck, sorry. Uh. Sorry. You were in bed. Fuck.” Alex spins around, ready to fucking run out of the palace if he needs to. He can swim across the Atlantic, right? 

Suddenly warm fingers are sliding between his, holding his hand and pulling him back. Surprised, Alex looks down at their linked hands, then up at Henry’s smiling-yet-concerned face. “Uh.” He swallows against the acid in his throat.

“Hello, Alex. Did you need something from me?” 

Everything. He shakes his head. “No, I just…was working and couldn’t sleep and…and you…fuck,” he lets a breath out, trying to calm his heart from his panic. 

“Are you okay?” Henry’s fingers squeeze his. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Alex lies. 

“When I can’t sleep, I raid the kitchen for cornettos.” 

Alex’s stomach lets out an embarrassing gurgle, which Henry snickers at, so Alex pulls him forward and pokes him in the ribs. “Hey, leave me and my poor stomach alone.” 

“How about I feed it, instead?”

“Who are you, and what have you done with Prince Henry?” 

Henry chuckles again, and it makes Alex’s heart ache as they start to walk - still hand-in-hand, amazingly - away from Henry’s suite. 

“I’m still me. I suppose this is just the Henry you get with massive, massive amounts of therapy and a recent realization that I’m rapidly approaching living longer than my father did and while that doesn’t scare me, anymore, there are some things I’d wished I’d done by now.” Henry flashes him a sly smile. “Too real?” 

Alex squeezes his hand in reassurance. “Just fucking real enough.” 

“How you got elected with your mouth, I’ll never know,” Henry replies with a smirk.

“Hey, it worked for LBJ.” 

“Wasn’t his predecessor assassinated?” Henry steers them into a well-appointed kitchen and crosses to a fridge.

“And then he got reelected. I’m just saying, I’m doing my fellow Texan right.” Alex snatches the ice cream treat that Henry tosses him out of the air and rips the top off. “‘Sides, I’ll have you know, I’m very good with my mouth.” He takes a monster bite out of the ice cream, and immediately regrets his life choices, going into a brain freeze. 

“You are such an idiot,” Henry says, but Alex would be lying if he said he couldn’t note the fondness in his voice. 

The brain freeze fades, but what doesn't is the sudden churning of his stomach as the ice cream hits it. “Do you have-” 

Alex notes the alarm on Henry’s face a second before he’s leaning over the kitchen sink, emptying the contents - really just the ice cream and a bunch of acid - of his stomach. 

“My god, Alex-” 

Alex shudders, coughing more into the sink as he feels a warm hand on his back. The simple comfort - or the heaves of his stomach - bring tears to his eyes.

“Is that-? Fuck, Alex-” 

“What?” Alex finally manages, sucking in a much-needed breath. “I don’t feel good,” he murmurs as he looks down at the white-yellow-brown mixture below. 

“I think that’s blood, love,” Henry whispers, looking pale himself as he thumbs moisture away from the side of Alex’s mouth. It comes away a brown-red that makes Alex’s stomach flip upside down completely. 

“I think I need to sit down,” Alex manages, before fainting right into Henry’s arms.

Chapter Text

“Fucking Christ,” Henry manages as he catches an unconscious Alex and prevents him from braining himself on the counter on the way down. He maneuvers Alex into his arms, then gets help the quickest way possible - walking out of the kitchen to find the secret service agent that had been trailing Alex even within the security of the palace. 

He would have laughed at the absurdity of the look on the agent’s face: here he is, a fucking prince, with the Leader of the Free World draped in his fucking arms- but for the gravity of the situation. He clears his throat. “We need medical help for the President, but if you let me contact my equerry, we can do this in a way that won’t alert the press, if that’s what you desire.”

From there, it’s a flurry of activity organized by both Shaan and Pablo, Alex’s assistant. Henry is hovering in the background of his own sitting room now, feeling useless, when Alex regains consciousness on the appropriately-named fainting couch. His eyes dart around, seeking something, then they land on Henry and he seems to relax and Christ, twenty-year-old Henry is dying. 

“The Prince said you threw up before you collapsed, Mr. President, sir. Can you tell me how you feel now?”

“Stomach still hurts like a bitch.” 

“Scale of one to ten?” 

Henry can actually see the calculation that crosses Alex’s face as he figures out the answer that at least sounds truthful, but will get him left alone. He’s not sure if anyone else clocks it, but he has made a habit of studying Alex’s face for years, after all. “Uh, five?” 

The royal attendant hums. “He needs to be checked out at the hospital. I suspect an ulcer, but he’ll need verification.” It’s only slightly awkward that the attendant gives this report to Henry as status quo dictates. 

“Make it happen, please, Pablo,” Alex mutters to his assistant, closing his eyes and leaning back against the couch.

There’s more bustling as Shaan and Pablo rally with the PPOs and Secret Service to get the process started, and Henry finds himself ‘alone,’ with Alex, or at least, with no one paying attention to them anymore. 

Henry sits on the edge of the couch, resisting linking their fingers the way he’d done earlier in the hallway. It feels less sacred now, amongst all these people, and though he senses Alex feels interest in him, he has no idea what Alex’s personal PDA boundaries are. Instead, he offers Alex a small smile. “Can I get you anything?” 

Alex grimaces, his eyes still closed. “Some water, maybe? Gum? My mouth tastes awful.” 

“I could help you to the bathroom, and we could brush your teeth?” 

Alex peeks open one eye and looks at Henry. “Is this what dating in your forties is supposed to be like? We just immediately get into the bathroom stuff?” 

Despite the gravity of the situation, Henry snorts. “Something like that. Do you think you can stand?” 

“Yeah, just-” 

Between the two of them, Alex stands, leaning heavily against Henry to do so, and Henry tries not to revel in exactly how good it feels.

The thing is, Henry’s had a crush, off and on, on Alex since he’d become aware of him. Since he’d seen him across the room in Rio and realized that anything that shone that brightly could never be his. 

Of course, that had been over twenty years ago, and a lot has changed for Henry in that time. The grief for his father hasn’t lessened, but it gets triggered less often. The depression hasn’t been cured, but it’s well-controlled now. He lives his life out, if still discreetly, because he is a Prince of England, after all. He’s had public relationships - exactly two of them, one with a fellow polo player and another with an actor, each one lasting a few months before inevitably falling apart due to their lifestyles. He’d had other, more discreet affairs of course, but those are held behind NDAs because the last thing he needs is Piers Morgan accusing him of being a slut. 

Not that NDAs always protect you, as Henry well knows. Stefan might have been sued by the Crown for everything he was worth, but he’d taken Henry’s reputation and privacy along with him. 

And all throughout this, there had been Alex. Alex, who’d given a fiery speech when he’d still identified - in public anyway - as an ally condemning both Stefan’s actions and the way the press had torn Henry apart. Bea had shown him a video of the speech when she’d finally managed to unbury Henry from his cocoon, and Henry had been floored, and that crush had reignited once again. 

He’d followed Alex’s career trajectory - his meteoric rise - closely. He’d come so close to reaching out when Alex had come out himself, but that had been when he’d been dating Peter, so he’d resisted. He’d retweeted the speech and told himself it was enough. 

Now, Alex’s body leans into his, and it’s only too easy to imagine how well they would fit together in other ways. Alex’s curls would tuck just under his chin if they hugged. Henry’s arms would circle Alex’s waist if they kissed. 

By the time they get to the bathroom, Henry doesn’t need the mirror to tell him that he’s blushing. 

“Are you okay if I leave you here?” he asks as a distraction, making sure Alex is gripping the counter. 

“Yeah-yep. Sure,” Alex replies on a blown out breath. 

Henry lets out a silent sigh and turns to the cabinet to get a new toothbrush and travel-sized toothpaste. When he turns around, Henry notices that Alex is white-knuckling the marble, his face a grimace. He slides in beside Alex, setting the supplies on the counter and running his thumb over those knuckles. “Alex, promise me something.” 

He waits until Alex meets his eyes in the mirror. “Yeah?” 

“When you get to the hospital, will you please be truthful with them? They can’t heal you properly if they don’t know how much you’re actually hurting.” 

He holds Alex’s gaze until Alex nods, just a little bit. “Yeah, I can do that, I guess.” 

“You don’t have to put on a brave front.” 

This time Alex snorts, then winces when that apparently causes pain. “Says the Prince of England’s Hearts.” 

“No one calls me that anymore.” 

“Oh?”

“Nope.” 

“Shame.” Alex somehow manages a half-smirk, like he’s flirting with Henry.

The moment is broken when Alex brushes his teeth and yet- and yet, it’s still intimate, standing next to Alex as he does, making sure he doesn’t faint again. It feels unnaturally natural, seeing themselves together in the mirror like this. 

It feels correct. 

Even when Alex catches him watching after he’s done rinsing his mouth. 

Even when Alex turns around so he’s leaning against the counter, and Henry’s arms are now bracketing his body. 

Even when Alex leans in, so Henry leans in, too. 

Even when Alex angles his head to brush his soft lips over Henry’s cheek. 

“I’m not subjecting you to more than that right after throwing up,” he jokes, his eyelashes fluttering as he meets Henry’s eyes and looks for approval there. 

“It’s fine,” Henry replies, and he’s telling the perfect truth. He brings up a hand and cups Alex’s cheek, rubbing over the stubble there. “I’m worried about you, Mr. President.” 

He regrets it instantly when Alex’s eyes shutter over. “I’m fine.” 

“You know it’s okay to not be fine, right?” 

Alex leans back against the counter, no longer meeting Henry’s eyes, but his silence is telling enough. 

“Do me a favor?” Henry asks again, his heart lifting when Alex gives a little laugh. 

“What this time?” 

“If I ask how you are, tell me the truth.” 

Alex can’t seem to help his smile. “You didn’t ask, your highness. You just said, ‘I’m worried about you,’” he repeats in an obnoxious accent.

“Noted.” Henry doesn’t bother to repress his laugh. “How are you?” 

“I guess I should have been expecting that. Like I said before, my stomach still hurts like a bitch.” 

“I meant more like, a general ‘how are you?’”

“I’m-” When Henry raises his brow, Alex bites down on his lip, attempting to hide a smile. “I’m…surviving?” 

“Well, that’s a start.” 

“Sirs?” A voice calls from the sitting area. 

“That would be Chuck’s particular form of panic, I believe.” Turning toward the door, Alex calls, “We’re coming.”

Before Alex can head out the door, though, Henry captures his hand again to get his attention. “Good luck at the hospital, okay, Alex?” 

Like before, Alex looks down at their joined hands, then back up to Henry’s eyes. He pulls that bottom lip in again, chewing on it in a way that makes Henry want to kiss him. “Come with me?” 

Which is definitely not what Henry had been expecting, so he’s surprised into silence for a moment. 

“You don’t have to, it’s okay. It’s just that…I have my staff here, but like…they’re not…I mean.” 

“You pay them to be there for you. Believe me, I get it. And yes, I’ll come with you. Thank you for asking.” 

The little look of hope and excitement Alex gives him, even through his obvious misery and pain, makes Henry sigh internally in love. “Thanks.”

”Come on, Mr. President, let’s see what the finest doctors England has to offer have to say.”

Chapter Text

They rush Alex into an endoscopy procedure at the royal wing of the hospital - it will be easier to keep the visit quiet here, though Alex has already been talking spin with his press secretary, approved a press release, and shared a phone call with his Vice President regarding the 25th all in the time it takes to drive from KP to the hospital. They’re apparently not invoking the amendment for this procedure but will have to if Alex needs surgery. The buzz around Alex makes Henry’s own head rush. 

And then there’s the waiting, after they’ve rolled Alex away. 

