Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The wedding, as expected, was beautiful. Nora envisioned this perfect wedding day, wanting nothing but the best while Pez’s sole wish was to see her happy. And happy she was, radiating joy in front of all her loved ones. She was a vision in her mermaid-cut dress, which flowed elegantly, accentuating her figure as she moved gracefully toward Pez. As the celebrations continued, Alex stood next to June in the reception line, squeezed between family and groomsmen, feeling both pride in his sister’s joy and a tinge of nervousness.

Next to him, June looked stunning in a three-quarter-length ice blue gown, her beauty heightening Alex’s pride amidst his unease. Alex thought he looked pretty good himself, all things considered.  His pocket square matched with the bridesmaids and they'd all managed to keep cool during the ceremony. Not so much for the photoshoot afterward, which left Alex feeling humiliated, wanting to disappear as laughter and playful chaos engulfed him. The photographer was determined to capture action shots and damned if she wasn't going to get them, no matter how reluctant certain parties showed themselves to be. Alex enjoyed the playful chaos of the bridesmaids and groomsmen, though he felt a bit out of place in his suit among the flowing dresses..

He didn't mind when she had one of the groomsmen playfully tackle him. He did mind when the tackle turned into a sharp blow to his solar plexus, knocking the breath right out of him.

He minded even more when, as he gasped like a fish in the grass, he saw a mop of blond hair and concerned blue eyes hovering over him.

“Sorry about that,” said a silky smooth voice, grinning as he leaned over Alex.

“Forgot this was a wedding, not rugby with the lads for a moment!”

Alex wheezed and waved him away, rolled to his side, and coughed. As the chaos settled down, the session finally turned to newlywed pictures.

As he brushed off his pants, Alex couldn’t shake the feeling that he might have blades of grass still caught in his hair. He tried to get June to check him out, as any good sister would, only to find her doubled over with laughter, playfully pointing at him. She was still snorting periodically as they greeted guest after guest, drawing amused looks. Alex had never seen so many guests at a wedding; Pez's deep involvement and generous reputation in the charity world drew them all in.

Back sore, Alex sought a more comfortable position amid the bustling celebration. Maybe Stacy would humour him with a back rub after all this. Alex spotted him chatting away at the bar. He tried to grab his attention, but wasn't successful if his quickly turned back was any indication.

Alex looked down the line impatiently and was greeted by a raised blond eyebrow and the damn mocking blue eyes of Henry Fox. There was simply no escaping him; Henry seemed to follow their outings like an unwelcome shadow ever since Nora and Pez began dating, something Alex still had trouble accepting. Not that he wasn’t serious—oh no, the man was incredibly serious about business—but Alex couldn’t stand Henry's playboy lifestyle.

Though not a prude, Alex was frustrated by Henry’s flippant hops from one flirtation to another, relentlessly flaunting paid companions for every non-occasion. Alex had no desire to spend more time than he had to with a rich white playboy who had no idea how real people lived.

At dinner, the newlyweds had reserved the front table for family only, keeping the bridal parties grouped to one side. As the first course was served, Alex excused himself, needing a moment to breathe and find his boyfriend. He had hoped for Stacy to at least go through the greeting line, but he hadn't and Alex needed a commiserating ear if he needed anything right now. When he finally found Stacy, he spotted him laughing with a group of finance bros he’d met through Pez's charity events.

“Hi!” Alex greeted them cheerfully as he approached. He kept a respectful distance, knowing Stacy wasn’t keen on public displays of affection.

“Does Fox have it in for you, or what?” One of them said and they all laughed.

"Alex, I can’t believe you let him take you down like that!" Stacy teased.

“Let?” Alex's eyes widened, but he managed to keep his composure in front of his friends.

Stacy leaned back and tssked. “You've got grass in your heels.” 

“Thank you, Stacy.” There would be no sympathetic ear to be had here, Alex quickly realised. Best to beat a hasty retreat while they were all only mildly buzzed. “I'll catch you later, okay?”

“Sure, babe."

Gritting his teeth at the familiarity of the pet name, Alex turned away, detouring toward the men’s washroom. One clump of dirt and four blades of grass later, his shoes looked good as new after a quick wipe-down. 

Alex returned to the table and downed half the glass of wine set before him. A few of the others seated at the table gave him funny looks, but he was ready to move on from the whole thing.

"I’m really sorry about earlier," Henry leaned in from two seats down, concern shadowing his features..

“It's fine,” Alex said and shook his head. 

“Really though, I didn't mean to."

“Oh, great! That totally makes it better!” Alex replied dryly.

“I suppose not,” Henry said, looking somber. 

“Don't worry about it, okay?” 

“If you say so.”

“I do."

People chatted around them, the lively sound of the DJ's music filling the air.

“Where's your date?” Alex asked, looking around. He didn't think he'd ever seen Henry without someone hanging on his arm.

“Keeping himself busy, I'm sure,” Henry said, lackadaisical. 

Alex glanced over at the bar, eyeing Stacy who was nodding along with the music and laughing at something one of the guys said. 

“Yeah, I'm sure.”

“I see Eustace has wandered off again.”

“You know he hates that you call him that.”

Henry grinned, shrugged, and sipped at his wine. 

Alex resolutely turned his back to the bar, determined to enjoy the rest of the night, no matter how bitchy his table mate was. The rest of the evening was fairly uneventful, as far as weddings went, filled with heartfelt speeches from the wedding party, punctuated by lavish courses.

Alex was surprised at the depth of feeling in Henry's speech. He had no idea the man was capable of showing care for another person, much less in a complex and touching way.  

Pez looked genuinely touched while Nora (and most of the guests) looked on in disbelief. Alex wouldn't put it past him to have hired a speech writer.

When it came to his turn, Alex poured his heart out about how profoundly important Nora’s presence was in his life, emphasizing her unwavering support. Having Nora by his side for over a decade, Alex understood that while marriage wouldn’t fundamentally alter their bond, it would undoubtedly shift their dynamic. As he spoke, an unsettling knot twisted in his stomach, his joy contrasting sharply with the fear of losing Nora. Though Alex felt content with his fulfilling life — supportive friends, an exciting internship, and a solid relationship — he could not shake the underlying fear that Nora's move to the Hamptons would change everything. Having Nora move out to the Hamptons would be a significant change, but they'd adapt. Phones existed for a reason, and Alex believed the strong bond they shared would see them through this change.

The air pulsated with an eclectic mix of early 00's hits layered with wedding reception classics, creating an auditory tapestry that mirrored the evening's chaotic joy. Nora and Pez’s idea of compromise, no doubt.

Alex wandered off in search of Stacy and found him once again engrossed in conversation at the bar.r. The hangers-on seemed to have multiplied and Stacy was ruddy with attention and drink. Alex looked up at him as he got to his side, assessing. Drunk Stacy was not always the kind of person Alex wanted to be around. 

“Alex! We were just talking about you!”

“Oh, were you?” Considering what Stacy’s buddies were not shy of saying about him when he was within earshot, he didn’t particularly want to know what they would say when he wasn’t there. 

“Jeff said you haven’t called him about that junior trade position.”

“I have a job, Stacy.”

“Come on, you call that internship a job? It’s at a library.” 

The derisive tone made Alex’s hackles rise, even more so when the whole lot of them started laughing. 

“You know how important that internship is to me.” Alex tried for an even tone and did his best to ignore the onlookers. 

“Yeah, yeah, you and your precious books. You need to grow up, Alex. That’s not a real career.”

“Working for the fourth largest library in the world isn’t a real career?” 

“Come on, man.” Alex hated it when Stacy called him “man”. “You gonna be mooching off me forever?”

“I –” They’d agreed when Alex’s internship began that it was a temporary situation. Stacy said he kind of liked the idea of taking care of Alex, and Alex did his best to do more than his fair share around the house. “Can we not do this here?” It came out kind of strangled.

“Why?” Stacy said and stumbled. “So you can come up with excuses for not taking the opportunities I’m bringing your way? I’m trying to help you. You need to grow up and realise books aren’t what makes the world go round.”

“You’re drunk.” Stacy had a way of saying things that cut deep, but he’d never openly done it in public. 

“Have a drink!” Stacy said and gulped his beer. “I told Jeff you just needed some convincing, didn’t I, Jeff?”

Someone laughed loudly behind Alex, presumably Jeff. 

“No thanks, I’m good."

"You know what your problem is, Alex? You have no ambition; you’re living small in a world that needs you to dream big!"

“Is that what my problem is?” Alex fumed. Being humiliated again was not meant to be in the cards tonight. 

“Why are you so ungrateful?”

“Ungrateful? Me not wanting to live my life like you want me to is ungrateful?”

“Plenty of other people would kill to be in the position you are, you know,” Stacy leered, and a brunette leaned into his space – the same one who’d been on Henry’s arm earlier that evening.

“I see.”

"I’m gonna make this easy for you; either you accept Jeff’s generous offer or go find someone else to mooch off of," Stacy said, the mixture of drunken bravado and insecurity evident in his gaze. Almost a year into cohabitation for this?

“What’s it gonna be, man?” 

The brunette rubbed Stacy’s shoulder, and Alex found his footing.

“I think we’re done here.”

“Your loss,” Stacy laughed, and all the hanger-ons followed. “Good luck finding some other sucker.”

Alex turned on his heel and pushed through the crowd of people who’d no doubt seen and heard everything. In his hurry to get out of the hall, Alex almost barreled over none other than Henry Fox and Alex let out a frustrated noise. 

He dashed through the crowd and headed for the bride's dressing area, only to be confronted with a locked door. Sighing, he backed into the small alcove and, breathing hard, started typing furiously to June.

“Rough night?” Henry asked, catching Alex off guard. 

Alex almost dropped his phone, but recovered. He couldn't help but make a face when he saw who was asking. 

“Not that it matters to you, but yes.”

“Drink?”

Alex eyed it suspiciously. “I don't take drinks I haven't seen poured myself.”

“Fair enough.” Henry took a sip and raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything more about it. 

Alex cleared his throat and fixed his clothes, clearly uncomfortable and still upset.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Oh sure, like you wanna hear about how I broke up with my boyfriend at a wedding, of all places, knowing I have nowhere else to go in the city.”

Henry shrugged. “Nothing else going on.” 

As if the man wasn't at his best friend's wedding reception.

“Found your date, by the way. Draped over Stacy.”

“Ah. Is that why…?”

“It didn't help, but no. Apparently, Stacy and his buddies think my life choices are a big joke, and I should go into finance with his bros.”

“I see.” Henry swirled the ice in his drink. “I didn't think you had any interest in day trading.”

“I don't. It looks like the internship I worked for years to get isn't ‘grown up’ enough for him.”

“NYC public library internships aren't easy to come by.”

Alex squinted suspiciously at Henry. “How did you know that?” 

Henry shrugged. “Not important.”

Frustrated, Alex wiped his face when suddenly Henry blurted out: “You can stay with me.”

The shock of it cut Alex's breath short.

“What?!”

“You can stay with me.”

“I heard you the first time! Are you insane?”

“Look, it’s probably not your ideal solution, but hear me out.”

Alex looked on doubtfully but gestured for Henry to go on. 

“My mother, in her infinite wisdom, has let me know that unless I settle down with someone, I won’t ever see COO for Pulsar.”

“Ha! Has she met you?”

“So you see, this would be perfect. You get a place to live, I get ‘engaged’ and get her off my back.”

“You are insane,” Alex sputtered and protested and backed away as much as the alcove permitted.

Henry's gaze raked over Alex, assessing every detail with an intensity that made the air between them thick with unspoken judgment. He nodded slowly, a sardonic smile playing on his lips as he declared, "You'll do."

Chapter Text

Alex refused to tell Nora about the breakup – what bride would want to know someone broke up at her wedding? Besides, he wasn't going to be the person to interrupt a honeymoon with his petty issues. So he didn’t have anywhere else to go, so what? That was a non-issue now, anyway. 

The end of the night had been a comedy of errors. After letting himself be convinced by Henry – his plan might sound like something out of a movie, but his arguments made sense – Alex spent the rest of the evening dodging Stacy. He'd probably gone to the men's room five times. 

Avoiding Stacy also meant remaining at the table most of the time. Oh, he'd danced with Nora and June, of course, tipsy enough on table wine to enjoy himself and forget about what was happening next for a minute. 

Of course, the moment he sat back down, he found Henry also sitting there, looking plenty entertained on his own. Alex let himself wonder what it would be like to sit at his side. Would he ask him to look pretty and be quiet? That seemed to be the case with most of his dates. 

If he did, Henry was in for a rude awakening. Alex could be charming when he needed to, but he was never one to keep his mouth shut. He had tried broaching the subject, but had been brushed off with a “We can talk more tomorrow.” 

Alex spent the night at the hotel after the reception and headed straight to Stacy's the next morning. Alex sent a quick text message advising him he would be out of his hair later that evening. Stacy responded with a passive-aggressive thumbs up, and Alex rolled his eyes at his phone before heading in to pack. 

He expected to feel a few pangs at least. Shouldn't a year-long relationship call for a broken heart, even when you were the one to call it off?

He tried to summon some kind of sadness about the whole situation, but Stacy was far from the front of his mind. Not that he didn't care. It was just that once he'd gotten confirmation that Stacy had no respect for his achievements or his career, it was like the tether holding onto his feelings simply snapped. 

He'd been plenty mad last night, and would probably be again, but for now, he felt sort of pleasantly numb about the whole thing. 

Now moving in with Henry? That, he felt plenty of things about, mainly the tight band around his chest and the pounding in his head. The pounding was probably attributable to last night as a whole, but his chest? Oh, Alex knew that feeling well. Anxiety had been a loyal companion of Alex's for as long as he could remember. 

Logic wouldn't help. He couldn't even blame his body for reacting the way it did to the whole situation. Moving in with Henry Fox was a stupid idea. More than the rudeness and the playboy tendencies, it was that Alex always felt judged when he was in the room. Henry would stare and offer bitchy comments – mostly about Stacy, now that Alex thought about it – and he'd have this calculating look in his eye. 

Alex knew he stood out among Nora's friends. He became known as “The guy with the internship” from the moment it began. Well, not everybody had an in with mommy's company, now did they? 

No, his parents were far away in Texas, living their suburban oasis life. They were happy their kids had found happiness in New York, even if it meant rarely ever seeing them. Oh god. Alex would need to call his mother. She'd be so upset if Alex told her he'd broken up with Stacy at a wedding, for Pete's sake . 

He just had to say he'd found a new roommate and he was fine. And he was. Just fine. And as soon as he could take a breath without wincing, he'd believe it. 

It was October and the streets of Brooklyn were slick with wet leaves. Henry had insisted on sending a car once he realised Alex would be moving by subway. He only had a few bags worth of things along with one box of books; Stacy had a fully equipped apartment when Alex moved in, and it had never felt like home enough to decorate it with his own things.  

The driver didn’t remark on Alex’s bedraggled appearance when he arrived, presumably used to much worse from Henry. He just picked everything up and placed it in the trunk. 

It was kind of nice to be warm and dry in the plush back seat. Soft instrumental music played, and Alex was soon lulled to sleep in the late-night traffic. 

The drive uptown seemed to take no time at all. When the car stopped and the driver's door slammed, Alex groggily made his way out on the sidewalk, where the driver was met with a real-life doorman. Alex never really saw one in his past year in New York. Even though he knew they existed, he'd never been this close to one. 

He was a bit slack-jawed as the doorman disappeared momentarily, only to come back with a luggage rack. It might as well be the Plaza, Alex thought as he walked in.

The driver tipped his hat to Alex and the doorman and drove away. 

“Sir?” 

“Yes, sorry,” Alex said. 

The doorman had handed off the rack to an attendant of some sort and was kindly nudging Alex towards the elevator. 

He followed the attendant, surprised to find the elevator had a charming wood-panelled interior rather than sleek modern mirrored walls. He appreciated the details and value of keeping what was probably very near to the original design of the lift. 

The mechanism, however, was clearly modern. The ride up was smooth and quick, and before he knew it, they were disembarking at the penthouse’s private entrance. 

The lights were dimmed; what kind of person sent a car to bring someone to their home but wasn't there when they arrived? The attendant unloaded Alex's belongings from the luggage cart and Alex fished a bill from his wallet to tip him. 

“Good night, sir,” the attendant said and made a swift exit.

Alex took in the large sitting room, nicely decorated, in a sterile minimalist kind of way. He ignored the hard-looking settee in favour of walking to the floor-to-ceiling window and taking in the view. The sky wasn't much to look at, what with the rain, but the city lights below were mesmerising. 

Alex didn't know how long he had stood there watching. If he'd been less distracted, he might have heard Henry approach. As it was, he jumped about a foot in the air when he quietly said “Hello, Alex,” from a respectable six feet away. 

“Shit! Warn a guy,” Alex exclaimed, hand to his heart.

Henry chuckled. “You'd think one would expect the host to greet his guest.” 

“Well, I did, but you weren't here.” 

Henry’s blond hair fell forward as he rocked on his heels, seemingly amused. He flicked it back with a shake of his head, and his blue eyes sparkled in the low light. 

“Fuck me,” Alex swore under his breath. He was sure he looked like a drowned cat. His jacket was less than waterproof, and he could feel his hair dripping down his neck. He looked back to see the puddle trail he'd left on the floor when he walked to the window.  

“Rough night?"

"You need to stop asking me that," Alex groaned. 

Henry smirked and shrugged. “I'll show you where you can hang your coat. And then maybe, a towel?”

“Yes, thanks.:

Just as Alex hung his coat and removed his wet shoes, Henry returned with a fluffy grey towel. It smelled freshly laundered, and Alex buried his face deep into it before starting in on his hair. 

By the time he looked up again, Henry had fled to the kitchen set right off the sitting room. The entire area was one large open room, arbitrarily divided by furniture and a marble countertop island. 

“Drink? You can come watch me pour it.”

Alex looked to Henry, expecting at least a mocking smile, but he saw nothing but a polite, neutral expression. Stacy always made fun of him for being paranoid, but Alex refused to budge on it. It was refreshing to not be questioned about a rule he'd set for himself. Even more so since he hadn't been the one to bring it up. 

“Yeah, okay.”

Henry gestured to the bar behind him and raised an eyebrow in question. Alex shrugged; he wasn't particularly picky, and though the towel helped, he could feel the damp seeping into his clothes. A drink would warm him right up. 

He watched Henry dash bitters into a glass and add a clear liquid from a squirt bottle – simple syrup, he assured Alex as he stirred – then took a dark brown bottle of whisky off the shelf and added a few fingers' worth. He went to the fridge, came back with a jar of maraschino cherries, and dropped one in the thick-bottomed glass. 

“One old fashioned,” Henry smirked and pushed the glass towards Alex. 

“Thank you.” He sipped and made appreciative noises while nodding his head. “That's good.”

“Glad you like it. Enjoying the view?" Henry asked.

“It's really something,” Alex replied. 

“You seemed to be enjoying it quite a bit, earlier.”

“Don't think I've ever been this high up before.” The obligatory Empire State Building tour didn't count as far as Alex was concerned. He walked over to the window, captivated by the breathtaking view. He couldn’t help but stare, despite not wanting to look too provincial.

Henry joined him, and Alex looked over after a moment – Henry looked quickly away, but Alex caught him staring. He had been smiling, was smiling still, even as he looked down at the streetlights. Was it because of the towel around Alex's neck or his probably ridiculous looking hair? 

Still, it was nice to see the usually stoic man smile, Alex caught himself thinking. 

“Nice digs,” Alex said to break the silence after a few minutes. Nice digs? Ugh. What was happening to him?

 “It's a place to sleep.”

“So’s a studio apartment in Hell's Kitchen, but here we are.”

Henry laughed, then. A full-throated guffaw that had Alex smiling along. 

“You've certainly got me there. Would you like a tour?”

Alex nodded and swished the ice in his glass. He cleared his throat and finished his drink. 

“Lead on.”

Henry gave a little salute and took Alex's glass from his hands. As they went through the kitchen, he dropped both glasses on the island. 

“The kitchen,” he gestured vaguely. “It's really more for show. I'm not here often enough to cook. Feel free to purchase anything you think you might need.” 

Alex wasn't much of a cook himself, unless you counted his mother's enchiladas recipe. Still, he nodded and followed Henry down the hall. 

“The penthouse has two bedrooms on opposing sides. Both have an en suite.”

He opened doors as he spoke, and Alex caught a glimpse of a sparsely furnished bedroom. 

Henry turned them around and went back through the kitchen. The living room furniture was a nondescript grey and looked uncomfortable, but very modern. No television, but a large painting of an animal carcass over a gas fireplace. Not a bookcase to be found.

“And here's your room,” Henry continued as he walked, and Alex hurried to catch up. 

The room was what one would maybe call minimalistic if they were inclined to be kind. With beige walls and slightly darker beige bedding, Alex hoped Henry hadn't made the decorating decisions. 

He looked around, peeking into the en suite. Smooth charcoal-coloured tiles gave the walk-in shower a cave-like vibe that Alex didn't hate. He was much more impressed by the deep claw foot bath next to it. 

He came out of the bathroom and took in the bare walls along with the immense windows. He made a silent wish they didn't face east or if they did, that there were some good quality blackout blinds built in somehow. 

“It's not much,” Henry said, sounding apologetic. 

“It's a place to sleep,” Alex replied and winked. Oh god. Henry was just being nice, yet Alex felt a flicker of something deeper stirring within him. He would not be the guy who flirted with his roommate. 

Except he'd have to, wouldn't he? This whole roommate with benefits thing had to be the weirdest situation Alex had ever found himself in, and he'd been around Nora and his sister for the past decade, getting into plenty of weird situations. 

“We can get whatever you need – a bookcase or something.”

“How did you know?” 

“You scowled at the walls. Also, what kind of librarian would you be if you didn't have any books?”

Alex chuckled ruefully. “A piss poor one, I suppose.” The contents of the book box that had moved with him probably wouldn't use up more than a few shelves, but they were well-loved copies of the few books he still owned. 

He'd had a lot more before moving in with Stacy, but he didn't like changing things in his apartment, and besides, “ you work at a library, babe. Just check them out.” So Alex had sold most of his collection. 

Well. His ebook collection followed him everywhere, at least. 

The thought of having his precious tomes in his room on display had him blinking away unexpected moisture in his eyes. 

“I'll, uh, let you get settled in, won't I?” Henry said in a gentle voice. Alex heard the door click behind him and he wiped at his eyes. 

The last 24 hours had been a whirlwind. He was running on very little sleep and too much coffee and the place was nice, was all. It wasn't because Henry Fox wanted to play house all of a sudden that Alex would fall for his playboy ways. What was he, born yesterday? No, this whole mess was just another episode in Alex's chaotic life. This was what he did. He flirted inappropriately with people he knew better than to do that with and then had a bit of a breakdown about his life -- just a typical Sunday.

