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hussyknee · 1 year

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Red, White & Royal Blue: Collector's Edition Henry PoV bonus chapter by Casey Mcquiston.

(transcribed from the page pictures posted)

This is the coda to the end of the book, so don't read it if you haven't read the book first. Sadly, the Collector's Edition doesn't seem to be available on Kindle so. Arrrr matey.

Download link for file at the end.

....

HENRY

“I am not asking you to believe in it, or even to like it,” Henry says stonily. It’s been a long morning already. He is beginning to perspire. “I am simply asking you to show a modicum of respect.”

“To–to your quiche?”

“Yes. To my quiche.”

Bea puts down her tape gun and wipes her eyes. “Pez!”

“Yes?”

“Henry says he’s going to make us a quiche!”

Pez’s squawk of a laugh bounces down the stairs. “Pull the other one!”

“I make them all the time for Alex,” Henry insists. “They are perfectly edible.”

“So, when you promised us breakfast if we got up early to help you.” Bea says, “you meant that you were going to make us breakfast?”

“Yes!” Henry says hotly. “Stop laughing!”

“I’m sorry!” Bea says. “It’s only that...well, Henry, the last time you cooked breakfast for me, you were twelve and you put a sausage in the microwave until it exploded.”

“That was your idea! And it’s been ages since then! I’ve studied, all right? I’m quite good now. Those pictures I send the group chat aren’t just for show.”

“Oh, aren’t they?” Bea says rudely, as if his incredibly generous offer to cook her a shallot-and-thyme quiche with mushrooms from the farmer’s market means nothing at all. As if he’s lived in this house for five entire years without learning to use its kitchen.

Perhaps if their lives weren’t so chaotic, if Henry weren’t flying out of New York every time Bea had a spare moment to fly in, he could have proven this to her earlier. But Pez, who lives mostly in the city now and visits so frequently he’s earned his own Secret Service code name (Cardinal, since Henry is Bishop), should know better.

“Percy Okonjo,” Henry says as Pez joins them, “you were here last weekend when I made mince pie. You loved it.”

“Did I?” Pez wonders aloud, with an annoyingly Bea-like lilt.

“Look at this apron!” Henry gestures to himself and the navy blue apron he’s wearing. Alex gave it to him for his birthday last year. “Would a man who can’t make a quiche have an apron like this? It’s monogrammed.”

“You’re royalty, babes,” Pez points out. “Everything you own is monogrammed.”

From the pocket of his serious-home-cook apron, his phone buzzes. Reinforcements. The FaceTime connects, and Alex says, “Good morning, love of my li–”

“Alex,” Henry interrupts, “tell them about my quiches.”

Alex pushes up his sunglasses and frowns into the camera. He looks so lovely with his faded T-shirt and jean jacket and shaggy hair. Pure American heartthrob, might as well have a cowboy hat on. Henry never does tire of it.

“Sorry?”

“Bea and Pez don’t believe I can make a quiche.”

“What? Have they seen your apron?”

“That’s what I said!”

“Henry’s quiches are great!” Alex says loudly, to the kitchen at large. “I almost never find shells in them!”

That sets Bea and Pez off again. On the screen, Alex’s face crinkles into laughter.

“Thank you very much, Alex, you’ve been a tremendous help,” Henry groans. “How are things? Florist this morning, wasn’t it?”

“Just finishing up.” Alex says with a grin. “Final approvals done. Everything looks great.”

With only one week until moving day and two until the wedding, it made sense to divide and conquer. Henry agreed to stay in New York and finish packing up the brownstone with help from Bea and Pez, while Alex, June, and Nora are ticking off the last of their checklists in Texas.

“Of all the surprises that wedding planning has brought us,” Henry says, “your ability to micromanage floral arrangements has certainly been...one of them.”

“You know I love to curate a vibe,” Alex says.

“That you do,” Henry agrees. “Where are the girls?”

“Getting donuts,” Pez answers before Alex can. He holds up his phone, open to a photo of June blowing a kiss while Nora fellates an éclair.

“Donuts!” Bea says. “Now there’s an idea!”

They spend the rest of the day drowning in cardboard boxes and bin liners, packing everything but the furniture and the downstairs television. Pez reminds him once an hour that they could pay someone to do this, but Bea is stubborn, and Henry is reluctant to let anyone else wade into all the intimate trappings of his and Alex’s life. It was bad enough explaining the contents of the trick drawer in their dresser to Pez, much less some mover he’s never met.

When it’s done, Bea puts A Knight’s Tale on in the living room and promptly falls asleep on Pez’s lap. Pez passes out too, but Henry stays awake, because Heath Ledger deserves an audience. And because he knows if he doesn't wake Bea and move her to the guest bedroom, he'll have to hear about her back spasms in the morning.

David hops up beside him on the loveseat, and Henry strokes the top of his snout until his little body relaxes into Henry's side.

"Nervous old boy," Henry hums. It still does seem like the ultimate irony that the dog he adopted for emotional support has anxiety. David has grown more and more worried all week, as more and more of his home disappeared into boxes. "We won't leave you, I promise."

The brownstone has been a good house for them. Sturdy brick walls, neighbors that actually let them be. Henry has loved it more than he ever loved Kensington, or at least as much as he loved Kensington when his parents both lived there too. Some mornings, when he comes downstairs to find Alex with the coffeepot and the kettle already on, he feels the way he did when his family all slept under one roof. This roof is quite a bit smaller than that one, but the feeling isn't.

So, perhaps David hasn't got entirely the wrong idea. It is hard to let the place go. For the past month, Alex has kept asking Henry why he's staring, and the truth is that he's been committing to memory exactly how Alex looks in every room. How the bannister fits in his hand, the place on the foyer wall where he always braces himself to pull on his shoes.

Everything that's happened in the past five years has happened, at least in part, inside this house.