Henry’s gotten better about waiting around in hospitals. His three niblings had helped; waiting for Martha to give birth had of course been nerve-wracking, but the ending had been so joyful, every time, it had worked to rewrite some of Henry’s neural pathways regarding hospitals. But now, with someone he cares about back there once again, someone he hasn’t seen take a break to feel the pain he’s obviously feeling since he was gripping the marble counter back at Henry’s bathroom, now, now Henry paces. 

He wishes he’d brought Annie along, wishes he’d had the gumption to use his royal sway to bring his therapy dog. If anything, she might be useful to Alex after the procedure. He’s just about to find Shaan and ask him to go get her when his equerry finds him instead. 

“He’s in recovery, mostly conscious, and asking for you along with the rest of his team.”

“Got it. Lead the way.”

When he arrives in Alex’s private recovery room, he finds it bustling and buzzing with the President’s team. Alex himself is already typing something rapidly on his phone even as he seems to hold two other conversations at once. It’s entirely overstimulating to Henry, and he can only wonder at how Alex stands it…or maybe he doesn’t, considering his current occupation of a hospital bed and raspy voice from having a tube with a camera stuck down his fucking throat what, an hour ago? 

The cherry on top is that Alex is hooked up to a heart monitor, of course, and it starts to ping faster as each second passes and he engages with his team. 

Henry clears his throat. “I’m going to need everyone to clear this room. The President needs rest,” he says, using every inch of his royal authority. 

Still, Americans are Americans, and so they all look to Alex before he gives a small nod, and then they comply. He’s fairly sure, though, that he gets a grateful look from Alex’s assistant Pablo on his way out. 

“And I’ll take that,” Henry says quietly as he sits on the side of Alex’s bed, holding out his hand for the phone.

“I think that would be violating several different national security acts, and Reynolds is just itching to impeach me for something,” Alex says, then coughs, pain etched on his features. 

“Don’t be a bell end, I’m just going to put it on the bedside table,” Henry replies as he grabs the forgotten cup of water and holds the straw towards Alex’s lips. 

They lock eyes as Alex purses his lips around the straw and takes a long drink. Henry can see some of the lines on his face ease as his throat gets the comfort it needs. On the other side of his bed, his heart monitor finally starts to slow. Quiet now, Alex willingly hands over the phone, keeping those bottomless brown eyes on Henry the whole time. 

“Now, the nuclear launch codes are finally mine, mwhahahaha,” Henry jokes, only for Alex to attempt to bat the phone out of his hand. He easily holds it out of Alex’s reach, though. 

“No fair,” Alex rasps.

“Please, rest your voice, please.”

“I’m going to be bored then.”

This man. “What if I tell you a story?”

Alex places his hands on his stomach, looking expectant, and that’s how the Prince of England’s hearts recounts Persuasion to the President of the United States, their fingers encircled together on top of the hospital blanket, while they wait for the doctor to tell Alex his prognosis. 

“Oh my god, Anne, just tell him already-” 

“I told you to rest your voice, demon,” Henry teases, then blushes when he realizes the doctor has entered the room and is waiting for the Prince to stop speaking. He backs away from Alex’s bed, giving a nod. “I’ll just, I’ll see you later, then, Alex,” he mutters, feeling every bit the Anne Elliot. 

“Are you kidding? He’s staying. He can stay, I consent,” Alex says to the doctor, then coughs. 

“Yes, sir,” the doctor says with a nod, his silver mustache quivering - Henry can’t tell if it’s mirth or disapproval. “You have a clear, present H. Pylori infection that is causing your ulcer. We’re starting you on an antibiotic drip to kick recovery into gear, as it were, followed by a pill regimen that you’ll complete in a fortnight. Right now, your condition doesn’t require an operation, but you’ll need to follow up with your physician. They’ll likely run several more endoscope tests to track the healing of your stomach lining. I imagine they’ll give you the same advice, but, sir, I would advise you to stay away from anything highly acidic, including spicy foods and caffeine.” 

“You just named my two main food groups,” Alex mutters with a grimace.

“If your stomach continues to overproduce acid, your stomach lining will not heal and you will need surgery, sir, with all due respect.” 

“Don’t be a bell end~” Henry sing-songs under his breath as he leans toward Alex’s ear. The doctor’s mustache quivers again - definitely mirth this time. Henry has to school his own face to seriousness again. “What about stress?” 

“It’s a bit of a misconception, actually, around ulcers. However, high-stress situations certainly don’t help the healing process, and that’s what Mr. Claremont-Diaz most needs now, time to let his ulcer heal in the most efficient way possible.” Alex starts to protest, and the doctor raises his hand to stop him. “I realize, sir, that you are the President of the United States and that stress is the name of the job. I’m merely following my imperative to provide the best healing possible, and I doubt your physician will tell you differently.” 

Alex’s lips tip up in a small smile as he rolls his eyes. “Considering she’s been telling me to cut back on caffeine for years, no, I don’t think she will.” 

“Quite as I expect.” The doctor’s mustache quivers once more, before he visibly gets back to business. “A nurse will be in right away to start that antibiotic drip. That should take about an hour, and then we can start the checkout process. Do you have any questions for me?” 

They both shake their heads, so the doctor leaves them alone once more, and Henry takes his place back at Alex’s side. Alex reaches out, rubbing his thumb over Henry’s knuckles before threading their fingers together again. “Thanks for…well, everything, I guess,” Alex murmurs, fluttering those eyelashes up at him. 

“I have to admit that when I flirted with you earlier, I didn’t think the evening would end quite this way,” Henry teases. 

“You were flirting with me! I knew it!” Alex squeezes his hand. “Why? After all this time, why now?” 

It’s an honest question, but Henry can mostly only answer with a shrug. “Why not? We’re not getting any younger, any less busy. Seemed the time to shoot my shot, as it were.” 

“I thought you hated me, but then I mostly just thought you got along with me because we’re supposed to get along as queer folks or whatever. Solidarity and all that.” 

“Well I hope that’s not the case.” 

“Are you kidding? Have you seen you? You’re fucking gorgeous. I just figured you were being, uh, how would you guys say it, cordial?”

“Alex, if you’re about to tell me that you don’t know you are also fucking gorgeous, I’m going to tell them that you need your eyes checked while you’re in here.” 

“I just mean- I mean, you’re a prince.”

“Need I remind you that you’re the president?” 

“Are we seriously having an argument right now about whether or not we’re in the same league as each other?” 

“You started it, darling.”

At the pet name, Henry actually watches something warm wash over Alex’s face, and his heart rate picks up a little on the monitor. They both glance over at it, and then Alex looks sheepish. “That’s not fair.” 

“Considering I saved you from braining yourself on the counter when you passed out earlier, I’ll say it makes us even.” 

It’s so amazing to watch emotions cross Alex’s face. He grins, then suddenly looks nervous. “Hen, I have to tell you something. I’m not actually bi-” 

“Hello, I’m here to start an antibiotic drip?” A young man in scrubs holds up a full IV bag and looks apologetic at interrupting. 

Henry backs away again to let the nurse do his work, checking Alex’s birth date and so on, though it’s obvious he knows he’s in a room with the American president and a Prince. Meanwhile, Henry is left to stew over the possible meaning of Alex’s confession. He’s not bi? Meaning…he’s gay? He’s straight, and it was just a phase? It was all a political front? Henry frowns, unable to make any of those options make sense in his head. 

“Okay, that was the worst fucking timing,” Alex admits as he picks at his hospital blanket once the nurse has him all hooked up. “Can I try that again?”

“Please.” 

He looks up through his lashes to meet Henry’s eyes. “I’m bi-romantic. I’m just not bisexual. I’m…I don’t know how much you know about asexuality?” 

Ohhh. “Um, well, a little, I’ve worked with lots of youth at the shelters that are on the ace spectrum.” 

“That’s awesome. I mean, that’s awesome that you know it’s a spectrum.” Alex’s shy grin is everything.  

“And you fall on it somewhere?”

“I’m demi, I think. I’ve kissed people, you know, at parties, and I’ve had sex because you’re supposed to, but I’ve only ever felt that spark, that something different that everyone talks about, with my high school friend, before I even realized I was bi-romantic. So that’s kind of what I figure…it wasn’t like Liam was the love of my life, but he was my best friend, and I felt comfortable enough with him to experiment, and it hasn’t really felt that good since. You know, it’s fucking hard dating and getting to know someone when you’re the son of the president, and then when you’re a representative, and then you’re part of the Cabinet, and then you’re the fucking president…” Alex shrugs, as if he doesn’t know what else to say. 

For himself, Henry is floored. “Thank you for telling me all that. For what it’s worth, I’m as gay as a maypole, and I had quite the Oxford slut phase, to boot, so as long as you don’t hold that against me, I’ll do the same.” He offers a smile, hoping he’s saying the right thing, affirming Alex in the right way.

“Are maypoles known for their homosexual tendencies?” Alex asks, perfectly curious, before breaking and snickering. 

“You’re such a demon,” Henry manages around his own laughter. 

Alex squeezes his fingers again. “Thanks. For, uh, you know. Sometimes the A really is a silent letter. Plus the press would have a fucking field day if I came out again. ‘It’s obviously just a choice, queer people are making it up,’ et cetera. Fucking Fox news. Bet they’re having a field day with my hospitalization. God, I really should get on Twitter and check how the spin is doing-” Alex reaches for his phone, then groans in annoyance when his IV port tugs in his hand. 

“Please, for the love of God, take a break. Twitter will - unfortunately - still be there in an hour when you can properly use your hands.” 

Alex manages to look both disgruntled and chastised. 

“I feel like maybe we should talk about this.” 

“What?” 

“Your plan to heal.” 

“I can’t just stop being the president.” 

“Presidents take vacations, Alex, and don’t try to tell me differently. Those ‘Obama in the Hawaiian surf’ photos hit at a formative time for me.” 

Alex snorts. “Me, too, though I really do prefer blonds.” 

“Such a demon. Stop avoiding the topic, love.” 

“I’ll try to slow down. I’ve only been in office for five months, but maybe in, like, September or October, I can take a break. My family has property on Lake LBJ that’s already secret-service approved. We’ve been going there for vacation since I was a kid. It’s one of the places I can truly relax.” 

“That’s wonderful. Sounds like the perfect thing for me to speak to Pablo about before you leave.” 

“He’s my assistant, you can’t just go over my head.” 

Henry smiles, thinking of Pablo’s grateful look from before. “I don’t know, I think I have an in.” 

“Maybe you’ll just have to check in on me yourself, make sure I really get some rest.” The flirtation dances in Alex’s eyes, making Henry want to melt. 

“Maybe I shall.” Henry grabs his own phone from his pocket, unlocks it, and hands it to Alex. “Give me your contact info? And don’t check Twitter.” 

Alex looks surprised, but it softens to satisfaction. He types rapidly, then hands the phone back with a wink. “Yes, sir.” 

“Don’t tempt me, heathen,” Henry responds with an arched brow. 

“What? I’m just being polite and showing deference to the Crown.” 

“You’re being an absolute brat, is what you’re being. How you’ve managed to survive this far without someone taking matters into their own hands is beyond me.” 

Alex sobers, looking pointedly over at the half-full IV drip. “Not sure you’d call it surviving.” 

Henry clasps both his hands around Alex’s free one. “Maybe not thriving, yet, darling, but we can work on that.” 

The small smile Alex offers him is everything.

Chapter Text

Listen, Alex means to slow down, he really does. He actually listens to Dr. Reeves about the caffeine - she even suggests some low-acid caffeine alternatives, like yerba mate, and he cuts back on spicy foods, too, for the time he’s supposed to heal. He finds time to text Henry multiple times throughout the day, stupid jokes and memes but also heartfelt conversations in the cover of dark.

But finding time for himself? 

It’s just not his business. 

At least-

At least it’s not until…

Until someone else makes it their business. 

He answers his phone automatically without looking at the caller ID - only family and Nora have this number, and Pablo, so he’s always going to answer, no matter what, even if he’s distracted by all of the work spread in front of him on his oval office desk. 