He sank onto the bed, tears brimming in his eyes, the heaviness of his thoughts pressing down on him. This was ridiculous. As he made to get up, his eye caught the gleam of the tub in the open en suite. With a newfound sense of purpose, he flung the towel aside and quickly gathered his bags, heading toward the bathroom. He needed to know if his whole body could get underwater in that tub.

Chapter Text

The sun wasn't up yet when Henry's alarm went off. He opened the drapes to the street lights fighting for dominance with the fading twilight. He got ready quickly and quietly; he didn't want to chance waking Alex. After the weekend he'd had, the last thing he needed was to have his sleep cut short because of Henry.

Alex had looked so upset when Henry left him in his room. He should have said something instead of leaving Alex alone the night before. However, Alex wasn't Henry's biggest fan to begin with, so it was probably smart to take a step back, at least for now.

Henry tugged at his tie as Richard sped his way to the financial district. It was windy and damp when Richard pulled up in front of Pulsar Enterprises. Henry flashed his badge at the security guard and tapped it at the gate that led to the elevators. He would stop on 5th first to get a quick coffee, then go up to the 12th floor where his office was.

On 5th, the lights were still off. He didn't bother going hunting for the switch, content to know he was alone. Using his phone as a flashlight, he headed straight for the staff kitchen and filled the coffee maker. It wasn't anything special, nothing like his machine at home, yet almost every morning he found himself passing by and sneaking a cup upstairs. 

There was a perfectly serviceable, fully stocked staff room on the 12th floor as well. It reflected the people who worked on that floor – shiny, cold, and hard, while rarely doing any work. He might have one of those fancy machines at home, but it didn't mean that he didn't appreciate his time with the Black and Decker.

He carefully filled his paper cup and popped on the lid before making his way back to the lift. On 12th, the lights were already on. Henry hurried to his office and hoped he wasn't seen. 

He wasn't hiding, exactly; he just needed to gather his thoughts after the whirlwind of a weekend he'd just had. 

It had been a gorgeous wedding, graced with unseasonably warm weather. The food was excellent, and the drinks flowed. His date was exactly as advertised, if flighty with a tendency to wander off. The point was that he hadn't come alone.

That photoshoot, though…Henry cringed and sipped at his coffee in hopes of getting rid of the sour taste in his mouth. 

He couldn't believe he'd bloody tackled Alex. Okay, so he'd mostly been following instructions, but still, he hadn't held back, and the poor man had bounced off the ground when he fell, breath knocked out of him. Henry was like a kid on the playground, trying to pull at pigtails and pushing kids into puddles instead. 

He didn't exactly know what came over him. Asking Alex to move in with him and be his pretend boyfriend? He knew if he mentioned this to Pez, he’d get an earful and a half. He was taking advantage of the man’s situation to get closer to him, and it would do nothing to convince Alex that his reasons were anything but self-serving. 

He shook his mouse to wake up his computer while he sipped the bitter brew. At least Richard would take care of Alex; he'd made sure with André, the doorman. 

A few dozen emails later, Henry stretched and was surprised to find the 12th floor was now filled with people hurrying from one office to another. No one had noticed him yet, and his first meeting wasn't for another half hour – plenty of time to lose himself in his overflowing inbox. 

Just as he was debating how exactly to corporate speak “let the adults talk” in a reply, his assistant Sophie knocked as she entered the office. 

“Mr. Fox would like to speak with you, sir. Shall I tell him you're unavailable?”

Henry sighed but replied, “Thank you, Sophie, but no. I have a little time.”

He gulped the dregs of his coffee before dropping the cup in the trash can. He'd rather not explain its presence to Philip. In fact, he'd rather not have to see Philip at all, but his brother did outrank him; a fact he took every occasion to remind Henry of. 

Philip was a slight man, as blond as his brother, though on the shorter side and with a face many would describe as fox-like, as opposed to Henry’s more classically handsome looks. It suited Philip’s personality to a T. He was always trying to wiggle his way into deals and, coincidentally, looked like he could weasel his way out of any situation. 

“Why are you always hiding out in your office?” Philip asked as he walked in.

“Not hiding, Philip, working. You should try it sometime.”

“You think this place runs itself? You have no idea what kind of work I do for the company while you slave away on your computer doing what any of these peons could.”

“I’m pretty sure HR frowns upon calling our employees ‘peons’.”

Philip let out an exasperated sound as he let himself fall into the chair across from Henry. 

“You need to get that promotion and make it to the 15th floor, Henry. You’re going soft down here.”

Henry didn’t think treating employees like humans with value was “going soft”, but if it was, he saw no issue with it. He didn’t understand how Philip’s moral code was so skewed. They’d sort of grown up together, if one counted summers abroad and separate boarding schools. Still, they both shared the same parents, and one would think that would count for most of it. However, it seemed that Philip’s values had warped somewhere along the way.

Henry merely shrugged and turned back to his emails. 

“What are you even doing here? I thought you were out of town at a wedding.”

“Pez’s, yes. It was hardly far enough to warrant more than 1 night away.”

“Ah, yes, Mr. Okonjo. Meet anyone?”

Henry knew that tone. The one that left the “useful” bit out of the sentence but made it heard clearly nonetheless. 

“Mainly members of the foundation . It was a wedding, not a mixer.”

Philip scoffed. “You wouldn’t know an occasion to network if it bit you in the arse.”

It wasn’t worth arguing with Philip, so Henry simply didn’t. Even if he did, his brother would go on thinking what he liked.

“What about the company?”

“What about it?”

“Oh, come now. You’re telling me you showed up to that wedding without someone on your arm?”

“Oh. Yes, I did.” No need to clarify that he’d left on his own after thanking his companion of the evening for his time and reassuring him that his fee would be paid to the agency, even though his part of the contract had not been upheld.

“No need to ask about the rest of the weekend, then is there?!” Philip laughed uproariously at his own joke. 

Henry gave a pinched smile in Philip's direction. “Definitely not.” Caught between obligation and desire, Henry decided the whole Alex situation could wait for now. Philip had an uncanny ability to poke and prod, wielding his relentless curiosity like a sword, and Henry had no desire to engage in that duel. 

With a firm yet gentle knock, Sophie entered, her presence a welcome interruption to the brewing tension. 

“Your 9 o’clock, sir.”

"Thank you, Sophie," said Henry, and looked pointedly at his brother. "I'll see you later, Philip," Henry said, forcing himself to turn away despite the gnawing worry in his gut.

He huffed and barely avoided Sophie on the way out, but took the hint. She nodded at Henry before closing the door behind her.

She was an invaluable support when it came to his family. Either his mother or his brother came down often enough for them to have a shorthand when it came to unwanted visits. Despite the distractions swirling around him, his commitment to his work remained unwavering. 

Morning meetings came and went. Through it all, Henry's mind buzzed with anxiety. How could he possibly present his new sort-of roommate situation without it sounding like he was taking advantage of Alex?

He needed to discuss this whole arrangement with Alex. Make it clear for everyone involved what was expected before Henry lost his mind worrying about how he was going to pull off the plan. 

Oh God, he'd need to explain about the photogs—the very thought sent a chill down his spine. It was bad enough that they appeared out of nowhere, but now he had to convince Alex that the looming threat wasn't such a big deal.

Henry despised paparazzi; they were a thankfully dying breed. However, those that remained seemed rabid for any exclusive content now that everyone and their dog could livestream at a moment's notice. 

He took a slow breath in, the cool air filling his lungs, and concentrated on keeping it steady amidst the whir of thoughts, before finally letting it out slowly. It wouldn’t do to panic about it just yet. Who even knew if Alex would stay longer than a few days? The thought of him leaving so soon made Henry's stomach twist uneasily. 

With Henry's luck, Alex would realize the deal he made was a bad one, and the house of cards Henry was trying to build would come crashing down around him. 

Six months was all he needed to turn this risky arrangement into something manageable, to explore the possibility of something more with Alex. That was all he needed. After that, Alex could do as he liked. Move out, move on. Find another Stacy. Henry hoped that Alex would make better choices than a self-absorbed financier again. 

Yes, sharing his space for these six months was hardly an undue hardship, now was it?

Chapter Text

Henry wasn't kidding when he said he put in long hours. He was gone by the time Alex woke up with nary a sign he'd even bothered having breakfast beforehand. 

Alex attempted to decipher the expensive Italian coffee maker on the kitchen counter, hoping to make a much-needed caffeine fix, but even Googling was no help for it. He'd have to grab something on the way.

He was ready later than he'd wanted to be; the bed was plush and inviting, a stark contrast to his usual rush, making it hard to leave. On top of all that, he had no idea where the closest subway station might be. 

He slipped on his shoes, grabbed his satchel, and opened Google Maps. Engrossed in his research, he almost walked into the doorman as he exited the elevator. 

The doorman's face remained a stoic mask, yet something in his eyes hinted at amusement as Alex stumbled over his apologies. “Mr. Fox has advised us you'll be staying in the penthouse.”

“I – yes?”

“We're glad to have you, sir.”

Distracted, Alex replied, "Sure. Can you point me to the nearest subway?”

“The subway, sir? Richard is waiting for you outside.”

“Who's Richard?”

“Your driver, sir.”

“Oh no no no, that's Henry's driver, I'm not –”

“Mr. Fox said you'd object, but he asked me to tell you that Richard would most likely find offense in refusing his services.”

“Offense?” His head spun. What was Henry playing at, offering his driver? A whirlwind of confusion enveloped him as the doorman nudged him forward, and Alex felt a pang of reluctance stepping into the sleek vehicle waiting ominously at the curb. The same man who'd picked him up the night before offered a kind smile, encouraging him to make his way inside. Alex looked back in dismay, but the doorman only waved. 

"What the hell just happened?" The words escaped him, breathy and bewildered, as he stumbled forward like an actor caught in the wrong scene.

Alex jumped as the driver-side door shut. 

"The Schwarzman building, sir?" Richard asked as he glanced back.

Alex just stared open-mouthed.

“Sir?” The driver turned around in concern. 

“Yes,” Alex croaked eventually. 

Richard turned back with a nod and pulled out into traffic. 

He muttered, "What the hell?" the entire way to 5th Avenue.

The New York City Public Library, a monumental structure of stunning Beaux-Arts architecture, stood majestically at the edge of Bryant Park, contrasting sharply with Alex’s chaotic morning. He felt dwarfed by its grandeur, a stark reminder of how lost he felt. Its grand entrance, marked by two towering lion statues, beckoned visitors with an air of timeless elegance and knowledge. Inside, expansive marble halls echoed with the whispers of countless readers, while golden chandeliers cast a warm glow over polished wood and leather furnishings, inviting patrons to linger in its warm embrace of coffee and musty adventures. Rows upon rows of towering bookshelves stretched toward the high ceilings, showcasing a staggering collection of bound stories waiting to be explored. Sunlight streamed through the immense arched windows, illuminating reading nooks where students and scholars alike sought solace amidst the hustle and bustle of the city outside.

The employee-only area boasted a well-stocked coffee bar, with rich aromas of fresh brews and a variety of pastry delights ready to tempt any tired librarian. Alex savoured the cup he’d just made for himself, pleased to have the time to enjoy it before diving into the day's tasks. 

He hadn't gotten anywhere near the point of going on the hunt for beans in the cupboards yet he somehow knew without a doubt that, had he managed to find any, they would have been some fancy imported brand he'd never heard of. 

He sipped his coffee and tried to clear the fuzz from his head. The entire morning felt surreal; the bizarre encounter with the driver lingered in his mind. Not that he missed Stacy's messy morning habits, but the silence of the penthouse had echoed through him as he watched the early morning traffic below. 

He'd even popped in his earbuds when it became too much. Henry had to have a smart speaker somewhere in his designer getaway. Alex would have to add it to the list. 

So far, it included:

• Ask for instructions for the coffee machine 
• Did the building have a laundry room?
• Exactly what did he have in his kitchen besides liquor? 
• Was he expected to cook for Henry? Alex was far from the housewife type.
• How much was the rent? (Alex cringed. He'd never be able to afford half of that place). 
• What was that all about with the driver?

And also, 

• Was he serious about this whole arrangement?
• Would Henry expect to kiss Alex? 

Okay, so with so much uncertainty about Henry's expectations, he knew he'd have to work a bit on his priorities. 

Alex was aimlessly doodling in his notebook when his alarm rang, a reminder that the library would soon open to the public. He upended his coffee mug to get every last drop, then made his way to the Motherwell exhibit. 

As usual, he was bounced around and assisted four of his colleagues before lunch. He knew they saw him as a gofer more or less, and he was mostly fine with that. After all, it was made very clear to him during his internship interviews. 

Soon enough, lunchtime came around, and he made his way back to the staff room. He sat out of the way, by the window. The sun shone on his too-long curly brown hair. He'd meant to get it trimmed before the wedding but hadn't managed to snag an appointment. Now his hair fell over his face, caught by the rim of his tortoiseshell glasses. He brushed it back, but as soon as he looked back down at his book, there it was again. 

Giving up, he settled on brushing it back every few minutes while he read through his lunch break, being very careful to keep the food at a good distance from the book. 

There were few things in life that Alex took time to care properly about. His parents were one of them, June and Nora another. But near and dear to his heart? Books. And not just any books, but library books. There was something about knowing a book had gone through many hands before and would again that just tickled him, reminding him of his own journey through those same stories. The wonders of a shared experience were what had drawn him to librarianship in the first place. 

He had been lucky, he supposed, with his Austin suburb library. The librarians there saw him devour all sorts of books and helped him navigate the gap between middle grade and young adult books by directing him to the non-fiction section. Though he preferred spending his time with fictional characters and their fantastic adventures, he'd found an appreciation for research that wasn’t lost on the library staff. 

When college application time came around, nothing had seemed particularly interesting until it was pointed out to him that librarianship studies were an option. 

It had been as if a whole new future had opened up for Alex. He could continue doing what he loved and, hopefully, eventually get paid for it. 

Chapter Text

Alex wasn't proud to say he'd looked around in the hope of seeing Richard and his black car when he left work. Only one day in, and he was already acting spoiled. So it was windy, so what? He'd lived in the city for years and never had a car, much less a driver, to get him around. 

Google Maps gave him easy enough directions, which he'd follow as soon as he'd done a small detour. 

His stomach was grumbling, and he had no idea what Henry had in his kitchen. Unwilling to find out the hard way, he detoured two blocks down 5th Avenue to a literal hole-in-the-wall taco place he absolutely adored. 

They spoke not one word of English, which was just fine with Alex. He doubled his usual order, hoping Henry fancied tacos. With the stocked bar he'd seen yesterday, Alex was sure he could whip up a few margaritas if the mood struck. 

The subway noisily rolled along, and Alex saw a few passengers sniff appreciatively in the direction of the bag on his lap. His stomach growled and twisted in alternation. 

What if Henry hated tacos? Ugh, what was wrong with him? Henry could get his own damn food if he didn’t like his. 

Alex's stomach twisted again, harder this time. Fine. Not as if he wasn't planning on sharing to begin with, he sternly thought in the direction of his abdomen. 

The real issue, as usual, was that Alex had no idea where he stood. And tacos were always a good way to clear up some things. 

The subway slowed and stopped at 86th and Lexington. Before he knew it, Alex was propelling himself up the stairs and out onto the street. He had to get his phone out, but he managed to find his way quickly enough.  

Every building looked similar from the outside, and he was concentrating on addresses when he was hailed.

“Mr. Diaz!”

It was the doorman from this morning. Briefly, Alex wondered just how long his shift could possibly be, before gratefully entering the building.

“Good evening, Mr. Diaz,” the doorman said as he stepped aside. 

“Thank you,” Alex replied as he nodded. He headed to the elevator, waving away the eager attendant who had waited on him the night before. 

“It's like a hotel,” he muttered once he was alone. The lift rose quickly and Alex shifted foot to foot. A multitude of Alexs reflected his way, every one of them looking antsy. 

Alex determinedly cleared his throat and cradled his tacos close. He promised himself he'd enjoy them no matter what.

The penthouse was as dark as it had been the night before. The city lights shone enough through the open window to guide him first to the kitchen island and then to the closet to hang his coat and scarf. 

Using the flashlight on his phone, he scanned the walls for a light switch. He found it after a few moments, near Henry's bedroom door. For someone as flighty as Henry, he sure liked understated decor. Then again, if you could afford a penthouse in New York, you most likely had someone else do the decorating. It just so happened that Henry's decorator was a fan of the minimalist lifestyle.

Alex took the time to really look at the penthouse. It was bigger than he thought, with plenty of space between the kitchen and living room area. He went through the cupboards in the hope of finding a pantry, but all he found was a myriad of glasses in all shapes and sizes, along with elegant but simple plates and bowls. He did find a few staples, such as salt and pepper, as well as sugar, and what was probably vanilla. 

The fridge and freezer were just as poorly stocked. Nothing but soda water, lemons, and limes to be found in the fridge, alongside a lonely jar of maraschino cherries. The freezer housed a few vodka bottles along with an impressive variety of Cornettos. Henry must have a sweet tooth. 

Though it was dark, the sky was clear, and he got to take in the view of the cityscape. This view was what people who had never been to New York City would consider New York City – a panorama fit for a movie screen. Alex would like to think himself above such a thing, but the truth was that he was impressed. He didn’t want to be, hadn’t thought his life in Brooklyn had been missing anything. 

He had also thought Stacy was a good boyfriend, so what did he know? Clearly, Alex was not the best at reading people. Maybe he’d just wanted it too much. Stacy always presented his opinions to Alex in a way that made Alex think he was being cautious. 

Thinking about the dozen books he had remaining in the bedroom left Alex with a bad taste in his mouth. He’d convinced himself Stacy was right and that he didn’t need so many physical copies of books when he could easily borrow them or buy the infinitely more portable ebook versions, but the truth was he missed having them and seeing them up on a shelf, ready to peruse or to look at. 

He was starting to think he’d cut down a lot of things simply because Stacy had managed to convince him that it was “easier” for everyone (really, easier for Stacy). Would this arrangement with Henry end up just being a different flavour of that? So far, Henry had done nothing but offer things Alex hadn’t asked for. 

He sat in the corner seat of the breakfast nook and dug into his tacos, deciding to forego the margaritas. Drinking on his own on a Monday just seemed a level of sad that Alex refused to stoop to. He sipped at his soda water instead and scrolled on his phone. 

Most of his friends had posted pictures of the reception; thankfully, none of the photographer’s pictures had been posted. Alex wasn’t up to seeing himself be tackled by Henry quite yet. Okay, he would probably never be, but he’d rather see those than pictures of Stacy’s smug face any day. 

While he was busy eating and blocking Stacy on social media, he heard the burr of the elevator mechanism a moment before the doors opened to reveal a harried-looking Henry. 

Alex sat stunned with a taco halfway to his mouth while Henry stared. He nodded stiffly and made his way to the coat closet. 

Alex had never noticed how broad-shouldered Henry was before – must be from all his years of “rugby with the lads”. Did someone who lived in a penthouse uptown play rugby? Now golf, that he might believe. 

Henry turned and made his way to the kitchen, grabbing a soda water for himself. 

“Hello, Alex,” he said as he reached the table. 

Alex swallowed the mouthful of taco he’d forgotten about and gestured towards the chair in front of him. “Hi. Taco?”

“I wouldn’t want to impose. I can order something later.”

“Don’t be silly. I bought plenty for both of us.” 

“You did?" For some reason, Henry looked more surprised than Alex had expected.

“Didn’t know what your fancy kitchen had, so I stopped by my favourite spot.”

“Ah, well, that was for the best,” Henry said as he sat. 

Still, he didn’t reach for the bag, so Alex took it upon himself to serve him. He even pushed the container of salsa verde his way, his eyebrow arching in playful challenge, as if daring Henry. He looked taken aback by the whole thing as if he’d never been served food before. He was far from his usual composed and stiff-looking self. 

“Why is there nothing but vodka and Cornettos in your freezer?"

Henry coughed, nearly choking on his first bite of taco.

“Sorry,” Alex said. “It’s just, that’s a lot of ice cream.”

“I suppose it is,” Henry said as he caught his breath. He took another bite, savouring it. He clearly enjoyed it, making appreciative noises and drizzling his taco with salsa verde before taking another bite. 

Alex felt warm all over as he watched Henry enjoy the food. Stacy didn’t enjoy anything remotely spicy, and Alex had always found himself eating on his own before heading home if he was in the mood for Mexican. Everyone had their tastes, but with Stacy, it was best to keep certain foods out of the house. 

Alex had a smile on his face the entire time they ate their meal. It wasn't fancy – they didn't even bother using plates – but to Alex, it was flavourful and filling, the perfect comfort food after the last few days. 

“Speaking of Cornettos…” Henry fastidiously picked up the remains of their meal and disposed of it. 

“Chocolate or vanilla?” He asked as he opened the freezer.

Henry carefully handed over the vanilla cone when Alex reached for it, their fingers brushing briefly, sending a jolt of unexpected electricity through Alex. “Would have pegged you for a chocolate man.”

“Would you?”

“Sure. Vanilla is kind of boring, don't you think?”

Alex shook his head. “Vanilla is one of the most complex flavours when you get it right. Besides, if it's so boring, why have it?”

Henry just winked, and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. 

They ate in silence for a few moments until Alex couldn't hold it anymore.

“How much is the rent on this place? Because I was thinking and –”

“Rent? There's no rent.”

“What do you mean, there’s no rent?”

“I mean, I own the penthouse, so no, there's no rent.”

“Oh. Well, I'm sure there are building fees and whatever, so you can tell me how much those are and I'll work something out.”

“Absolutely not. Why would I do that?*

“I can't stay here for free.”

“Why not? I asked you to, didn't I?”

“Yeah, but –”

*I'm not taking your money, Alex.” 

“But, I –”

“What we can do is have a chat about expectations.”

Alex shifted in his seat but nodded amiably enough. Better for Henry to bring it up like this, anyway. 

Alex watched as Henry bit into his cone, pink tongue peeking out to catch a stray drop in the corner of his mouth. Alex shifted in his seat again, though from a different kind of discomfort. 

Maybe Henry was doing it on purpose to get Alex off balance. Probably not, though. 

“I think it's important to be clear so that neither of us feels like we're getting the bad end of the deal.”

“I bet you say that to all the boys,” Alex snarked as he tried to course-correct his thoughts. 

“I do, actually. I like clarity. Now, expectations. For starters, I expect you to not bring up rent again.” Alex opened his mouth, but Henry continued. “I also expect our arrangement to begin immediately, if that's alright with you.”

