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sophie1973 · 21 days

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Bloodstream (tell me when it kicks in)- Chapter 2

Well this was a labor of love (emphasis on labor) and it took forever but on the other end it is a whopping 7k so hopefully it makes up for it.

You can also read (and subscribe!) on AO3 HERE

. Manhattan, Astor’s residence - January 1891

Alex walks into the ballroom, humming softly. The string quartet is playing a piece he always enjoyed, even if he can’t remember for the undead life of him if it’s Schubert or Mozart.

He’s stopped by his hostess, Caroline Astor, and they exchange pleasantries. Her receptions are the most sought-after events in New York, not only for the fine dining and excellent champagne but it is also where you can be seen. Business transactions or illicit affairs are often concluded during those lavish soirees. Alex sometimes took that opportunity to find new clients - the fact he’d been hired to look after the Vanderbilts and Astor’s best interests rendered him a coveted lawyer in Manhattan and its surroundings.

He notices Benjamin Harrison, but the President is not the reason for his presence tonight. In the 87 years since he was turned, he has entertained the thought several times of dabbling in politics, but that is a subject for another day.

His interest for tonight stands on the side of the dancefloor, looking rather regal in a black tailcoat over a grey silk waistcoat and assorted cravat. He is holding a glass of champagne. The gaslit chandeliers cast a pretty, golden reflection on his blond hair.

Lord Henry Fox Mountchristen-Windsor. Slayer Extraordinaire.

The youngest Hearst daughter seems to have cornered him, and if his face is all smiles and polite nods, Alex can sense his discomfort across the opulent ballroom.

Alex smiles and makes a beeline toward his supposedly mortal enemy.

This is going to be fun.

Since they met in that dark alley, he has thought of the slayer quite a bit over the past few weeks. If Alex is fully honest with himself, he has thought of Henry Fox for an unreasonable amount of time. Especially the way his body had been pliant and willing against his for a few minutes, and Alex didn’t even have to use any kind of compulsion. The way he smelled heavenly - not only the sweet aroma of his slayer's blood but also the clean linen, citrusy fragrance of his skin. It was only when he had pulled out that little pistol of his - a nice trick, Alex had been sloppy for a second and had forgotten he was dealing with a slayer after all - and took a step back that the vampire had recognized him. A distant memory of a cherished moment in his life, a photograph in a Drury Lane dressing room.

Alex has never met a slayer before—he doesn’t seek them out, for obvious reasons—except for Beatrice Fox. They met a couple of times and exchanged a few words, but he didn’t know her much. Of course, they both know what the other is, but they don’t seek each other’s company.

He knows he’s not the kind she’s hunting and is grateful for that. Word on the street (‘the street’ being mostly Percy since the others are not there to tell the tales anymore) is that she’s highly competent in her field.

And if he has a thing for competency, he doesn’t, however, have a (terminally) death wish. He does not doubt if they met in a back alley, she would kick his ass into the afterlife - and not the fun one. The one reserved for vampires and demons, where everything is bleak and depressing, and there’s a lot of screaming. That Special Hell also reserved for child molesters and people who talk at the theater.

Alex can tell Henry sees him arrive as his eyes widen slightly, but he schools his features just as quickly.

Alex greets Miss Hearst just before another young man comes to claim his dance, and Alex finally finds himself alone with Henry.

“Lord Mountchristen-Windsor,” he says with a pleasant smile.

“Mr Claremont Diaz.” The tone is a bit dry, but that doesn’t deter the vampire.

“You can call me Alex, you know.”

“I’m certain we’re not sufficiently acquainted for such familiarities.”

Alex grins.

Oh yes. The British accent and posh inflections are really working for him, and so is raising the younger man’s hackles.

“Nice tie. A bit boring, though. You have something against colors?”

Henry scoffs. “Grey is a color, thank you.”

“You wore a green one at the Morgan’s last Saturday.”

“How would you know? You weren’t there,” Henry replies before pinching his lips.

Alex grins. Busted. “Oh, you noticed? Well, I must have read it in the Home Journal.”

“No, you did not.”

Beatrice arrives, all smiles and lovely, in a pale green taffeta dress complimenting her pale skin and ginger hair.

“Mr Claremont-Diaz. How nice to see you again.”

“Lady Beatrice,” he bows, “You look stunning as always. Would you do me the honor of a dance? Unless your card is already full?” He ignores Henry’s eye rolling as Bea lets out a little laugh.

Her smile turns impish. “I’m a 27-year-old spinster, Mr Claremont-Diaz. My card is never full.”

“Well, their loss is my gain then. Can I claim the next one ?”