“Hello?” 

“You really should let Pablo go to sleep, darling. And maybe get some rest yourself.” 

Henry’s voice crackling into his ear shocks him out of his distracted reverie. “Hen, isn’t it, like,” he does the quick math in his head, “6:30 over there?” 

“A perfectly respectable time to start my day. 1:30 is not, however, a respectable time to be ending yours.” 

Alex bristles at his tone, and dammit, at the feeling of having disappointed the prince somehow. “I didn’t give you my personal number to hound me. And also Pablo shouldn’t be divulging the whereabouts of the President like that. Also I told him to leave hours ago.” 

“You won’t get Pablo in trouble, and you know it. And don’t worry, the hounding is just part of the package. Ask my sister sometime.” 

God, there’s something about Henry’s voice over the phone that makes Alex want to curl up with it like a fuzzy blanket in the middle of winter. “I’m an adult.” 

“Oh? Does that line work on your sister and mother and father? Because it won’t work here.”

Alex shivers at the royal authority in his tone, then blinks at his own reaction. 

“And you don’t want it to work with me, do you, darling? You need someone to push you. To push back against your self-destruction.” 

Alex lets out a slow breath, and the confession is pushing out of his mouth before he even knows it. “I do. Need someone, Hen. I’m all by myself and I’m so fucking lonely.” 

“I know, Alex, I know.” Henry’s words are like a caress against his cheek. “But I’m proud of you for saying it aloud.” 

And that’s how the Prince makes the President’s free time his business. 

As if Alex could stand against Pablo and Henry united on anything, anyway. And Henry’s right, he doesn’t get Pablo in trouble, because it somehow comforts him that they’re texting about him, keeping tabs and making sure he’s not overworking himself. 

There are rules, and at first they rub Alex the wrong way, until he realizes how much more work he can get done, more efficiently, if he follows Henry’s rules and doesn’t burn himself out. 

Well, burn himself out more. Fuck, he’s so burnt out already. 

And in between all the rules, Henry somehow becomes his best friend. When he wakes up in the morning, it’s Henry he thinks of, first. When something happens, he wants Henry’s reaction. 

And so, when he finally plans his excursion to Lake LBJ, it’s a no-brainer to invite the Prince along. It only feels natural to have Henry hanging out with his family, joking and teasing him along with Nora and June, learning the grill from him and Ellen, playing footie with him and Oscar and Leo. 

“I like him,” Oscar tells him one night while they’re cleaning up the kitchen. 

“I like him too, but…a Prince? Reynolds would have my head.” 

“Reynolds is a douchebag and I can kick his ass into next week if he wants to make it personal,” Oscar grumbles, drying a plate with unnecessary force. “Don’t let politics dictate your love life, mijo.” 

“Pot, kettle.” 

Oscar snorts, then snaps Alex with the towel. “Your mom and I, it wasn’t politics that ended us, and you know that. Don’t let that be the reason why you don’t try.” 

Alex hums in thought as he passes another clean plate to his father. 

Oscar’s hand squeezes his shoulder. “Sometimes, mijo, you have to leap, and hope to God it’s not off a cliff.” 

Alex can’t remember a time he’s felt so relaxed. He just finished swimming some laps, and now he’s lounging on a floating dock and letting the warm September sun bake the water off his skin. He hasn’t felt pain in his stomach in months. His last endoscopy had shown his stomach lining as fully healed. 

The dock rocks a little, and Alex opens his eyes and tilts his head in time to watch Henry pull himself from the lake. Water sluices off his skin, clinging his swim shorts to his fucking thighs and all of sudden Alex’s mouth is as dry as the Mojave. 

Henry scoots right up next to Alex so they’re laying shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip. Water glistens like diamonds on Henry’s skin and makes Alex want to lick it all off. 

“How are you feeling, darling?” 

Alex’s stomach flip-flops at the pet name, at the conversation he’d had last night with his dad. “I think we need to talk. No, shit, not like that,” he immediately back-pedals at the look of anxiety on Henry’s face. “I mean, like…check in…with each other…about this…” he trails off, feeling stupid, gesturing between himself and Henry. 

“Ah.” Henry leans over on his side, propping his head up with his hand and tracing down Alex’s arm - and raising goosebumps the entire way - until he reaches Alex’s hand and clasps their fingers together. “Checking in is good.” 

Alex looks up at his prince, wet, blond hair haloing-out in the sun. “I really like you. Like…take the next steps, like you.” He raises his eyebrows, trying to convey what he means without having to say, ‘I want us to dick each other down.’  

“I see.” Henry’s lips quirk up as he squeezes Alex’s fingers. “I’d like that as well, at whatever pace you’re comfortable with taking, darling.” 

“It’s just…fucking complicated.” Alex looks away from Henry’s beautiful face, out to the gently lapping water. He watches a water bug make progress skimming across the surface. “You deserve everything, Henry, the world. I’m the fucking president, I can’t be dating the head of another country.” 

“I’m hardly the head. I’m the spare, and before me, there’s Pip and his three lovely children, and before them, my mother.” 

“You know that’s not how the Republicans would take it. I’m ‘bi,’ and I’m single. Right now, I have the plausible deniability of being straight-passing. So I start up a relationship with a guy, okay, we spin it and I lose some centrists who sleep at night pretending their president is straight. I start a relationship with a prince? That’s way harder to spin.” Alex pushes himself to a sitting position, folding his legs criss-cross in front of him, making balls with his hands and biting his fingernails into his skin to combat some of the anxiety. “And that’s such a fucked way to think, I hate it. I hate it, and I hate myself because that’s what I’m thinking of before I think of anything else.” 

“Don’t hurt yourself, darling,” Henry murmurs, following him up and placing his hands over Alex’s, working to gently pry his fingernails from his skin. “Just breathe with me.” 

It’s not until Henry asks it that Alex realizes his breath is coming out with panicked quickness. His eyes meet Henry’s as he takes a slow breath, holds it, then blows it out, and another, and another. 

“There you go. Very good, Alex.” 

Before he realizes it, Alex is leaning his forehead against Henry’s, their noses brushing together. It feels amazing to let himself relax into Henry in that way, to hand over some of the weight. “I don’t like thinking that way. I don’t want to think that way anymore. I don’t want to have to go through all of those thoughts before I get around to what makes me happy.” He takes another deep breath. “And what makes me happy…is you.” 

“You’re allowed to be happy, love.” 

“Everything in my life has been working toward this moment. How am I so ungrateful to be unhappy with it?” 

“It’s not about gratitude, Alex. You’ve worked hard, and you’ve earned this, and that means you’re allowed to be fucking unhappy with it, too. You’re allowed to want to change things.” 

“My loyalty, my time…is for my voters.” 

“You’re a person before you’re the president.” 

“Am I?”

Henry’s sun-warm hand comes up to cup his cheek, and he tips his lips forward. “You are. Let me show you.” 

Alex takes in a breath suddenly, not quite a gasp. “Please. Yes.” 

And then Henry’s lips are covering his, and Alex feels the tingles of his kiss down to his toes. He shivers despite the September sun, letting his head fall back, letting Henry cup his face and take the kiss deeper. There’s traces of Lake LBJ water at the seam of Henry’s lips, but the rest of the taste is all Henry. Alex sighs as Henry’s tongue sweeps inside and dances with his. It’s a really, really fucking good kiss. In all the history of first kisses, this truly has to be the best, in Alex’s opinion. 

Henry’s fingers trace down the side of his chest, over his ribs, to rest on his hip, gripping where Alex can feel his warmth through the fabric of his swim trunks. When Henry pulls back, breaking the kiss, they’re both breathing harder than before. “You feel all man to me.” 

Alex is suddenly, achingly hard even as he snorts out a laugh at the ridiculous line. Especially when the laugh lines around Henry’s eyes crinkle as he smiles, then laughs along with Alex, then brings him into another deep kiss. Henry’s fingers bury themselves in Alex’s hair, controlling the angle of his head as they grip, making Alex discover a whole new way to get turned on. 

The kisses go on, blending into one another. They’re everything, they’re Alex’s life force, they’re the bright sun that’s radiating inside him to fade away those burnt-out bits, if only for a little while. They’re-

A shrill catcalling whistle breaks their reverie, and they both glance at the shore to see Nora making jerk-off motions while June hangs her head in embarrassment. 

“You’re past middle-aged, June, get over it!” Alex yells back, but the mood is lost. 

Or…or maybe it’s not, because Henry links their fingers again, and he’s got this fucking look on his face like he’d like to jerk Alex off, and-

“Come to my room tonight? After everyone’s asleep?” 

Henry’s lips broaden in a smile - God, he really does love those laugh lines around his eyes - before he picks Alex’s hand up to place a kiss on the back of it. “I’ll be there.”

Chapter Text

Dinner is wonderful, a full family affair with Ellen and Alex barbecuing and Oscar and June whipping up elote and chamoy fruit salad, but Alex is distracted by a swipe of barbeque sauce on Henry’s cheek after he’d eaten a rib. The sauce only stays there for, like, thirty seconds before Henry wipes it away, but all Alex can think about is what it would be like to lick it off his face. 

He’s honestly not really used to thoughts like that. ADHD or anxiety-fueled spirals, sure. Thoughts that make his pants uncomfortably tight? Not so much. 

He makes an excuse early about work, about needing to check in with Pablo for the evening and spend a few hours on presidential business. It’s not a lie; he really does need to be the president for a bit, but his mind is only half on it. 

He’s in the middle of replying to something from his Secretary of Transportation when he hears a light knock on his door. His heart thuds hard against his chest as he closes everything out and locks the computer. He takes a second to rub his sweaty palms against his shorts before he opens the door to Henry. 

Henry hasn’t changed since dinner, still wearing a loose-fitting white button down that’s only half-buttoned, over a pair of khaki shorts that show off his calves and entirely too much thigh for Alex’s peace of mind. He looks gorgeous, and then Alex realizes he also looks nervous, and something in his stomach settles. 

“Hi,” Alex breathes out, standing back and letting Henry in. 

Henry reaches for his hands after he’s closed and locked the door, rubbing his thumbs over Alex’s knuckles. “Can I kiss you again?” 

“You don’t have to ask every time,” Alex manages before pulling Henry to him by his hands. His back ends up against the door as he settles Henry’s hands on his hips and wraps his own arms around Henry’s shoulders.

“I just don’t want there to be any hesitation. I want to be clear-” 

Alex pulls him down into a kiss, nibbling at Henry’s lower lip before he opens and lets Alex inside. He sighs with happiness, letting Henry press him harder against the door to deepen the kiss. When he pulls back, breath stuttering, he catches Henry’s eyes with his own. “Clear?” 

“Very.” This time, Henry presses forward, his hands squeezing at Alex’s hips before one travels up his body and captures his curls again, maneuvering Alex’s head exactly where he wants it. Alex moans into the kiss and lets his eyes close. He wants to drift away in the pleasure of Henry’s kisses. But it ends all too quickly, soon enough that Alex pouts. 

“Don’t give me that face, you brat,” Henry teases. “I just want- You said, once, that you had sex because you were supposed to. I don’t want this to be that for you. I just want to make sure that you know that you can stop this at any point, for any reason. I will not be angry or upset or sad. I want to do this at your pace.” 

Alex melts against the door, fairly sure he’s shooting heart eyes at the prince. “Same goes, right? Don’t push yourself into anything you don’t want just because you think I want it.” 

“Christ, Alex, I want everything with you. I always have.” 

Alex laughs, circling his arms around Henry’s neck again and pulling him in for a hug. “I’m not sure if I’m ready for everything just yet, but I do think I’m going to die if I don’t get my hands - and mouth - on your cock tonight.” 

“Well, I can’t be responsible for the death of a president.” 