…

It's seven months after Alex's mother's second inauguration, and Henry is wishing he had never even heard the word "credenza." Then he wouldn't have to decide where to put one. Alex is arriving in half an hour to help him move it, but Henry still doesn't know where. Across from the fireplace, perhaps? But what if he wants to put a sofa there? Does he want a regular sofa, or a sectional? Should it go upstairs, in his study? Or should he leave room for bookcases?

He longs to be back on a beach, sipping something from a pineapple.

It’s been a long, glorious summer since Alex packed up his White House bedroom, called Henry, and asked, "Do you want to get the fuck off the continent?" They did Dubai first, then Lagos. Rio, for old time's sake. Buenos Aires, paper lanterns in moonlight and Alex flirting with the bartender for free drinks. June through August became a lovely blur: Alex asleep against his shoulder on the plane, Alex throwing his Portuguese phrase book out the window of a speeding car, sand in unmentionable places, Alex Alex Alex. Endless runways and half-arsed disguises, swimsuits that got smaller and smaller until they simply didn't wear them anymore. Falling in love, the sequel, with fresh suntans and all the time in the world.

And now here they are in Park Slope, where Alex is renting the second floor of a brownstone two blocks from Henry's.

It's practical, they agreed, to live in the same neighborhood before they live at the same address. They've scarcely gotten a chance to date the normal way yet– if it can be called "normal" when their combined security teams are headquartered in an empty apartment down the street. Still, Henry wants this to last.

They've sprinted headlong into everything so far, but now he wants move slowly, in delicious increments. He wants to savor nights, minutes, firsts, to covet them and then let them dissolve on his tongue, like the sugar cubes he snuck off his gran's filigreed tea trays when he was small. He wants a life.

He wants someone to tell him where to put this damned credenza.

It's a vintage Broyhill Brasilia piece, walnut with clever brass drawer pulls. June helped him pick it out when she was in town with meeting her editor, but she never gave him any advice on where it should go. He hasn't ever been allowed to decide where furniture should go before.

So, it’s...there, in the center of the empty living room, the first piece in the entire house.

“Maybe you could start with a rug or two,” says Alex from the foyer.

Henry turns to find him with his keys in one hand and a paper bag in the other, smiling in a beam of mid-morning light, and, ah. Yes. There it is. That sweet, sharp gasp of nerves. The half second when he forgets how to use his mouth. If he knows nothing else, at least one certainty remains, which is that seeing Alex Claremont-Diaz in the flesh will always do this to him.

Alex in a photo is handsome, but Alex in life is a symphony. He’s refracted light with a cherry cola chaser. He’s got a Fibonacci jawline and a troublemaker smile and thick forearms built for posing in doorways with his sleeves rolled and thumbing corks out of champagne bottles. The first time Henry ever told Pez about him, he said, “God, but he’s lethal.” It’s only worse once you get to know him.

“Weird place for a credenza,” Alex comments. He kisses Henry’s cheek, then passes him a warm bundle wrapped in parchment paper. “Hope you like sausage-egg-and-cheese.”

“I don’t know where to put it.”

“Sandwich goes in your mouth, typically.”

“The credenza.”

“Ohhh, right,” Alex says, pretending to have just caught on. He winks. Henry sighs theatrically but accepts a second kiss, on the lips this time. “Why don’t you just put it right here?”

He points to his left, where a blank wall stretches from the front door to the foot of the stairs. It does, upon closer inspection, appear to be the exact right size.

“Oh,” Henry says.

This is where they overlap. Where he ends and Alex begins. Great gooey puddle of feelings, meet course of action; endless burning energy, meet point of focus. Agonies, meet your most obvious, most natural, most inevitable conclusions. It’s frightening sometimes for a person like Henry, who has spent his entire life pedaling his agonies about like baguettes in a posh little bicycle basket. What is he to do with them now?

Yes," Henry concedes, "I suppose I could," and Alex laughs.

...

It's the summer of 2022. Henry has opened his third shelter, and Alex has just finished bulldozing his first year at NYU Law.

A few boxes of books still wait at Alex's place, but otherwise, he lives in Henry's brownstone now. Their brownstone. A UT pennant beside a Chelsea scarf on the living room wall. A fridge full of Topo Chico and Bulmers. Two pairs of shoes by the front door, brown Barker derbies and Reebok trainers. Nobody could mistake it for anyone else's.

It's their first Chore Sunday (Alex's idea), and Henry has put the last of the laundry in the dryer. He's in the kitchen doorway, watching Alex unload the dishwasher.

Alex once told Henry the type of man he's typically attracted to: tall, broad-shouldered, pretty eyes, a little haunted. Bit of attitude and a smile that makes you curious. For Henry, it's never been so simple. He liked boys in his classes because they bothered with the assigned readings and fancied one of Philip's awful Eton friends because he could sail and smelled of cinnamon. The only thing all his Oxford boys had in common was that they didn't know how to speak to him. He's never had a type, and he's always been sure Alex was singular, anyway. Alex is unlike anyone he's ever met before or since.

But here, now, watching Alex bend to remove a salad bowl from the bottom rack, he is confronted with the hard truth. All those boys did, actually, share one trait.

"Are you gonna help me with this," Alex says without even an investigatory glance over his shoulder, "or are you just gonna keep staring at my ass?"

...

It’s Christmas 2022, their first since Alex officially moved in, and Henry is going to make a yule log if it kills him.

Perhaps he’s been too ambitious. He’s rather new to all. Growing up, he was rarely permitted in the kitchens, and he concentrated his uni diet on fast food and takeaway. He can make toast and boil an egg, and he’s got a deft hand with the coffee percolator and a gin swizzle from time to time. He knows about food– the finest foods, actually, he’s yet to meet an Englishman who can select a better brie– but he never learned to cook, until recently.

Recently, as in when Alex became too fanatically involved in his second-year coursework to remember to feed himself.