“Of course. Excuse me, I just noticed one of our acquaintances. I will be right back.”

Henry takes a sip of his glass. “Your eagerness to dance with my sister is quite surprising, considering how terrified you were the last time she was in your vicinity. I remember you were rather anxious to flee with your tail between your legs.”

Alex frowns.

“First, I don’t think you and I should discuss my tail in such a public environment,” he says, his tone slightly suggestive. He feels immense satisfaction when a lovely shade of pink invades Henry’s cheeks.

“Second, your sister might be an expert in the field, but when it comes to the dance floor, I’m the Slayer.”

Henry opens his eyes wide, his eyebrows reaching his hairline.

“That was…terrible,” he says, and Alex winces.

“Admittedly, not my best work, I agree,” he concurs, and he’s pretty sure he hears a soft snort from the blond beside him. Henry’s not looking at him, his eyes are on the crowd, but Alex can see the corners of his lips lift slightly from behind his glass as he takes another sip, and there’s a twinkle in his hazel eyes that was not there a few minutes ago.

Alex takes the opportunity to observe him. His nose is finely aquiline, with a dusting of freckles on his alabaster skin. He has a strong jawbone and lips…

Lips that are made for sin.

After 115 years of existence, Alex is comfortable enough with his sexuality to admit when another man is attractive. It took him some time (and one big crisis) to recognize he was attracted to both genders. In his defense, such inclinations would likely have had him thrown in jail (or worse) for sodomy, so he had to keep that under wraps (only June and Nora knew) and had only been able to indulge a few times in closeted establishments disguised as Gentleman’s clubs. And while it had been an exciting and satisfying experience, those quick, meaningless trysts were not really his cup of tea, especially since coffee was more his drug of choice.

So yes, he finds Henry Fox Mountchristen-Windsor attractive. Pretty is actually the adjective that comes to mind.

There’s a mole on the corner of his right upper lip, and Alex fights the sudden urge to lean and put his mouth there and see for himself if these plush lips are as soft as they look.

Henry notices his gaze and frowns. “What? Is there something on my face?”

Alex clears his throat, shaking himself out of the stupor induced by the other man’s handsome face.

“No.”

“Then stop staring. It is annoying.”

To this day, Alex doesn’t know what prompted him to answer like this. “Your face is annoying.”

Henry throws him an incredulous look. “Oh my God. Are you five?”

Beatrice returns at that moment, saving Alex from responding and making an even bigger fool of himself.

He came here to push Henry’s buttons, but his conversation with Henry left him the most bemused.

He turns and smiles at Bea, so thankful for her interruption that he thinks of sending her flowers the next day. This will undoubtedly be an unprecedented event in the history of vampire/slayer relationships.

And vampires and slayers should not have any kind of relationship.

He would do well to remind himself of that.

****

As Alex and Bea make their way to the dance floor, Henry lets out a breath. Is he relieved or disappointed that the vampire put some distance between them? He’s not really sure.

What he’s sure of is that he’s perplexed.

The man is deeply unnerving.

He’s also deeply, deeply attractive. He’s one of the most - alright, let’s be honest, the most gorgeous man Henry has ever seen.

Which is the crux of the problem.

When in doubt, Henry tends to turn to his best mate, who, conveniently, is also a vampire. So there is that.

He spots Percy amidst a group of young heiresses and a few gentlemen, a likely place for him to be. His buoyant mood, cheerfulness, and eccentric clothing - tonight he’s wearing a fuschia cravat which is clashing with his ruby red waistcoat, but somehow he makes it work- makes him the center of attention, and he thrives on it. The fact that he is wealthy doesn’t hurt either, obviously. And that nobody knows he is a vampire, and that one of his most significant accomplishments has been opening shelters first in London, then now in New York, which welcome newly turned vampires and werewolves and help them adjust and adapt to their new life so they don’t become soulless monsters roaming the streets at night in search of human preys.

To his great despair, he can’t save them all, and some don’t want to be saved, so that’s where Bea and Henry come in by trying to keep the streets as safe as possible.

Percy notices him hovering and excuses himself to his little gaggle of admirers.

“Fancy meeting you here, poppet. How are you?”

Henry doesn’t bother with idle chat. “Can we talk?”

Percy smiles, curiosity and mirth lightening his dark eyes. “So serious. What’s going on?”

“Shall we go on the terrace?”

“Hazza, dearest, it is January in New York. Do you know what the cold does to my complexion? We are absolutely not going outside. I’m sure we can find a nice, empty room in this big-ass mansion.”

A few minutes later, they are sitting in a small drawing room with a glass of brandy.

“So? I’m all ears. Spill.”