“It certainly would be a unique way to go. Abraham Lincoln, 16th president, assassinated, Alex Claremont-Diaz, 48th president, death by orgasm denial.” 

Henry snorts. “Far be it from me to invoke the line of succession.” He pulls back, hands coming up to where his shirt is already half-unbuttoned. “Just how do you want me, darling?” 

And listen, he just saw Henry in a bathing suit earlier, right? So he should be used to the cut of his abs, the lines that V down below the waist of his shorts, but apparently he’s not, because he truly needs a second. The prince half-dressed is a fucking sight to behold. Especially when Henry bites his lip and looks nervous at Alex’s opinion. 

“We should move to the bed,” Alex murmurs, reaching to the hem of his t-shirt to pull it off. Henry’s hands stop him, though.

“Please, let me.” Henry walks the shirt’s hem slowly up Alex’s body, before he swiftly pulls it over his head and throws it away. 

Back in college, he’d spent way more time weight-lifting and trying to keep cut. Now, though, with running as his main outlet for managing his anxiety, his body has thinned out a little, gone lean with runner’s muscles rather than being bulky. Still, he can see the blatant appreciation in Henry’s eyes. 

“Yes, bed,” Henry says with a growl, walking Alex backwards before pushing him down onto the bed spread. “Christ, darling, you’re so lovely.” 

The rapid push to the bed makes Alex’s heart flutter, and the big hand Henry is pressing to his chest to keep him down isn’t helping matters. He whines, arching his neck to try and get to Henry’s lips. With a wicked smile, Henry complies, leaning down and capturing his mouth once again. That hand, burning hot, stays on his chest over his thumping heart, pinning him lightly.

They make out like that, skin pressed to skin, their legs tangling together. Alex can’t help but roll his hips upwards, chasing the pressure of Henry’s cock against his own. 

“God, your hips. I bet you dance like a demon,” Henry breathes out before kissing down Alex’s throat and across his collar bones. 

“No marks-” Alex gasps at Henry’s sound of assent, then his immediate move to suck on Alex’s nipple, hard. It causes him to roll his hips up again.

“There you go, darling, dance for me.” 

There’s something about Henry’s voice, all deep like this, that makes Alex quiver. 

“Can I?” Henry asks as he thumbs at Alex’s waistband. 

“Yeah, please, God, fuck.” 

Henry hooks his thumbs and pulls Alex’s shorts down in one swift motion, making his cock slap against his stomach and pool precum there. 

“God, you’re fucking gorgeous.” Henry sounds almost like he can’t believe it as his pale, pianist fingers wrap around Alex’s dick in a slow, exploratory motion. 

“Hen, baby-“

Those fingers squeeze his cock, making him choke on pleasure and look up to see the surprise on Henry’s face. 

“Baby, really? Fuck, I’m going to ‘baby’ the shit out of you.”

“Shut up, you heathen,” Henry laughs. 

“Make me.”

“Oh, darling, always the brat.” Henry quickly shucks his own shorts and straddles Alex’s chest. “Guess I’ll have to put that mouth to good use.”

Alex watches, his breath heaving, as Henry fishes a condom out of his shorts and rips it open. He rolls it down his own spectacular cock, red and pink now covered by purple latex. Alex whimpers - actually whimpers - until the head out Henry’s cock is nudging at his lips, and then he fucking blisses out. 

“Fuck, darling.” Above him, Henry exercises ultimate control - and a flexing of those amazing thigh muscles - by slowly easing his cock into Alex’s mouth. He takes Alex’s hands and brings them to his thighs to grip, while he grabs the headboard with one hand and Alex’s hair with another and uses Alex’s mouth to bring himself pleasure. “If you need me to stop, pinch me.”

It’s been a long, long time since Alex has blown anyone, and he’d never gotten that far with Liam, so really, this is the first he’s actually wanted to and fuck, it’s so good. He loves the weight of Henry’s cock on his tongue, loves licking and sucking and making Henry’s fingers tighten in his hair and his eyes roll back in his head. Alex loses track of how long Henry fucks his mouth, just floating in a happy space while he does. 

“Fuck, your mouth feels good. Fuck, Alex-“ On a laugh, Henry comes, his cock stiffening on Alex’s tongue as he fills the condom. 

Alex whimpers when Henry pulls out, but he hardly has to wait long before Henry is slipping down his body, wrapping his elegant hand around Alex’s slick cock, and jacking him while whispering in his ear about how good he was. 

It’s a ridiculously short amount of time before his orgasm hits. He bucks against Henry’s hand and buries his face in Henry’s sweaty neck, licking at the salt there as he uses it to muffle his groan. 

“Holy fuck,” Alex rasps, his voice still rough from the blowjob. 

“Indeed. Seconded. All that.” Henry collapses to the side, his chest heaving. “Give me a second, darling, and I’ll go get us something to clean off with.”

Alex lolls his head to look at Henry and grin at his pink, flushed face. “Better get dressed before you go, my dad is a notorious midnight pee-er.”

Henry chokes, then laughs, rolling into Alex’s body and laughing into his shoulder. Alex laughs, too, wrapping Henry up in his arms and feeling Henry’s body shake. 

Eventually, they subside, and Alex presses a kiss to Henry’s hair, then winces at a pain in his back. “Fuck, I think I pulled something.”

“Getting old sucks.”

Alex snorts, and it sets them off again, the endorphins making them silly. After a time, Henry finally pulls himself together enough to venture into the hallway, and the stealth with which he leaves sends Alex into another peal of giggles. Henry gets his revenge: when he comes back with a cloth to clean Alex up, he does so lovingly, up until he leans over and blows a raspberry right over Alex’s belly button. 

The tickling fight that ensues leads to another round, and they definitely don’t wake up in time to be stealthy at all in the morning. 

Chapter Text

They endure teasing from the family throughout the morning, but eventually they settle on a hammock in the shade, rocking slowly as they lay side by side, both reading their own books. Henry wonders if America knows that their president enjoys reading queer romance novels in his off time. He wants to pre-emptively curse anyone who cares. 

Eventually, among the buzzing of cicadas in the trees, Alex’s book drops to his chest, and Henry expects to look over and see his eyes closed, taking a well-deserved nap. Instead, those beautiful brown eyes are staring over at him, the emotion in them so raw it takes Henry’s breath away. 

“Hello,” he whispers, his voice barely rising above the insect symphony around them. 

“Hey,” Alex replies just as quietly. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” 

Alex stays silent for a while, though Henry can practically see the wheels turning in his head. If anything, in age, Alex has gotten much better at holding his thoughts to himself, a skill he’d have to have mastered to get here. 

“I don’t want to stop seeing you,” he finally answers. “You…this,” he gestures between them, “It feels important.” 

Henry captures his gesturing hand and folds their fingers together. “It feels important to me, too. You’re important to me.” 

“I don’t want to keep you in the shadows, either. You’re not my scandalous side-piece. I’m not Bill Clinton, and I won’t fucking go down in history that way, either.” Restless, apparently, Alex moves to a sitting position, and Henry has to throw out a leg to keep them from toppling over. Alex doesn’t seem to even notice his rescue, though, as he runs his hands nervously through his curls and tugs on them. 

Henry feels an involuntary hurt at Alex hurting himself, making a small noise in his throat. Carefully he sits up, pulling Alex into his lap and keeping Alex’s hands firmly held in his own. “We can figure this out, darling. I can wait until your time in office is up. We can just be friends. We can go back to just texting. This can be our little summer fling and that’s it.” 

It should break Henry’s heart, saying those words, but he’s older now, more experienced. Three years, or seven years, it’s doable. He’s pined for this long, hasn’t he? He can stand a little bit longer. 

But Alex is vehemently shaking his head against Henry’s chest, nearly hitting Henry’s chin until Henry ducks out of the way. “Absolutely not. You hear me? Absolutely not. You don’t get to fucking blow my mind and then walk away, Wales.” 

Henry laughs, leaning forward once it’s safe again to blow a raspberry on Alex’s neck. “Well then, I suppose we need to work on this conundrum.” 

Alex blows out a breath, finally relaxing into Henry’s hold. “I’ve never had to, you know.” 

“What?”

“Figure out my priorities like this. I’ve never been forced to make a choice like this. People don’t tend to stay around, unless they’re related to me. Even then…” Alex shrugs, and now Henry’s heart breaks. “I guess I’m easy to forget. So I, uh, work really hard to make sure I’m leaving my mark.” 

“You left your mark on me ages ago, Alex,” Henry murmurs, his chin hooked over Alex’s shoulder as they cuddle. 

Alex shivers in his arms. “Yeah?” 

“Yes.” 

“That’s…I don’t know if I’ve ever felt that, from anyone.”

“Felt what?” 

“Like I’m already enough.” 

“Oh, love, you are. You are so much, not too much, and you’re enough. You’re so good, in a world full of bad.” Henry squeezes Alex into a tight hug from behind. “If you lost it all tomorrow, if they kicked you out of office or you didn’t win reelection, you’d still be Alex Claremont-Diaz. You’d still be a force to be reckoned with. You’d still have the largest heart of anyone I’ve ever known, except maybe my father. You’d still fight, every single day, to uphold the rule of law in the land you love. You’d still be you, without any title whatsoever.” 

“Well, not without any title,” Alex replies immediately, his voice sounding amused. 

“Oh?”

“Think I could pull off ‘boyfriend’?”

Henry chuckles, pulling Alex in closer. “I rather prefer ‘partner,’ but I’ll take anything I can get.” 

“No, I like that. ‘Partner.’ Has a nice, mature ring to it.” 

“Mmm, yes, well, now that you point that out, maybe ‘boyfriend’ is more appropriate for you.” 

“Dick,” Alex replies affectionately, reaching down to pinch one of Henry’s thighs and nearly upending them on the hammock. Once they’ve settled down again, though, Alex takes his hands and, sweet as can be, leans his head against Henry’s shoulder and presses a kiss to his neck. “Thanks. I, uh, might need you to remind me of all that a lot. I may have graduated Summa Cum Laude from Georgetown, but my sister will tell you that I’m an awfully slow learner sometimes.” 

“I’m happy to remind you often, love. You’re enough. You’re enough. You’re enough.” With each repeat of the mantra, his presses his lips to Alex’s forehead, the tip of his nose, and finally, his lips. 

They kiss like that for a little while, drifting sweetly in the summer breeze. When Alex pulls back, he rests his forehead against Henry’s and takes a deep breath in through his nose. “I’m not waiting. I don’t care if it’s political suicide. I’m not waiting to have this with you. I’m 42, damn it. I don’t want to wait any longer.” 

“Then we won’t, and damn the politics of it all, darling.” Henry smiles, but he knows he’s tearing up. 

“I need to call my team together, and you’ll need yours. And I’m thinking about calling someone out of ‘retirement’ - not that she ever really retired, anyway. Couldn’t stop her if you fucking tied her down, and I certainly don’t have the balls to pull that off.” 

Henry laughs at the description. “Oh, and who might that be?” 

“Zahra Bankston, my mom’s campaign manager and main assistant throughout her time in Texas and Washington. If anyone knows how to spin this, it’ll be her.”

“Then we should probably get her Shaan’s number. He’s responsible for coordinating all of that for me.” 

“You know if we announce it to the public, there’s no going back, right? I mean, obviously, we can break up, it’s just infinitely more messy-” 

“Alex, I’ve dealt with public relationships in the past. I know how this works. I’m ready for that sort of commitment with you, all right? I’m ready.” 

Alex nods, but he still looks unsure so Henry takes a moment to convince him - with sweet kisses - of his readiness. He finally relaxes again in Henry's arms, that moment of surrender so enticing to Henry’s senses. “Okay then,” he replies, breathless. 

<After an introduction over the image of the Presidential seal, the President appears sitting behind his desk in the oval office, wearing a crisp blue suit and red, white, and blue striped tie. He looks serious, but steady.>

“My fellow Americans, I come before you tonight with a personal announcement. 