It began with force-feeding Alex a bacon butty twice a week. Henry’s arms suffered little constellations of grease burns, but bacon was easy. And those faded, so they didn’t deter him for long. Curiosity piqued, he taught himself the basics of pasta, how one can simmer almost anything with garlic and onion and butter and it will taste good over noodles. It bolstered his confidence enough to truly commit, and now, between hours at the shelters and video calls with his mum, he watches tutorial after tutorial on how to brown butter and roast chicken. Only half of what he makes turns out the color it’s meant to, but he loves it.

He loves walking to the market on the corner and hunting down specific ingredients from the family recipes June sends him. In fact, it’s become such a regular pastime that the paparazzi have cottoned on, which is why his mother finally forced his security team to hire an actual body double. Now some bloke named Angus with his height and build and nearly the same face goes on diversionary strolls while Henry peruses jarred chilies.

With all his independent studying, he was certain he could manage a dessert. He wanted to do something impressive, since they’ve convinced their families to let them host Christmas dinner. Only, his sponge has gone all wrong, and if he’s learned anything from Bake Off, he knows it’s not meant to have cracked in five places when he tried to roll it up. Paul Hollywood would have him pilloried.

“Think you might’ve left it in too long?” Oscar asks from across the kitchen island. He’s wearing his white elephant prize, a sweatshirt airbrushed with the slogan YOU CAN’T SPELL CONSTITUTION WITHOUT TITS. Inexplicably, Henry’s own mother brought that one. “Lookin’ kinda dry there.”

“I appreciate that you are trying to be helpful,” Henry enunciates, “but if you say one more word I may start crying, and then we’ll both lose some respect for me.”

Later, when Pez has persuaded him to “call it, mate, put it out of its misery,” he carries his disgraced platter of ganache and cake and marzipan out into the living room and lets everyone go at it with spoons. The house feels full to bursting, and not just because of the Christmas crackers. There are all three of Alex’s parents, Henry’s mum, June and Nora, Bea and Pez, Shaan and Zahra on speakerphone, occasionally an awkward Philip and Martha via FaceTime, and, because he had nowhere else to go for the holiday, Angus.

(“I don’t like him,” Alex muttered when Henry suggested inviting his own body double to Christmas dinner.

“Why not?”

“Because he looks exactly like you, but I find him deeply unattractive, and that freaks me out.”)

Ellen tells everyone the story of the year Alex got his first real bike for Christmas and knocked out his two front teeth by Boxing Day, which prompts Catherine to recite eight-year-old Henry’s letter to Father Christmas, in which he requested a leather-bound journal and a holiday to East Wittering so he could gaze at the sea. Bea pushes Henry behind the upright piano, and he takes requests for an hour. It only ends when Pez rewrites half the lyrics to “God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen” to be about his own lactose intolerance. No one wants to follow “tidings of Lactaid and soy.”

After the third round of mulled wine, when Alex’s parents have called their drivers and his mum has retired to the guest room, June and Nora find themselves under the mistletoe. Everyone whoops and whistles until Nora finally pulls June in by her Christmas-light necklace and kisses her to a round of applause. June's cheeks turn red, but she looks pleased as anything.

"I can't believe it took this long for y'all to finally kiss." Alex says, to which Pez bursts into laughter. "What?"

"Alex," he says fondly. He drains his glass and pecks Alex on the forehead. "You gorgeous, stupid little turnip."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Pez just shakes his head and strolls off to the kitchen.

"Wait," Alex says.

He frowns, like he does when he's trying to recall something incredibly minute and specific from his torts textbook. Then, suddenly, a light goes on, and his own mug is clunking on the lamp table, and he's running off after Pez.

"Pez, what's that supposed to mean?"

...

It's late morning the summer before Alex's last year of law school, 2023, and Alex is the first word out of Henry's mouth.

Truthfully, that's how he begins most mornings. On a Monday morning five time zones away, "Alex" pitched low to the screen of his phone. On a Friday when Alex's early lecture is cancelled, "Alex" in F major, muffled in the pillow as his body moves and the day stretches out before them. Half three the night before an exam, a hoarse "Alex," followed by, "turn the bloody light off and come to bed."

This morning, it's because David is barking at the door. A rainstorm is brewing, and if jet lag didn't have Henry dead under the bedclothes, the gray gloom would. Alex was the one who surfaced from sleep half an hour ago and blearily ordered three entire pancake breakfasts from some 24-hour diner a few neighborhoods over. He should have to get up and answer the door.

“Alex.” Henry mumbles, turning over.

Alex has got the quilt tugged up so high he’s only a shock of wild curls on white linens.

“Nnnghh,” Alex groans from the depths.

“Breakfast is here,” Henry says. The doorbell helpfully rings again. David howls.

Alex’s face appears, pouting. There’s a crease from the pillow down one of his cheekbones, a comet’s tail in a constellation of freckles. “Can you get it?”

Henry rolls his eyes but smiles. Inevitable.

He drags himself out of bed and pulls on the joggers and hoodie from last night’s flight. It’s not until he feels the breeze on his ankles as he descends the stairs that he realizes they’re Alex’s, not his.

On their doorstep, a pink-haired delivery girl is looking bored under her bicycle helmet.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Henry says. He fishes a crumpled bill out of Alex’s pocket. “For your trouble.”

The girl pulls a face.

“Got any real money?” she asks. Her accent reminds him a bit of Alex’s mum.

He blinks down at her hand, which is holding a twenty-pound note. “Ah. Sorry again. Er.” He snatches his wallet out of the bowl on the credenza and gives her all the American dollars he has.

“She’s gone, Davey,” Henry says afterward to David, who’s now fretfully circling the living room. “You’ve protected us from another fearsome home invader. Well done.”

He lets David out into the back garden to do his business, then carries the food upstairs. Shockingly, Alex is awake and propped up against the headboard.

“I’m getting too old for red-eye flights,” Alex says, rubbing his eyes.

“Love, you’re twenty-five,” Henry reminds him. He deposits the bag on the nightstand, and Alex wastes no time tearing through the plastic and tucking in to his breakfast. “And I’m older than you.”