Henry sees no reason to beat around the bush, so he asks, “What do you know about Alexander Claremont-Diaz?”

Percy’s eyes widen in interest. “Why do you think I know anything about him?”

“Bea told me you did. And well, you’re both vampires with ties to the High Society.”

Percy rolls his eyes at that. “That doesn’t mean we gather every Monday afternoon and gossip over blood and crumpets. This reminds me, I ordered a box of Twinings Earl Grey for you. It should arrive any day now, assuming the ship hasn’t sunk.”

Henry perks up at that because he loves his cup of Earl Grey in the morning (and in the afternoon, and at night), and the concoction they sell here pretending it’s tea is simply dreadful.

“That’s very sweet of you, Percy. Thank you. Now answer my question.”

A sigh, and then, “He’s a lawyer, but I’m sure you already know that. He was turned at the very beginning of the century. He has a sister, June, who was turned along with him. She lives in Washington with her partner. From what I heard, he’s a decent bloke. He doesn’t kill to feed.” He takes a sip of his brandy. “That is it.”

Henry has known his best friend long enough to know that Percy is not completely honest with him, but he probably has his reasons, so he doesn’t push. He also braces for the inevitable following inquiry.

A sly grin lifts the corner of Percy’s lips. “Why do you ask?”

And the thing is, Henry doesn’t know why he asked. He doesn’t know what it is about Alex Claremont-Diaz that is so appealing - outside of the obvious- that he has been at the center of Henry’s thoughts all these weeks. He knows it’s not compulsion - slayers can’t be compelled - so his interest (for lack of a better word) in Alex is of his own volition.

It also goes against every belief his grandmother tried to ingrain in his brain. His duty was to kill every creature that was not human indiscriminately, not caring that some of them didn’t ask for their life to be turned upside down and were victims in their own rights.

Thanks to his parents, these beliefs never took root. If they had, Alex would be dust scattered in the wind, either at his hand or Bea’s. So would Percy, for that matter.

Thankfully, Percy is still here, and so is Alex, with glossy dark curls, whisky eyes, and a wicked, gorgeous smile, and Henry doesn’t know what to do with himself.

What to do with these feelings. He’s only met the man twice, for bloody sake. Henry’s not a blushing virgin. He’s had a few discreet and short-lived relationships, although never really anything coming close to what he read in his beloved books. He knows these are not precisely reasonable, realistic expectations, but he won’t settle for anything less. By loving men, he had already restricted himself to a life of secrets and clandestine meetings, so if he had to do it, he would do it with someone he could give his whole heart and soul to.

Until his grandmother found out one day and called him some terrible slurs he had been too ashamed to repeat to anyone.

After that, he had not dared entertain any idea of seeing someone, either in London or since they had arrived in New York. And after everything that had happened, it was much safer for everyone if he forwent any foolish notion of romance anyway.

He focuses back on Percy’s friendly face and answers honestly, “I’m not sure.”

“Well, let me know when you are. In the meantime, I must mingle and persuade some billionaires to divest themselves of a few dollars. Are you coming by the shelter tomorrow?” In addition to the shelters, Percy also has an orphanage and a few other charities, and he splits the generous donations he gets between those and the shelters.

“Yes. I promised Eloise I would bring her a copy of Sense and Sensibility. And you asked me to look over that document for the notary?”

Percy rises from his chair with a fond smile. “Dear Haz, what would I do without you? I’ll see you tomorrow then.” He presses Henry's shoulder as he walks to the door before turning around. “You know, I’m not sure what goes on exactly in your pretty head regarding Alex Claremont-Diaz, but…maybe he’s worth getting out of that solitary tower you like to lock yourself in. I know the odds are stacked against you, considering the circumstances and the whole slayer/vampire situation, but when you think about it…you two could be making History. Even if nobody ever hears about it.”

Henry rolls his eyes. If he let Percy take charge, he would plan his and Alex’s secret wedding within the next 48 hours. “I don’t even know if he’s into men,” he points out.

Percy winks. “Only one way to find out, darling.”

*****

Manhattan, Hearst’s Residence - March 1891

“Oh, for God’s sake, Henry, go home.”

Henry blinks at Bea, surprised at her snapping even though he knows he deserves it.

But today is the worst day of the year. So he can be in a sour mood. He’s allowed.

He’s allowed to miss his dad and feel angry about the circumstances and how they unfolded. How they had to upend their lives because of his bigoted, evil grandmother and knowing she would get away with it because they couldn’t prove anything. They had to leave Martha and Philip behind to face her wrath, and there was no straightforward way to contact them afterward. The telegraph was still unreliable for transatlantic communication, and they could not use the telephone to call England.