I have never been anything but one-hundred percent transparent about who I am, and who you voted into office, and in that spirit, I am here tonight to announce that I am dating my close and personal friend, Prince Henry Montchristen-Windsor-Fox. I know there are some of you who are turning off your screen right now because you don’t want to know this about me. That’s fine. I understand. If I were just a normal guy on the street, if my partner were just a normal guy, you wouldn’t have to know about us.

Unfortunately, the world I inhabit is one where every move I make, every decision, from the color of my suit to the length of my hair to the size of my American flag pin, they’re all dissected piece by piece. So the best I can do is be fully transparent, and also draw my line in the sand: my personal relationship with Prince Henry will never, ever be the subject of a press conference, evening address, or press release ever again. It may grace the gossip magazines because we have Freedom of the Press, and it may be fodder for my political rivals, but I cannot control either of those things. What I can control are my own actions and reactions, and I can tell you now that my press secretary has already been given my boundaries: I will not answer questions about my relationship or my partner. After this address, she will go through the details of the protections against foreign nations accessing our intelligence and classified data to quell any fears in that direction. Other than that, we are going to evoke our right to privacy. 

To those of you who support us, thank you in advance. Please, please look into local queer youth shelters and organizations in your area to make that support tangible, if you can. Henry and I are adults in stable situations and can defend ourselves, but not all queer youth out there is that privileged. When you find yourself wanting to argue for us, to defend us, look to help them instead. 

<The President makes an uncharacteristic look away from the camera, and a small smile slides on his face.>

My hope is that you will come to understand what I already have…that Henry makes me a better man, and that makes me a better President. Thank you, and God bless you.” 

< Hail to the Chief plays over the Presidential seal until the broadcast cuts off, and pundits jump in with their hot takes on every channel.>

What the pundits don’t get to see, though, is Henry drawing Alex into a hug and pressing a lingering kiss to his lips before letting Alex get hugged by his family, friends, and staff. Someone passes out flutes of champagne, and Henry watches with pride as Alex works the room, accepting congratulations. 

And then the team starts talking about what the internet is saying, how people are responding, and Henry takes his place beside Alex, wrapping his arm around Alex’s waist and lifting an eyebrow at Pablo. Alex’s assistant gives him a nod back. 

He just gives a press of his fingers to Alex’s waist, but Alex gets the message and clears his throat, passing his empty flute off to one of the White House servers. “I’m going to let y’all deal with this. I trust you, implicitly. You know where I am if there are any emergencies.”

As they walk toward the residence, Alex’s hand finds his, their arms swinging between them. 

“How are you feeling?” 

“To be honest?” 

“Always, love.” 

“Jittery. Fuck. Fuuuuuck.” Alex shakes his free hand in what Henry has come to learn is a stim he uses to let out some stress. 

Henry hums, rubbing his thumb over Alex’s knuckles. “Understandable. It’s done now. You did so well, Alex.” He pulls Alex’s hand up to press a kiss there. 

Alex smiles shyly at him as he lets them into the residence, then closes the door behind them and shoves Henry up against it. 

“Kinda feel like I need to run it out, but maybe you can think of something more fun to do with this excess energy?” 

Henry groans at the feeling of Alex’s body pressed against his. “Happily, darling.” 

He still hesitates before taking Alex’s mouth - he probably always will - but when Alex gives his small nod, he cups Alex’s face and brings him in for a kiss. 

With a groan, he switches their positions, pushing Alex up against the door and burying his hand in Alex’s curls to dominate the kiss. 

“Did I tell you earlier how ravishing you look in this suit?” Henry asks amid pants when he pulls off. He works off Alex’s tie and tosses it over his shoulder. “Almost as ravishing as you look out of it.” 

“You’re one to talk. Fuck, Hen-” Alex gasps when Henry pushes down his coat and shirt and starts sucking a mark on his pec right above his nipple where it won’t show - as long as he remembers to keep his shirts on for workouts for the next few days. 

Henry pulls back and admires his handiwork. Alex already looks half wrecked, his shirt pulled only partially from his pants, his curls in wild disarray, his coat only pushed down off his shoulders, the bruise blossoming on his pec. He shakes his head a little to clear it before he comes in his pants - and Christ, he hasn’t felt this desperate since he was a teen at Eton. 

“Come along, love, I need my mouth on you now.” 

With a smile at how spacy and sex-drunk Alex already is, he leads them down the now familiar path to the President’s bedroom. The decorations are tastefully masculine, though lacking any real personality on Alex’s part - it’s his home office that really shows that personality with the signed poster of the winning Mexico World Cup team from 2030, the pictures of his family, the pennant from Georgetown. Still, it’s not the decorations Henry cares about now, anyway, but the big four-poster bed that takes up the center of the room. He pulls Alex toward him for a quick kiss, then backs him into the bed and pushes him down. 

Henry’s not about wrecking his knees any more than he needs to, so he grabs one of the pillows from the bed and tosses it to the floor. Alex’s eyes go wide at the move, then wider still when Henry pushes his knees apart to kneel between them. 

“You did a good job, and you deserve a reward. This, Mr. President, is what's known as self-care.” 

Alex’s snort is half a surprised choke, half a laugh. “Pretty sure self-care is the maintenance handy to take care of my morning wood.” 

“Self-care can be acts of service others do for you, like a massage or a mani/pedi, darling.” Henry runs his hands up Alex’s thighs before tackling the fly of his slacks. 

“Whatever you say, ba- baby-” Alex chokes again when Henry releases his cock from his briefs and gives it a long stroke. 

Alex’s cock is gorgeous, and Henry can now count as one of his favorite things in the world bringing Alex off with that cock in his mouth, weighing down his tongue, fucking into his throat. He loves being on his knees to give head, he always has, but with Alex, it’s special. With Alex, it truly is an act of service to make his partner feel better, to get him out of his head. 

“Fuck, baby-” Alex moans as Henry presses kisses up and down the shaft before licking over the head, sweeping over the glans and lapping up precum. They’d decided to go sans condoms a few weeks ago, after Alex’s annual exam and his own testing both gave them the all clear. Rather, they’d had the conversation a few weeks ago over the phone, but they haven’t actually been together since they’d made the decision. 

Which makes this the first time Henry is getting his tongue on Alex’s skin, the velvet over the steel, and Christ, it’s everything he’d ever wished for. He looks up through his eyelashes at Alex, and he’s gone, too, leaning back on one hand while the other pets through Henry’s hair, his eyes closed, biting down on his lip in ecstasy. 

And, well, Henry did have that Oxford slut phase, after all, so it would be a shame not to put all the lessons he’d picked up there to good use, right? He closes his own eyes and grins around Alex’s cock, ready to take the President on a fucking ride. 

He’s in the middle of curling his fingers under Alex’s balls and across his perineum, massaging his prostate hard from the outside, when Alex gives a shout of warning. He pops off, a string of saliva connecting his lips to Alex’s cock. “In me.” 

“Fuuuuuck,” Alex groans as Henry takes him back in and presses that spot extra hard again. In a moment, he’s swallowing as Alex spills in him, heavy spurts of salty, bitter, lovely cum filling his mouth. 

Alex collapses backward on the bed, utterly spent, but no matter. Henry climbs up, kneeling on either side of his torso as he pulls his own stiff cock out of his pants in a desperate move. One hand wrapped around his dick and the other sliding up Alex’s bare stomach to tweak his nipple, it takes Henry mere seconds - thirty or so - before he’s shouting and coming all over Alex’s chest. 

Lazily, Alex draws up his hand, drawing through the cooling liquid, rubbing it into his skin, then sucking it off his fingers. It’s so casually sexy, Henry’s cock valiantly attempts to get hard again, but he’s old, and tired, so instead he collapses next to Alex and immediately pulls him into a cuddle. 

Eventually, he’ll talk the President into using the en suite to wash off, but for now, he just wants to hold his brave partner as close as can be.

Chapter Text

Red, White, and Royal Blue: The World’s Most Secretive It Couple Reveal…Well, not All, but Some

Published April 24th, 2049

By Clarissa Evans, Teen Vogue Head Editor, and staff

[Cover Image: former President Alex Claremont-Diaz and Henry Fox sit together on a love seat, dressed in casual slacks, Alex in a well-loved t-shirt with the Oxford logo and Henry in a blue sweater, lacking the collared shirt we got used to seeing him in as a prince before he abdicated. Altogether, they make a casual, comfortable picture, their legs crossed toward each other. Alex’s head is thrown back in a laugh, and Henry is gazing fondly at him, their hands clasped together firmly between them. Alex’s hair is sparked with gray; indeed, he seems to have resisted the premature aging curse of most two-term former presidents. Henry’s hair is still golden, but we expect him to turn into a silver fox like the James Bond progeny he is. Photographer: Drew Sacks for Teen Vogue]

Teen Vogue [TV]: Thank you both for sitting down with us for this Teen Vogue exclusive! 

Alex Claremont-Diaz [ACD]: Thanks for having us!

Henry Fox [HF]: We’ve been looking forward to this, honestly. Being able to tell our story, our way. 

[ACD looks over at HF and smiles, threading their fingers together already.]

TV: Well, we have to say, we were pleasantly surprised when your people contacted us. The first post-presidential interview is always coveted, but to be your first public joint interview…President-

ACD: Alex, please. 

TV: Alex, you set the boundary in your public address in 2041, and kept to it. 

ACD: At the end of the day, what Henry and I have, it’s not for the public. When I’m with Henry, I’m Alex Claremont-Diaz, the man, not President Claremont-Diaz. It was very important to my mental health that we maintained that difference. I guess America agreed, right?

HF: Don’t mind him, he’s bragging about his numbers again. 

TV: To be fair, he did win his second term in numbers we haven’t seen since FDR. 

[HF holds his hands up in self-defense with a laugh.]

HF: Okay, okay, I get it, I’m the Brit. 

ACD: Bottom line is that the US public has been very supportive of us and our privacy, so we wanted to give you a little peek in. And I wanted it done by you, Teen Vogue, because you’re doing amazing journalism, and my sister would’ve killed me if I hadn’t offered it to you first. 

TV: We’ll have to send her a fruit basket! Still, it can’t have been easy, maintaining that divide. 

[Inset image, left: Paparazzo image of Claremont-Diaz and Fox exiting a limo outside a charity event in Washington, DC in early 2042. Both men are bundled up in long black coats to ward off the notorious Washington winter chill, and Claremont-Diaz is in the process of holding out his hand to help Fox out of the car. The couple seems to pay the outside world absolutely zero mind as they prepare for their evening. Photographer: Karli Padillo]

Alex blinks at the paper before him, then jumps when someone clears their throat across the oval office. He looks up, but it’s just Pablo leaning against the door jam and arching an eyebrow. 

“I just need to finish reading this section of the healthcare bill.”

“You asked me to cut you off at 10 so you could call the Prince.” 

Alex sighs, feeling bone-weary. Even with the rules, even with taking breaks for his mental health, it’s still hard to pull away. But, he can also recognize better, now, when his ADHD is revving him up against a wall and he needs to get away. 

“Cutting off, message received. Please, go home and apologize to Eric and Donnell for me for keeping you late, once again.” 

Pablo lets out a little laugh. “They know who they married.” He busies himself around Alex as Alex stands to stretch, marking the document for Alex’s tomorrow to-do pile and clearing away his long-finished cup of herbal tea. 

“Thanks, Pabs.” Alex gives a tired smile, then chuckles when Pablo holds out his fist for a fist bump, which he reciprocates, obviously. “Let me know when you’re home safe, okay?” 

“You got it, boss.” 

He exchanges pleasantries with Charles as they walk back toward the residence. As soon as he hears the secret service agent murmur, “Iguana is in the Crown,” he feels something drop off his shoulders. 