“Yes, you are. But like... I get why we have to go to Philip’s kids’ christenings. The cousins, though?” He sets to work smothering his pancakes in syrup. “I mean, at least my cousins would stack their baptisms. One and done, baby.”

Henry opens his mouth, prepared to answer with one of a thousand things. That the tabloids will have even more of a field day than usual if he stops doing his chores, that there will always be a church dedication or a swan upping or an appointment for a top hat fitting, that he’ll always be obligated to have one foot in London and one day they’ll have to choose where to settle down. It’s far from the first time they’ve had this conversation.

But then Alex shovels a massive bite of pancakes into his mouth and says, “Anyway, I love you. Do you wanna have June and Nora over tomorrow? We can play Mario Party again. I wanna see them get in a fistfight. Oh, and my dad’s in town next week, and he said to tell you he’s bringing that book you asked about–”

And that’s when Henry knows: He doesn’t ever want to go back.

...

It’s the end of spring 2024, and Henry is not eavesdropping, per se. He excused himself to answer a call from Shaan, which really could not be avoided. Shaan has taken to his new life as a househusband with predictable aplomb, and most of his calls these days involve Henry getting to talk to a baby who is clearly destined to become prime minister. He simply can’t send that to voicemail.

It’s the first time they’ve had room in the schedule for his mother to visit since Alex accepted his law job, which Henry understands very little about but has been assured is the most strategic next step for Alex’s career long game. When Henry left the room, Alex was still trying to explain it to Catherine. It all sounds terribly prestigious.

He is just returning to the sitting room with a fresh pot of tea when he hears his name from around the corner.

“–and the next morning Henry and Arthur vanished,” his mother is saying, “and when Uncle Algie called, I told him that Henry couldn’t go on the annual pheasant hunt because he was violently ill, but actually Arthur had taken him to Rome for two weeks on the set of that go on ridiculous car heist film he was working on, the one with, oh, what’s his name–“

“Jason Statham,” Alex says promptly, through wheezing laughter.

“That’s the one!”

“Loved that movie,” Alex says. “I can’t believe Henry got to be on set.”

“It was all Arthur’s idea, but he was right to do it. Uncle Algie is a dreadful bore, and Henry despises his son. Guilford. Did you meet Guilford at the wedding?”

“Henry made sure I avoided it.”

“Yes, that’s for the best,” Catherine says daintily. “He has matured into an absolute dickhead.”

Henry wishes he was in the room to see the way Alex sputters out, “Oh my God.” Alex always forgets that Catherine went to uni and married a commoner from Sheffield.

And then Alex sighs and says, “When Henry and I get married–”

Henry manages to recover the teapot before he drops it.

It’s not a surprise to hear Alex mention marriage. They’ve been sorting it out for years: political logistics and Alex’s child-of-divorce anxiety and a thousand questions about a royal wedding neither of them actually wants to have. He’s already bought an engagement ring, even, and judging by how tetchy Alex gets whenever Henry tries to put his underwear away for him, he’s not the only one.

But it is the first time he’s heard Alex mention it to his mother. He dropped it so casually, so matter-of-factly, as if he’s been talking to her about marrying Henry for years. Henry supposes it’s possible he has been. Is this why Alex had tea with her in London last month and told Henry he wasn’t invited? Have they been conspiring?

They’re discussing hypothetical guest lists now, which cousins secretly hate one another and who wore an inappropriately large fascinator to whose birthday tea, but Henry isn’t listening anymore. He’s thinking of a cafe table in Rome, his dad waving over a second round of gelato.

In his memory, he’s nine years old, and his father is saying, Whoever you marry, Henry, make sure they think your mum is a laugh, because she is. She really is.

He clears his throat and finally rounds the corner. “Tea, anyone?”

...

It’s 2024, and nobody knows they’re engaged.

Granted, they’ve only been engaged for about three hours, but Henry is curious to see how long they can go. It feels nice to keep a secret that doesn’t have to be a secret. It’s more that they’re keeping it like a pet, or something especially beautiful from the garden that they’ve coaxed into a jar.

A record is spinning on the turntable, one of Alex’s, maybe the Joni Mitchell he borrowed from Bea. They’ve shoved their phones under the couch cushions and ordered a pizza the size of the moon, and now they’re sitting in the center of the living room floor, demolishing it. They kiss, then eat more pizza, then get distracted kissing again. Henry licks a streak of pepperoni grease from Alex’s forearm, which is a fantasy he didn’t know he had until he’s living it. They tangle up on the rug, and Henry decides he’ll take Alex sailing next weekend, or even out to the edge of the river, just to see him against a horizon.

Four-nearly-five years in, the main thing he’s learned is that Alex is a world without end. All Henry wants is to go on with him forever. To keep finding new favorite parts, to keep turning things over and studying their soft bellies and finding the best bits.

So, he will.

...

It snows on New Year’s Eve 2024. Alex looks out the window and shrugs off his coat.

The Young America Gala may be no longer, but Nora, June, and Pez aren’t to be stopped from throwing a New Year’s party, especially now that Pez has gotten his own part-time flat in the city. They’re the three fates of New York City’s holiday social circuit: birth (June, managing invitations), life (Pez, topless), and death (Nora, also topless).

“What if,” Alex says, turning to Henry on the foot of the stairs, “we don’t go to the party?”

“Nora will murder me,” Henry says. “She told me she’s not afraid to do that now that I’ve given up my title.”

“Murder is still a crime even if you’re not officially a prince.”

“Yes, but she said, quote,” he puts on his best American accent, “They can’t put me in the Tower anymore. Who’s gonna arrest me now? Mr. Bean?”

“Why don’t we just send Angus? It’s dark. Maybe she won’t notice.”

“Where’s your double, then?”

“We live in New York, I’m sure I can find a male model somewhere.”

“As always, sounding the very bass string of humility.”

“Is that fucking Shakespeare?”

“Henry IV.”