He should have stood his ground and stayed home tonight, but Bea had insisted, and he foolishly thought it would help, especially if it meant coming across a certain someone—who, unfortunately, was not there.

So yes, Henry has good reasons to be mopey.

“I’m not leaving you alone. What about your reputation?” he replies, sarcasm tainting his voice.

“I don’t give a fuck about my reputation,” Bea mutters, a bit too loudly though, as it earns her a scandalized look from a matron nearby. At least it makes Henry genuinely smile for the first time that day. “Give or take a few years, we’ll move elsewhere, and nobody will remember us.”

“Or Gran will find a way to dispose of us.”

Bea let out a small chuckle. “Cynicism doesn’t become you, brother, dear.”

“Yes, because I’m generally such a ray of sunshine. Oh hello! Lovely to see you,” he greets an older couple who stays and chats with them for a few minutes. Once they are gone, Bea turns to him.

“Just go to the library; take some time.” She puts her hand on his arm, her face softening. “I thought this would be a good idea. A distraction of sorts from this dreadful day. I don’t think Dad would want us to stay sulking at home every year.”

He kisses her forehead, uncaring if the display of affection doesn’t follow ballroom etiquette.

“You are right, and I’m the annoying git here. I’ll go to the library. Let me know when you’re ready to leave, alright?”

Bea nods. “What do you want me to tell Mr Claremont-Diaz if he arrives?”

He frowns. “Why would you tell him anything? He’s not going to ask anyway. We are mere acquaintances.”

“I saw you talk a few times over the past few weeks.”

“Small talk. We barely exchanged a few words. Mostly because he was his usual insufferable self. We’re not best mates, and we also tried to kill each other, remember?”

“Well, that was that one time, and it didn’t seem like you tried very hard, but alright. It was just a question.”

Henry shakes his head at his sister, wondering if she’s in cahoots with Percy to bring him and Alex together for frankly incomprehensible reasons.

“He won’t ask,” he repeats, wondering if he’s trying to convince Bea or himself.

***

Alex spots Beatrice Fox as soon as he enters the ballroom. He grabs a glass of champagne from a passing servant and gulps it. He had worked late tonight and almost didn’t come, but the vision of blond hair gleaming under crystal chandeliers and smooth pale skin made him change his mind. Nothing of this was reasonable, and he had made a list the other day about the pros and cons of Pursuing an Actual Vampire Slayer When You are a Vampire. The pros list was an ode to Henry’s physical attributes - he doesn’t know him enough to judge his character, although he seems like a kind man if a little uptight. Then again, he’s English, which probably explains it.

The cons list has, so far, remained empty.

To his dismay, he doesn’t see anyone fitting that description. However, if Beatrice is there, Henry must be around unless she came with a chaperone.

There is only one way to find out.

It’s not like he wouldn’t have approached her anyway. He had the opportunity to talk more with her over the last few weeks, and she’s truly lovely.

Outside of his tiny family circle, he doesn’t really care for many people, especially non-vampires. It is complicated to form an attachment to people who will start to wonder after a few years why you don’t age or will die on you after a few decades, leaving you alone once again. He knows it’s not a popular opinion, but he doesn’t see the whole ‘eternal life’ thing as an upside.

But he genuinely likes Beatrice. Even though she’s one year younger than him, she gives off that big sister feeling he has missed since June moved to Washington. So out of all the young ladies in attendance, she’s the one he will always ask to dance - never more than once, though, lest people start to talk.

She welcomes him with a warm smile, and they share some idle conversation before he finally finds the courage to ask in what he hopes is a rather inconspicuous manner.

“Is your brother in attendance tonight?”

Beatrice looks at him with a mischievous smile as if she expected the question.

“Do we need to have a conversation about my brother, Mr Claremont-Diaz?”

And if there’s no actual warning in her voice, Alex is smart enough to know he must be careful about what he’ll say next.

“Please call me Alex,” he drawls with his most charming smile. Of course, she doesn’t fall for it, so he continues, “Not if it involves a pointy stick of some kind.”

She laughs.” Oh, Alex,” and he can’t help but grin. “If I wanted you dead, make no mistake, you would not be here dancing with me tonight. Which would be a shame as you are quite an accomplished dancer.”

To his utter embarrassment, he feels a traitorous blush invade his cheeks at the praise.

“And yes, Henry’s here. I believe he’s in the library. Today is the anniversary of our father’s death, and I dragged him here thinking the distraction would do us some good, but I’m afraid it was a mistake.”

Alex remembers quite well the day he learned about Arthur Fox's death three years ago and the sorrow he had felt at the news, especially considering the circumstances. He could only imagine how hard it must be for his children.