“Expecting me to run back to Stacy?” Alex asked, sounding bitter.

Henry looked down his nose at him and bit into his cone rather harshly. 

“Hardly.”

Alex stared and raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair.

“I would ask that for the duration of our ‘arrangement’, you and I be exclusive.”

“Not a problem for me.”

Henry squinted but went on.

“We'll have to be seen together.”

“Could you sound more upset about it? I think I might have a bit of self-esteem left.”

Alex would be the cause of Henry's next Botox appointment, he was sure of it. He was frowning so hard it was almost a scowl. 

“We will work out a schedule that works for us both, but this should be at least a weekly occurrence.”

“Wait, when you mean public…”

“I mean, there may be photographers.”

Alex’s face went through a journey, but finally settled on something resembling resignation.

“That's fine,” Alex said. Henry was still frowning, but no longer looked quite so frustrated. 

“When you're out on your own, please consider that those photographers might also be around.”

“What? Why? Are you some secret rockstar?”

“Have you ever read US Weekly?” 

Alex made a face. “No.”

“Unfortunately, their photogs don't just stick to B-Line actors anymore. Anyone who is remotely anyone is fair game.”

“And you're somebody is what you're saying.”

Henry pinched his lips and stared at the few remaining inches of his cornetto. “New York society is a ruthless game, Alex.”

Alex didn't remember ever seeing photographers hanging around any of their group outings, but maybe he hadn't been paying close enough attention. 

“I'll make sure I'm presentable.”

“Thank you.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“What was the deal with the car this morning? I can take the subway.” Alex licked his ice cream, and his tongue peeked out to catch a stray drop at the corner of his mouth.

“I thought it might be nice not to have to rush. You don't know the area, and Richard had already driven me to work, and he likes to be busy.”

“Oh, that's uh, very kind of you.”

“Do you have to sound so surprised?” Henry asked, dry as anything.

“Sorry. And thank you.”

Henry nodded graciously. 

“So, how long do you think we'll have this thing going for?” 

“Six months, I think. Any quicker for an engagement would be suspicious.”

“Engaged!?” Alex choked out.

“I did say the goal was for my mother to see me settle down. I don't think having a roommate will cut it, do you?” Henry looked down his nose again and took the last bite of his cone. 

“You did, yes. I guess I didn't see it go that far, is all.”

“Now, after these six months, if I still haven't gotten promoted, you are free to go on your merry way. Back to Brooklyn or wherever."

"Thanks," Alex said with a wry smile, his tone dripping with irony. His internship was set to finish in May. Surely it shouldn't be a hardship to spend his time off work being wined and dined, even if it came with paparazzi as a questionable add-on. "What if this arrangement falls apart before those six months? I don’t want to end up painted as the villain."

“I just ask that if that is the case, that we have a suitable reason for our ‘breakup’. And that it does not involve infidelity.”

“Whatever shall I do about the slew of men waiting for me?” He waited for Henry to laugh, but noticed that his joke didn’t land. “It won't be a problem,” he conceded.

“Good.”

Alex looked around at the bare kitchen on one side and the fantastic views on the other and sighed.

“Good,” he repeated and popped the end of the cone in his mouth.

Chapter Text

All in all, Alex was almost the perfect roommate. He was quiet, kept to himself, and consistently brought home dinner. Henry often offered to order in instead, but Alex insisted it was the least he could do since Henry refused to have him pay for his accommodations. 

Still, Henry hadn’t had to share a living space in years and hadn’t exactly planned on that changing any time soon. He couldn’t even say why he got a two-bedroom in the first place, except maybe for the hope of having visitors. In the few years since he’d purchased the place, he hadn’t had occasion to have Pez over more than a handful of times; anyone else who’d come over had a place in the city and didn’t require somewhere to crash. 

Henry had never noticed the penthouse's lack of soundproofing. It had come to light when Henry had wandered into the kitchen early in the morning. He’d hoped a strong cup of coffee would help in getting him going – his insomnia wasn’t getting any better with a guest in the house. That is, until the sound of the shower came through the adjoining wall, and Henry realised he was hearing Alex sing. Henry smiled, appreciating Alex's good, strong voice and the comfort he found in being himself.

As he rooted for coffee beans, Henry couldn’t help his thoughts wandering to the way Alex was making himself at home. Alex returned with a few flat-pack boxes three days into his stay, along with a large bag filled with an assortment of Greek foods. Henry hadn’t had spanakopita in years and he’d happily dug in while Alex built a small bookcase in the living room. He’d brought it into his bedroom afterwards, but Henry had enjoyed watching him build it in the living room. Not only had Alex changed into a white T-shirt before starting on his project—his arms and shoulders pulled deliciously at the seams—but also, Alex would most likely not take the time to nest if he didn't intend to stay.  

Alex sang out a particularly high note and Henry laughed, coffee beans forgotten. Henry imagined Alex, eyes closed, as the water ran over him, and felt himself blush in the empty kitchen. He hurriedly shut the cabinet and made for the door as if Alex had caught him peeking. Pulling on his boots and yanking his jacket out of the closet, he slapped the elevator button, trying to distract himself from the increasingly difficult thoughts.

He concentrated on not imagining Alex drying himself off with the thick Egyptian cotton towels Henry had stocked in the guest bathroom.. He couldn't believe himself; here he was, admiring a man who was barely out of a relationship, wrestling with the urge to respect Alex's space while simultaneously grappling with his own intrusive thoughts. He was a lot of things, but he never thought he’d find himself grappling with thoughts that felt beneath him.. 

He walked to the car, admonishing himself for putting himself into the situation in the first place. He chuckled inwardly, half amused and half horrified at the idea of becoming a 'creep' in his own home.. Even if everyone thought Stacy and Alex were a terrible match, no one had ever said so out loud – but this was worse. 

If he were being fair with himself, he might say that he hadn’t actually done anything and one couldn’t control their thoughts, but Henry wasn’t feeling very fair at the moment. 

He nodded brusquely at Richard and slipped into the town car. He had to get his mood under control before he arrived and had to face his brother.   

The ride into work was a quiet one. Richard, who had been his driver for years and knew him well, kept the partition down and his gaze focused ahead, sensing Henry's reluctance to share his thoughts this morning. Most of the time, Richard was privy to Henry's ups and downs, but that morning, Henry was not inclined to share, preferring to keep his shame to himself.

He was lucky again in that he was in so early, no one was on 5th yet. He took his time making his coffee, allowing himself the time to take a much needed sip before covering it with a lid for transport. It was only slightly below scalding yet he reasoned he earned the discomfort, acting like he did. He almost talked himself into thinking he didn't deserve the coffee at all before reason overtook him, and he shook his head at himself on the way to the elevator.

So he heard his roommate in the shower, so what? Not a single New York apartment had good soundproofing, he was sure. 

The whole situation played on a loop while he headed up to his office and the more it played out for him, the more he convinced himself that walking out had been the only reasonable choice. He couldn't risk Alex finding out his not-boyfriend was perving on him through the wall. 

By the time Sophie knocked and walked in his office, Henry found himself looking up contractors for upgrades to his insulation. Surely he could find someone to help with the noiseproofing. 

“Your brother is here for your 9 o’clock,” she said, interrupting his thoughts, before ushering Phillip in. She closed the door behind her as she left, but not without a significant look back at Henry that meant she was available for any emergency interruptions if needed.

Phillip slid into the chair opposite Henry's and fiddled with his cuffs as he made himself comfortable. 

“Brother,” he started.

Bad sign. Phillip only ever called him 'brother' when he wanted something, and as Henry settled in, wary, he braced himself for what was to come.

“Yes, Phillip?”

“How well do you know the Moore's era?"

"Not really my thing, but I manage,' Henry replied, shrugging.

“That's fine. I have a project for you.”

“Phillip…”

“You'll like this one! Jackson is looking to buy a piece at the Monoi auction.”

“Then I'm sure Jackson will have a wonderful time betting on one.”

“See the thing is –”

“I knew it,” Henry sighed.

“The thing is that he wants it authenticated.”

“Then he should definitely avoid Monoi house.” Monoi was known for its controversial practices surrounding authenticity.

“Wouldn't you be able to tell, though?”

“I could. But I won't.”

“Come on, Henry. It's just a statue. A statuette, really.”

Henry looked down at Phillip and leaned in. 

“I will not vouch for stolen goods, Phillip.”

“He's willing to pay a pretty penny. We could split the fee.”

“No, thank you” Henry said with steel in his voice.

Henry couldn't believe his brother; despite his fleeting thoughts about crossing boundaries with Alex, he prided himself on integrity and would never tarnish it for anything—especially not for his brother's dubious schemes. The man had a sense of ethics equivalent to that of the British museum. Over the years, while managing acquisitions for personal collections and brokering contacts between clients and specialty buyers, he had built connections at the major auction houses and boasted a stellar record for researching a piece's history before making any purchase.

Henry's convictions were admired by those he did business with, but not so much by Phillip – or the board for that matter.

Finding the best auction pieces worldwide was his favorite part of the job. He wanted the promotion to the board primarily to steer the company towards a more ethical business model. Being on the board offered no guarantees, but he hoped to win at least his brother's support. One would think someone so affected by her husband's death would passionately preserve his vision, but something had fundamentally altered her perspective over the past decade.

“Come on, Henry! Wouldn't you say out of everyone here, that you're the best at ensuring what comes through our hands is the real deal?”

Henry frowned. “If any of you bothered to put the effort in –”

“We wouldn't want it known that a fake came through our hands,” Phillip interrupted.

“Really, Phillip? A fake would be disastrous but stolen goods, that's just fine?”

“As long as they're paying for it, I don't see an issue,” Phillip replied.

“Of course you don't.”

“That's why we have you, isn't it? Or is the view bothering you up on your high horse? Think about it, brother. Johnson has a lot of swing with the board.”

Refusing to rise to Phillip's bait, Henry turned his attention to his laptop. The very thought of Monoi House's practices made his stomach churn, but Phillip did have a point about Johnson's influence on the board.

“Mmmh,” Henry replied without looking up. 

Phillip rapped his knuckles twice on the chair arm before rising and taking his leave, leaving the door open behind. Henry would not risk his professional reputation on a Moped era statuette, knowing its provenance was questionable at best.

His father's company had grown since his passing, but not always with the cleanest methods. Henry had always taken a strong moral stance against the company's unethical practices, even though many of his colleagues seemed willing to turn a blind eye. The thought of being associated with Monoi House's dubious dealings made his stomach churn, as he refused to compromise his principles no matter the professional consequences.

Henry watched as the others at Pulsar went about their work, seemingly untroubled by the ethical implications of their acquisitions. He supposed acquisitions did have a kind of sordid reputation. Henry sighed heavily, the weight of his moral dilemma settling on his shoulders. He knew that compromising his principles to appease the board would only lead him further down a path he could never reconcile with his conscience. But with his father's legacy and his own ambitions hanging in the balance, he couldn't afford to be dismissed as a high-minded idealist. As he stared at the laptop screen, Henry steeled his resolve. If he was going to change this company, he would have to play the game, at least for now. But he would never stop fighting

for what he believed was right, no matter the cost.

Chapter Text

“So what do you think our first ‘date’ should be?” asked Alex as sunlight filtered through the kitchen window, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filling the air.

Henry replied without looking, a hint of smirk curling his lips as he sipped his coffee, "Eager to have the paparazzi experience?"

“Not particularly.” No, if anything, the idea of being hounded by photographers on a first date horrified Alex. He liked to think he wasn’t a particularly shy person, but he’d googled some of Henry’s pictures and he didn’t even understand why some of them were on the internet at all. 

He understood – to a point – pictures of Henry leaving prestigious auction houses and at various charity galas. He did not, however, see how photos of Henry leaving what looked like a gym were relevant (and possibly distracted by the sight of Henry's bare calves). 

“It’s just you did say you wanted to start this whole thing immediately, and all we’ve done so far is eat takeout in your kitchen.” 

Not that they hadn't enjoyed their meals together. On the contrary, Henry had seemed appreciative of the attention, going uncharacteristically quiet every time Alex offered him food. 

“I suppose you're right.” Henry passed the coffee to Alex and got ready to make one for himself. 

Alex watched his well-practiced movements, from clearing the filter of the used grounds to tamping down the new ones. Henry took care to wipe everything down as he went. Not only the counter but the machine itself. He was much more careful around the machine than was strictly warranted in Alex’s opinion, but he appreciated that Henry took care of the things that mattered to him. 

“There we go,” Henry said as his cup was done pouring. He motioned to the sugar that had been pulled out of the cupboard just for Alex. Henry didn’t bother doctoring his coffee, simply set it down to cool enough to sip. Alex wasn’t quite so hardcore - though there was still no milk or cream to be had, he added enough sugar to cut through the bitter brew.

Alex's heart raced as he broached the subject of the photographers. While he was intrigued by the idea of a more structured 'date' with Henry, he couldn't shake the nervous flutter in his stomach as he waited for Henry's response.

"Could we maybe practice first?" he asked, hoping to gauge Henry's reaction and find a way to ease into this unfamiliar situation.

“Practice being hounded by paparazzi?” Henry gave a gruff laugh at the thought and picked up his coffee. 

“Not quite. I was thinking more along the lines of a practice date. Again,” Alex said as Henry made to interrupt, “me bringing dinner home doesn’t count.”

“And what would count as a date?”

“You know, like getting dressed up and really focusing on each other." Alex shrugged and ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know, just something a little more special.”

“That’s it? What about the experience, going out somewhere?”

“I mean, that can be a part of it, but it’s not the most important part.”

“Huh.”

“What, huh?”

“Nothing,” Henry said. “Just an interesting take.”

“I’m full of them,” Alex replied and drank his coffee. “You up for it?”

“Staying home and spending an evening with you? I’ve done worse with less interesting people."

Staying home meant Alex wouldn't have to worry about an awkward exit should their 'date' not go as planned. Deep down, he couldn't deny a growing sense of anticipation and a fluttering nervousness at the thought of spending a quiet evening alone with Henry. As this realization settled within him, Alex felt a subtle shift, as if his insides had rearranged themselves in response to the shifting dynamic between them.

“Coffee alright?” Henry asked. 

“Fine, yeah; thanks.” Alex brought a hand to his stomach, hoping it wouldn’t lurch back just as suddenly. 

“Tomorrow?” Henry asked, looking nonchalant as ever as he sipped his coffee. 

“Tomorrow,” Alex repeated and placed his dirty cup in the dishwasher.

Henry insisted that Richard drop Alex off first. They’d made their way down together for the first time, and as Alex made to head to the subway, Henry redirected him towards the waiting town car. Alex protested, but Richard looked hurt standing there on the sidewalk holding the door open and he’d relented quickly. 

Ever since André the doorman – Alex had asked all the staff their names – had told him Richard would be offended at having his services refused, Alex hadn’t found it in him to upset the man intentionally. 

And so he found himself in the back of Henry’s car, fixing his dishevelled curls. The wind was not kind to his hair, though Henry’s looked as impeccable as always. No way that happened on its own. Alex would bet his meagre paycheck that there was probably a gel or pomade involved; at minimum, some hairspray. 

Lost in thought, Alex nearly jumped as Richard swung the door open, looming over him with a cheerful yet imposing look.

“Have a good day, Alex,” Henry said.

“I, um, thanks. You too.”

The lion statues near the entrance had always been impressive to Alex, their proud stature commanding attention. This morning, John, the intern with the children’s literature department, stood agape underneath it. 

“Damn it,” Alex muttered.

“Sir?”

“Nothing, thank you, Richard.”

He hitched his satchel up on his shoulder and was off, determined to ignore John as he walked by. This was going to be all over the building within the hour, he was sure. John was nothing if not a seasoned gossip. 

Alex walked straight to the locker room, left his things, and made his way to the break room as per his usual routine. 

It used to take him an hour to get to work. By then, his first coffee of the day was long gone and he couldn't wait to have another. This morning however, it had taken less than half that and besides, there was no way the old coffee machine would come near to the coffee at home.

Alex shook his head – a week was all it took, huh? And to think, he'd never even thought of calling Stacy's place home. 

He had a good 20 minutes until his shift started – thank you, Richard – and dug through his satchel for his current read.

As he tried to lose himself in the book, John walked into the break room, speaking loudly to a petite brunette Alex found friendly enough when they had crossed paths, but that gave him a calculating look now. Who knew what kind of rumour John had started? Alex gave a tight-lipped smile and turned back to his book. 

By lunch, four different people had either given him the side eye or made a comment remarking how early he'd been that morning. He'd smiled and recognized how lucky he was to have had extra time, but calmly stopped the conversation right there. 

He made a point to remind himself that only a few hours stood between himself and the weekend, and that cheered him up immediately. Even the prospect of the upcoming date with Henry, which had previously made him feel uneasy, was now something he looked forward to.

He briefly wondered what he would wear until he remembered that the “date” was literally just a few steps away from his bedroom. He'd promised to clean up for potential photographers, not for practice dates in the kitchen. 

Dammit, Henry was probably the kind to only remove his jacket and roll up his sleeves and consider it a comfy night in, wasn't he? 

So maybe Alex would make a bit of an effort. After all, he was the one who said date night involved being fully involved in the evening. 

The Motherwell exhibit was doing well and didn't require his full attention. The afternoon passed quickly, his mind occupied by a limited carousel of clothing options for the evening. Maybe he could get a haircut before tomorrow night? 

Let’s not do anything drastic; it was just a date. A fake first date. Now those were words Alex had only ever seen in books.

If Alex could say anything for certain, it was that he looked damn good in a button-down. The dark yellow stripes of this particular shirt complemented his olive skin and dark hair, and the cut of the fabric hugged his chest just enough to hint at the muscles underneath. He tugged at the cuffs and fussed with his hair. If Henry showed up in loungewear, Alex would just turn around and get changed, that was all. 

Alex turned off the bedroom light and stepped into the living room, where soft lighting and low instrumental music greeted him. 

What greeted him was a scene straight out of a movie. There were fairy lights strung along the large windows, and the corner table had been pulled out into the main area and set with the expensive dishware Alex had found when snooping through the cabinets earlier. Crystal glasses were filled with sparkling water, and a bottle of wine sat in an ice bucket on its stand near the table.

Truthfully, Alex hadn't expected much from their evening together, so the elaborate scene before him came as a genuine surprise. As he took it all in, a mix of emotions washed over him - confusion, curiosity, and a fluttering sense of anticipation. He couldn't help but wonder what had prompted Henry to go to such lengths, and whether this was all part of some grander plan. When did Henry have the chance to have someone do all of this for Alex? Sure, Alex had spent most of the day in his room, but he hadn’t heard anyone else’s voice in the apartment, nor had he heard the elevator. 

Henry, as per usual, was nowhere to be found. Not that Alex was about to knock on his bedroom door. Nope. He had no interest in Henry’s bedroom. None at all.  

Something in the pristine kitchen smelled delightful. Hiding in his room all day meant he’d missed lunch, and his body reminded him of that with a loud rumble from his midsection. Hand to his stomach, Alex took everything in before going to stand by the window. With the fairy lights twinkling like scattered starlight, the city view, usually a distant, impersonal grid, was utterly transformed into a captivating panorama, drawing him in. 

Alex turned around just as soft footsteps echoed behind him. Briefly, he wondered if Henry had his shoes resoled purposefully to be extra quiet. Maybe he enjoyed causing minor cardiac events and panic attacks as he snuck up on unsuspecting employees. In any case, Alex was just glad he’d managed to hear him approach this time instead of jumping out of his skin again. 

“You seem to enjoy the view,” Henry said.

“It's really something.” Alex gestured to the twinkle lights adorning the window. 

“I'm glad you like it. Can I offer you a drink?”

“I think I'll stick to the wine. Gotta get home safe,” Alex winked, regretting it immediately. Why was he always so awkward?

To his surprise, Henry – the man who didn't even drive himself anywhere – chuckled. 

“Fair enough.” Henry led Alex to the table, pulling out his chair. 

“Thank you,” Alex murmured and waited for Henry to take his seat. Instead, Henry gestured to the wine and made his way to the kitchen.  Soon enough, he brought two soup bowls to the table and served Alex first. 

Henry finally sat and only then did Alex reach for his glass. As he sipped, Alex couldn't help but notice Henry's rolled-up sleeves and the almost imperceptible golden sheen as the sparse blond hair on his forearms caught the soft light, highlighting the lean lines of his muscles.

He’d never been much of a hand person, but he found he could hardly tear his eyes away from Henry’s. Long, manicured fingers twirled the stem of the wine glass, and a gold ring glinted. Alex briefly wondered if Henry had always worn it and he'd simply never noticed, or if it was part of Henry making an effort for their "date".

Alex felt underdressed – a sensation he was unfortunately quite familiar with when he compared himself to Henry. Both Henry’s shirt and pants looked tailored to fit his trim build; Alex’s department store duds were nice, but not tailored nice. Still, if Alex spent the evening comparing himself to Henry, he’d make a poor partner indeed. 

The entire point of tonight was to ensure neither of them (okay, mainly Alex) was this awkward when out in public. As soon as he thought about it, he realised that Henry had been speaking and that he’d completely missed it. 

“Hmm? Sorry?”

“Are you quite all right, Alex?”

“Of course, yeah. Fine.” Alex set down his wine and picked up his soup spoon. “This looks great.”

Henry looked at him oddly but nodded and turned to his own soup. It was surprisingly good. A clear broth with pasta so dainty Alex had mistaken it for wild rice. It was comforting and intriguing at the same time. The next course was just as good. Some kind of mushroom ravioli with a hint of truffle oil, the pillowy savoury bites were a delight. 

The meal was a quiet affair, with Alex attempting to distract himself from staring – at Henry's hands as they moved, at the hollow of Henry's throat where the first button would be had his shirt not been tastefully unbuttoned. 

Alex was starting to think the whole thing was going to be a dismal failure when Henry finished stacking their dishes in preparation for the dishwasher. Instead of being his usual fastidious self, he wiped his hands and, with a soft smile that disarmed Alex completely, reached into the freezer drawer. Without asking, Henry handed over a vanilla cornetto to Alex and motioned for him to join him near the window. 

The street below looked almost hallowed by the golden light of the twinkling fairy lights, and Henry’s blond hair shined like gold. He offered his cornetto up in mock toast, and Alex couldn’t help but smile.   

“Maybe we should just stick to dessert,” Henry said as he unwrapped his frozen treat. 

“Sorry,” Alex said, contrite. “This was my idea, but I didn’t contribute anything. Henry shuffled his feet, glancing at the cars below with a hint of uncertainty. 

“I’d understand if you changed your mind, you know.”