“I’m gonna give you a wedgie, you fucking nerd.”

In the end, it doesn’t take much to convince Henry to stay in. Lately, it never does. Alex texts June a flimsy excuse, and they toe off their shoes and relax out of their button-downs.

Henry does have to admit he’s exhausted, in the way that one only can be on the last day of the year, when every other day of the year piles way up behind it. It’s been a big one: Alex’s first law job, the endless press about Henry’s decision to surrender his title, the engagement, Bea’s wedding, the incident with the croquet mallets and the Dutch ambassador at Bea's wedding.

Sometimes Alex jokes that they squeezed it all into one calendar year because no headline can stick if there's another next week, but it's only half a joke. They've been bone-tired for months.

"I'm surprised you're the one who wants to stay home," Henry says. "I remember a young lothario who lived to ruin people's lives on New Year's Eve."

"Ruin?" Alex says. "That's not how I remember it."

"It certainly felt that way at the time."

They drift to the kitchen, past all the traces of the year. The dried flowers, the new scuffs on the floorboards. The box of bound manuscripts of Henry's first finished poetry-ish short-fiction-ish essay-ish collection. The holiday cards from senators and diplomats and old Texas friends, topped off with Alex's favorite of Rafael Luna and his astonishingly fit partner in matching Christmas jumpers. Henry would think Raf had been forced into it if it hadn't come with a case of beer and a note of thanks for letting him stay over the last time he visited Alex and had one too many tequila shots at drag bingo.

Alex withdraws a bottle of Clicquot from the refrigerator and says, "We're not washed, are we?"

“We're aging," Henry points out.

"That's right," Alex says, eyes immediately sparking at the opportunity. Henry preemptively sighs. "You're almost thirty."

"Almost twenty-eight is not almost thirty."

"It basically is. You're old. You'll be thirty a whole year before me. You'll be popping antacids and I'll be in the club, popping my p-"

"You're not even in the club now."

"I could be, I'm just choosing not to, because I don't want to deal with the snow. That's not aging, it's growth."

He slides Henry a glass of champagne and adds, "It's probably time for us to start talking about what's on your Do Before Thirty list, huh?"

Henry takes the glass and chooses going with Alex's bit over pointing out that he's entering his late twenties, not dying.

“I’ve done quite well on that front so far, actually,” he says. “Wrote a book. Started a nonprofit. Engaged to the love of my life.”

“Involved in an international sex scandal.”

“Shook the hands of all five Spice Girls.”

“Best dressed at the Met Gala.”

“Cried in the Water Lilies room at the MOMA.”

“Grew your hair out, then cut it all off.“

“Taught myself to make beef Wellington.”

“That one’s, uh, still in progress,” Alex hedges. Henry gives him an affronted look. “But, yeah! Definitely. And you got really good at scones.”

“That I did.”

“Right,” Alex agrees. “So what’s left? Streaking? Dropping acid? Having sex on our kitchen island?”

Henry takes a moment with that one.

“Having sex on our kitchen island?”

When the clock strikes the new year, the house is quiet. The timer on the light over the front stoop clicks off. The champagne bottle rests between two glasses on the edge of the sink, spent and sticky around the rim, a single soggy strawberry at the bottom of each flute. Miles out from their apartment, fireworks fight the snow over the East River, but in their kitchen in Park Slope, the only sounds are the two of them.

Henry, almost twenty-eight, presses his warm body to the cool marble and gets his midnight kiss.

...

“Do you know what today is?” Alex asks on a lukewarm September.

It’s 2025. He’s in the doorway of Henry’s study, where Henry has been all evening, answering emails.

“Hm? No.”

When Alex doesn’t immediately fill the silence, Henry looks up from his laptop screen.

“What is it?”

“Five years since the story broke,” Alex says.

It takes a moment for him to realize what story Alex means; there have been so many of them. But of course, he means that gigantic, terrible one. The one that changed their lives forever.

“Oh,” Henry says. He closes his laptop, leaning back in his chair and away from it. “Well. Hated that.”

“Yeah,” Alex agrees. “Zero out of ten. Would not do again.”

His tone is light and casual, but when he folds his arms across his chest, Henry can see his glasses in the front pocket of his flannel. It’s been months and months since the last time Alex didn’t feel confident enough to wear them.

For his part, Henry can remember much of that day, but not all of it. He remembers stirring sugar into his morning tea when Shaan walked in wearing an expression Henry had never seen before. He remembers Pez arriving like the cavalry in Gucci slippers, hustling Henry away from his handlers with the same graceful disdain he used to direct at Eton classmates who stared at them too much. He remembers Bea finding them in the music parlor and refusing to hear Henry’s apology, and he remembers Alex’s call and Alex’s arrival.

The funny part, though, is he can’t remember anything between Bea and Alex. He knows that Philip was involved, and there were stories on every news channel, and he spoke to his mother at some point. But the space in his memory where those hours belong is simply blank. His psychiatrist says it’s post-traumatic stress disorder, and Henry is inclined to agree, considering the two of them spent the entire following year recalibrating Henry’s anxiety and depression medication around the event.

Those hours will always be gone. There are things he will never get back.

Most of the time, though, when he thinks of that day, the second worst thing that's ever happened to him, he thinks of Alex's hand in his under a Buckingham Palace table. He remembers, clear as a bell, Alex's voice telling him they would survive it together. It happened to Alex too. It wasn't what they would have chosen, but it was what they received, and they've done their absolute bloody best with it.

He rises from his desk, crosses to the doorway, and gathers Alex up against his chest. Their size difference isn't that pronounced—Henry is taller but lean, Alex shorter but sturdy—but in moments like this, he's thankful for the way Alex's cheek perfectly aligns with the crook of his neck. He's grateful for how effortless it is to slip a kiss to Alex's temple.

Neither of them says anything else. It's all been said a thousand times, in speeches and through official statements and in the dark when it's only the two of them. It's enough to stand here in the center of the house, in the quiet, and let it hold their weight.