“In that case, maybe I should leave him alone.”

Beatrice stays silent for a minute, a pensive look on her face. “You know, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, but…You might be the distraction he needs.”

Alex chooses not to dwell on the feelings these words elicit in his chest. “What about you?”

“I will be perfectly fine, but I appreciate your concern.”

As the dance ends, he lets go of her and wishes her a good evening, to which she replies with a knowing smile.

Alex is left wondering what to do. Yes, he had come tonight hoping to see Henry and exchange a few words, even some teasing, because he loves nothing more than to see the other man squirm a little bit (and also the lovely pink shade tainting his cheeks.)

The library door is ajar, so he pushes it lightly, finding it mostly dark except for the golden glow created by the flames dancing in the fireplace. The occasional pop and hisses of the burning wood are the only sound in the room, giving it a comfortable and intimate atmosphere. Henry is sitting in front of the fire in a wingback chair with a contemplative look.

“Good evening,” Alex says softly, trying not to startle the man as he leans against the doorframe.

Henry blinks and looks towards the door. “Claremont-Diaz. Good evening.”

“Your sister told me you’d be here. And the door wasn’t closed, so…”

“You asked her?”

“Yes? Did I overstep ?”

“Damn, I’m never going to hear the end of it,” Henry mutters, and Alex pulls himself from the doorframe. This was a mistake.

“She told me about today. So if you wish to remain alone, just say the word, and I’ll be out of your hair.”

Henry looks at Alex again, really looking at him this time as a fleeting emotion Alex can’t decipher crosses his face.

“I can be alone with you here,” he answers, and Alex is not sure how to take it, but it is not a dismissal, so he walks into the room and settles himself in the chair next to the young man before standing up again and pouring two glasses of brandy. He can’t speak for Henry, but he needs something to occupy his hands.

He sits back down, handing the glass to the other man, who takes it with a small ‘thank you’ before Alex takes a sip of his own and leans back in the chair.

“You know what I said that first night about seeing your father in London and admiring him. It was true. I met him in person once and got his signature on a photograph. It was one of the best days of my life. He was really exceptional.”

“Yes, he was,” Henry breathes out, his eyes not leaving the fireplace. Moisture lingers on the corner of his eyes, and he blinks a few times as if trying to ward off the unwanted tears. Alex doesn’t say anything more, letting him set the pace of the conversation.

Which is why he’s surprised by Henry’s following words.

“How did you become a vampire?”

“Really? You want to talk about me?”

“Was my question not clear?”

“Ok, but please remember you asked for it. I’m a lawyer, so I need to talk for a living, especially in a courtroom, but outside of it, I’m often encouraged to tone it down. I have some sort of mental instability, not exactly my fault then, and you would think that when you become a vampire, that shit would disappear, but well, it doesn’t. So here we are.”

Henry’s mask of grief is replaced with one of interest, and warmth fills Alex’s chest. “I’ll take my chances.”

“Alright then. 1803, we were living in Texas with my family. My father was a politician. Fighting for his people’s rights, especially slavery and education. That did not sit well with a lot of people. One night, we were all at home, having dinner, when people barged in and shot us all. My parents died instantly, but June - my sister- and I were shot in the shoulder for her and the arm for me, so we remained alive for a while.” He stops at the complete look of horror on Henry’s face.

“Your parents died in front of you?”

“I…I didn’t see them die because I was unconscious myself, but I saw them both being shot in the chest just before I was, so I knew that there was no chance of them surviving that. But then I was sure I would follow them anyway.”

“That is…That is terrible. I only heard about what happened to my father, and it’s been haunting me for three years, so I can only imagine…”

“It was 88 years ago. Or it will be in June. So, I had some time to grieve. I still have nightmares sometimes, though.”

Alex shivers because nightmare is putting it mildly. It has been years of waking up with his heart thundering in his chest, its erratic rhythm reverberating through his entire body, his every nerve electrified with the remnants of terror that refuse to dissipate, and trying to catch his breath, feeling like he was drowning. Sweat coating his skin, leaving it clammy against the sheets. For the longest time, June had been there, then Nora as well, to help him through the residual panic and for reality to settle around him again.

But now June was in another city, and he had to navigate the nocturnal terrors alone. He was grateful they had receded slightly over the past few years but couldn’t sleep without a light on.

The irony of being a vampire afraid of the dark was not lost on him.

“Anyway, one of my dad’s close friends was there with us that night. His name was Rafael Luna. He was a vampire. When he saw that June and I were still alive, he turned us and took care of us while we were adjusting.”