“I didn’t,” Alex protested. “I just… you’re you –” he waved around in an all-encompassing gesture, “and I’m just me, and I don’t know where to even start.”

“It was too much, wasn’t it?”

“No! It was perfect, actually," Alex nodded, a soft smile forming. "I’m just not very good at this.”

“Says who?”

“Stacy, for one.”

Henry let out a sound of disgust. “That bore hardly counts,” he said dismissively.

“Mmmhm. He’s kind of right, though. I’m not exactly a scintillating conversationalist.”

“Maybe he just didn’t have the right topics.”

“What, like you’d want to talk about some book?”

“I would, actually.”

“Oh. Well, that’s, uh, good to know,” Alex said and licked his cone thoughtfully. “Sorry I assumed, I guess."

As they finished their frosty treat side by side, the tension between them faded into a comfortable silence. Alex caught Henry staring out of the corner of his eye and self-consciously wiped at the corner of his mouth. It would be his luck to make a mess of himself in front of Henry. He turned to Henry, expecting laughter, but what he found was a gentle, dare he say fond smile instead. Despite the chill of the ice cream on his tongue, Alex found himself feeling warm deep inside. 

He was so screwed.

Chapter Text

Henry’s alarm was uncharacteristically snoozed several times the next morning. He stared at the ceiling as he went over their “date”, much as he had for most of the night before finally falling asleep somewhere around 2 am. 

Not that there was much conversation to mull over. Henry had never seen Alex so tense. Come to think of it, he probably could have pushed Alex more during dinner, but he’d looked so uncomfortable that, until Alex told him otherwise, Henry could have sworn that he was about to call the whole thing off. 

Still, the evening had ended on a pleasant note; thank goodness for Cornettos. He always had them on hand for a reason, after all. And if that reason was mostly related to his overactive thoughts, well that was for him to know. 

He couldn’t really blame Alex for the lack of conversation, either, considering. Theirs was a unique situation, after all. If Henry wasn’t quite sure how to appear in public without a paid escort after having done so for close to a decade, how would Alex possibly have known how to manage a fake dating scenario involving photographers ?

The more they spoke, the more Henry could tell that much of the insecurity Alex showed seemed to go back to Stacy and his treatment of their relationship. Alex was anything but boring – Henry had years of group activities that both of them had participated in as reference. On the contrary, he was quick-witted and funny, besides. Hearing Alex be so self-deprecating stung in an unexpected way. Damn that Stacy. 

No, Henry had definitely gone overboard with the lights and the catered food, no matter what Alex said. It was supposed to be a trial run after all, not some scenario from a romance novel. So preoccupied was he with his ruminations that he left the bedroom, the rich aroma of brewing coffee wafting through the air, to find Alex maneuvering around the kitchen with practiced ease, the soft gurgle of the coffeemaker blending with the chorus of morning sounds.

As Henry came closer, Alex's eyes darted his way, and he froze halfway to the garbage, where he was about to dump the used grounds. Henry frowned at Alex's odd behaviour, his gaze dropping to his open robe. 

He cleared his throat and pulled it closed, hurrying to tie it. Alex blinked once, then noisily let out a breath before throwing away the grounds. He kept his head down, clearly avoiding eye contact with Henry, but Henry saw the tips of his ears go red.

“Coffee?” asked Alex.

“I'd love some,” Henry replied, hoping to take the attention off himself. Was he trying to get rid of Alex? Flashing his roommate his bare chest after last night? 

Alex had a cup ready for him in no time. Soon enough, Alex was leaning into the kitchen counter and sipping his coffee. 

From the outside, Henry was sure that quiet Sunday mornings with good coffee looked like heaven. However, he wasn’t convinced that he and Alex were on solid footing, even after the previous evening’s conversation. Though he understood Alex’s behaviour partly stemmed from Stacy, Henry sensed there was more to it. Henry was aware he was asking a lot from Alex. It was one thing to pretend to date; it was another to have to do it in front of photographers in unfamiliar places. 

“Big plans for today?” Alex asked, interrupting his brooding.

“No, actually, not much,” Henry answered. “Might go for a run later. You?”

“I’ll dive back into my book. Wizards don’t defeat themselves.”

Henry grinned and went over to the refrigerator, happy to see that Alex had made himself at home and stocked some essentials. Though Alex more often than not brought home dinner, Henry didn’t think he could live off takeout and imported coffee. At least, he hoped he didn’t. Seeing the bread and eggs on the shelf reassured him that Alex was taking some time to cook for himself. 

Henry looked thoughtfully around the kitchen as if more ingredients might appear, then turned to Alex.

“Fancy some french toast?”

Alex nodded and finally met Henry’s eyes. “I thought you couldn’t cook?”

“Said who? I can cook – I just don’t. It’s too depressing to make food only for myself.” There he went, oversharing again . Henry ducked his head and started looking through cupboards for pans. He didn’t remember the last time he’d used them, much less where they were put away. 

When he finally found them, he gathered his ingredients and started beating eggs. 

“I get that. Why do you think I know so many takeout places?

"Didn't you and Stacy cook together?”

“Stacy…” Alex paused to take a measured breath. “Stacy was very particular about the kind of food he tolerated in his house.”

Henry stopped stirring and stared. He didn’t reply and did what he could to keep a straight face, but he suspected he was only partly successful, judging by a frowning Alex. 

“Don’t start.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Sure. Need a hand with anything?”

“I’m good for now,” Henry replied, but the slight smile that tugged at his lips suggested he appreciated the offer more than he let on.

Henry cut the loaf of bread into thick slices and dipped them in the egg mixture while his pan warmed up. In no time at all, the aroma of sizzling butter infused the air, mingling with the sweetness of the cinnamon he added, as he presented a golden stack of french toast, each slice glistening with promise.

They settled at the small table, a sense of camaraderie enveloping them as they began to eat, with Alex initiating the conversation by sharing intriguing little-known facts about maple syrup. Henry had it stashed with the few spices he kept and had placed the fancy glass bottle on the table. In the next few minutes, Henry learned more about the sugaring process than he ever thought he would. 

At one point, Alex became so enthusiastic about it that Henry couldn’t help but laugh good-naturedly. He was such a joy to watch share about things that interested him.

“Sorry,” Alex said and concentrated very hard on his french toast. 

“No, continue.”

Alex looked at him warily. “No one cares about maple syrup.”

“That’s obviously not true. You care, and I enjoy listening to you care about it.”

“Oh,” Alex said and blushed to the tips of his ears. As Alex continued with renewed fervour, his self-consciousness began to melt away, revealing a side of him that Henry cherished—animated, passionate, and beautifully rare. After Alex had positively regaled him with the unsolved story of the great maple syrup heist, Henry couldn’t help but wonder if more mornings like this would be so bad. 

As he looked at Alex’s smiling face, he was reminded that for Alex, this was a very temporary arrangement. He really shouldn’t be getting ahead of himself imagining anything beyond that. 

“So I was thinking,” Alex said.

“Hmmm?”

“How about I plan our real ‘fake first date’?”

“Regretting last night already?” Henry asked with a wince.

“No, of course not,” Alex replied and gave Henry a gentle smile. “But I think it’ll be best for both of us to get out of here."

"Even if there are photographers?”

“Even if. It’s fine, I get it.”

How could he possibly get it? Sure, Alex had been to quite a few charity events with Nora where photographers roamed the grounds, but paparazzi were a different breed entirely. Well, he’d find out soon enough. 

“So you’ll come?”

Henry took a moment, letting the weight of Alex’s suggestion sink in. There was a buzz of excitement mixed with uncertainty in the air. "A real fake first date... I like the sound of that," he finally replied, a smile creeping onto his face.

Hopefully, neither of them would come to regret it. 

That Monday was one of the Mondayest Mondays to ever Monday.

His day was booked solid with back-to-back meetings. Among them was a late afternoon session with board members to discuss the final auctions for the Christmas season. On one hand, Henry's hectic day left him little time to brood over the upcoming 'real fake first date' that weekend.

On the other, Philip seemed to have made the Monoi house purchase his mission. Ten minutes into his last meeting of the day, Philip introduced a motion to explore lesser known auction houses in the city, starting, of course, with Monoi house.

Really, Henry should have expected it, but he had hoped Philip would keep his request out of the hands of the board members. As it was, they sat enthralled while Philip extolled on the virtues of smaller auctions and exclusive items. All of them knew the reason Pulsar usually avoided the less reputable houses, yet Henry was convinced that by the time Philip was done with his charismatic speech, none of them would care. 

Soon enough, questions were asked regarding his reticence; while Henry did his best to keep his answers diplomatic, inside, he was seething. He managed to remain outwardly calm while he brought them back to the matter at hand, which was the busy holiday season that would be peaking in the next few weeks. 

Purchase offers were reviewed, and contracts were renewed with expert sources who specialized in finding the rarest items. The interminable meeting dragged on as Philip's smug smirk cut through the atmosphere like a knife while board members clashed over the maximum values buyers had agreed to.

The whole thing frustrated him, and the meeting set the tone for the rest of the week. Thank goodness Black Friday's notorious frenzy was absent from the auction realm, escaping the potential chaos of disarray amidst the holiday rush. He already had his hands full attempting to manage the demands of his customers on top of those of the board; he had no time to even attempt to look for imaginary discounts on one of a kind items. 

He also couldn’t even begin deciphering the complicated feelings he seemed to be developing for his roommate. Yet, despite the complex issues at hand, he couldn't quell his curiosity about their upcoming date. The persistent discussion about Monoi house only strengthened Henry's resolve to defend his integrity, if not for anyone else, then for himself. Except the very idea of Alex believing Henry could stoop to buying stolen goods churned his stomach into knots. If Alex ever questioned his integrity, it could shatter their budding relationship.

The whole idea was revolting. A decade ago, his father's business would never have even considered associating with that auction house, back when his mother was not yet head of the board. There had been a slow turn of the tide, but Henry could see the storm brewing; losing their hard-earned reputation for a quick profit felt like a betrayal of his father's legacy, one of integrity now threatened by the very pursuits meant to elevate them. 

By the week’s end, Henry's diplomatic efforts had staved off immediate disaster, but he sensed it was only a matter of time before his brother found a way to corner him.

Chapter Text

Alex had heard so many good things about the Village Atari. He couldn't wait to go. You wouldn't know to look at him, but behind his casual demeanour, Alex harboured the heart of a retro game nerd. This passion was not merely a hobby; it was an escape that had provided solace through his tumultuous transitions and shaped his identity in unexpected ways. 

Alex hadn’t even brought up the idea to Stacy when he’d first read about it. Knowing Stacy's disdain for anything he labelled childish, Alex had told himself he would go by himself someday if he couldn't convince June or Nora to join him. 

Walking into The Village Atari felt strangely like coming home. The familiar music and sounds combined with the flashing lights and vintage posters on the walls had a wave of nostalgia going over him before they’d even made it ten feet inside.  

It struck him that he hadn’t realized how much he missed going to the arcade until he read about this one. Strange, as the one near his high school in Austin had been the only place he could be found other than the library. Whenever he was dragged away from his books by his friends, they’d inevitably end up at Game Over. With the 8-bit music blasting, the sounds of teens cheering, and that familiar whiff of stale popcorn, Alex and his friends were unstoppable, setting records and racking up prize tickets.

By his side, Henry's fingers danced across the buttons with uncanny mastery, each move precise and confident. His eyes gleamed with the thrill of conquest as pixels fell in perfect timing, leaving Alex behind, cheeks flushed with frustration. Every game was a battle, yet Henry made it seem effortless—his dominance nearly poetic in its ease. The arcade buzzed around them, but within that fleeting space, Henry was a commander, crushing scores, his glow of triumph fueling a competitive fire between them. The arcade buzzed in harmony with their unspoken camaraderie, the air thick with anticipation and mutual respect. Within that electric space, Henry became more than just a rival; he was a leader, turning an ordinary game into a vibrant battle of skill

Despite his skill, Henry’s kindness shone brightest when he generously offered all his hard-earned tickets to Alex to help him secure the coveted Donkey Kong plushie. That small act of camaraderie transformed the game from a rivalry into a shared moment of warmth, revealing a layer of Henry’s character that was as surprising as it was endearing. Alex tried to refuse, arguing that Henry had won fair and square, but Henry countered by stating that meant he could do as he liked with them, and he wanted to give them to Alex.

What an absolutely infuriating man.

At least Alex had managed to convince him to leave the car behind. They didn’t need a driver, he’d argued. It was easily accessible by subway, and besides, Alex felt he was getting spoiled. He needed the exercise, and he kind of missed the whole anonymity of the subway. It didn’t matter who you were when those doors opened; you were either getting on or off with no time for waffling. You needed to know where you were going and commit. 

On the way home, Henry insisted they stop at a bustling Belgian café/bar where he ordered in flawless French. They dined on pommes frites served with a variety of sauces and frosty wheat beer. 

Henry, Alex decided, was actually a lot of fun to be around. He’d always assumed he was as stuck up in private as he appeared in public. To be fair, Pez had tried to convince Alex that there was more to Henry than his spoiled playboy demeanour, but he still often acted as if he took life far too seriously. It was nice to be proven wrong about this. 

As they drank and dipped their fries, Alex couldn't help but start his favourite people-watching game. A game he usually played it silently on his own, but so what? It was an easy concept: the first stranger you made eye contact with, you must envision either where they came from or where they were going and present it to your audience. 

To say Henry was a natural would be an understatement. His scenarios never belittled the main character, yet he managed to have Alex laughing so hard they’d gotten looks from across the bar, adding more fodder to their game. 

They didn’t linger, calling it a relatively early night. The game continued on the way to the subway, though making eye contact on the street was a much rarer occurrence. As they walked, they drifted closer together, occasionally bumping into each other. 

Alex clutched his plushie close to his chest and hunched his shoulders against the wind. Just as they reached the street corner, Alex was caught off guard by the gentle warmth of Henry's scarf as he wrapped it around Alex's neck, pulling it snugly to shield him from the cold. Looking up at Henry, Alex just blinked and stared, caught completely off guard. Henry smiled and shrugged, then tugged at Alex’s arm to cross the street while they could.

The subway ride home was made in silence, yet, unlike his usual daily commute, where he sought refuge in music, Alex found he wanted to savour every moment of shared stillness with Henry. They sat close together on the moving subway car, and Alex felt an unexpected thrill every time their thighs brushed, electric and new. As it filled with passengers on their way uptown, the space between them became non-existent and warmth radiated from Henry's side. Unsure what to do with his hands, Alex fiddled with Henry's scarf, pleating the ends.

He thought he could feel Henry staring, but when he turned his head, all he found was Henry sitting with a placid smile. Despite this, Henry seemed tense next to Alex, ready to jump up at any time. Alex was jostled at a particularly sharp bend in the track and almost fell forward, but at the last moment, Henry’s arm shot out and kept him seated. 

Henry’s smirk softened into a genuine, almost playful glint as he looked down at Alex. The earlier tension seemed to dissolve, replaced by a quiet anticipation that hinted he had been waiting for the moment to unfold. It was as if he sensed something unspoken swelling between them, a subtle shift that neither dared voice. That lingering glint in his eye spoke volumes—silent promise, encouragement, a shared understanding that, with a mere look, conveyed more than words ever could. Alex felt it deep within, an unspoken invitation hanging delicately in the air.

Alex had been thinking about Henry—probably too much, in fact—for a roommate. This obsession had nothing to do with the fact that he was supposed to get engaged to Henry within the next six months. Nor did it stem from the feeling of Henry's arm against his chest, which reminded him of being tackled to the ground on the day his life imploded. Absolutely nothing.

Suddenly, their station blared over the intercom. Feeling an overwhelming mixture of excitement and nervous energy, Alex suddenly found himself impatient for their arrival at home, rising abruptly and tugging Henry along by the elbow. When Alex looked furtively up at him, he was looking bemusedly down at the hand gripping him tightly, but followed along willingly enough. 

Alex let go of Henry once they made it to ground level, feeling more than a little foolish as he saw Henry’s amused smile. Alex cleared his throat and clutched Donkey Kong tight as they walked up 86th Street, shoulders bumping every third step.

By the time their doorman greeted them, both men were smiling. Their smiles spoke volumes, making the evening feel just a little brighter. There had been no photographers. No cameras capturing every glance, every nervous bounce, or awkward smile. It was an unfiltered moment, raw and unguarded, as if the world had paused just long enough for them to exist solely with each other.

Chapter Text

Looking back, Henry couldn't explain why he handed off his tickets. Whatever Alex had set his mind on, he was coming in short. Alex's sigh held a note of disappointment at his ticket count, which dissipated when Henry reached out and handed his tickets over.

Alex had looked so hopeful . He quickly counted them and grinned widely at Henry before turning to the clerk to claim his prize. A plushie? Henry's eyebrows raised in mild surprise. It wasn’t very big, smaller than a football and easily cradled in Alex’s arms. On closer look, Henry couldn’t help but smile at it. Even a philistine such as himself would recognize Donkey Kong, though it was clear Alex held a special fondness for the character. 

Alex had looked so cute with his Donkey Kong plushie.  He’d stared and smiled at the thing every time it caught his eye. Perhaps it was more than mere nostalgia—Alex clearly held a fondness for Donkey Kong that went beyond childhood memories. Henry caught himself smiling at the sight of it, feeling a warmth that lingered longer than he'd expected, a quiet reminder of how small moments with Alex could brighten the dullest days.

“Already decided on its new home?” he asked as they watched traffic.

“I know just the spot,” Alex replied. 

On his bed, perhaps? Don’t go there . That way lies dragons.

“Oh?”

"It'll look great next to my shelf, probably next to Ready Player One. " 

“Very à propos."

Alex laughed softly and grinned at Henry. As the light changed, they walked off the curb, both smiling. 

“Henry! Just the man I wanted to see."

Phillip interrupted his reverie when he accosted Henry while he walked to his office, fresh coffee from the 5th floor in hand. 

“Hello, Phillip,” Henry said as he held tight to the jostled cup. “I haven’t changed my mind.”

“Relax, I’m not here about that.”

Henry cocked a brow and sipped his coffee. “What are you here for, then?”

“You know, what I appreciate the most about you is your selfless side. A regular philanthropist, you are.”

“What do you want?” Henry repeated, getting annoyed.

“Well, it’s not so much what I want, so much as what mother wants.”

Henry held back a groan. If his mother was going through Phillip, it had to be something the other board members wanted no part of.

“It’s about the Lumière gala.”

“What about it?” Henry stopped in front of his office door, but did not go in.

“You see, mother wants the firm to be represented on site, and I thought you were perfect for the job! You can show up with one of your… friends… and charm everyone's pants off.”

“Mmhhmmm.”

“Come on! You shake some hands, bid on a few pieces, it’ll be like a regular day at the office for you.”

“Nice, Phillip.”

“What?”

“Never mind.”

“Where is the gala this year?” Henry asked. 

“The Schwarzman. You know, with the big lions out front?”

“The New York Public Library? I’m familiar,” Henry said dryly.

A gala might be just the thing for him and Alex. Though he’d be throwing casual out the window, it would take care of the impromptu appearances of photographers – in this type of event, they were limited to a certain area and tended to be much more polite.

He wondered briefly if dates counted when they took place at one's place of employment after hours. Would Alex shut him down? Henry wouldn't blame him, though he knew Alex would never ask him to go gallivanting about with him looking for business opportunities. 

Conversely, it might be a good opportunity to see the kind of obligations Henry faced in his position. He was not, however, the biggest fan of that kind of event. They tended to be pompous and superficial, with few attendees actually wanting to be there. 

Of course, you'd have the usual philanthropists, but mostly, the people who were invited there showed up for the clout. Tax-break donations aside, Henry had rarely, if ever, seen anyone excited to be there for the sake of it. He wondered if, perhaps, this year's event might finally be the chance for a genuine connection amidst the pomp.

“I'll consider it,” Henry said.

“Knew you'd do it!” 

“Phillip…”

“Don't ‘Phillip’ me. Mother will be pleased and the board will see you're a team player.”

“If this is still about the Monoi house auction…”

“What do you think? Yes, it's about the Monoi house auction. You basically told the board they'd be fencing stolen goods.”

“That is correct, yes.”

“See? And this is why they don't trust you to do what's best for Pulsar.”

“If you're so obsessed with this sale, why don't you go?"

Phillip's face twisted with frustration, and he nervously fussed with his tie.

“They want you, ” Phillip hissed, sideying Sophie, who was making her way down the corridor towards them.

“Isn't that a pity?” Henry sipped his rapidly cooling coffee, nodded at Sophie, and turned back to Phillip.

“I don't get you, Henry. If you really wanted the COO position, you'd be doing anything to get it.”

“No, Phillip, you'd be doing anything.”

Phillip stared angrily at Henry. “I'll tell Mother you will be attending the gala.”

“All right.”

“Should I call your usual service, sir?” Sophie asked after Phillip began walking away. 

“That won't be necessary, Sophie.” With any luck, Sophie wouldn't be calling Henry's "dating service" anytime soon.

Sophie nodded. “Here are the quarterly reports and your mail. Your next meeting is in 45 minutes.”

Henry thanked her and stepped into his office. The thick envelope with the Bank of America's logo on it sat at the top of his mail pile. 

If anyone told him three months ago he'd be ordering a credit card for Alex Claremont-Diaz, he'd have asked them what they thought he could possibly be on. As he opened the envelope and took out the sleek black card, he wondered what Alex would say. 

Henry couldn't expect Alex to keep up with Henry's lifestyle on an intern’s salary, and if they hoped to sell their relationship, he would have to, at least in some sense. Perhaps Alex would appreciate being taken care of, for once, he thought wildly and chuckled. That would be the day. 

If anything, Henry would offer it as a way to get him ready for the gala. Alex could decide what he wished to do with it afterwards, even if that meant giving it back to Henry. Henry wondered what Alex would say when he saw the card. He already knew he'd get an earful.

He appreciated that Alex desperately wanted to make his way into the world on his own. So did Henry, after all. Still, here they both were. Alex hoped to be offered a permanent position at the library, while Henry was determined to bring Pulsar back to its original roots.

What a pair they made.

Chapter Text

Henry put himself in charge of their second outing. 

It was early afternoon, and the grey sky weighed heavily on Alex. Maybe it was the fundraiser preparations; Alex had been spending long days reorganizing exhibits and tidying up areas the public shouldn't access. He hated the idea of rich snobs invading the library, public space be damned. 

Or maybe it was just the weather. It felt like NYC had been hit with the wettest fall in recent years—grey skies, soaking streets, and an endless damp chill that seeped into everything. Bar their trip to the arcade the week before, it had rained almost every day.