...

At the end of 2025, Henry has a bad day.

There's nothing specific that causes it. The days just happen like this sometimes, even with all the therapy and medication and supportive partnership and fulfilling creative projects in the world. There are other people, he supposes, who don't spend their lives waiting for the next bad day. He's had every bloody luxury but that one.

Alex comes home from work to find him curled up on the armchair in the study, staring out the window at the light-polluted night sky over the row of brownstones across the street.

“What are you doing?" Alex asks him.

"Looking for Orion," Henry deadpans.

Alex kneels on the rug in his tailored suit pants and rolled-up sleeves and rests his cheek on Henry's knee, the way he often does when Henry's in a mood. Henry's fingers slide into his curls. They've grown a bit longer in the past few months. Lately. Alex looks quite like he did when they met, except for the glasses and the stubble dusting his jaw.

“I’m tired of big law, “ Alex confesses. It would appear he’s in a mood too. “I know it’s only been a year and a half, but...I kind of hate it.”

Henry contemplates that, along with the dark circles around Alex’s eyes.

“You don’t have to do it, you know.” Henry tells him.

Alex looks at him like he did in that hotel room in Paris the first time they woke up together, like the only thing he knows for sure about what he’s being offered is that he wants it completely. It’s an intimidating look to receive, but it’s only ever improved Henry’s life in the end.

He kisses Henry’s knuckle, just below his ring.

“I have some ideas.”

...

In February 2026, a flu sweeps through Park Slope. Neither Alex nor Henry can agree on who gave it to whom first– Henry knows it was Alex, since he’s been up late consulting with his mum about a voting rights bill in Texas, and his immune system always suffers when he gets upset about Texas—but regardless, they’re trapped in the brownstone together for a week. At least Alex doesn’t have to work through his illness the way he usually does, since he resigned from his job last month.

Somewhere around day five, Henry realizes it’s the longest consecutive amount of time they’ve both been home in years. They always seem to be leaving or returning: rushing off to appearances, climbing out of security caravans in half-undone suits, meeting Cash at the curb at three in the morning with bags over their shoulders. It’s nice, in a way, to get reacquainted with this home they’ve built together.

While Alex naps, Henry paces the entire floorplan.

The first floor, with its long living room and the original beams and mantelpiece, which Henry had restored before he moved in, because he always has been precious about the history of things. Then the kitchen and the deep blue cabinets and the wide back window over the knotty pine dining table handed down from Alex's dad. Upstairs, on the second floor, the guest bedroom with all of his mum's preferred hand creams in the attached washroom and the sitting room with the shelf of swan figurines Pez started collecting years ago in a dramatic fit of June-related yearning. One more flight up to the top floor, with his study and Alex's office and the hall with their photo from Shaan and Zahra's wedding and, at the far end, their bedroom.

The bedroom is his favorite part of the house, and not only for the obvious reasons, no matter how much Alex tries to imply otherwise with suggestive eyebrows. He loves the high ceiling and the chipped plaster medallion of roses at the center. They picked out the bed together, and every morning that he wakes up in it, he gets to turn over and see Alex's loose pens and glasses wipes scattered atop the dresser and know that this, his life, is still real. Perhaps he likes the room best because it feels separated from every other part of the house, lifted up and bundled in, which is the first time he's ever been safe in a tower.

Most importantly, of all three levels of bay windows jutting from the redbrick front of the brownstone, only the one in the bedroom has a seat. They've filled it with velvet pillows and mossy green cushions, and once or twice a year, on one of their vanishingly rare slow days, Alex will climb in and fall asleep.

That's where he finds Alex when he eases into the room with a mug of soup in each hand. He recognizes the quilt wrapped around him: they slept under it in Alex's childhood twin bed the night Ellen won her second term, and then Alex crammed it into his suitcase and brought it back to Washington.

He stirs as Henry sets the mugs down on the dresser.

“Thanks,” he says in a hoarse voice.

Henry nudges in beside him, gingerly removing Alex's glasses from beneath his elbow before they get crushed.

"You know," Henry says, "I chose this house for the bay windows."

Alex blinks at him, fully awake now. "Really?"

"I thought you might like them. You always talked about the one you grew up with. Hoped they might make the place feel like home."

Alex smiles. "They do."

Henry looks at him in his quilt, sleep-mussed and flushed from fever and overdue for a shave, and he remembers that night in the yellow house in Austin. Before Alex led them back to his old bedroom, he peeled up the cushion in the living room window seat and showed Henry pages of elementary school scribbles still hidden there. And he told Henry that he thought once of hiding a picture there too, if only he'd had the nerve to tear it out of his sister's magazine.

Love, Henry has found, has a way of growing backward. You fall in love with a person in the present, and then every person you've ever been gets to fall in love with every past version of them. A sleep-deprived Georgetown freshman falls in love with an Oxford sophomore who's testing out undoing the top button of his shirts sometimes. A ruddy-cheeked teenager with his nose in a book loves a backtalking lacrosse captain. A boy comes home from school with perfect marks and sees a picture in a magazine, and the boy from the picture pauses on a palace staircase.

The crux of it is, he loves every version of Alex to ever sleep under that quilt. Everything else is mostly set dressing

"I'm having a thought," Henry says.

"Congratulations," Alex deadpans automatically. Then, "Tell me."

"This life we have here," Henry says. "This house. It's good, yeah?"

"Yeah, of course it is."

"But we could have a good life somewhere else too."

Alex frowns. "Like where?"

"Somewhere... farther from everything, maybe? Somewhere we could slow down, and things could be quieter, and you could do the work you want to do. I think I could use some time away from it all, honestly. Maybe I wouldn't even have to have a body double anymore."

Alex considers that for a long moment. They both know where Henry means, even if he doesn't say it. Besides New York and DC, and London on its best days, there's really only one place Alex would seriously consider living. They've joked about it before, but Henry's always thought it might be nice to spend a few years somewhere completely different than he's used to. A place where he could see the stars.