He slips his personal phone out of his pocket, hitting video call on Henry’s number. 

“Darling,” Henry answers, his eyes tired but his smile wide and those laugh lines Alex loves so much on display. 

“Baby. Tell me about New York while I get ready for bed?” 

“Only if I get to watch you change clothes,” Henry says with a wink. 

Alex rolls his eyes, and his laugh echoes through the lonely, empty residence. “Deal. Fuck, I miss you, baby. I know I just saw you a few weeks ago for that charity thing, and I know you’re only a few hours away from me now, but fuck, I miss you.” 

“Well, as to that…I do have news.” 

“Oh?” Alex props the phone up in his closet, then starts pulling at his tie and working at the buttons on his suit. 

Henry is blushing prettily, distracting Alex halfway through unbuttoning his shirt. When he sees he has Alex’s attention, he holds up a small ring of keys and jiggles it so Alex can hear the sound of it over the crackle of the phone call. “I…bought a brownstone.” 

“Wait, what?” Alex’s hands fall from his buttons and immediately reach for the phone, bringing it closer to see the screen - fucking LASIC he got in his late 20s is giving way to old eye vision, he’s going to have to start wearing glasses again, although apparently Henry doesn’t mind. “A whole brownstone?” 

“Well, it just seemed practical, since I’ll need space for the PPOs, and you’ll have to have the Secret Service when you visit…darling, it’s okay, right?” 

“Your mom is cool with one of the princes living in a former colony?” 

Henry levels him with a look and a raised eyebrow. “She knows where my heart is.” 

Alex melts, setting the phone back down. “Of course it’s okay, baby. I can’t wait to see it.” 

“I can’t wait for you to come see it.” Henry frowns, though, as Alex gets back to unbuttoning his shirt. “Seriously, it’s not too big of a step? I mean, we only announced our relationship a few months ago, and-” 

“And being in different time zones has been driving both of us crazy. Although I have to admit that knowing you’re only a few hours away from me and yet, somehow, not here with me is also going to drive me up a wall.” He shucks off his button up and undershirt and tosses them in the laundry basket, then gets to work on his pants. 

“Mmph.” 

Alex looks back over to catch Henry’s approving gaze as he fiddles with his belt buckle. “Like what you see?” 

“Always. Seriously, in another life, you’d be gracing the cover of Men’s Health, darling.” 

Alex laughs, his cheeks warming. “Somehow I don’t think they’d qualify it as healthy, my running-until-I-can’t-feel-my-legs and avoiding food because of anxiety or just outright forgetting it because of ADHD. Not exactly the healthiest image to portray.” 

Henry hums. “So, food, then? That’s what we need to work on next?” 

“We don’t have to-” Alex sighs, hanging up his belt and kicking his slacks off. He turns away from the phone and Henry’s perceptive gaze with the excuse of looking for his pajamas. “This relationship shouldn’t be all about me.” 

“I agree entirely, Alex, but I also wouldn’t qualify it as that. Darling, look at me.” 

Reluctantly, Alex turns back to the phone screen. 

“There you are, love. Can you tell me what’s going on in that lovely brain of yours?” 

Alex sighs again, using the time it takes to pull on his ragged UT: Austin shirt and lounge pants to think. “You do a lot for me, and I don’t feel like I do anything for you. It feels unbalanced. And- and…I don’t know what I can add to my routine to treat you better, because I’m holding on by a thread here. I’m overwhelmed, and when you’re away, and you’re not right here with me, it’s pretty easy to tell myself that I can’t be worth it to you.” 

The silence from Henry’s end is excruciating, but Alex knows he needs processing time, too, just like Alex does, so he walks back out of the closet and falls into bed with a long, blown-out breath. 

“Alex, do you happen to know how many times you texted me today?” 

Alex winces, dragging his hand over his mouth and avoiding looking at the screen. “Too many, probably, baby, I’m sorry. I’ll rein it in.” 

“You’ll do no such thing.” Henry’s voice is stern, his eyes directly on Alex’s when Alex finally turns back. “Alex, you’re the fucking President of the United States and you found time to text me at least four times checking in on me and my day, without any pressure to answer right away because I know you won’t be able to do so, either. You care about me, and you show it in everything you do. Everything.”

Alex chews on his lip as he processes that. 

“Don’t bite your lip, darling, that’s my territory. There you go, good job.” 

Of course, now he has to blush at the pleasure rushing through his system at pleasing Henry. He’s about to reply when his phone buzzes and a text comes through. 

Pablo: Made it home, boss. Sleep well, remember, staff briefing on the healthcare bill tomorrow. 

In the seconds it takes Alex to read the message, Henry waits patiently. “Nothing urgent, I hope?” 

“No, just Pablo telling me he made it home safely.” Alex gives the message a thumbs-up response, and gets a 🫡in reply.

“Ah, yes, that nightly ritual you do with him because you care about him and even though you’re the president, and you don’t have to care about that kind of thing, you do.” Henry arches his brow, enough to make Alex blush again. 

“Okay, okay, I get it. I…offer more than I think I do.” 

“Do you know what it means to me, darling, that my partner is the Leader of the Free World,” Henry breaks into a laugh when Alex gags at the title, “and yet he asked me about my day the first chance he got? Do you know how many times that’s happened in my family, especially since my father’s death? It was always what the old hag wanted to talk about first, because she was the queen, and therefore so much more important than anyone else- sorry, I obviously still have some feelings to work through there. Christ, she’s been dead for nearly a decade and she still makes me- argh!” Henry lets out the cutest little sound of frustration as he rolls his eyes. “Anyway, my point is, you are an incredibly selfless individual, Alex, and I’m lucky to call you my partner.” 

“Thank you, baby.” He can feel the affirmation bloom up inside him. Maybe he’ll be able to believe it fully someday. He sighs back into his pillows, just watching the smile on Henry’s face as the silence spins out, until a sudden thought hits him. “Wait, if you’re moving to New York, can we make this a nightly thing? At least when I’m able to, like, no state dinners and not when I’m traveling abroad and all that bullshit?” 

Henry laughs. “I love how you’ve reduced a large part of the presidency to ‘all that bullshit.’” 

“You know that’s not why I’m here.” 

“I do, darling, I do, I just- I just love you, that’s all.” 

Alex can feel his eyebrows raise up his forehead. “That’s all?” 

Henry himself looks surprised at his own admission. “I do. And yes, I think we should make this a nightly thing, if only so I can watch you get undressed every night, that’ll send me off with pleasant dreams.” 

 Alex rolls over on his bed, suddenly feeling like he needs to be sitting up for this conversation. “You are not distracting me. I- at the risk of looking a gift horse in the mouth and all that…are you sure?” 

“Oh, Alex.” Henry sighs fondly. “I’m very sure. I don’t need you to say it-” 

“I love you.” 

“Well, then.” But Henry looks incredibly pleased, and Alex feels almost high with how happy it makes him helping Henry feel that good. 

“Well, then,” Alex agrees, grinning, eating up Henry’s stunned silence. 

“So, we love each other.” 

“Yep.” 

“Cool.”

“Cool?” Alex asks with a laugh. 

“I- just. Sorry, my early adult self is calling to scream, I should probably take this-” 

That has Alex snorting, then covering his mouth in surprise at the sound he’d just let out. “I love you.” 

“I love you, dammit,” Henry replies, laughing even as he surreptitiously wipes his eyes.

“I love you.” 

“I love you.” 

“I love you.” 

“I love you.” 

Alex doesn’t remember how many times they say it to each other that night, but he’s fairly sure they both fall asleep with the line open, because when he checks the next morning, he sees he shared a four-hour phone call with the Prince. 

HF: All relationships are about give and take, about compromise. What Alex and I have, at the basis of it, is a simple, human relationship that’s complicated by outside factors. Once we realized that, managing those outside factors became easier. But, I’ll admit, I love that we’re no longer living separately. 

[HF’s fingers twirl a ring on ACD’s ring finger, a simple gold band. He has a matching one on his own finger. Yes, readers, you read that correctly: ACD and HF are married. We promise, it was just as much a surprise to us when we received the presser brief.]

TV: And you managed to pull off an entire engagement and wedding in secret, so, kudos to you and your teams and that line in the sand.

HF: We know that people will be disappointed to hear they missed all the pomp and circumstance, but truly, it was a very private event. 

TV: Will you give us anything?  

[ACD smiles widely, showing off that charm that got him elected…twice.]

ACD: It happened at my family’s place on Lake LBJ in Texas, where I’ve traditionally taken my September break. Very simple ceremony, just close family and friends. This September 14th will be our sixth anniversary.

TV: Wait, you got married before reelection? 

ACD: The timing felt right, and legally, my team and I checked everything, but I was clear. There’s nothing in the Oath about spouses, I never lied to the American people - Henry, of course, remained my partner - my partner in life, now. So… [He gives a charming shrug that makes us wonder how the previous President Claremont dealt with him as a kid.]

HF: I imagine there were quite a few secret boyfriends among the first 47 presidents, but I did delight in being the first secret husband.

[Image inset, right: ACD and HF face each other, holding hands, with June Claremont-Diaz in the background. ACD wears a pair of flowing orange linen pants and a pristine white henley; HF wears a cream linen tunic and shorts. They are both barefoot, standing on the end of a wooden dock. In the foreground, Her Royal Majesty Queen Catherine and former President Ellen Claremont sit across the aisle from each other and beam up at their sons. The sun is setting, creating a golden hour blush over everyone. Photo credit: Her Royal Highness Beatrice Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor.]

It’s September 14th, 2043, and no one knows they’ve been engaged since Henry got down on one knee on Christmas morning and pulled a ring box from under the tree. 

In this entire process, Henry has never once been nervous about the prospect of marrying Alex, nor worried about Alex getting cold feet. It almost feels inevitable, this marriage, a change in legal status only. But, Henry has been anxious, the entire time, about their secret getting out. 

They’ve worked hard - they work hard, every day - to make sure that their relationship stays private, and it almost seems like too much, like this will be too big to conceal. 

For Henry, it certainly feels life-changing. 

It’s hard to believe that the entire world isn’t focused on him as he walks his mum down the aisle, and the Queen of England sits across from the former President as he takes Alex’s hands. 

Alex looks delectable, the deep, fall orange and crisp white setting off his skin tone. His henley is unbuttoned, showing off, frankly, a slutty amount of collarbone and it takes everything in Henry not to lean forward and lick at the revealed skin. The wood of the dock is solid and still warm from the September sun beneath his feet, and he flexes his toes, grounding himself as he looks into Alex’s eyes. 

And Christ, that undoes him, because Alex is already crying. 

“Hello, everyone. I’m so pleased that we are gathered here today to marry what has to be the most unexpected and yet inevitable couple in the world.” June beams at her brother, and then Henry. “They’ve prepared their own vows. Alex?” 

Alex squeezes his hands, and looks directly into his eyes, and oh, Henry is done for.  

“Henry, you are, without a doubt, the best decision I ever made in my life. I had a plan, and I executed it perfectly, but that plan, it didn’t include being a person, being a man, and you made me stop and realize that. For that, I will always be forever grateful. You make me rounded. You make me whole. You are, above everything else, what makes me human. I’m so happy-” Despite his words, Alex hiccups a sob-laugh, and Henry feels his own eyes streaming. 

“You’ve got this, darling,” he whispers, just for him and Alex to hear. 

“I’m so happy that I get to be yours.” Alex bites down on his lip, and Henry reaches up automatically to stop him, rubbing over his much-abused lip with his thumb. “I love you.” 

“I love you, darling.” 

And then Alex is squeezing his fingers, and he realizes it’s his turn, and every poetic line he’s ever written, every turn of phrase he’d planned, it all flies out of his head. Some of his panic must show on his face, because Alex squeezes his hand again, three pulses. I love you.  