The bistro Henry had found for them was warm and lush with greenery, with a monstera in a corner and several other vibrant plants scattered about. The bistro's menu featured several appetizing vegetarian and vegan options, along with poultry-based dishes. 

Henry had surprised Alex by ordering a glass of kombucha with his meal. Not because he disliked kombucha himself, but because it seemed so out of character for Henry. Then again, besides the ice cream, Alex had no idea what Henry liked. He seemed to enjoy whatever Alex brought home for dinner, but who knew where politeness ended and true enjoyment began? 

Alex looked down at his satay chicken salad, determined to enjoy the meal and try to stop thinking so much about what he didn't know about Henry. Really, why didn't he just ask the man directly? He was starting to get on his own nerves with his endless overthinking. 

“Kombucha, huh?” 

Henry replied with a raised brow.

“So are you really into health stuff or…?”

"I mostly enjoy the bubbles," Henry said with a wink and took a sip.

He was messing with Alex, surely. Who joked about kombucha?

Who asked about kombucha in the first place?

“I enjoy bubbles myself,” Alex said and winced. Oh God. Kill him now.

"Should I be stocking up on Prosecco for you, then?"

“I'm not much of a drinker,” Alex said and took a sip of water. 

“Ah, yes. I almost forgot the rule.”

Alex squinted slightly, trying to determine if he was being made fun of. Even if he was, Alex had few strict rules and wasn’t about to start breaking them now. 

Always leave a tip for food service workers. 

Don't dip your pen in the company ink.

And most importantly, never accept a drink you haven't seen prepared yourself. 

He mentally shook himself off and began asking Henry questions about things anyone would think they already knew about each other, considering how long they'd been in the same circle. 

"So, how long have you been in New York?"

Henry laughed.

"What?" Alex asked, a smile in his voice.

"We really have skipped some steps, huh? What do you and Nora talk about?"

"Sorry if our conversations don't revolve around you, your Majesty," Alex snarked good-naturedly. "I must have missed the 'Getting to know you' pamphlet you handed out when Pez introduced us."

"I had a lot going on back then; I wasn't exactly the most open to new people."

"Ah yes, as opposed to the laid-back and relaxed lifestyle you've got now."

"You'd be surprised."

Alex nodded agreeably. Despite feeling silly about asking questions he should already know the answers to, most of his knowledge about Henry was secondhand information and had led to hasty opinions that didn't align with what he'd been discovering about the man since he'd moved in.

As Henry opened up, Alex relaxed and offered up stories of his own. During a particularly emotional overshare from Alex that involved a lot of gesticulating, Henry seized the moment his hand settled on the table to cover it with his own.

Oh. Oh wow. Henry had nice hands. Slightly larger than Alex's, with manicured nails and soft palms that hinted at gentle strength. Alex couldn't help but wonder how Henry's pale skin would look against his own tanned flesh. 

At this rate, Alex would never make it six months. He supposed part of it was novelty but, if he was completely honest, it was more likely because Henry was really pulling through on the whole “devote your entire attention to your date” thing. And no one had paid this much attention to Alex in a long time. 

Mid-bite, Alex's eye caught a flash—a man with a massive camera, snapping photos through the restaurant window. His stomach sank. When he turned back to Henry, he was already signalling for the check. 

By the time they made it out, five additional photographers had joined the first and did their best to corral Alex and Henry by the entrance. They yelled and jeered while flashing their cameras, each asking Henry more and more personal questions. When a bold photographer pushed his camera into Alex’s space, Henry made it clear he’d had enough. 

He pushed through them, pulling Alex along, and ignored the bystanders who stopped and stared. Phones were out, and Henry’s jaw clenched as his face flushed with anger, eyes blazing at the flashing cameras. 

Henry urged him away from the chaos, his arm around Alex's shoulders.

“Well,” Alex began, “that’s something I’d like to never do again.”

Henry's mouth tightened so much that his lips almost disappeared into a tight line, which, considering how generous his lips were, was quite the feat. He cleared his throat and looked around, but did not slow his pace.

“I did say there would be photographers,” Henry said brusquely.

“Photographers, yes. These people acted like they were sharks smelling blood in the water. How were there so many so quickly?”

“Slow news day, I suppose. Come on, Richard will be right up ahead.”

Alex made to shrug Henry’s arm off, but he found he liked the weight of it, and besides, he couldn’t be sure the hounds hadn’t followed them, and he wasn’t about to look back and check. 

They reached the black town car quickly and Henry guided Alex inside. 

Once they were safely inside the car, Henry looked at Alex with concern and asked softly, "Are you alright?"

“Fine,” Alex answered, not looking at Henry. He fussed with the hem of his jacket. 

“You look a bit shaken up.”

“I guess I didn’t realise how serious this was. You did warn me.”

Henry laid a hand on the seat between them, palm side up. 

“I’m sorry. I should have explained better. They’re vultures.”

“How did they know we’d be there?” Alex eyed the open hand at his side. 

“Someone probably posted something online.”

“What, like a fan?” 

Henry grimaced. “I don’t know that I’d call them fans, exactly. They’re a damn nuisance. Did you know that when we went out to the Village, it was the first time in months I wasn’t accosted by a paparazzo?”

Alex couldn’t help but feel sorry for Henry – he didn’t know how he would survive this happening again, much less on a regular basis. He laid his hand over Henry’s and clasped it gently.

“That sounds like an exhausting way to live,” Alex said as he looked up, meeting intense blue eyes. Henry shrugged but didn’t disagree. 

Either Richard made excellent time, or Alex hadn’t noticed how close the bistro was to the penthouse, because before he knew it, the car had stopped and André stood next to the open door. 

Henry’s hand squeezed Alex’s briefly before letting go and getting out of the car. He had managed to smooth down his lapels, tuck stray hairs back into place, and looked as handsome and standoffish as ever, as if nothing had happened. 

Alex sighed softly, missing the comforting feel of Henry’s arm around his shoulders as he followed inside, wishing he could hold onto that feeling a little longer.

They hung their jackets in silence. Alex frowned while Henry’s face had a carefully neutral look that Alex was quite familiar with. It usually meant either Alex wouldn’t like what Henry was about to say or Henry was about to be cagier than usual. 

“So that’s what you meant, about the photographers?”

“Yes,” Henry said. “Paparazzi are not like event photographers.”

“No, I noticed.”

“So did I,” Henry answered wryly. “I did try to warn you.”

“You did. I just didn’t realise what that entailed, I suppose.”

“Perhaps. I could probably have been clearer.”

“I’m still not sure I understand why they were there in the first place.”

“I never know when they’ll pop up. It’s unnerving, is what it is. And those hounds are just hoping I lose my temper, or worse.”

“What would be worse than losing your temper?”

“Saying something I’d regret later,” Henry muttered.  

“What?”

“Nothing, never mind.” Henry tugged at the sleeves of his jacket, frustration evident, then finally peeled it off and draped it over the couch. "It started a few years ago at auction houses, and over time, it's only gotten worse.”

“I don’t understand. I get why maybe some collectors might be interested, some scholars. But why would photographers stalk an auction?”

“It wasn’t so much about the auction so much as what was going up for sale and where it came from.”

“You think some of them were fakes?”

“Perhaps. The issue was more that I thought some of them were stolen. Not that many buyers care.”

“Oh yeah, that’d do it.” Historically, a piece's origins often mattered more than the artifact itself.

“I was sent to investigate, so to speak, and secured the item after assuring myself it was a legitimately acquired piece.”

“I’m assuming that didn’t go over well?”

“No, it did not. I had to prepare a detailed report and issue an official statement to the buyer and auction house, confirming that I verified the provenance and took measures to ensure the piece was legitimately acquired.” He shook out his jacket before draping it over the back of the couch. "And now they expect me to drop everything and head to the Monoi auction, as if our reputation isn't on the line. Determining the origins of a piece is already difficult for most pieces, what with the habit of ‘historians’ looting dig sites. A lot of it comes down to details and research, neither of which my brother is particularly fond of. And I assume most everyday buyers are not as well.”

“I think that’s something to be proud of,” Alex said.

“I’m not feeling very proud right now.”

“Eh, it’s fine. You get used to it, right?"

"Sure, until you see your face on the cover of a tabloid at the bodega while trying to buy milk.”

“That’s oddly specific.”

Henry only raised an eyebrow before heading to the freezer. “Cornetto?”

“No, thanks,” Alex replied before heading into the kitchen for a bottle of water.

Henry shrugged as if saying 'suit yourself' and then unwrapped his frozen treat, taking a break from the serious conversation.

“Are days like today reasons you keep that freezer stocked?”

“Sure. Some days it’s desserts, others it’s vodka. Though that hasn’t happened in a while."

Alex looked a bit concerned, though he chose to remain silent.

"I have to say, I wasn't expecting the first date I was in charge of to be quite this eventful,” Henry continued.

“I’m sure it’ll be better next time.”

“To next time, then.” Henry nodded and saluted with his ice cream.

Chapter Text

“The Lumière gala!? You think the Lumière gala would be a good date?” Alex's disbelieving laugh echoed through the kitchen.

Henry rinsed the bowl he’d used for his breakfast before placing it in the dishwasher. “Maybe I misspoke earlier. I'm guessing these types of events aren't really your thing?”

“I wouldn't know. I've never been to a gala. When would I have had the opportunity?”

“But it's at the Schwarzman building.”

“And we've been getting it ready. I'm sure it'll look great.” Alex raised an eyebrow in Henry's direction. “You know, staff aren't actually invited to that.”

“You wouldn't be going as ‘staff’, you'd be my date.”

“What would I even wear?" Alex asked disbelievingly. "I don’t exactly have a tux hanging in my closet.”

Henry let out an annoyed grunt. “Richard will take you to Monsieur Dubois.”

“Henry,” Alex started. God, this was embarrassing. “I'm not sure I can afford a tux – even a rental.”

“I’m inviting you, aren’t I? Don’t worry about it.”

“Henry…”

“I’m not arguing with you about this, Alex. Just consider it part of our agreement.” Henry closed the dishwasher and wiped his hands on the dish towel. 

“Right.” Alex nodded and looked down at his phone. Trust Henry to remind Alex of exactly why he was even invited. It wouldn’t do to embarrass him in public and anyway, Henry was right, they did have an agreement. 

By the time Alex looked up, Henry had left the room, leaving what looked like a sleek business card behind on the table.

Stop sulking. What, you gonna go to the gala in your only good jacket?

Even he wasn’t stupid enough to insist on wearing his own clothes to the kind of event the gala portended to be. 

Still, he thought as he picked up the card, he felt a bit undeservedly spoiled. Even more so when he noticed that beneath the business card lay a platinum card, with his name in raised gold lettering. 

How in hell had he gotten that so quickly? And more importantly, why? A month ago, Alex would have thought this was done out of pity, but he knew better. To Henry, this was nothing but a business transaction. Well, Alex would hold up his end of the bargain. 

Henry texted Alex only an hour after leaving for the day. Alex was just arriving at the library, immensely grateful for Richard in the blustery cold. 

Alex pulled up the scarf he’d grabbed out of the closet to cover his ears. He caught a whiff of Henry’s cologne before he realised he’d mistakenly grabbed Henry’s. The clean, woodsy scent reminded him of their outing at the arcade only a few weeks before. If only all of their dates could be as laid back as that one was. Alex had enjoyed himself a lot more than he thought he would.   

The Donkey Kong plushie had been given a place of honour on Alex’s new bookshelf and he wondered briefly what Henry would think of that. Would he think him childish? It was mostly nostalgia if Alex was being honest. However, being able to bring something home when he’d spent so many hours in such an arcade with nothing to show for it as a teenager had made him feel warm inside for the entire evening. 

Alex dug his hands deep in his pockets and felt the hard outline of a credit card poke his right hand. He should probably find a safer spot for it than his jacket pocket, come to think of it.

It had to be shock. He felt a bit like Cinderella, invited to the ball with nothing to wear. Except his mouse seamstresses were a platinum card, and his horse turned coachman went by Richard. 

He tried to imagine what kind of place he would be brought to after work, but he found he couldn’t. Outside of a movie, he’d never seen a tailor’s shop, and he highly doubted it did them justice. 

Stepping inside Monsieur Dubois' shop was like walking into a fantasy. The narrow entrance gave way to a studio with walls covered in rolls of rich fabric; from silks to wools – he even spied velours – every colour imaginable could be found somewhere, in as many patterns as Alex could think of, and some he wouldn’t have even begun to imagine. Paired with the dress form in the corner draped with a piece in progress, it made Alex think anything was possible. 

There was the distinctive smell of leather in the air from the range of custom shoes on display on the far wall. Alex had never thought of the smell of leather as being warm and inviting, but paired with the small smile on the tailor’s face that had appeared after he’d introduced himself and explained who had sent him, he couldn’t help it. 

It didn’t take long for the elderly gentleman to begin taking his measurements and draping him in swatches. He asked for Alex’s opinion on every one, even though Alex had been clear that his sense of fashion was practically nonexistent, especially concerning suits. Now, if he were to have been asked to select some eyeglasses, he would have been all set. Alex liked to think he had a well-rounded collection, including some solid black frames along with a tortoiseshell and an olive green pair, not to mention his sunglasses. 

When it came to clothing, he favoured the librarian’s uniform of sweater vests and cardigans over khakis. He’d never had to wear a tux in his life and had no idea where to even begin. He had to trust the older man to steer him correctly – he would never forgive himself if he embarrassed Henry. 

Chapter Text

The 15th floor wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. 

Sure, the panoramic cityscape was stunning when the sky was clear, and there wasn’t a single cubicle to be found – only large offices and board rooms, with plenty of open space in between. Every board member had their office up there, including Phillip and Mrs. Fox. Despite the open layout, it had a cramped, almost suffocating feel that Henry didn't appreciate. But the oppressive atmosphere in the room, and the tension Henry could feel tightening in his chest, didn't help matters. 

“Monoi house has shown time and again that the provenance of their pieces is less than trustworthy,” Henry said. He had been clashing with the stuffy members of the board over the questionable origins of Monoi house's pieces for the better part of an hour. 

“Phillip here seems to think they’ve turned around,” Hathaway said as he leaned back in his chair.

“Then I’m sure Phillip will be happy to scout them out while he has occasion to.” Henry didn’t need to look in Phillip’s direction to sense the glare being sent his way. 

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think it was Phillip trying to get a spot on the board, son.” Bradford harrumphed dismissively from his corner, folding his arms and eyeing the scene with suspicion. 

Henry’s jaw tightened, and he felt a flush rising in his cheeks as he bristled at the implication. He wasn’t at all sure that Phillip didn’t want a spot on the board. He was spending a whole lot of energy trying to convince Henry to engage in questionable tactics to satisfy the board's demands.  

“Maybe Henry has other things to worry about at home,” Phillip said snidely. There were chuckles across the table. 

"Yes, Henry. Tell us about this tan little number you’ve been seen around town with.” Mr. White slapped a glossy magazine onto the table. Its pages crisp and vibrant, opened to a large photo of Henry and Alex leaving a busy café, capturing a moment that felt both personal and invasive.

Usually, Henry would ignore any speculations about his personal life. Who appeared on his arm was no one’s business but his own. Seeing Alex portrayed as just another conquest made Henry’s stomach tighten, fueling his discomfort.  

“Always on the prowl, are we?” Bradford snarked.

“Different sort than what you’re used to, isn’t he?” Phillip said with a smirk. “Glasses? Is the librarian look in, or what?” He laughed. 

Henry’s jaw bunched and his hand closed into a fist where it lay on the table.

“Please don’t speak about him that way,” Henry asked in a measured tone. 

“Oh ho!,” came from the other end of the table, along with some jeering.

He leaned back with a mischievous grin, eyes gleaming, "This one got you on the hook, brother?”

“‘This one’ is called Alex. And remember his name, Phillip—Alex isn’t just some guy, he’s important to me.”

“And why’s that, then?”

“Because he’s my boyfriend.” 

“Boyfriend?! What are you, twelve?”

“What else should I be calling him, Phillip?” Henry looked straight at him as he asked. 

“Why even bother giving it a name? You’ll have a different one hanging off of you by next week,” Phillip scoffed.

“Not this time.”

“Now Henry, you know it’s all in good fun,” said Harrison. “We’ve all sowed our wild oats.” More jeers. “Some more recently than others.” He leered at the far end of the table and Henry steadfastly did not look in its direction. He had no desire to get caught up in the upper floor’s rumour mill. 

“Mother’s not here, you know,” Phillip pointed out. “No need to pretend this is something its not.” He jutted his chin in the direction of the magazine. 

“I’m not pretending.” 

“All right, boys,” said Morrison from the other side of the table. “You can squabble later. Let’s talk about this auction.”

“What’s there to talk about?” Henry asked firmly. “I will not be going. So unless you can convince Philip here to do his own reconnaissance, the point is moot.”

“Right. Well, let’s shut this down for today and reconvene Thursday,” said Morrison.

There was some minor grumbling, especially when Henry reached across the table and snagged the magazine, but most everyone happily took their leave. 

Phillip followed Henry out of the boardroom, all the way to the elevator. As they waited, Phillip snuck a few glances down the hall, but seemed satisfied that no one else had followed. The doors opened, and Henry slid inside, hoping Phillip wouldn’t follow, but no such luck.

“Why do you insist on being such a pain in my arse?"

"Oh, I’m sorry, are my principles in the way of your career advancement?' Henry said, voice tinged with irritation.

“No, but they are in the way of yours.”

“What do you mean?” Henry had a good idea where this conversation was headed, but better to get it all out now that Henry had refused the Monoi house visit to the board himself.

“You know exactly what I mean, Henry. Winslow wants that statue for his buyer and you’re too busy being mulish to realise it’ll cost you the COO position if you don’t get it.”

“I wasn’t aware COO was a position the board voted on.”

“It’s not, but you know as well as I do that mother doesn’t make those decisions on her own.”

Henry was, in fact, aware of that. 

“You need to show a bit of good faith. They’re already iffy on having some straight-laced playboy on the board.”

“Do you have any idea how that sounds?”

“Yes! It doesn’t make sense, because you don’t make sense.” Phillip pushed the emergency stop button, halting the elevator instantly. “You say you want this, but you won’t take the steps to make it happen,” Phillip pressed, dissatisfaction evident.

“That’s not for you to decide,” Henry said and answered the ringing lift phone attached to the console. “False alarm. We’re quite all right. Thank you.” 

The alarm stopped ringing and the lift abruptly started moving again. 

“Winsloe would be very grateful if you’d at least consider it. You’ve got to give them something if you want them to consider you for more important decisions in the future.”

Henry shrugged his shoulders uncomfortably. As much as Henry wished it weren’t true, many of the projects were handed over to whoever the person in charge thought was best equipped to handle it. If this sometimes (or often) meant that the person was certainly not the best placed to manage the purchase, that was no coincidence. Henry nodded quietly, contemplating the possibility that even Monoi house deserved a fresh start—after all, sometimes redemption was worth one more chance. Perhaps Henry was wrong and – however unlikely – they had changed their ways for the better.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Excellent!”

Henry side-eyed his brother at his too enthusiastic tone, but didn’t reply. The elevator doors opened and they stepped off on 12. Henry made for his office, Phillip on his heels. By the time they were standing in front of Sophie’s desk, Phillip was rustling in the inside pocket of his suit jacket. 

“These are for you,” he said as he handed over an envelope. 

Henry lifted the flap and found two tickets to the Lumière gala inside. 

“Mother was happy to hear you came around,” Phillip said.

“I bet she was,” Henry muttered.  

“We all must do things we don’t like, Henry."

Henry cocked an unbelieving brow before lifting the envelope in a sort of salute. 

“Thank you. I’ll be sure to try and make a good impression.”

“I expect nothing less.”

Henry nodded and walked into his office, greeting Sophie as he walked past.

Later that night, Henry presented the tickets to Alex over chicken biryani.

“So that’s really happening, huh?”

“Which part made you think it wasn't?"

"It just... none of this feels real, Henry. I could never even have imagined going to an event that required a tux, except maybe my wedding. And that’s a big maybe.” Alex pointedly took a bite and wiped his mouth. 

“Speaking of tuxes, how was your trip to the tailor?”

“Expensive.”

Henry laughed and picked at the cloves peppering his plate. “So you found something, then?”

“Yes, I did. Monsieur Dubois was very helpful indeed.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

Alex reached into his back pocket and took the credit card out of his wallet before setting it down on the table. "Thanks," he said, pushing it towards Henry.

"That's yours." Henry shook his head.

"Henry, I can't."

“Why not?”

“Why should I accept being treated like your kept man? It feels like you're buying my time.”

“Accept? I didn’t realise this was such a hardship for you.” Henry set his fork down and leaned in. “The gala requires a tux. You now have a tux. If you don’t want to keep the card, then don’t, I won’t force your hand."

"It's just that I wish I could do this on my own," Alex said quietly, his voice holding a hint of vulnerability. "It's about my independence, I guess. Feeling like I'm contributing, not just being... provided for."

“It’s not that I think you can’t, it’s that I don’t expect you to. You wouldn’t be attending the damn thing if it wasn’t for me.”

“Well, no, but –”

“No buts.” Henry pushed the card back towards Alex. “This won’t be the last of this kind of outing. You wouldn’t want to not look the part, would you?”

“I… fine. I guess you’re right."

"Feel free to pick up some books while you're out, too."

Alex narrowed his eyes at Henry, a flicker of suspicion in his gaze. “I can do that on my own, thanks."

"Not saying you can't, just, you know, everyone likes nice things."

"Look Henry, there's a difference between accepting your offer to dress me for the gala – a necessity for an event I wouldn't otherwise attend – and taking advantage of this...deal for something like books. What I want for myself, the things that enrich my life outside of this arrangement, that's my responsibility. I won't let you make me feel small or dependent about the choices I make with my own money or the things I value.” Alex said with a carefully even tone.

Henry sat up straight, genuinely taken aback by the sudden vehemence in Alex’s voice.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to trivialise the choices you’re making. This isn’t about that. It's about me trying to make your stay here more comfortable.”

Sure it was. 

“I’m plenty comfortable as is.”

“Good to know.”

Chapter Text

Okay, so maybe the trip to the tailor was worth it. 

Henry practically had to pick up his jaw off the floor when he saw Alex step out of the bedroom wearing the tux Monsieur Dubois had chosen for him. The fabric had a subtle design woven into it that wasn't noticeable from afar, and, paired with an aubergine shirt and coordinating tie, he knew the suit was made to be noticed. 

The true showpiece, however, was the waistcoat. Matching the tux’s textured fabric, it was cinched tight and accented with deep purple ribboning reminiscent of a corset's structure. In fact, Alex nearly let himself be talked into an actual corset, boning and all. 