He remembers the first time he woke up, the hunger and cravings, the brutal reminder of his parent’s death but no time to dwell on it because they had to learn how to feed -on people - and control the urge just to rip the throats they were feeding on before mastering compulsion and let people go. Needless to say, if June caught on to it relatively quickly, his own experience was a bit more complicated, as his vampire-heightened senses paired with his mentally challenged brain definitely made his undead life incredibly difficult.

It took him more than a year to find his footing, but he did it, making his enhanced hyperfocused mind work to his advantage for once. Also, failing both June and Raf was not even an option.

He stops talking then, taking a sip of the glass he had forgotten in his hand. He expects Henry to look bored, disgusted, or worse, with a pitiful look on his face for the intellectually deficient vampire.

Except he’s not. He’s looking at Alex with undivided attention as if Alex had just told him the most captivating story he had ever heard, like those swashbuckling novels Alex used to read when he was younger.

Alex’s stomach flutters in quite an unusual way.

“And you’ve been a lawyer all this time? You’ve never wanted to try something else?”

“No. I’m good at it. But I never stopped and thought of what else I could do.”

“It’s not too late. You kind of have eternity in front of you.”

“Yeah…Eternity is a fucking long time, though,” he says with a laugh tainted with some bitterness. Upon seeing Henry’s surprised look, he deflects the conversation. “So, Henry…I assume you won’t use my vampire sob story against me ?”

Henry's lips twitch softly for the first time since Alex entered the room.

“I don’t know if you ever heard this,” the young slayer responds soothingly, “but firelight is magic. It makes time stand still. When you put out the lamps and sit by the glow of the firelight, there are no more rules. You can say what you want, do what you want, and be what you want. When the lamps are lit again, time starts again. Everything you said or did is forgotten. More than forgotten, it never happened.”

Silence falls around them comfortably, and for once, Alex doesn’t feel the need to talk to break it. That being said, he disagrees partly with Henry. He doesn’t want to pretend that their time together never happened.

“You have a way with words, your Majesty,” he finally says, his smile half playful, half admiring.

The slight twitch of Henry's mouth melts into a full smile. “We’re not even related to the Queen, Alex.”

His breath catches in his throat as a swarm of butterflies invade his stomach, and he grins. “Wait, did you just…”

Henry rolls his eyes.“Don’t make it a thing. Claremont-Diaz is kind of a mouthful.”

“Oh, sweetheart…You have no idea.”

The ‘yet’ is left unsaid but hangs heavily between them if Henry’s pink cheeks are any indication.

There is a knock on the door, and Bea appears with two coats hanging from her arm.

“Well, you too look cozy,” she remarks as she walks toward Henry, pushing back a lock of blond hair from his forehead. “And you certainly look less mopey.”

Henry huffs but gives her a fond look. As Alex watches their interaction, he’s reminded of the vacancy in his heart.

He really misses June.

“You’re ready to go?” Henry asks his sister.

“Ready if you are,” she answers with a questioning look towards Alex, who gets up.

“I suppose it’s time for me to go home as well. Lady Beatrice, Henry.”

“Good night, Alex,” Beatrice replies.

“Thank you,” Henry adds with a genuine smile, and Alex’s heart beats a little faster as he realizes something has definitely shifted between them.

Fuck.

****

They wait outside the mansion for their carriage, and Henry shivers slightly in the crisp April evening. Even though he’s glad to go home, he regrets the warmth of the library fire. But most of all, he regrets the warmth of golden brown eyes and heartfelt conversation.

Bea takes his arm. “So it wasn’t such a bad evening after all,” she says softly.

He smiles. “No, it wasn’t.”

“I miss him,” she whispers suddenly, and Henry presses a kiss on her forehead.

“I think he would be proud of us,” Bea continues, her tone wistful.

“He has always been proud of us.”

“Yes, but of what we have accomplished since we got here—with Percy, the shelters, and our life.”

The carriage arrives, and the groom hands the reins to Henry. He helps Bea climb into the vehicle. “I think he would be especially proud of you and the way you’re taking care of me.” He certainly wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for Bea’s maternal ways and sisterly affection. She had always been the lighthouse driving him home, helping him navigate the pitfalls, and bringing him safe on the other side.

“Oh, that’s not exactly a chore. You’re low-maintenance.”

Henry shakes his head with a smile as he sits beside her. He clicks his tongue to get the horses walking and bumps his shoulder with hers.

“I love you, you know.”

She grins. “I love you too. It’s not that late, though. Want to go kick some vampire’s ass?”

Henry’s laugh resonates in the dark street.