At long last, Alex sniffs and says, "You're gonna fire Angus? He was just starting to grow on me.”

...

“If you don't wake Bea up, you're gonna have to hear about her back spasms in the morning,” says a voice that is most certainly not Heath Ledger's.

Henry startles awake to find Alex leaning over his shoulder from behind the loveseat, curls everywhere. The room is dark, and the end credits are rolling.

"You're not home until tomorrow," Henry mumbles.

"Moved up my flight," Alex says. He's so close to Henry's face, he's gone a bit cross-eyed. His lips bounce off the tip of Henry's nose. "I missed you."

It's only been a few days, but the truth is Henry missed him too. He supposes he should be used to empty beds and time differences by now, especially when they began that way, but he suspects he'll never stop waiting at the door. You know what will be the best part of getting married?" Henry asks Alex.

"The line dancing."

"The way I won't have to miss you nearly as often."

Alex softens, then maneuvers himself over the armrest until he's draped across Henry's lap. David climbs on top of him and curls up on Alex's left buttock.

Letting go of the house has been hard, but this particular decision was easy, once they finally said it out loud. A gradual, careful withdrawal from public life, at least for a few years. They’ve given so much of themselves to the world and had the privilege of feeling a legacy take shape beneath them, but they need rest too.

It was June who convinced them, actually. Even now, there are certain things only June can say to Alex. Early in the spring, when she was finally transitioning out of her speechwriting job for Raf, she called Alex from Colorado and told him she was moving to New York to be closer to Nora and Pez, and she wanted to sublet the brownstone. When Alex pointed out that he was still living in it, she said, "We both know you've been looking at farmhouses in Austin for six months, it's time to shit or get off the pot."

(Henry loves his particular collection of Americans. They truly do say what's on their minds.)

The new house is beautiful. Henry's only seen it in person once, but the previous owner was a reclusive tech executive with shockingly good taste, so Architectural Digest featured it last year. He's had the article open in a tab on his phone for two months, and he scrolls through all those perfectly lit photos twice a day, getting high on possibilities. Lazy mornings in the wide sunroom, midnight dives in the lake. It's easy to imagine Alex mellowing into a brisket-smoking, tamale-rolling Texas dad out there, and it's just as easy to imagine them basking under cedar trees until their mid-thirties and then deciding they're ready for another round. The wonderful thing is, they can take their time either way.

It isn't a full release from their obligations, but it is the next step after formally relinquishing his title. More boundaries, more of their own rules about what they will and won't do. No royal wedding, but a private ceremony at the lake house and a honeymoon unpacking boxes. A job for Alex at a smaller firm where he can finally get his hands in the earth. A quieter life.

"You're right," Alex says. "You know what else is gonna be awesome about married-people life? We can have actual, real-life date nights. Just imagine it: free refills and bottomless chips and salsa."

"Oh, I've got another one," Henry says. “You can finally show me how to navigate an H-E-B."

“Baby, don’t talk dirty to me in front of company.”

“Please,” says a groggy voice from the couch.

“Hi, Bea.”

“Time’s it?”

“One in the morning.”

“Ugh.”

Grumbling and tugging a blanket around herself, Bea wakes Pez and the two of them head off to wash up before bed. The odds of Pez returning to the couch for the night or availing himself of their bed so that Alex has to sleep on the couch are just about even, based on six years of Pez falling asleep at their house. It’s a comfort to know that when they leave the brownstone and June moves in, Pez will still be making himself at home in it.

Downstairs, surrounded by boxes, Alex crawls out of Henry’s lap and slides a large shopping bag out from behind the loveseat. “I brought you something.” Alex says.

Inside the bag is a box made of the sort of heavy cardboard that augurs something expensive. He imagines Alex hurling his patched-up rough-ridden leather duffle into the overhead compartment of the airplane and then sliding this bag under the seat so carefully that there’s not even a crease in the paper.

He takes the lid off the box and unwraps layers of tissue paper to reveal a hat. A cowboy hat. It’s made of gorgeous, thick felt, with a cattleman crown and a satin lining. A nearly identical one has hung in Alex’s office since he moved in, though Alex’s is midnight black and this one is a warm, pale sand. Where Alex’s hatband has a small gold buckle, this one has a silver pin in the shape of an English rose.

“It’s a Stetson,” Alex says. When Henry looks up at him, his cheeks have darkened faintly. “I know it’s not really your thing, but you ride horses, and it’s kind of a big deal where I’m from to get your first Stetson, so I wanted to be the one to give it to you since you’re about to be an honorary Texan. You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want–“

“I love it,” Henry interrupts.

Alex pauses, then breaks out in a grin. “You do? I was afraid you’d think it was a joke.”

“It’s the least ridiculous hat I’ve ever been given,” Henry tells him. “It didn’t even come with a matching tailcoat.”

“Nah, but maybe we can get you some Wranglers,” Alex says.

“Some chaps, perhaps.”

“I just told you not to talk dirty to me.”

Henry laughs and kisses him over the open box, thinking of the next year of their lives. Sunday morning fry-ups, swimming holes, a wedding cake that doesn’t wind up on the floor. Tomorrow he needs to ask if Alex checked on the bakery while he was in Austin, and if they have any more packing tape, and whether Amy’s daughter has gotten her flower girl dress yet.

Tonight, though, Alex is home a day early, and the house is making all its soft, familiar night-time sounds around them. No one sees in through the windows. No one comes in through the gate.

“Henry,” says Alex.

“Alex,” says Henry.

“You and me,” Alex says.

“You and me,” Henry agrees.

End.