He’d let himself be convinced to try it on after he’d been caught staring, and it had been the most decadent thing he’d ever put on. Alex had never thought about men wearing corsets – or corsets in general, to be honest – but he’d spied the piece hanging among a variety of models, and the purple piping along the edge,s along with the deep purple ribbon fastening at the back, had him brushing the sides before he knew he’d moved. 

He loved it. From the stiff boning to the lacing of it, he couldn’t help but find comfort from the tightening of the laces. The tight lacing made him feel lean, long, and accentuated the flare of his hips. 

Still, he reminded himself, this was a fundraiser—a chance to impress influential people whose opinions could shape his future, making every detail matter even more. That meant stuffy old white people with stuffy old white people's money. The corset would attract a lot of attention, and Alex honestly had had quite enough of strangers’ attention lately. 

Maybe in private, though? Maybe Henry would like it… Nope, he wouldn’t let himself even think about it. 

In the end, he went with the waistcoat. It gave a very similar silhouette to the corset but could be hidden behind a buttoned jacket if it attracted the wrong kind of attention. 

Henry was no slouch, either. 

The impeccably tailored black tux, accompanied by a crisp blue shirt accentuating the blue of his eyes, had Alex stopping in his tracks. 

He looked like the embodiment of a young James Bond. Perhaps one that was still cutting his teeth on the intricacies of governmental bureaucracy, but still. Alex could practically hear a soundtrack as he watched him freeze halfway through opening a bottle of soda water.

There was nothing flashy about it—just impeccable tailoring and subtle elegance that made Henry look both commanding and effortlessly charming, like he belonged on a high-fashion magazine cover. The more Henry stared, the less Alex felt confident in his choices. 

Henry finally broke the silence, his voice warm and genuine: "You look absolutely stunning—like you’re ready to own the night."

He moved as if to join Alex when he seemed to remember the bottle and glass in his hands. He set them down and made it halfway before Alex asked, “It's not too much?”

“It's perfect. I knew sending you to Monsieur Dubois was a good idea.”

Alex straightened the jacket with his hands. “I feel overdressed.”

“Not at all!” Henry said in a reassuring tone. “It's gorgeous.” He approached Alex slowly. “Just look at the detailing.”

“Isn't it marvellous? It was love at first sight.” Alex found himself confessing. At least, he assumed that was how love at first sight felt, having never experienced it himself. He was convinced that were he to live it some day, it would leave him as unsure as he felt now. What if he'd shot past evening appropriate straight into gaudy? “It's not too much?” 

“Absolutely not. It shows you off perfectly,” Henry said.

Showed him off?

“Nothing much to show off,” he muttered nervously as he fidgeted with his glasses. 

“Nonsense. You're not just going to any old charity event; you worked on this yourself, and you get to see firsthand what people think of your work.”

Alex swallowed hard. “Yeah, you're right, that's not stressful at all,” he said, dripping with sarcasm. 

“Well, I, for one, am proud to accompany you.”

Henry held out his hand and waited for Alex to take it. Alex licked his lips nervously, but the confident smile on Henry's face convinced him with very little effort, truth be told. 

Henry's earnest gaze tugged at something deep inside Alex. He wanted nothing more than to find the root of the feeling so he could examine it in depth. Seeing as the source of his current predicament didn't move except for an enticing finger wiggle, Alex let himself answer with a grin as he grasped Henry's outstretched hand. 

They stood in a tender silence, their eyes locked, feeling the weight of unspoken words. Henry cleared his throat softly, a gentle smile lingering as he gestured towards the elevator with a reassuring hand. 

They descended in silence, the elevator’s quiet hum contrasting with the buzz of the evening outside.

Alex had never felt so out of place in his life. 

Snowflakes drifted gently through the cold air as they stepped out of the car, the quiet hush of winter wrapping around them like a soft cloak, contrasting sharply with the lively chaos inside. The cold air felt good on his flushed skin, though his tux was nowhere near warm enough for the chill. He tucked his hands into his pockets, despite the tailor's warning that it would ruin the suit's line.

Henry, of course, looked as composed as ever—calm and unruffled, like a steady lighthouse amid a storm. Even the wind didn’t seem to ruffle his hair so much as caress it. Alex, on the other hand, could feel his curls tangling already. 

Alex watched as the crowd moved swiftly through the throng of photographers capturing the event. Once again, Alex was at a loss as to why there were so many. He didn’t think there were that many competing publications, which had to mean they were fighting each other for the same spot. It reminded him of his own situation; few spots for the internship with even fewer spots for long-term employment. Still, Alex was not a cutthroat kind of guy and he couldn’t imagine conniving his way into a job.

He didn’t think he recognized anyone from his previous encounter with the paparazzi, but he hadn’t been paying close attention to faces at the time. As they approached the steps, there were eager shouts of “Fox! Henry Fox!” and “Over here!”, attempting to cut the grass under the feet of the official event photographers inside. 

Alex followed Henry’s lead and ignored them while they climbed the steps to the crowded entrance. They’d both forgone coats; Alex because his favourite (and only) winter jacket was a colourful peacoat that would clash horribly with the tux, while Henry, unconcerned by the chill, hadn’t even bothered reaching into the closet before they left for the evening. 

He clenched his jaw and moved closer to Henry, fighting the urge to turn away from the photographers. Henry didn’t move away, and Alex could swear he saw the corner of his mouth lift up before it settled into his usual serious countenance. 

The usher finally let the pair in. Alex shivered and moved to stand near the heater while Henry chatted with an older man. Henry beckoned him closer and introduced Alex, who nodded politely. 

"Alex, this is Morrison. He's a member of the Pulsar board," Henry said.

"Mr. Morrison," Alex said as he shook his hand.

"'Alex', is it?" Morrison said as he looked Alex up and down.

"Yes, sir," Alex replied, shoulders tensing. He looked over at Henry for guidance, but found him blandly smiling in Mr. Morrison's direction, seemingly oblivious to Alex's unease.

"Where are you from, son?"

"Austin, sir."

A subtle grimace flickered across the older man's face. "And what is it you do? Perhaps something to do with the arts?" Mr. Morrison inquired, his brow arching with an unmistakable air of condescension directed at Alex's waistcoat.

"I'm interning right now. I suppose you could say the New York Public Library has something to do with the arts." Alex tugged at his jacket and buttoned it all the way up, actively ignoring the rules explained to him at the tailor's.

"I'm sure it's nice to have someone backing you," Morrison said smoothly.

"Oh, well... yes. I suppose it is." Alex replied, shifting his feet uncomfortably. He tried to catch Henry's eye, but Henry was fixed on Mr. Morrison, his gaze sharp. Without breaking his gaze from Morrison, Henry cleared his throat and stepped closer, placing a hand possessively on Alex's lower back.

"Alex always has my full support," Henry said firmly.

Mr. Morrison responded with a dismissive harrumph. "Well, you let Henry know if this whole library thing doesn't work out. I'm sure he can set you up with a nice little job somewhere," Morrison said, his tone dripping with insinuation.

"I...thank you?" Alex responded hesitantly, unsure how to interpret the parting words. "What the hell was that?" he asked, looking up at Henry.

"Just a coworker. Nothing to worry about," Henry replied, his frown deepening as he watched Morrison go.

"If you say so," Alex mumbled, still unsettled.

A crowd pressed behind them, eager to get inside and away from the cold. Alex let himself be swept along with Henry by the surge of people into the reception area.

Everyone seemed to know Henry and, at first, Alex made a real effort to remember names and pay attention to conversations, though he didn’t participate much. But as the night wore on, Alex felt increasingly like a forgotten accessory to the event. Henry did make a noticeable effort to include him, asking his opinion about the installations as they meandered through the main floor. Alex was happy to provide it until he pointed out one he’d personally worked on in front of a woman old enough to be his grandmother who’d been looking down her nose at Alex since they’d been introduced – which was quite a feat, considering she barely topped five feet. 

“You worked on this exhibit?” she asked, her tone dripping with disbelief. 

"Yes, I did," Alex replied, his pride swelling at the final result. 

“Henry, darling, how thoughtful of you to have booked a guide for us," she said and peered at Alex as if he were a specimen under glass, an intriguing but ultimately inconsequential curiosity brought in for her amusement.

“Mrs. Lightener, I’m afraid Alex isn’t on duty tonight, but I’m sure he’d be happy to answer any questions you have another day.”

"It'd be my pleasure, ma'am," Alex said, his tone a little forced, as he pictured a thousand other things he'd rather be doing than indulging her. 

And so the evening went; Henry expertly navigating them through the crowd, stopping to speak with everyone who caught his eye. He kept the conversation flowing while they browsed the items available for the silent auction. When they reached one particular item, Alex gasped, the sound sharp and involuntary. He hadn’t been in the loop of the selection of pieces going up for auction and couldn’t quite believe that one had been selected. 

Henry turned to him, cocking an eyebrow in silent question. Alex cleared his throat, searching for the right words to explain.

“It’s a draft manuscript of Bless me, Ultima ,” he began, and swallowed hard. “It’s scribbled, struck through, and has tons of notes in the margins.”

“Wouldn’t that make it less valuable than, say, a first edition? Books aren't my specialty, I'm afraid.”

“Depends who’s asking. First editions are for showing off, but draft manuscripts, the versions before publication, are versions of the work before it's published. They’re much rarer and don’t generally attract the attention of collectors – too messy.”

Alex stared at the manuscript on its wooden stand, a wistful sigh escaping him. At his side, Henry bent down and scribbled on the bid sheet.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Alex said to Henry as he straightened.  

“What’s the point of a donor’s gala if no one donates?”

“Would you have bid, though, if I hadn’t mentioned it? What are you even going to do with it?”

“Of course I would have. Maybe not on that specific thing, mind you," he added, a slight smile playing on his lips. "I think a bookcase would make a wonderful addition to the living room, don't you?"

"A bookcase," Alex repeated, his expression one of stunned disbelief. "You want to put an original Rudolfo Anaya draft manuscript in a bookcase?"

"You're the worst, you know that?" Alex laughed as he spoke, laying his hand on Henry's arm and playfully shoving him.

Henry let himself be shoved and he let out a rare laugh before leading them out of the viewing area. They walked along a corridor Alex had rarely ever visited. It was a detour from the busy areas of the library, adding to his travel time between exhibits, so he'd long since removed it from his mental map. Along the way, Alex spotted French doors leading to the outside. The doors led to a secluded balcony area, with only one small table and a pair of chairs to be found. Henry must have been feeling as warm as Alex, because he didn't hesitate before guiding Alex through the doors.

Henry seemed to glimmer in the darkness; Alex initially thought it was just the balcony lighting, but once he looked up, he found that the full moon was doing all the work, glinting on the snowflakes that peppered Henry.

Alex shivered, and Henry stepped close, rubbing his hands up and down Alex's arms in a vain effort to warm him.

He shivered again and looked directly into Henry's eyes, which seemed genuinely worried about Alex's comfort. There was also something else there, a warmth in his eyes that Alex recognized as something akin to fondness. Alex swallowed and let Henry continue his unneeded ministrations. 

"Nice to be out of the crowd. I'm not a fan of these soirées, but it was one of those things I couldn't get out of."

“Well, I'm glad you didn't.”Alex smiled gently, returning Henry's gaze.. 

“Are you?” Henry asked.

“Mhmm, I am. I’m also glad you talked me into tonight.”

“And I’m glad you accepted.” Henry’s hand movements slowed as Alex’s shivering calmed down.  

“So we’re both glad then.” Alex grinned up at Henry, who smiled widely in return.

Alex didn't know who moved first. It could be that they both did at once, but Alex would swear up and down that Henry bent down first, his fingers trailing over Alex's. In any case, Alex met him in the middle without hesitation, their lips finally meeting.

Perhaps it was the tux, or perhaps it was seeing Henry handle the stuffy old men who felt compelled to share their lack of knowledge about Alex's pride and joy, but Henry's lips were as soft and inviting as they looked, and Alex found himself drawn in.d. He let out a noise resembling a moan as the kiss deepened and Henry put his hand at the base of Alex’s skull. 

Definitely not just the tux.

Just as Henry's hand migrated upwards and tangled with Alex's hair, Alex gasped and pulled back, the thought of lurking photographers making him unwilling to have this go any further.

If Henry looked disappointed, it must have been a trick of the light, because a door slammed behind them, and Henry let go of Alex immediately, swinging towards the entrance and putting Alex out of sight behind him.

No one joined them, at least not that Alex could see, but the Englishman in front of him, who took up a sizeable amount of space, remained facing the entrance. When Henry turned back, Alex found that the playful glint in his eyes had vanished, replaced by the same bland, meaningless smile Alex recognized as his public figure face, and he knew that their moment was gone. 

“Let’s get you somewhere a little warmer,” Henry said and motioned towards the door. He managed to hover without touching Alex in any way. 

They made their way inside, and Henry brushed off the snowflakes from his jacket’s shoulders. Alex distractedly tried to do the same, but managed to smear them against the fabric more than anything else. 

As they made to rejoin the crowd, they were intercepted by a tall, tanned, black-haired man. 

“Henry, darling, how have you been?” He asked and proceeded to kiss both Henry’s cheeks quite a bit too close to the mouth if Alex had any say in it. 

 “Hello, James. It's nice to see you.”

“Listen, I'm in town for the week, we should grab a drink.”

“Of course.”

Alex made to clear his throat and interrupt when Henry gestured towards him first.

“This is my friend, Alex.”

“Yep, friend, that's me,” Alex said acerbically.

The wince Henry made would have gone unnoticed had Alex not been staring straight at him.

“Alex, James. He's a mate from Eaton.” 

“Hello, James.” 

“Alex,” James said, looking Alex up and down. “I'm always looking for new friends.”

“Uh-huh,” Alex said, bewildered, and looked at Henry for an explanation. Henry's eyes darted towards Alex briefly before he offered a tight-lipped smile to James.

“I'll have Sophie call ‘round, shall I?”

“Don’t work that girl too hard,” James said with a wolfish grin in Alex's direction. “See you around, Alex.”

As they continued down the hall, Henry cleared his throat and said once again, “Let's get you warmed up.”

“What was he talking about, new friends?”

“Nothing.”

Alex stopped suddenly. "Oh my god," Alex's voice was barely a whisper, the realization slamming into him with the force of a physical blow, making his breath catch. “He thinks I’m an escort.” Alex couldn't decide whether to laugh or be appalled.

“Alex, I–”

“No, it's fine. Don't even worry about it. I mean, I probably would have thought the same thing.” Alex's voice was rising.

Henry winced and looked away, but didn't argue. 

“I mean, look at me.” Alex gestured at his hair and face. "I don't belong here," Alex said, the words heavy with a frustration that had been building all night. "Not really."

“Alex, that's not true.” 

“James over there is just the latest person to imply it. Well, don't worry, I get it."

Henry reached out and tried to take Alex's hand, but he stepped back.

"I know what I am," Alex said, his voice shaking. “I'll see you at the penthouse.” 

The drive home was a silent one. As promised, Richard had been close by and quickly appeared after Alex’s call. He wisely hadn’t asked where Henry was and had given Alex a pointed look before he put up the privacy screen. 

The doorman’s greeting was acknowledged with nothing more than a nod, which irked Alex even more. He couldn’t even be a kept man properly, could he? Not only did he stand out too much among the old white man crowd, but he’d gone and broken the first rule. If he’d learned anything from Julia Roberts' movies, it was that “no kissing” was the number one rule of fake relationships.

Once inside the elevator, Alex shooed the attendant away and entered the code to the penthouse. 

Henry had just looked so sincere out in the moonlight. And Alex had fallen for it. Henry was a walking red flag, and Alex knew it, yet despite that knowledge, he hadn't even tried to stop himself. It was as if some part of him was drawn to the very things he knew he should avoid. Which, frankly, did not surprise him. He’d never been known for his appropriate reactions.

Was he just that easy? Had he been utterly wrong to think they were building something, anything, even just the fragile base of mutual respect?

Henry didn’t correct his “mate” James when he had the opportunity, and the worst thing was, Alex knew without a doubt that he would have assumed the same had he run into Henry with a “friend” at a social event. 

He didn’t begrudge anyone earning a living, but between the thinly veiled comments he’d endured all night and the bizarre encounter with James, Alex’s patience had run out.

This was a necessary jolt back to reality. Best to brutally remind himself of who Henry really was, and the parameters of their agreement, before he drowned in complete delusion.

Chapter Text

By the time Richard returned from dropping Alex off, Henry had taken refuge in the men's bathroom in an effort to avoid any further opportunities to make a fool of himself.

As he looked at himself in the mirror, fussing with the cuffs of his jacket and smoothing over his hair unnecessarily, he couldn't help but replay the conversation with James and Alex. Henry had known, of course, that the evening would not be a lighthearted affair for Alex. He had a deep interest in the success of this evening, a commitment far exceeding that of any of his usual, detached companions.

Morrison had been as disagreeable about Alex as Henry had expected him to be. Even though he had presented Alex's status to the board as a fait accompli, it was an unusual enough situation for anyone to doubt its veracity. He'd had no issue defending Alex from Morrison's scrutiny, yet Henry had let old habits take over as soon as James appeared.

Friend. What was he thinking?

He didn't blame Alex for leaving one bit. In fact, Henry felt he deserved much worse than the private conversation that had occurred, given his failure to support Alex fully. While he didn't like the idea of a scene in the middle of the Grand Hall, he certainly was in no position to blame Alex had he chosen to cause a public spectacle.

On the subject of private conversations, Henry hoped Alex would allow him to apologize for his actions, a chance to rectify his mistakes. Not that he believed he deserved the chance, but he recognized a deep, undeniable need to mend the trust he felt he had broken with Alex. It didn't matter if he wanted to call the whole thing off in the end; Alex deserved an honest explanation.

Henry stared at his reflection in the mirror, the familiar mask he automatically donned in public still firmly in place. It hadn't budged from his face since he'd kissed Alex.

Alex had pulled away.

Henry had lost himself in the heat of the moment, his desire overriding his judgment and pushing too far. He didn't think he'd misread Alex's willingness at the time, but if Alex had been a willing participant, Alex wouldn't have gasped and stepped back as he did; that was a simple fact.

No, as poorly as he'd handled the aftermath, it was better this way, easier for Alex to step away if their "relationship" was mostly a private matter.

On his way outside, he walked through the crowd as if in a daze, acknowledging calls for his attention with automatic nods or slight waves, his mind solely focused on getting home to Alex as soon as possible.

He stood, his thoughts a million miles away, replaying the evening and worrying about Alex as he waited for Richard. Henry had messaged him requesting a pick up and received a quick response; Richard was looping back around after dropping off Alex. Henry felt a flicker of relief knowing Alex hadn't vanished in the night. Not that Henry would blame him for vanishing, but he was nonetheless glad Alex was safe at home.

The car rolled up and Henry got in. Richard, though he'd greeted Henry politely enough, seemed stiffer than usual, a subtle tension evident in the set of his shoulders. Had Alex mentioned anything? Doubtful. Alex wasn't the sort to confide his troubles. Still, Henry shifted in his seat and avoided the driver's eye in the rearview mirror, unsettled by the subtle shift in Richard's disposition and the pointed looks he received.

Alex had a way of making himself indispensable, managing to ingratiate himself with almost everyone in Henry's daily life. From Richard to the elevator attendant, they all seemed to have developed a soft spot for the man, a testament to Alex's effortless charm that Henry found both baffling and heartwarming. For one wild moment, Henry imagined Philip taking Alex under his wing, and he laughed under his breath. This earned him a raised eyebrow from the driver's seat, but Henry offered his best apologetic look in return. No need to make things worse.

By the time they'd made it back to the penthouse, Henry felt a nervous energy he couldn't quell, his fingers unconsciously tugging at his jacket. He pulled and turned the ring on his pinky, his eyes scanning the sidewalk for any sign of Alex, or worse, lingering photographers. He shook his head; the photographers had gotten their fill early on, and he was not foolish enough to think Alex would be waiting outside in the cold for him.

Turned out, Alex wasn't waiting for him inside, either. The penthouse was dark, though a strip of light was visible at the bottom of the door of Alex's bedroom. Though the thought of leaving the situation unresolved between them ate at him, it was best he let Alex make the first move, even if it went against Henry's compelling urge to knock on Alex's door and apologize profusely for his actions. Henry's hands briefly clenched into fists as he fought against the urge to knock, only to be forcefully released once he noticed the tension draining from his shoulders.

He removed his jacket, shedding the last vestiges of his public persona, and carefully draped it over the back of a chair. With a determined step, he headed straight for the freezer, seeking a kind of solace. He'd intentionally avoided alcohol for most of the evening, unwilling to risk any misstep while trying to navigate his complex feelings for Alex.

Ha. Too late now.

He stared into the open drawer, his gaze lingering on the comforting vanilla cone before ultimately settling on a frosty half-full bottle of vodka instead. Tonight was not a night for comforting treats.

The bottle clinked as he set it on the counter; he set a glass next to it and let out a heavy sigh. He wanted - no, needed - to feel the burn of the alcohol down his throat and get his mind off the ache in his chest. He didn't know how long he'd been staring at the bottle when the stool in front of him scraped back, announcing Alex's arrival with a sound that made Henry flinch.

"Skipped straight to the vodka, huh?" Alex said in a mocking tone as he surveyed Henry's desolate scene.

"Alex -" Henry's hand instinctively closed over the neck of the bottle, as if to protect it.

"Drinking alone can't be healthy," Alex continued, his gaze steady and unblinking, holding a mixture of concern and weary judgment.

"No, I suppose it's not," Henry agreed, his voice hollow, devoid of any real conviction. He lifted the bottle in offering, but Alex simply shook his head.

Alex didn't look particularly angry at the moment; his expression was more weary than furious, a subtle slump in his shoulders betraying his fatigue. His hair was damp, clinging slightly to his temples as if he'd run a hand through it repeatedly in thought, and the V-neck t-shirt he wore did little to hide the lean strength of his shoulders, a stark contrast to Henry's own disarray. Henry licked his lips, his gaze drawn to Alex's appearance, and then went back to staring at the bottle, unable to reconcile his feelings.

"I didn't mean to interrupt whatever this is.", Alex said, his tone carefully neutral. "Don't let me stop you."

"No, you're right," Henry conceded, setting the bottle down with a definitive thud. "Drinking alone isn't healthy." Giving the bottle one last, reluctant glance, Henry returned it to the freezer. In exchange, he pulled two water bottles out of the fridge, placing one in front of Alex before cracking open the seal on his own. He took a bracing swig of the cool water.

"Look, Alex -" Henry began, but was immediately cut off by: "No, you look.