****

Paris, France - Champ de Mars - April 1900

“Are you seriously telling me that you hunt vampires and other night creatures on a semi-regular basis, but you’re scared of getting into an elevator?”

The iron structure stands proudly against the Parisian sky, but Henry eyes it with a wary look. It is a construction wonder, and Henry heard that its A-shaped form was an homage to a woman named Adrienne Gustave Eiffel had been in love with. He had no idea if that rumor was true, but the fairy-tale dreamer in him liked the idea.

That doesn't mean he wants to climb on the damn thing.

“Not scared, it’s just…It’s very high.”

Alex grins. “300 meters to be exact, but we’re only going to the second floor, which is 115 meters high.”

Henry frowns, trying to stall a bit more. Not that he has any chance of succeeding. Once Alex has set his mind on something, it is an impossible task to distract him. Henry doesn’t even try. “But isn’t it closed at this time?”

Alex smiled smugly. “I have an arrangement with Gustave.”

“Darling, I’m pretty sure you’ve never met Gustave Eiffel.”

“Ok, no. But I know the next best person - the guy in charge of the visits. With a little convincing and a good wad of French money, he was extremely cooperative. I heard the sunset is lovely from up there. You’re coming, baby?”

Henry sighs, unable to deny him anything, least of all a little elevator ride, especially if it is to watch the sunset together from the second floor of the Eiffel Tower. And the excitement on Alex’s face is impossible to deny.

His vampire is nothing if not a big romantic at heart, and Henry loves him and his sometimes crazy ideas all the more for it.

They have been visiting the Paris Universal Exhibition all day, so finishing it like this is tempting.

He follows Alex to the entrance. Right now, people are leaving, and they are the only ones going upstairs. When the doors are closed, and the elevator ascends, Alex grabs Henry by the waist and pushes him against the wall. They haven’t had the opportunity to be alone all day, and Henry misses his touch.

The vampire kisses him first before letting his mouth wander along his jaw and neck, and Henry lets out a breathy sigh when he feels Alex’s fangs grazing his neck right where it is the most sensitive. His cock twitches with interest as he brings his hand to the nape of Alex’s neck, burying his fingers in the soft curls.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, darling,” he warns, panting softly.

The suggestive smirk on Alex’s face doesn’t help to calm him down. “Oh, but I intend to finish it, if not now, within the next two hours at least.”

Henry shivers at the delicious promise, and his other hand rests on his cheek. He softly kisses the corners of Alex’s mouth, where his canines are still apparent. Alex retracts his fangs, and they exchange another searing kiss, a prelude to more engaging activities in the sanctity of their hotel room.

When they step out on the second floor, they are alone. Henry spots a round table with a bucket holding a bottle of champagne and two glasses.

“What are you up to?” he asks Alex, melting at his partner’s charming antics.

Alex shrugs. “I just wanted a romantic interlude with my favorite slayer.”

Henry leans and gives him a soft kiss on the cheek before Alex pulls him to the rail, and they take in the stunning view in front of them.

It has been a sunny, cloudless day, and as dusk settles, they can still see all the way to the Sacré-Coeur, behind which the sun is slowly descending, illuminating the city in hues of reds and oranges, blending seamlessly with the fading blue of daylight. Much closer is the Orsay train station and the Seine and its tranquil waters, and it fills Henry with a plenitude he only experiences when close to the wonderful man next to him.

Henry takes Alex’s hand and brings it to his mouth, kissing his knuckles and trying to convey his love and gratitude.

“So, was it worth it?” Alex asks with a knowing smile.

“Absolutely worth it, my love.”

Alex opens the bottle of champagne and pours two glasses, handing one to Henry.

“To us,” Alex says, and they clink their glasses. He takes a deep breath and puts his glass back on the table. He bites his lower lip and straightens his waistcoat.

Henry raises his eyebrow at his apparent and sudden nervousness. “Something on your mind, dear?”

Alex chuckles and nods. “Actually, I had an ulterior motive for bringing you here.”

“Oh?”

He takes one of Henry’s hands, and Henry looks down. He always loved the contrast of his smaller, pale hands against his companion’s larger, brown ones.

Alex clears his throat. “So. We are both men.”

Henry lets out a chuckle. Not what he was expecting. “An astute observation, darling.”

Alex scoffs. “Yes, not my best introduction.”

“But still better than ‘On the dancefloor, I’m the slayer,” Henry teases him.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Hen,” he groans, even though his eyes flicker with amusement. “That was nine years ago. You’ll never let me live this down, will you?”

“No,” Henry says, sipping his champagne, enjoying the effervescence and fruity taste on his tongue. It doesn’t provide the same euphoria as Alex’s kisses, but it is a close second.