“Alex, I- I’ve completely forgotten what I planned to say,” he admits with a laugh, and the small group seated in the grass chuckle. “I’ll give you the notes later, darling, I promise it was really good. It’s just, I love you so much, and your big, caring heart, and your beautiful brain. I love how much you care about everything, and how excited you are to see me, every time, even when we’ve been together for a while. And while I don’t love how much I miss you when we’re apart, I love how loved I feel anyway, how I’m present in your life even when I can’t be there physically. I love you, Alex, and I, too, am so happy that I get to be yours.” 

There’s a beat that’s just cicadas buzzing and lake water lapping and soft exhales from the crowd as Henry and Alex stare into each other’s eyes. 

“That was truly beautiful,” June breathes out, flicking her own tears away. “Gentlemen, do you have the rings?” They both reach into their pockets to find them. “Alex, repeat after me: With this ring, I claim Henry as my husband, so he may keep me safe and I may do the same.” 

Henry’s heart is beating overtime, watching Alex slip the ring onto his ring finger as he repeats the words. 

“Henry, repeat after me: With this ring, I claim…” 

He knows he recites the promise he and Alex had written jointly, he knows he does, but it all blurs out as he works the ring over Alex’s knuckles and slides it perfectly into place. He keeps Alex’s hand in his as June pronounces them married, and then he’s leaning down and Alex is nudging up to share their first kiss as husbands. 

And it all hits him at once, while Alex’s lips are on his, so he’s perhaps more explicit than he would normally be in ‘public’ with it, sinking his fingers into Alex’s curls and tilting his head so he can get the proper angle that always makes Alex’s knees go weak. And then the whooping and hollering of the crowd surrounding them breaks through, and he pulls back, rubbing his thumb over Alex’s warm cheek, breath coming quickly.

Their families do them the honor of partying hard, and then getting the fuck out a few hours later once it becomes obvious that the President and the abdicated Prince need their alone time. Their honeymoon is to have the family house all to themselves, though they’ve had to promise June up and down that they won’t ‘desecrate’ the communal areas.

Listen, what June doesn’t know can’t hurt her, right? 

Because there’s no way that Henry is making it all the way to the bedroom from the front door once they’ve waved off the last well-wishers to stay in homes in the surrounding area. Oh, fuck no . He turns on his heel and presses Alex to the front door, drops to his knees, and takes Alex down in one swallow right there in the front hall. 

“Hen, baby, fuuuuck-” Alex whines, throwing his head back against the door and thrusting his hips up. 

Henry pops off, looking up at his husband - husband - and breathing hard. “There’s my dancer. Show me, Alex.” 

Alex groans when Henry’s lips slip over him again, and he’s quick to comply, rolling his hips to fuck into Henry’s mouth. 

They’ve had each other countless times, in every position, over the last two years, but this - this is magical. It feels like the first time, except with all of the knowledge that comes from thoroughly knowing each other’s bodies. Henry sinks into it, taking Alex all the way in and letting him show off his moves. It’s just as good like this as being fucked by those rolling hips, Henry knows, and the way Alex loses himself to his pleasure, the surprise he feels every time, it makes Henry’s heart leap. 

Above him, Alex is actually whimpering, the tone going high-pitched in a way that tells Henry he’s going to be done soon. With a grin around a mouth stuffed full of cock, Henry gives Alex his all. 

“Fuck, baby- I’m- here it comes-” 

The salty, bitter taste of Alex’s cum fills his mouth, making Henry’s eyes roll back with pleasure. God, he loves it, being on his knees for Alex, giving to him, bringing him to peak just like this. Breathless, he pulls off with a pant and pulls himself up with Alex’s help, his knees aching - normally he remembers to put a cushion down, but desperate times, desperate measures. 

“Going to fucking come for me, baby?” Alex snarls out, rubbing hard over Henry’s cock before shoving the loose linen pants and boxer briefs down to get his hand wrapped around it. 

“Going to come on you,” Henry replies, burying his face in Alex’s neck and pressing kisses, making sure not to leave marks, but still, pressing kisses all up and down the column of his throat as his husband - his husband! - jacks him off. He uses free hands to strip Alex’s linen shirt off and throw it away. 

“Yeah, fuck, yeah, come all over me, baby. Mess me up. Mark me up. I’m all yours.” 

With a growl, Henry comes all over Alex’s stomach, pearl beads of cum dripping down the brown skin, utterly lickable, until Alex starts rubbing it in, like he wants to absorb Henry into him. Like, Henry supposes, he did just moments ago. He helps, their fingers tracing over Alex’s belly and rubbing the cum into Alex’s skin as they make out. They’re in desperate need of a shower, but that can come later. 

TV: So you’re husbands, but you’ve been living apart this entire time. How did that change your relationship dynamic? 

ACD: I missed him so much, you wouldn’t believe it. 

[HF laughs.]

HF: The feeling was entirely mutual. It made being apart even harder, especially because our relationship, that fundamental human relationship, is so often interrupted by our professions. 

[HF looks away for a moment, off screen, while ACD squeezes his hand.]

HF: I…when I was little, I pictured it, you know? Getting to share the most special parts of me with someone - with a man I loved, the way my parents loved each other…and then I grew up, and I knew it was just a daft prepubescent fantasy, that I’d never get to be out, to be open with my love. Then…

TV: Stefan Leceour leaked your relationship. 

ACD: Stefan Leceour forcibly outed him against his will, you mean.

[HF blushes, leaning over to place a very tender kiss on ACD’s cheek, as we, readers, assure you that we were most apologetic.]

HF: No, no. It’s still a bit of an open wound because of my work with queer youth and the truly heartbreaking stories some of them have. It’s not the same for me, as Alex said 8 years ago, we’re adults and we can protect ourselves. I was an adult when Stefan did that, but it did feel as if my life was ending. [HF pauses.] In Alex’s second administration, I was very upfront about my own ongoing mental health struggles and raising awareness of mental health care in general. I’m not going to lie, we certainly have had dark moments in our relationship, but just the fact…sorry, I don’t mean to be emotional. [HF flicks away a tear, and ACD fully leans over, covering HF’s face from view as he checks in with him. They have a whispered conversation that we’re leaving out for the sake of privacy, before HF nods his head, smiles, and ACD faces us again.]

HF: Just the fact that I was able to be married to the man I love, was able to share that with family, even if we were hiding it from the public, that doesn’t matter. It didn’t feel like stepping back into the closet, because we set that boundary - this relationship is for us, not everyone else. And for us, not everyone else, we were - we are husbands. 

[Inset image, right: HF atop his horse, Betsy Blueshoes (Editor’s note: Yes, seriously, that’s the horse’s name). Although no longer competing in polo, HF keeps his horse-riding skill up on his and ACD’s ranch in between Austin and Lake LBJ. The couple plans on splitting their time between Brooklyn, where they own a brownstone, and the ranch. Officially, HF is now a resident of Texas and votes in the infamously purple state. Photo credit: Alex Claremont-Diaz]

Alex has literally never felt this way before. Everything hurts, except it hurts because of three days of amazing sex and laying around with his new husband, so it’s a good hurt. Still, he chalks it up to that, to marathon sex in his mid-forties, up until they’re eating their last honeymoon breakfast together quietly in the breakfast nook at the Lake LBJ family house, and he notices that Henry looks just as worn out as him. 

And suddenly he realizes that in a matter of hours, on the other side of a flight in Air Force One, they’ll be splitting up again, Henry off to New York to work at the shelter and Alex to resume his duties post-vacation.

He sets his spoon back into his cinnamon oatmeal and rubs his hand over Henry’s knee. His husband looks back at him, giving him a small smile. “Gray day?” 

Henry nods. “I can feel it coming on. Inevitable, I suppose, after the best few days of my life.” He smiles, and though it’s a wan imitation of his real smile, Alex still appreciates it. 

“C’mere.” He pulls Henry over into his laugh, nearly landing them both on the floor in the process, which makes them laugh, but they sober quickly enough. “I love you,” Alex whispers against Henry’s temple after placing a kiss there. “I love you so much.” 

Henry wraps his arms around Alex and squeezes him tightly. “I love you.” 

“This seems harder than before.” 

Henry pulls back, meeting Alex’s eyes. “I know. I feel it, too. But nothing changes, my love. You are still mine, and I’m still yours.” He presses his hand against Alex’s chest to caress it, but both of their eyes catch on his gold ring, glinting in the sunlight. 

“We’ll have to take them off before we leave or we’ll be inundated with engagement speculation,” Alex says matter-of-factly, then winces at his own practicality. “Sorry.” 

“Don’t be, love. You’re right, of course.” Henry sighs, spinning the ring around his finger. “It’s just a symbol, though. It doesn’t make me any less yours if I’m not wearing it. I’m always yours.” 

Alex nods, letting the words process, letting his feelings flow through him as they hug again. “I think I have an idea. I’ll be back in one second.” 

He places a quick kiss on Henry’s forehead before shuffling him aside and rushing off to the main bedroom that Ellen and Leo normally take over when they’re home. He searches for a moment, before hitting jackpot and grinning in his rush to get back to Henry. 

“We can get you your own, I’m technically stealing this from my mom, and you might want a different length or metal or something, that’s fine, but-” Alex holds up the gold chain proudly. “C’mon, let’s try it.” 

Henry looks stunned, staring at him with wide eyes until he realizes Alex needs him to turn around so he can clasp the necklace in the back. It takes Alex a second with his big fingers, but once he’s done fiddling he turns Henry back around and checks out the fit. “Looks good. Long enough to put under your collar, especially if you have a little weight on it,” Alex murmurs as he tucks the chain under Henry’s t-shirt collar so it disappears. 

“Why are we stealing your mother’s jewelry, love?” Henry sounds fondly amused, which is an improvement from earlier. 

“For this.” Taking Henry’s hand, he squeezes it, then moves to the ring finger and starts to pull the gold band off. Henry’s eyes light up as, with a quick few motions, he’s unclasped the necklace, threaded the ring through it, and tucked it all under Henry’s collar again. “And mine can go here.” 

He pulls his own necklace out, the Austin house key long replaced with a key to the Brownstone. It doesn’t take much to thread his own gold band so they’re sitting together, and then it’s tucked safely under his shirt and resting on his heart. 

“Brilliant, love.” 

Alex gives his husband a toothy grin. “Sometimes. Now you can still have me close, even when I’m far away.” 

There’s barely any warning before he has a lapful of Henry again, and they’re making out, and they’re totally going to break that rule about no sex in common spaces that June tried to set. 

It becomes a ritual. When Henry stays at the White House for the night, or when Alex gets to visit the Brownstone, or when they’re sharing a hotel room somewhere else in the world…the first thing they do, once the door to the outside world is closed, is take their rings out. Alex goes first, offering his neck to Henry to unclasp the necklace, then listening as Henry repeats his promise: “With this ring, I claim Alex as my husband, so he may keep me safe and I may do the same.”

“With this ring, I claim Henry as my husband, so he may keep me safe and I may do the same,” Alex whispers as he pushes Henry’s ring over his knuckle. 

Henry leans his forehead against Alex’s, breathing in their combined scents. “We can never let June, Nora, Bea, or Pez know how sappy we are, darling.” 

“I’ll take it to my grave.” 

Henry smiles at him, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Now, how are you? Is your knee still bothering you?” 

“Are you asking genuinely or because you want me to fuck you into the mattress?” 

“Por que no los dos?” 

Alex snorts, pulling his husband back through the residence and toward bed.

TV: It seems like everything’s coming up …Claremont-Diaz-Foxes? Claremont-Diaz-Fox-Mountchristen-Windsors?

[HF laughs.]

HF: Just Fox is fine for me, post-abdication. 

ACD: We kept our names, actually, so no one in the Republican party can make a joke about who wears the pants in the relationship or some sh** like that- oops, I did not mean to cuss, I’m sorry. 