"I don't know what the hell you're playing at, Henry, but I thought we had a deal," Alex stated, his voice tight with disappointment.

Henry nodded, his voice firm. "We did – we do!"

"Then what the hell, Fox?" Alex demanded, his patience clearly frayed. "What was that with James?"

Henry squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and said, "I'm sorry about James. I handled that poorly."

"Oh, you're sorry about James, are you?" Alex's voice, which had started calmly enough, grew tighter as his cheeks pinkened and his eyes narrowed. "Anything else you're 'sorry' about?"

"If this is about the kiss..."

"You're damn right it's about the kiss!"

"You pulled away!" Henry surprised himself with the sudden heat in his reply, his voice sharp and unexpectedly loud.

"Because we were outside and I didn't particularly want our first kiss to be on camera!" Alex's breath hitched as he rose from his seat, his chest tight with a tension that seemed to radiate outwards, and he started pacing in front of the kitchen island. "Did it look like I wasn't enjoying myself?"

"It didn't matter what you looked like, you. pulled. away." Henry deliberately emphasized.

"I pull back and so do you, is that it?"

"I don't know what you mean," Henry mumbled, shuffling his feet and deliberately looking away, a familiar shield of evasion rising around him. Liar.

"That vodka bottle would have given me a warmer introduction to your buddy!"

"I'm sorry," Henry said quietly.

"No, I get it. That's Henry Fox, man about town."

"Man about -? You can't be serious."

"Look, I don't blame your friend for thinking I'm from a service. Hell, I'm flattered. But, you didn't correct him, did you?"

"I don't know how many ways I can apologise to you about that."

"It's just, how are we gonna pull this off if you can't even tell your friends we're dating?"

"You're right. I should have corrected him, but I also thought I'd just forced myself on you."

Alex shrugged. "Well, you didn't, so..."

"So?"

"Soooo, where do you figure we go from here? You keep telling me it's not too late to back out, and honestly," Alex continued, his gaze searching Henry's face, "I'm starting to wonder if you mean that for yourself, too. Are you ready for this, Henry? Or are you just trying to convince yourself?"

Henry gripped the edge of the counter. "Not backing out," he managed to say through clenched teeth.

"You don't have a plan."

"I don't not have a plan. I'm not planless. And besides, the board's heard about you already."

"They have?" Alex asked and visibly swallowed.

"It came up," Henry said, aiming for nonchalance. Alex answered with a raised eyebrow. "We have a few weeks before Pez and Nora's New Year's Eve party. Maybe we should lay low until then?"

"Uh-huh. And then what?"

"Then, we introduce my boyfriend to the world," Henry declared.

"You know I'll probably know most people there, right?"

"Then I suppose it'll take care of a lot of birds with one stone, won't it?"

"Nora's gonna kill me."

"Am I so bad?" Good going, fishing for compliments.

"You know you're not," Alex said dismissively. "I haven't spoken to her in weeks. I wanted to give her time to adjust to married life." He fussed with the bottom edge of his tight t-shirt, and Henry couldn't help but follow the motion with his eyes. He forced his gaze upwards and cleared his throat.

"At worst, Pez will hold her back."

"Ha! Have you met Nora?! He'll just get caught in the crossfire."

Henry smiled, picturing feisty Nora elbowing a hapless Pez whose only crime was attempting to hold his wife back from a confrontation with her best friend. "He'll do alright."

"So that'll be everyone, then?" asked Alex.

"Nearly." Bea would find out eventually, and his mother? Well, she needed to be told sooner rather than later. But there was no need to rush; it was early days still, and for the first time, Henry felt a flicker of hope that perhaps his mother, too, might find a new kind of company in his life.

“-eally, Henry? How could you?”

“Hello, mother,” Henry said as he attempted to rub the sleep from his eyes. She'd started speaking before he'd even finished tapping “Accept call”. A quick look at the screen let him know that she had, in fact, called him at an ungodly early hour on a Monday morning. 

It had been a relatively quiet remainder of the weekend after the gala. Alex mostly kept to his room, and Henry found excuses not to knock on Alex's door and grovel at his feet.

“Yes, yes, hello to you too.”

“How could I what?”

“You brought another one of your harlots to the donors' gala.”

“Mother!”

“Don't you ‘mother’ me, I know how these things go.”

“Doubtful.” Henry closed the laptop in front of him. “It's not like that,” he said after taking a deep breath. 

“Then what is it like, exactly? The whole club was asking who your exotic-looking companion was.”

“Exotic!? Really, mother, you know better. And his name is Alex.”

“Well, pictures of you and ‘Alex’ have been making the rounds.”

“What is it you actually want to know?”

“Look, darling, it's normal to want to sow your oats, so to speak, but I thought you wanted to settle down. Show me you're mature enough for the responsibilities a COO has.”

“He's my live-in,” Henry said, growing tired of the back and forth.

“He's your what?”

“My live-in, mother. My boyfriend, who lives with me.”

“I heard you the first time! When did this happen?”

“A few weeks ago,” Henry answered vaguely.

“When were you going to tell me?”

Henry paused. He hadn't actually considered how he would break this news to his mother.

“Just now, actually. "Just now, actually. Thought the holidays were a good time for you two to meet," Henry said, the words feeling hollow as he acknowledged the truth: there was no truly 'good' time to break news like this to his mother.  

“I’ll have to see with Chef what we can make happen on such short notice.” 

“I’m sure he’ll be happy to have company.” His mother rarely had anyone over since his father died. It couldn’t be healthy for her to be surrounded only by staff all the time. 

“Speaking of company,” Mrs Fox began, “have you given more thought about the Monoi house auction?”

“Speaking of company, I already told you and Philip I wouldn’t be attending.”

“Come, now. It’s the last auction of the year. Do you know how many people would love to be in your place right now? And here you are, squandering that opportunity on a matter of ‘principles’.”

“Is Philip one of those people?”

“Philip isn’t you, darling. He will go because it’s in his best interest, but he doesn’t have the…finesse that you do,” she said.

“He could, if he bothered to learn.”

“That’s all well and good, but I need you to go to this auction, not Philip.”

“Why is that, mother? I told you what my research showed about the piece. It has a murky history and no public trace of ownership – thank you, Monoi house, by the way – and this buyer doesn’t care.” 

“This buyer, as you say, carries a lot of weight with some members of the board. I’ll remind you that your actions directly reflect how the board sees you.”

“I’m aware of my current position with the board.”

“How do you expect them to take you seriously as COO if you aren’t on their side, Henry?”

“I expect them to respect integrity and professionalism, Mother. Is that so hard to believe? Since neither of those things are happening with this auction, I refuse to get my hands dirty on an iffy proposition. I’ll say it again; if they insist on involving Pulsar, Philip can go. I will not. This auction is a betrayal of everything we stand for, and I won't be a part of it.”

“And if I make you?”

“Make me? Either you respect my judgement or you don't, but you can't force me.” Henry took a steadying breath. “I considered giving Monoi house a second chance, you know.”

”What changed your mind?”

"I did a little more digging and found what I expected. They haven't changed a bit.”

“In your opinion,” she said, voice like steel.

“Isn’t the whole point of me going to give my opinion?”

“Why must you always be so irksome?”

“I’m just trying to get you to see the forest for the trees, Mother.”

After a tense moment of silence, there was a heavy sigh on the line. 

“I’ll see you in a few days, then,” Henry said.

“I suppose so.”

Chapter Text

Ever since he moved, Christmas had been a complicated time of year for Alex. He missed his parents down in Texas, yet found that something about Christmas time in New York resonated with him. Perhaps it was the dazzling decorations and twinkling lights, or maybe it was the subtle shift in people's demeanour, a fleeting but palpable increase in kindness that he found surprisingly comforting. During his last shift, he hadn't dealt with a single grumpy patron; even those he couldn't help had been pleasant, and now he hoped to recreate that festive atmosphere in Henry's kitchen. A few candles flickered on the table, casting warm glows, while a vibrant centrepiece and a cozy couch blanket hinted at the holiday spirit.

He'd even found a British imports shop and done some shopping after some late-night online sleuthing - sourcing the goose had been quite an adventure. He might not know what Christmas crackers were for or how to eat hard sauce with pudding, but he could Google with the best of them. He'd also made some tamales and hoped they could have something of a shared holiday feast. 

The icing on the cake was the gift he'd gotten for Henry. 

He didn't expect anything from Henry, given all Henry had provided for him in the last six weeks. Not to mention that since the gala, Henry had been distant. Sure, they still crossed paths, but Alex had dined solo every night since, though habit dictated he always brought enough home for Henry. Henry had been coming home late, but Alex knew the food didn’t go to waste – it was always gone by morning. He could appreciate that Henry was putting in long hours in the lead-up to Christmas. After all, sales of all sorts were probably being finalized up until the last minute. 

Despite his gratitude, Alex couldn't help feeling like a freeloader, fueling his determination to gift Henry something special.

Alex's hope was for his plan to come together seamlessly, though he anxiously awaited Henry. It was Christmas Eve, and he had no idea what time he would be home. The kitchen was working overtime: there was a goose in the oven and all four gas burners were running. Steaming tamales and a simmering pudding filled the air with warmth, while Alex felt the sweat beading on his forehead as he tackled these festive preparations. He couldn't imagine Henry finishing his work much later than usual, though he also knew Henry could be unpredictable and come home much earlier than Alex anticipated. In any case, the penthouse’s kitchen buzzed with life, the aromatic symphony of spices mingling in the air as pots clanged and timers chimed, each sound a reminder of the holiday spirit brewing.

This year, Alex was determined to create a festive atmosphere, pouring his heart into creating an unforgettable holiday feast. It was a stark contrast to last year's quiet and uneventful Christmas with Stacy. They'd had Chinese food delivered, followed by Stacy getting sloshed while Alex called his parents and sister. 

June was off on another trip this year, and thank goodness for that. He'd sent her a text but didn't expect a callback, given the time difference with New Zealand. 

His parents, though… He wasn't doing himself any favours by putting off that call. 

He still hadn't decided what to tell them regarding his living situation. On the one hand, he was well aware of his parents' dislike of Stacy. They hadn't exactly been subtle about it the few times they'd managed to see him on a video call. Now that Alex thought about it, everything they'd pointed out – and that Alex had vehemently denied – was true. Stacy was snobbish and disdainful of Alex's roots and hadn't even bothered trying not to be rude about it.

Even after the frosty past few days, Alex had a feeling Henry would be warm and welcoming. He'd been a gentleman ever since this whole arrangement started. Generous with his time and attention – maybe too generous with his money. Alex still squirmed when he thought back on the tux's cost. He couldn't stand the idea of only wearing it once, but who was he kidding? When would he ever need to wear a tux again?

Taking a deep breath, he stared at the elevator door and frowned at it as if daring it to open. If Henry were to walk in now, he’d at least have an excuse to put off this call, but no such luck. He checked on his simmering pots, then set his tablet so he could easily keep an eye on everything while video calling his parents. He ran his hand through his hair before wiping it on a tea towel and pressing the call button. 

Before Alex could fully prepare, an excited southern drawl greeted him. "Darlin'! I'm so happy to see you!" 

“Hi, Ma,” Alex said. He couldn't help but smile seeing her grinning in front of him.

“Merry Christmas, kiddo!” His father joined in.

‘Thanks, Dad."

“Where are you, buddy? Did Stacy drag you out of the city for the holidays?"

“Ah, no. I kind of moved out.”

“Does Nora have you working the kitchen in the new place?”

“No, not quite.”

“Well, spill. Where are you? That kitchen looks fancy.”

“Neither of you are going to ask me about moving?" Alex pressed.

“Oh, honey, it’s not that we don’t care,” said his mother, her voice full of concern.. 

“Uh-huh.”

“Your mother's right. We care about you, son. Now that Stacy? Didn't care for him at all.”

His mother nodded. “And you always fall on your feet.”

“I guess.” Alex winced. He wasn't exactly making it on his own, now was he? 

“There's no shame in getting a little help from your friends. Now, where is this fancy kitchen?”

“It's, uh, my new place.”

His father whistled, impressed. His mother, on the other hand, looked worried. 

“I hope you're not overextending yourself,” she said. 

“No, not at all. I have a roommate.”

“Well, your roommate has expensive tastes.”

“You could say that.”

“As long as you're happy,” his father said, looking only a little less worried than his mother. 

Alex smiled, hoping it looked sincere; he hated keeping things from his parents. One of the simmering pots hissed, and he glanced at it quickly; it could wait for now. 

“You cooking?” His father asked. 

“Tamales.”

“Lucky roommate! I'm making the same for your mother."

Alex glanced back at the stove, feeling a rush of warmth and embarrassment; he didn't consider himself much of a cook but was determined to impress Henry with the tamales he was preparing. He was overcompensating, wasn’t he? Henry would get home and see the ridiculous amount of food Alex had prepared for them and –

And what, exactly? Alex didn’t think Henry would yell even if he were upset. In fact, Alex had only seen Henry close to losing his cool when confronted with photographers. Alex was attempting to concentrate on taking a deep breath when his mother spoke.

“Very lucky roommate if he’s getting Christmas Eve dinner out of you.”

“It’s nothing, Ma,” he deflected. 

“If you say so, darlin’. What else are you makin'?" His mother's curiosity, wrapped in familiarity and concern, prompted Alex to deeply reflect on the warmth of their holiday traditions. They were not just meals but heartfelt memories that contrasted sharply with his more solitary, uncertain life alongside Henry.

“Goose.”

“Did you say goose?”

“Yep. It’s a thing, don’t ask." His mother nodded agreeably. "I gotta get back to cooking. You guys take care, and Merry Christmas.”

“Sure will, honey.”

“Thanks, kid."

Alex took a slow breath, forcing himself to steady his racing thoughts; he worried more about ensuring Henry felt welcome and relaxed than about the meal itself. Alex had to get himself under control. He reasoned that while Henry likely wouldn't mind the food, he would probably be upset if Alex wasn't okay when he got home. 

Did Henry even like tamales? He had yet to refuse any kind of food Alex had brought home, so hopefully he would enjoy them. If not, the goose looked golden through the oven window, and the Christmas pudding was nearly done. He'd just have to make do.

Alex fretted over the food until the sound of the elevator broke through the soft music he'd played for ambiance. He hurriedly turned off the oven and burners. The kitchen radiated a comforting warmth, the rich scents of roasted goose and spices a testament to Alex's efforts, all bathed in the soft ambient light of the dining room as the food rested.

As the doors opened, Alex’s heart raced in anticipation. Henry brushed snow from his hair and wished the attendant a merry Christmas. Alex noticed Henry slipping the attendant a few bills before stepping into the penthouse.

'Wow, Alex, you made all this?" he said, a look of awe spreading across his face when he caught sight of the food on the counter.

“It's Christmas,” Alex replied with a smile. “Don't go expecting this on a regular basis.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He hung his jacket in the closet and removed his boots before joining Alex in the kitchen. “I hope you didn’t go through all that trouble just for me.”

“Some for you and some for me. My father’s tamales are sort of a tradition, and I haven’t had a chance to make them in a while.” Alex gestured to the glass of wine at his elbow. “Drink?”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Henry rubbed his hands in anticipation and got a wine glass from the cupboard. 

Now that Alex got a good look at him, Henry seemed tired, but his eyes sparkled with curiosity as he took in the spread, a sincere warmth cutting through his fatigue. Alex supposed that working in sales made the holidays particularly taxing. He also surmised that high-profile customers meant a level of pressure Alex had no interest in getting to know. Alex watched Henry pour the wine with a furrowed brow and hoped that dinner would manage to bring a smile to his face. 

Both Henry and Alex found themselves making appreciative noises in lieu of conversation for most of the meal. The tamales were steamed to perfection, and the goose was delicious, but the real star was the smashed roasted potatoes with gravy Alex had decided on at the last minute. 

When it came time for dessert, Alex stood staring at the hard sauce. It was meant to be a soft, spoonable texture, but the refrigerated package accompanying the plum pudding was a solid block, living up to its name with a stubborn, unyielding consistency. As he attempted to stab and scrape, Henry chuckled and placed the container in the microwave. A minute later, the mixture was nice and spreadable.

“See, I knew things had gone too smoothly,” Alex said as he watched Henry prepare the dessert bowls. 

“You made bloody goose, but got tripped up by icing.” Henry grinned as he spoke, belying any sting to his words. 

“How was I supposed to know hard sauce isn’t actually supposed to be hard?” Alex couldn’t have stopped the laugh that bubbled out of him if he tried. He looked over at Henry and found that he, too, was giggling, even as he finished serving. Alex’s smile stayed on as they ate.

“Kind of wish I had some tea to go along with this,” said Henry between bites. 

“Why don’t you have tea?”

“Drank my fill in England, I suppose.”

'Well, it might not be tea, but–' Alex stood and walked to the coffee table, his eyes on the box. He picked up the box, wrapped in subdued matte silver paper. He walked back to his seat and handed it to Henry before sitting down. As Henry unwrapped the box, a look of surprise and warmth spread across his face, and Alex couldn't help but smile back, pleased. 

Inside the box was a vintage men's grooming kit: a comb, a boar bristle brush, a nail file, and various shaving implements. Alex had done some serious research regarding the razors; would Henry prefer a straight edge over a safety razor? Perhaps a more modern razor would be preferable. Alex had no desire to be responsible for any shaving incidents.

Henry ran his hands over the stitching of the leather and the brass hardware. “This is perfect,” Henry said, glancing up with a smile. “If I had known… And after you went through all this trouble,” Henry said as he made an all-encompassing gesture.

“No trouble,” Alex protested. “I wanted to. And listen, I know I haven’t really been Mr. Available lately, either.” 

Even before the gala, Alex had been painfully aware that he didn’t fit into Henry’s world. He'd always just be a 'friend,' and he was self-aware enough to know that wouldn't be enough if this was going to be real. 

But it wasn’t. And Alex just needed to remind himself of that, especially considering the quiet ache that still lingered from those lonely nights spent ruminating over that kiss.  

“I’m to blame as well.” Henry winced. “I feel like my whole life is spent in my office.”

“That’s your job, though, isn’t it?”

“I suppose so. Not much action happening lately, I’m afraid. Or rather, not any action I want to be involved with.”

“Sorry, I guess?”Alex was not entirely certain he understood all the ins and outs of the acquisitions business..It seemed overly bureaucratic, but who was he to judge? The library was probably ten times worse.?

Henry shrugged, then nodded decisively, as if he'd come to a resolution. "Hold that thought," he said and headed towards his room. Alex heard some distant rustling and craned his neck. He then cleared his throat and sat back in his chair. He fought the urge to let curiosity get the best of him, but he had yet to see Henry's bedroom. In what seemed like no time at all, Henry was walking back to the table with a plain, unassuming cardboard box.. He set it down on the table and pushed it gently towards Alex.

"What's this?" Alex asked.

"Something I was saving for tomorrow, but since we're doing gifts now..."

"You shouldn't have." Alex picked up the box when Henry pushed it towards him again. He turned it over, but there were no markings. He opened the box slowly, revealing a layer of packing peanuts. Moving them aside, he found a clear bag containing a paper-wrapped book. Mindful of his unwashed hands, Alex hovered a finger over the bag disbelievingly. "Henry, is this what I think it is?"

"You were right, I wouldn't know what to do with a draft manuscript. But you do."

"I can't accept this," Alex said, shaking his head in earnest. "It's too much."

"It's not. Besides, a rare manuscript like this should go to someone who can truly appreciate its value. Unless you'd rather I get that bookcase?"

Alex clutched the box protectively. "You wouldn't dare."

"It'd look lovely next to the fireplace."

"Stop it," Alex said, his face a mask of horror. "Absolutely not. I'd rather give it back to the library than let you do that."

"So you'll keep it?" Henry asked, looking both a little smug and very hopeful.

"I'll take care of it, how's that?"

"All I could ask for."

Alex stared at the box he was still holding tight to his chest. He'd handled similar items before, preparing exhibits and on other rare occasions, but never one that felt so intimately his. He let out a shaky breath, set the box down, and began gathering the now-empty dessert bowls. Henry hurried to join him in the kitchen. Alex methodically put the leftovers away, seeking the grounding familiarity of the task. Henry busied himself with filling the dishwasher, darting glances Alex's way. A comfortable silence draped itself over them.

“So, when are we making this thing publicly official? Or do I have to go through the other members of the board first?” Alex asked after a few minutes. He felt like a broken record, but given the recent uncertainty, he needed to confirm they were still on track.

"Don't worry about the board. They may carry a lot of weight at Pulsar, but that doesn't mean they get to throw it around in my personal life. Besides, what's more public than the paparazzi pictures that are already out there?" Henry countered.

“You think Nora reads those rags? Does Pez? Be real,” Alex said. He wasn't about to burst Henry's bubble about needing to win over the board for that promotion.

Henry raised a skeptical brow in answer, but gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod of agreement. “There’s their party next week. I assume we’re still going?”

“Yeah, of course. I haven’t seen them since the wedding.”

“Great. Let’s announce it then. Everybody will be there, so it’ll all be done in one fell swoop.

"I suppose," Alex hedged, his gaze dropping to the counter, a knot of unease tightening in his stomach. He had hoped to speak with Nora about it before then. 

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s just… you’re sure I can’t talk to Nora about this?”

“I’d rather you didn’t, no. She’ll tell Pez, and then who knows who it could spread to. No, we can’t risk it."

Alex nodded, feeling more isolated than he had all week, the weight of their deception pressing down on him.

"Come on, it's not so bad, is it?" Henry asked, putting a hand on Alex's arm.

“Could certainly be worse,” Alex replied, wryly. 

“Besides, we’re to have lunch with my mother in two days, which is the real test. If she doesn’t believe it, then the game is truly up, I’m afraid.”

“Sure, sure. No pressure or anything. I don't think I make the best first impressions.

"It will be fine, Alex. It's just lunch," Henry said, his tone a little too firm, a touch too insistent.

Alex wanted to believe Henry, but his tone did little to reassure him. He offered a tight smile, the weight of their charade settling heavily upon him; there was no turning back, only the uncertain path ahead and the hope that their carefully constructed facade would hold.

Chapter Text

Alex had tried to get some insight into what to expect from today’s lunch with little success. Henry had wavered between vague answers, never committing to anything. He merely said that he couldn't refuse his mother's invitation and that Alex had to meet her at some point. 

Alex had never met any of his “in-laws” before. Either the relationships had been too brief to warrant a meeting, or, in Stacy's case, it simply had never come up in their conversations. It struck him as strange that in the year they'd been together, he'd barely heard Stacy mention his family, even though they lived in the city. 