“So, as I was trying to say before being rudely interrupted,” Alex continues, and Henry giggles, “It’s been nine years of pure, unadulterated happiness with you.”

Alex’s features become more serious, his gaze determined as his eyes cling to Henry’s, and Henry sobers up, feeling the atmosphere around them changing, a sudden apprehension and anticipation building at the bottom of his stomach.

Alex entwines their fingers together, and the touch makes Henry’s blood thrum through his veins. Alex picks up on this as his eyes darken with both lust and hunger.

“I’m not as good with words as you are. I can tell you that I love you like I have done every single day over the past nine years, but those words don’t even begin to cover the magnitude of my feelings for you. It kills me that I can’t tell the world that you’re mine. Fuck, I can’t tell anyone,” he laughs brokenly. “But I need you to know that I’m yours. You can have it all.”

He fishes into his pocket and opens his hand, revealing two simple gold bands, and Henry gasps as a rushing noise fills his ears, and his heart jolts with elation.

“This ring,” Alex continues with a watery smile, “is a promise that you’ll always be loved and you’ll never have to face the world alone.”

He shows the ring to Henry, and through blurry tears, Henry can see the word ‘Alex’ engraved inside. The exhilarating feeling of Alex slipping the ring on his finger is unparalleled to anything he’s experienced. His heart hammers so hard in his chest that he’s afraid it is going to burst out and bleed all over the iron floor of the Eiffel Tower.

“I give you my love, I give you myself, the good, the bad, and what’s yet to come,” Alex says reverently. And if this is the closest to wedding vows they will ever get, Henry considers himself the luckiest man in the world.

With trembling fingers, he takes the other ring, engraved with ‘Henry,’ and gathers his thoughts, as Alex deserves nothing less than words as heartfelt as his own.

“You are a menace,” he starts, and they both laugh at the familiar barb, which has become more of a term of endearment over the years.“I should have known you would pull something like this when you insisted on coming up here because your heart is so huge and giving, and I don’t know what I did to deserve a wonderful man like you. But I will do everything I can to be worthy of that love. I promise to support you during our shining moments and weakest hours. I’ll be listening to you for however long it takes for you to be heard. You are my forever.”

He slips the band on Alex’s finger. “I give you my love, I give you myself, the good, the bad, and what’s yet to come,” his voice cracking as he echoes Alex’s vows.

Alex takes his head between his hands, sealing their vows with a kiss as the sun disappears on the horizon, enveloping them in a comforting penumbra auspicious for exchanging tender words and promises of forever.

Henry loves this man. He loves him with all his heart and soul, and he will fight anything and anyone to ensure this precious, priceless bond between them remains unspoiled and intact. And if he loves to use his words, he’s also eager to show Alex how deep his devotion runs.

It’s in the way his fingers map Alex’s body as they are back in their hotel room, perusing it like a familiar ground he knows by heart but never tires of exploring over and over again.

It’s in every gasp, moan, and laugh escaping Alex’s throat as Henry makes it his duty to find every sensitive spot, every nerve-ending lighting his body on fire before crashing together in mind-shattering pleasure.

It’s in the way that, once the passion slows down and the afterglow settles, Henry lingers above Alex, their hips still connected, and as Alex grabs his side softly to pull out, Henry makes a protesting noise, unwilling to let go yet.

“No. Stay.”

He leans down to pepper kisses on Alex’s jaw and cheeks, blowing softly at his eyelashes and combing his fingers in his sweat-damp curls, eliciting an appreciative growl from a fucked-out, blissful Alex underneath him.

“I just want to worship my big bad vampire husband,” Henry whispers in his ear and a bright smile blooms on Alex’s face. Henry chuckles softly as he feels the cock inside him stir with renewed interest at his words. He wriggles a bit, enjoying the feeling of Alex still nestled deep.

Alex’s arms wrap around his body, pressing their chest together, uncaring of the mess on their stomachs.

“I love you, baby,” he whispers against Henry’s lips, and they lose each other in another soft, slow kiss.

If it all ends tomorrow, Henry thinks dazedly, the look in Alex’s adoring eyes, when he gazes up at him will make everything he’s ever done worth it.

Credit where credit is due :

1. I'm a Whedonverse girl through and through, so the Special Hell quote is from Firefly (You can't stop the signal)

2. The firelight quote is from the movie 'Firelight' with Sophie Marceau (which would make a great FP AU)

3. A special thanks to my beloved Robs @magentarivers whose lovely art inspire me (again!) for the very last scene of this chapter. It can be found here

#red white and royal blue #firstprince #rwrb fic #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #Henry the Reluctant Slayer #Sophie1973

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