TV: Honestly, we kind of had a bet on how many f-bombs we’d get out of you. Your reputation precedes you, Mr. President. 

HF: Can I still get in on that bet?

[ACD rolls his eyes as basically everyone else in the room laughs.]

TV: So, what’s next for the, what was it we called you back in 2041? The power couple of the century?

ACD: I think I’m going to take up painting. 

[HF rolls his eyes.]

HF: He’s fully lying to you. 

ACD: You don’t let me have any fun. 

[This bickering dissolves into a poking and teasing match that is, honestly, too cute to be fit to print.]

ACD: I recently renewed my Texas attorney’s license. I’m planning on returning to immigration law. I tried to do a lot to untangle the red tape from the Oval Office, but it’s still a complicated, confusing, and sometimes heartbreaking process for families, and that’s where my passion is. Besides, I don’t want Henry to get tired of me hanging around the house. 

[HF’s eyes go soft.]

HF: I would never tire of your company, darling.

[We’re pretty sure this is when Jessica, one of our editors, passed out.]

HF: You, however, would tire of doing nothing all day in approximately, mmm, twelve hours. 

ACD: No lies detected. 

TV: Any other big plans for the future? Anything left to announce, secrets to get off your chest? 

HF: Well, we like to have somewhat of an air of mystery, you know. Makes up for how boring we actually are. The rest of the Super Six [Editor’s note: The Super Six is a press moniker given to ACD, HF, HRH Beatrice, June Claremont-Diaz, and close family friends Nora Holleran and Percy Okonjo.] think we’re terribly mundane. I don’t think there’s anything else-

[HF looks off screen again, but this time he seems to be making eye contact with someone. He gives a small nod and turns back.]

HF: There is actually one more thing. 

ACD: You asked earlier why Teen Vogue gets the first post-presidential interview. In all honesty, I think our daughter would’ve disowned us if we’d gone with someone else. 

[Editor’s note: You could literally hear a pin drop in the studio at this moment.]

HF: Alondra, honey, do you want to join us? 

[ACD scoots over, creating space between himself and HF. A young woman with light brown skin and a nervous smile that we had previously thought was an intern or assistant sits between them. HF’s arm wraps around her in a half hug, while ACD squeezes her knee.]

Alondra Fox [AF] [Editor’s note: We had to cut this story for time, but essentially, her fathers gave her the choice for her last name and she decided Fox was the coolest.] : Hey, everyone. 

TV: We're starting to get how you hid a marriage, but how did you hide a whole extra human being? 

HF: It may come as no surprise that I am extremely protective of my family. It required pretty strict discipline from all of us, especially Alondra, but she’s been amazing with it. 

[AF shrugs.]

AF: When you find people like Henry and Alex who want to support you, you figure out how not to let them go. 

HF: Alondra and I met at the shelter, so attending things like basketball games with Pez [Editor’s note: Percy Okonjo, family friend and founder and CEO of the Okonjo Foundation] in order to watch Alondra play was easy to excuse. For the most part, our neighborhood in Brooklyn is very motivated to help us keep our privacy, even more so when they met Alondra and realized what an amazing young person she is. 

AF: Dad.  

HF: I’m allowed to brag. 

ACD: Backing him up, here, he’s allowed to brag. 

TV: We don’t want to delve into anything you don’t want to talk about, but what’s the basic story here? 

AF: I’d been on my own for a while before I found the shelter. Mostly, I was super determined to finish out my high school degree and I needed help with that. You have to bounce around from shelter to shelter, you know, and it’s hard to be in the shelter and be attending school at the same time. They run out of space, and bam, you have to get halfway across the city before it gets dark for something else. 

HF: I’ve seen a lot of kids - too many kids - come and go in Alondra’s situation, but for some reason, Alondra just…felt different to me. 

ACD: She clicked in. Like she’d been there the whole time. I haven’t been the best parent - Alondra started living with us during my reelection campaign, and she couldn’t come live full-time at the White House without alerting the entire nation, so-

AF: You are not a bad parent, Dad, believe me. 

[ACD, uncharacteristically, goes quiet, but he looks pleased.]

ACD: Well, mija, you’ve been a great daughter, so.

HF [like the proud parent he apparently is]: Alondra just got her high school diploma in December. She’ll be attending UT: Austin in the autumn. 

ACD: I’m just saying, UT, hit me up for the class of 2053 graduation speech!

AF: Oh my god, Dad. 

ACD: Hey, you signed up for this. 

AF[Rolling her eyes]: I literally signed up for this. 

[Image inset, bottom left: ACD, AF, and HF sit on our interview loveseat. AF is wearing a pair of jeans, chunky black shoes, and a black Nirvana vintage Tee. ACD and HF both have an arm around AF’s shoulders as they all smile for the camera.] [Image inset, bottom right: ACD, AF, and HF once again on our couch, but HF is crossing her eyes, ACD is holding up bunny ears behind her head, and HF is grinning at the both of them. Photographer: Drew Sacks for Teen Vogue]

Henry greets him at the door of the Brownstone. “Secret service cleared the paparazzi out?” He asks, peering over Alex’s shoulder before pulling him in for a long hug. 

“Caleb verified it for me. God, I love you.” Alex rests his forehead against Henry’s for a moment, taking a long, deep breath of the air that smells like home. “Is she up to meeting me?”

“She’s been pacing the upstairs hallway, but she gave me an affirmative when you pulled up, yes. I’ve given her the whole third floor as her safe space. Kerry is up there too, as a witness and to finish up the fostering paperwork.” 

“Pacing, huh?”

Henry smiles, shaking his head fondly. “Yes, you have at least one thing in common you can talk about. Are you able to stay the night?” 

Alex nods, pulling out his key and ring as Henry does the same. They go through the ritual quickly, but it has no less meaning for its speed. Once they’re done, they head upstairs, hand in hand, Alex worrying the gold band around Henry’s finger. 

When they reach the third floor, the girl who had been pacing the hallway stops mid-stride and stares at him, her mouth open.

“You told her I was coming, right?” Alex says out of the corner of his mouth. 

“Yeah, I just didn’t actually expect to meet the fucking president,” Alondra retorts, then gasps and clasps her hand over her mouth. “I mean no disrespect.” 

“Oh, honey, if the F word were banned in this house, Alex would lose half his vocabulary, it’s okay. Alondra, Alex, Alex, Alondra.” 

“Hey,” Alex says, offering his hand for a shake. She takes it and grasps it firmly, her brown eyes meeting his and sizing him up in a moment. 

He supposes she’s very good at sizing people up quickly, considering how long she’s been unhoused. 

Kerry joins them, and they all sit in the guest room - what will be Alondra’s room if she agrees to this whole thing. 

And it’s there, with his hand in Henry’s, talking about politics and fashion and music and current global events and everything, it’s there that Alex falls in love, again. 

The next morning, Alex finds himself shuffling sleepily to the kitchen, yearning for his yerba mate, when he’s shocked to see Alondra sitting at the breakfast table already. 

“Oh, shit, sorry-” Alex mumbles, looking down at his pajamas - just boxers he’d found on the floor, they might even be Henry’s - and turning back around. A scramble in the hallway finds him Henry’s peacoat, which will do as a robe at least to get the kettle going. 

Alondra’s still laughing at him when he comes back in, and she starts truly guffawing when she sees the peacoat. 

Alex takes it with grace. “Did you sleep okay?” 

Alondra nods, still giggling a little as she takes a sip of the most sinful, delicious looking black coffee Alex has ever smelled. Maybe that’s because he hasn’t had coffee since the ulcer. He places a bet in his head that Henry will have her reformed away from coffee by the end of the year. “Do you have to leave soon?” 

“Yeah,” Alex sighs, bringing his hand down to roll his wedding ring around his finger. “Fundraising event in Phoenix tonight, then California to a rally with my dad, then back to Washington.” He looks down, picking at nothing on the counter. “I’m…listen, I know about politician parents, okay, I have two. I love them, but they sucked. It sucked when I was growing up. And I just…I know I’m going to be the same, and I’m sorry. But you’ll have Henry, and he’s amazing, so…just don’t make up your mind based on me, okay? Because Henry would be such a good dad for you. He’s amazing at taking care of people, but like, in a way that doesn’t make you feel stifled, and…” 

Alex realizes he’s spiraling mid-sentence, and closes his eyes, counting his breath in and out, feeling the tile countertop below his fingers. He jolts when someone else’s fingers touch his, and he opens his eyes to find Alondra there looking up at him, her pinky just grazing his.

“You okay?” 

Alex shakes his head. “I will be, though, thank you. Just need to remember to breathe and all that bullshit.” 

Alondra snorts, but she gives him the time to breathe in silence. After a minute, he lets out a sigh, turning away to deal with the whistling kettle. 

“You know, Alex,” Alondra says, and she sounds a lot older than her fourteen years. “All of the bad parents I’ve seen in my lifetime don’t actually care about whether or not they’re bad parents.” 

Her words hit him like a ton of bricks, his hand shaking enough that he has to stop pouring his hot water for a second. 

“Most bad people don’t care about whether or not they’re bad people, either. They just do whatever the fuck they want to do. At least that’s what I’ve seen. So don’t…I don’t know…don’t sell yourself short.” 

He manages to finish making the tea, taking a deep breath before turning back to her. “Thank you. Both for the encouragement, and the chance. I’ll try to earn both.” 

They lapse into silence as Alex comes to join her at the breakfast table and they both sip from their mugs. Alondra breaks it, though. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything that’s not under a certain level of clearance, sure. I can’t tell you where we keep the alien bodies, though.” 

Alondra rolls her eyes, but it’s amused. “Area 51, duh. No, last night, when I was talking with you guys up in my bedroom, and I told you all I’m asexual and maybe aromantic, I don’t know, I haven’t figured that out yet, you and Henry shared a look.”  

“Ah, that.” 

“I know you’re fine with queer folks so I know it’s not that, so, uh, is it Ace people specifically, or…?” 

“No! No, nothing like that. No, Henry looked at me because…because…I’m demisexual. And you are now the second person in the entire world to know that, so, speaking of security clearance...” 

Eyes wide, Alondra mimes locking her lips and throwing away the key. 

“It’s mostly a political decision not to come out,” Alex admits, eyes down on his tea. “So, uh, take that as you will, I guess. I know it’s cowardly.” 

“Dude, no one can- or I guess, no one should be able to force you out. That’s your own private information. You don’t owe the world shit. But- thanks for telling me.” 

“Thanks for telling me- us, too. Thanks for trusting us with that.” 

The clicking of dog nails on the wood floor heralds Annie’s, and therefore Henry’s, arrival downstairs. Sure enough, Henry rounds the corner to the kitchen with a smile, then does a double take at Alex’s outfit before laughing outright. 

“Good morning every- what are you wearing, love?” 

“He forgot I was here.” 

“I did not! I just- I was tired, and I forgot to put on clothes.” Alex looks between Henry and Alondra’s smiling faces before breaking and laughing, too. “I forgot she was here.” 

Henry moves into the kitchen, pulling Alex toward him by the collar of the peacoat and giving him a quick kiss. “Why don't you go get dressed while I make us pancakes? Do you have enough time for pancakes?” 

“I have enough time for pancakes. I imagine Pablo will drag me out of here in another hour or so.” 

“Perfect.” 

And that’s how they share their first meal as a family, stuffed full of pancakes and maple syrup. 

At the door, they complete the ritual to put their rings back on their necklaces, and share a longer kiss out of sight of Alondra. 

“This feels right,” Henry murmurs against his lips when they part, and Alex nods in agreement. “Now, Mr. President, go out there and get reelected, hmm?” 

Laughing when Henry smacks his ass, he calls out a goodbye to Alondra and Annie, gives Henry one last kiss, and sweeps out the door.