Who was Alex to point fingers when he hadn’t spoken to his parents since the week before he’d moved out of Stacy’s place? He hadn’t wanted to hash out a breakup with someone his mother had called “a cold-hearted blowhard” after one FaceTime call. And now, he had no idea how to explain his relationship with Henry to his parents.  

Maybe if he started with June? She’d probably laugh at him until she cried, but at least he’d have someone to talk about all this with. Nora would hardly be more sympathetic, even though she knew how Alex felt about Henry. He probably shouldn’t tell her about the whole kissing thing. 

The kissing thing that had been running circles in Alex’s head since it happened. 

He’d decided to forgive himself for the whole thing, considering the circumstances. It all felt surreal, and perhaps he'd been a little too method with his role.

It didn't matter if Henry's lips felt as soft and pillowy as they looked. And it didn’t matter that he’d made every effort to have Alex be as comfortable as possible, even though he knew the event was light-years away from anything Alex had ever experienced. And it most certainly didn't matter that Henry's eyes glittered in the moonlight as Alex broke the kiss. 

Nope, none of that mattered.

What did matter was that Richard was driving them out of the city to meet Henry's mother. Alex felt enormous pressure to convince her that the bond he shared with Henry was genuine enough to pass her scrutiny, a challenge that felt daunting and like a test of his very identity.

Alex had been sent out shopping again the day before. Bergdorf’s staff hadn’t seemed too enthusiastic to help until they spotted Richard leaning against the car out front. It seemed that Henry was a well-known customer, and if Alex knew anything about these kinds of places, it was that the staff was most likely paid on commission.

Two hours and an indecent amount of money later, Alex was walking out with three new outfits and clear instructions on what shoes to get next door.

And all of that was worth it when he caught sight of Henry's face as he emerged from his room. He wanted to impress Henry's mother, and guessed that Henry's approving smile when he saw the jacket was a promising sign that he was also succeeding in impressing Henry himself.. 

The cut of the jacket did things for his shoulders, the salesperson had said with heat in their eyes. And, well, if Alex could get that sort of look from Henry, well then who could blame him for trying? Why was he still trying to get a reaction from someone who'd made his transactional feelings so clear, when he knew deep down he was looking for more than that?? Alex scowled at himself.  

Maybe it was just a case of avoidance; Henry kept bringing up feelings that Alex would rather not delve into too deeply. 

Determined to settle on annoyance for now, he looked over at his seatmate and wondered once again how he managed to keep his clothes wrinkle-free and his hair unmussed. Even his jacket looked crisp and clean, even though it had been blustering with a mix of snow and rain when they’d left the penthouse. 

Still, he watched Henry fidget with the ring on his pinky and couldn’t help but be endeared at the only outward sign of his state of mind. He hadn’t mentioned the visit bothering him at all, but Alex admitted that their conversations since the gala had been kind of stilted. Not that he blamed Henry for that; no, Alex blamed himself.

He was the one who’d let himself get caught up in the whole gala thing. No, Henry had been clear from the start about his expectations, and Alex had gone and let himself get a little lost in those blue eyes. 

“What’s wrong?”

Alex blinked, shaking off his thoughts. 'Huh? Oh, nothing.'

“You’re frowning,” Henry replied.

“Don’t worry about it, just thinking.”

“Well, you think very loudly."

Alex laughed again, wishing he could mimic Henry's calm vibe. Moments like these would be much easier if his face didn’t constantly betray him. 

“I was wondering how much starch they use on your pants to keep them so stiff."

Richard raised an eyebrow in the rearview mirror as Henry's loud laugh filled the car.

“Five minutes, sir,” Richard said as he drove through an impressive gate. 

Of course, Henry’s mother lived in a gated community. Alex merely nodded, not trusting himself to voice the whirlwind of assumptions spinning in his head about the opulence surrounding them. Briefly, he wondered if Henry's penthouse could be considered less impressive than the homes they passed. They boasted pristine, snow-dusted lawns, ornate fountains shimmering under the icy sunlight, and sculptures that seemed almost too perfect for the winter wonderland. As they drove deeper into the community, the grandeur of the estate and Henry's guarded expression made Alex feel the weight of her scrutiny approaching. It wasn't long before they slowly went down a winding driveway towards a building that was much too large to be called a house, standing at the end of the driveway next to a garage bigger than Alex's parents' house down in Austin.

He knew he was gaping by the tucked-in smile he could see on Henry's face. His smile quickly faded, replaced with a mask of stoicism as they approached the grand entrance. He took a few measured breaths and patted the breast pocket of his jacket, nodding once to himself. Though he appeared quite stoic to an outsider as the car approached, Alex couldn't help but notice the telltale tightness around Henry's eyes and mouth, a reminder that, beneath that polished exterior, Henry had his own insecurities. Alex couldn't help but think of how endearing it was to see Henry look so… human.

He gave what he hoped was an encouraging smile, feeling his heart tighten slightly as he squeezed Henry's hand briefly, Alex seeking reassurance while hoping to offer some to Henry before they followed Richard inside. Henry tugged at his cuffs and smoothed nonexistent wrinkles from his jacket before taking hold of Alex's hand. Alex swallowed hard, the lump in his throat threatening to choke him, but he kept his grip firm as they ascended the steps, trying to mask the tumult inside.

Everything was overly large; an immense fern of some sort loomed over them as they waited for someone to answer the door. Wondering how this massive fern managed to survive the cold, Alex tried to surreptitiously inch closer to Henry. He glanced at the plant’s thriving fronds as they peeked through the chilly air, earning him a quick smile before the door opened. The severe-looking woman who answered the door, dressed in what appeared to be a uniform, bore no resemblance to Henry. Probably not his mother, then. 

Still, Alex looked to Henry and found his stoic mask firmly back in place. Henry offered a gentle nod. "Irina. It's good to see you," he said softly, his voice warm but with an undeniable edge of practiced politeness.

As they stepped inside, Alex's heart raced, a blend of excitement and anxiety swirling within him. This was more than just a meeting; it was a crucial test of their burgeoning relationship, a stark introduction to the opulent and perhaps unforgiving world Henry inhabited. He took a breath, bracing for what might come—this moment could change everything.

The entrance hall boasted soaring arched ceilings, a grand sweeping staircase to the left, and a dark, imposing study to the right. Henry gently tugged on Alex's hand to follow, likely noticing his wide-eyed look at the interior. 

Henry led the way down the wide corridor before them into a living room even colder than the penthouse’s. A prevalence of slightly off-white furniture—or some pretentious shade like "Lily on a Bed of Snow"—against a crisp white background made Alex want to wipe non-existent dirt off his suit before he stained something; Alex knew he'd never live it down if he did.

Standing near an elaborate bar cart, a woman with a sharp jawline and eyes like chips of ice stopped mixing her drink as they entered.

“Hello, Mother.”

“Henry, glad you could make it,” she replied.

“Of course. Mother, this is my boyfriend, Alex,” Henry said and tipped his head slightly towards him. 

“Ma’am,” Alex said and nodded. "Thank you for having me."

“Alexander, thank you for accompanying my son." She offered a curt nod, a gesture of regal dismissal, before returning to her concoction.

Alex looked up at Henry, only to receive a grim sort of smile in response, which further unsettled him. Should have asked a few more questions, champ.

She glided across the polished floor with an understated elegance that commanded the room's attention.

“You may call me Mrs. Fox,” she said to Alex. She scrutinized him with an unreadable expression, her sharp eyes half-lidded, lips sealed, and posture perfectly composed, making Alex squirm under her gaze. She possessed the same uncanny ability to show absolutely no emotion on her face as Henry did, and any lingering doubts Alex had about their relation vanished.

She gave a long look at Henry as well before gesturing to the beverage cart and taking a seat on the glaringly white sofa, to which Henry replied, "None for me, thank you, Mother." 

“I’m good, thanks,” echoed Alex.

Henry let go of Alex’s hand to gesture towards the opposite side of the sofa. He fought the instinct to wipe his hands on his thighs as he settled what he considered a respectful distance from Henry—only for Henry to close the gap, taking hold of Alex's hand once more, a silent anchor amid the storm of scrutiny.

Alex almost sighed in relief. He’d found the sudden lack of it to be quite jarring, truth be told.

"Alexander, while we wait for Chef to be ready, why don't you tell me about yourself? My son has been quite tight-lipped about you."

Henry squeezed his hand either in a show of support – or a plea for help, Alex couldn't quite tell which. In any case, Alex had been expecting questions.

"I'm currently halfway through an internship at the New York Public Library, ma'am, working with their special collections."

“Aren’t you a little old for an intern?” she remarked, raising an eyebrow. 

“I wouldn’t know, ma’am." Having just completed his master's the year before, Alex believed he was well within the normal range for internships.

“Now, the library, isn’t that a little…low-brow?” she asked.

“Is it?” Alex asked, eyebrow raised.

“Mother, Alex worked on the Motherwell exhibit."

"I didn't realize they allowed interns to work on those."

Mrs. Fox hadn't quite paused before “allowed”, but Alex heard it clearly. Still, he wouldn't fail his end of the bargain. 

“I'm aware of what a privilege that was, ma'am.*

“Mmm."

While maintaining composure, Alex felt a swell of relief—as fleeting as the moment was—only slightly tarnished by Mrs. Fox's unrelenting stare at Henry and Alex's intertwined hands, until at last a kitchen staff member emerged to announce, "Lunch is served."

Henry gently rose from his seat, beckoning Alex to follow as he guided him down the corridor, the faint creak of the polished floors echoing in the quiet hall, each step heightening Alex's nervous anticipation. He was busy trying not to frown at Henry's mother. Another person who disliked him on principle. Great. He pinched his lips and smoothed out the wrinkles in his suit before following the Foxes to the dining room. 

Enter description of dining room

Chef, as Mrs. Fox called him, not only prepared the food but also hastily served the first course: a delicately dressed plate with a single piece of smoked salmon over pumpernickel. As they commenced their meal, he dove into an explanation, but Alex was hardly paying attention.

Alex almost mistakenly picked it up like he would tapas until he saw Henry precisely cut off a bit before bringing it to his mouth. That near miss averted, they ate in silence, Alex painfully aware of every bite and the scrutiny weighing down on him.

Chef reappeared quickly while they served the soup. He dove into explaining the pale green contents of their bowl, but Alex was hardly paying attention. He could feel Mrs Fox’s relentless gaze on him and he ignored his desire to squirm. Instead, he took a deep breath, channelling the same calm he maintained at the gala, and decided to treat her with wary detachment—like the other snooty guests. 

The soup course was fairly uneventful, with Alex being doubly careful not to spill on his brand-new suit. Henry sat to his left, a pleasantly bland expression on his face. Damn him and his society mask. It was one thing not to want to give the game away, but any kind of hint that Alex was doing okay would have done wonders just about then. 

When bowls were cleared away, there was a bit of a lull while water glasses were refilled, and a new drink appeared for Mrs Fox. A fleeting frown crossed Henry's face at the sight of his mother's drink, a flicker of concern and irritation evident before he reverted to his habitual, bland aloofness. 

“How have you been, Mother?” Henry asked.

“Well, thank you. Morrison is being his usual unpleasant self, of course. I can’t wait until he’s off the board of trustees." She sat up straight, the sharp clink of ice against glass punctuating the silence as she swirled it in her drink. “And you? You’ve been well, I trust? Your appearances in the gossip rags have been rather sparse these days, haven't they?”

“I haven’t been much for going out lately,” Henry said, and briefly looked at Alex. 

“I see. Got yourself a cook at home, then?”

“Hardly,” scoffed Alex. “But he does eat what I bring home.”

“Henry, dear, you didn’t mention you were living together.”

“Did I not?” Henry asked with a raised eyebrow. “Yes, since the fall."

The conversation stopped when the kitchen staff emerged, carrying a beautifully plated main dish, garnished with seasonal vegetables and drizzled with a rich sauce. Alex wondered if this was their usual habit or if it was an attempt at keeping the conversation private.

Mrs Fox turned to Alex once the kitchen staff had filed out again. “How long have you known each other?”

“Oh, a few years, I think?”

“Really? How did you meet my son?” 

“One of Pez’s charity things. Do you remember which, Henry?” Alex had expected these questions, but Mrs. Fox's tone carried a sharp edge that set his teeth on edge. She was all sharp angles and stiff posture, not unlike Henry, but she lacked the warmth Alex knew Henry had underneath the suit.

“The Apollo benefit, yes.”

What Alex didn’t mention was that Nora had dragged him to that event to see Pez. She’d met him a few weeks before at a supper club through a friend of a friend and had fallen head over heels for the man. Alex had followed because Nora was one of the most important people to him in the world, and he wanted to see her happy.

Pez was an absolute charmer, with sparkling dark brown eyes and an infectious smile that drew people in; Alex liked him immediately. When he’d introduced his “best mate in the world”, Henry Fox, Alex admitted that he deflated quite a bit. The tall blond man had one of the most expensive-looking suits Alex had ever seen in person and had a stunning young man at his side who sidled up to him in a clear sign of ownership. But what had actually turned Alex off wasn’t the fact that Henry didn’t seem to remember his companion’s name – it was how dead his eyes looked. He didn’t seem bored or even as if he simply didn’t want to be there; he looked like it didn’t matter where he was, nothing would hold his interest.

Later on that day, while everyone was chatting about their latest investments, Alex wandered off. He had no investments to speak of, as one might expect of a Master's student. However, that didn't mean he wanted to make a point of his situation. 

He saw Henry surrounded by laughing faces over by the bar, but Henry still had that same look about him. Briefly, Alex wondered how miserable someone had to be to look like that. He also wondered what it would take to shake a smile out of someone who had so clearly given up. 

At that same moment, Henry had met his eyes across the room, and a look came over his face, somewhere between confusion and disbelief and the smallest of smiles had pulled at the corner of his mouth. Alex smiled back, though a flicker of curiosity and concern tightened his chest as he wondered what had caused Henry's momentary shift. 

Over the years, Alex hadn’t seen that look cross Henry’s face again. He might look bored and even sometimes haughty as if he had better things to do than be around his best mate’s girlfriend’s friends, but never quite like that.  

“Were you accompanying someone to this benefit?”

“Mother-” Henry said firmly.

“What? I'm just getting to know Mr…?”

“Claremont-Diaz, ma'am,” Alex offered. “And yes, I was Ms. Holleran’s guest.”

“I see.” Mrs Fox turned to her meal, apparently done with the interrogation for now. 

Alex looked over in Henry's direction, but he got nothing but a pinched look before he too turned to his food. Alex's attention shifted back to his plate, the roasted new potatoes gleaming. Their rugged surface offered no answers, just a sour, lemony bite echoing his frustrations.

By the time the dessert course had been served, Mrs Fox was four drinks in. Henry didn’t mention anything, but Alex saw him frown in the direction of her glass every time it was refilled.

“You missed the Monoi house auction.”

“I did,” said Henry, warily. He set down his spoon and sat up straight in his chair. 

“Why do you insist on being so pig-headed?”

“Valuing my integrity doesn't make me ‘pig-headed’, mother.”

“Are you saying your brother lacks integrity?”

“So Phillip did end up going, then.”

“Who else?” She took a sip from her drink. “Though you would have absolutely gotten a better deal than he did.”

“Was the job that important?”

“It was for Morrison, and it should have been for you.”

“Morrison does not rule Pulsar, mother.”

“No, the board does. And you know who the board doesn’t listen to? Whiny little boys who think they’re above everyone else."

Alex interrupted, "Now hold on just one second. The job got done, just like you wanted, right? So what’s the problem with Phillip going instead of Henry?”

“Excuse me, no one was speaking to you,” Mrs Fox snapped.

“Mother,” Henry hissed.

“People need to know their place, Henry, or everything falls apart.”

“Mrs. Fox, you got what you wanted. I don’t understand why you need to berate Henry about it after the fact.”

“A smart man would keep out of family matters,” she said icily. “Henry has very specific talents, not that you’d know.”

“Oh, I think I know more about his specific talents than you do,”  Alex snarked back.

“Alex!” Henry exclaimed.

“How dare you! Henry, will you really let him talk to me this way?”

“Yes, I think I will,” Henry said firmly as he looked at Alex and finally took a sip of his wine. 

She let out a noise of frustration and turned to Henry. 

“You should have been the one to go,” she insisted petulantly.

“The statuette would still have been stolen, Mother.”

Alex sat tall and stiff in his chair. “I thought Pulsar didn’t go for that sort of thing.”

“We don’t,” Henry replied, staring at his mother.

“Theft is quite the accusation, don’t you think?” she quipped.

“One that I hope Henry would stay away from, yes,” Alex said as he looked at both of them in turn. “I find it odd that you don’t seem to.” 

Mrs. Fox gave Alex a scathing look over the rim of her glass. “As if every item in the library exhibits has a squeaky-clean past.”

“I can’t speak to the items acquired before my time, but I can say with certainty that it is the case now, yes.”

“Well, it sounds like you have an answer to everything.”

“No ma’am, but I do know this.”

“Henry, we’re not done discussing this,” she snapped, dismissing Alex with a curt flick of her wrist.

“On the contrary, I think Henry has made it very clear he is finished discussing it.” Alex picked up his napkin from his lap and set it down. “We’re done here. Henry?”

“Quite. Thank you for lunch, Chef,” Henry nodded to the man in the doorway coming through with small dessert plates. He nodded politely and held back.

Alex waited for Henry to lead the way, uncertain about navigating the grand house alone.

“You didn't have to do that,” Henry said almost under his breath once they were sat once again in the car.

"Someone had to," Alex replied, his voice tight with frustration and protectiveness, unwilling to let Henry face that alone. “Is it always like that?” he asked, his voice low and hesitant, dreading the answer.

“No, sometimes she's much worse."

Alex's jaw tightened, a muscle pulsing in his cheek.

"It's not her fault," Henry said, though his eyes held a flicker of the pain Mrs. Fox's words had inflicted.

“Acting like that is a choice, Henry.”

“You don't know what you're talking about.” Henry turned to Alex in the cramped space, a spark in his eye that had been missing since they'd arrived. 

“You know what? You're right. I don't know what I'm talking about because my mother would never speak to me like that.”

Henry breathed hard through his nose and pinched his lips before answering. 

“A while ago, she wouldn't have, either. But that was before my father died.” He tugged at the sleeves of his jacket before continuing. “I've been told I'm very much like him, though that's not how I remember my father being."

A wave of guilt washed over Alex, realizing their earlier laughter had unknowingly trampled upon the weight of Henry's unspoken grief. “I didn't know.”

“How could you? I haven't been wearing a ‘dead dad’ pin, now have I?*

“Still. I'm sorry.” 

Henry waved off Alex's concern and focused on the imaginary lint on his trousers. 

“I wish you wouldn't brush me off.” Alex stared at Henry's profile. 

“My apologies.” Henry turned towards Alex as he spoke. Alex could see no trace of snark or sarcasm in Henry’s eyes, though they shone with earnestness. “Would you believe me if I said it wasn’t on purpose?"

Though Alex would have scoffed in disbelief only a few moments earlier, Henry's earnest tone made it hard to doubt him. 

“I believe you.” 

“It might be easier on you if you didn’t.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What if I’m exactly who you think I am? Just some rich jerk who doesn’t even correct his friends when they infer his date’s a prostitute?”

Alex shrugged but didn’t turn away from Henry’s heavy gaze.

“We do have an arrangement," Alex said, his voice steady. "What good would it do to pretend we don’t?”

“I would never pay you for sex.”

“Should I be offended?”

“Up to you, but this isn’t that kind of deal."

"What kind of arrangement is it then, Henry?"

Henry let out an exasperated sigh. “Apparently, the kind that includes berating my mother. I’m sure she’ll love that trait in a future son-in-law.”

“I’m not sorry about that.”

“Didn’t ask you to be.”

Alex squinted at Henry. “I’m kind of getting mixed signals here. We have this whole Pretty Woman thing going on because you asked me. You know me – if all you wanted was meek arm candy, I'm sure you could have hired a service for that.”

“I don’t want meek arm candy, I want you.” 

Surprised by Henry's fierce assertion, Alex pulled back, gaping at him in disbelief. 'No, you don't,' he finally said, pausing to process this unexpected declaration.

“I do.

“No, you don’t.”

“Why can’t I?”

“Because you can’t, that’s why.”

“Ah, yes, of course.”

“I’m not kidding around, Henry.”

“Does it look like this is a joke to me?” Henry reached out, taking Alex's hand in a steady grip.

Alex stared down at their joined hands and gulped. “If it is, it’s not funny.”

“I’m not laughing."

Alex didn't think snow made a sound when it fell, but the large flakes hitting the window broke the silence and startled him with their loudness.

“Alex,” Henry said, tightening his grip as if to steady himself. “I’d understand if you’d rather call this off.”

“Why? Because you’re certifiable?” Alex didn’t let go of Henry’s hand. 

“Perhaps. Not the point, though.”

“Oh, I think it very much is the point,” Alex pointed out. 

It was Henry’s turn to shrug. 

“Would it really make a difference?”

“It’d explain a few things, that’s for sure.”

“Has anyone ever told you you overthink things?”

“Mmm hmm, all the time. And this scenario was not a single one of the countless ways I imagined lunch would go.”

Henry chuckled softly and said, “Perhaps you need to be more open-minded."

“Or maybe I’m still asleep and none of this insanity is happening.”

“Kind of trite, don’t you think? The whole ‘it was all a dream’ thing?”

“Grossly overdone."

Henry caressed Alex's palm gently with his thumb, the tenderness sparking electricity between them as Alex studied the earnestness in Henry's gaze.

“Let’s say I do believe you.”

“Sure.”

“You’re saying you want me.”

“Yes.”

“I embarrass you,” Alex scoffed.

“No, you don’t.”

“What about your ‘mate’ James?”

“Forget about that jerk.”

“Everyone who's going to point out exactly how much I don't fit in is going to be exactly like that jerk.”

“Let them, I don't care.”

“You're confusing want with need, Henry,” Alex pressed.

“Why can't it be both?”

“Can it? What happens when the six months are over? We get engaged, you get your job, and then what?”

“Then you can do whatever you want. Work, or don't. Finish your internship and see where it leads you.”

“You're serious.”

“Of course I am."

Free rein to do whatever he wanted? There had to be a catch somewhere, right? Yet, as he looked at Henry, a flicker of something beyond apprehension ignited, a nascent hope that perhaps this unconventional arrangement was not a transaction, but the beginning of something real.

“And I'd what? Be your kept man?”

Henry blinked but didn’t seem overtly phased. "I didn't think you'd go for that, but sure, we can give it a shot."

“You're insane.” 

“So you've said.”

As he gazed into the depths of Henry's blue eyes, Alex's heart raced, battling between fear and hope, he did the only thing he could think of. He leaned in and kissed him.