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onpurposeilovehimonpurpose · 4 months

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An Incomplete List: Eleven

This moment is actually my favorite scene of Nick's acting that we see in the film. It perfectly illustrates #11. Can you imagine how scary it must've been for Henry to go out in public after he was outed? And he was there in that car alone, he didn't even have Shaan in the car with him. (Shaan was waiting for him, so maybe that helped, but that drive had to have been agony.) He wasn't able to have any contact with the outside world other than this cruel moment where he had to face the reporters waiting on him. There was no back entrance the car could go to? Or maybe the driver wasn't told to go in any other way? It feels like this was a punishment, forcing Henry to face the cameras and shouting reporters. (Just like how they tried to hide his support from the people at Buckingham.) Whoever made those decisions didn't care how it made Henry feel. He had no support from anyone here and broke down, as anyone would. But here's the thing that's so damn amazing about Henry. He keeps going. He doesn't give in entirely to the sadness, to the terror and anxiety that had to have been threatening to consume him. He is so incredibly strong here. He's been trained to deal with the public who behave like they have a right to accost him, trained to fear what they may say about him, so he learned to behave in a way that meant there was nothing but good things for them to write about him (mostly). Still, no amount of training could have ever prepared him for being cut off from the man he loves, from all means of support (other than Bea and Shaan, who are also wrapped up in the Crown and struggling), from his best friend, and simultaneously dealing with the knowledge that everything he wrote to Alex, and Alex to him, and the V&A footage, that was out there for everyone to read or see. The way he must've felt so flayed open, so incredibly invaded to his core. But he still keeps going. He keeps trying. He takes a deep breath, let's it out, and even if he forces himself to wear a mask to get through the hell he's about to deal with, he never stops trying.

I truly love Henry Fox and all of his layers. He is one of the most amazing characters that I have ever had the pleasure of knowing, and loving in such a way that he feels real. When it comes to these stunningly intense moments, sometimes I feel like even I know too much about him, that I'm a witness to things he has never given me permission to see. That's how real Henry feels to me sometimes, and this moment here in the film, where we see him shatter, then pick himself up moments later and keep trying, keep living, even with seemingly no light at the end of the tunnel, it's why I think out of all the amazing moments in the book and movie, this one resonates with me above all others and has since the first day I watched it.

#An Incomplete List #RWRB #RWRB Movie #Red White and Royal Blue #RWRB Book #RW&RB FirstPrince #Alex X Henry #Alex Claremont-Diaz #Alexander Claremont-Diaz #Henry Fox #HRH Prince Henry #HRH Prince Henry George Edward James Hanover-Stuart Fox #Henry Fox Mountchristen Windsor #Nicholas Galitzine #Taylor Zakhar Perez #HRH Prince Henry of Wales

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cha-melodius · 9 months

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Oh my goodness, I've just seen your fic festival request post and am excited to sneak in to participate before it closes. I love your writing and your stories so very much!

My prompt suggestion is... firstprince in Edinburgh, Scotland... in particular, the Edinburgh pride parade (if I may be so oddly specific). AU welcome, canon welcome, makeouts welcome, ahem.

Thank you and good luck wrangling everyone's prompts!

(Firstly, I have to say I love your url and your profile pic! Secondly, this is heavier on the Pride and lighter on the Edinburgh as far as the details go, but I hope it delights. Inspired in part by a tweet shared on tumblr; rated M for dick jokes. Happy Bisexual Awareness Week!)

Something To Be Proud Of

(firstprince, 3.3k, M; read it below or on AO3) read all the fandom fest fics

Henry stares at the carbon copy of the email in his inbox and wills time to go backwards. Just a few minutes, that’s all he needs. Enough time to go back and keep autocorrect from transforming whatever he’d typed after ‘he’ in his pronouns after his name into… that.

Thank you so much for all your help. Together we can make this a truly exceptional Edinburgh Pride. Regards, Henry Fox (he/hung Sent from Outlook for iOS.

How had he not seen it before he hit send on an email going out to every volunteer on their mailing list? How had he not noticed?

Maybe no one else would notice either. No one looks at email signatures that closely, right?

~~~~~

Ok, he’s not delusional enough to think that no one noticed. He had, however, naively believed that everyone would recognise it for what it was and politely ignore his gaff. He gets away scot free for a few days, and then, at the end of an email sent by a volunteer that is mostly as expected, he sees:

Best, Alex (he/him) PS: not sure I did the pronouns right. Does ‘Pride’ over here include being proud of your big dick?

It’s a damned good thing that he wasn’t taking a sip of his tea at the time, or he might be wearing it instead. Once he’s finished choking on nothing and perhaps isn’t quite the colour of a tomato (oh, who is he kidding, of course he still is), Henry professionally answers Alex’s questions about the schedule for the day of the march. He pauses before the sign off, wondering if he should acknowledge the flub or pretend it never happened. In the end, he writes:

Regards, Henry (he/him) PS: Your pronouns look correct to me, but they are, of course, your choice.

He only checks the email about ten times before he sends it. Hopefully, that should be the end of it.

~~~~~

It’s not.

Apparently, Alex has more questions. Apparently the law firm he works for is one of this year’s sponsors and is interested in potentially running a free legal clinic associated with the festival. A noble endeavour, which Henry is only too happy to assist with. He makes a mental note to look into logistics with Kate, the event’s chair, and continues reading. Finding out that Alex is apparently mature enough to be a lawyer lulls him into a false sense of security, though. At the tail of the email, he finds:

PS: regardless of the size of your dick, I’m impressed by the balls it takes to not acknowledge the typo. Then again, maybe it wasn’t? PPS: I’m trying out new pronouns. How do you think (daddy/sir) would go over?

Henry does spit his tea all over his phone this time.

He doesn’t email Alex back right away, but that’s because he has to wait to hear back from Kate. It has nothing to do with the fact that the prospect of dragging this interaction out longer is both horrifying and vaguely thrilling. Henry has noticed that he uses Americanised spellings in his text, which seems to fit with his general demeanour. It piques Henry’s curiosity, even though the thought of actually having to face Alex in person still makes him flush automatically. Eventually he gets an email from Kate that includes additional questions for the firm, as well as telling him that he can pass it off to someone in sponsor coordination. He is, after all, just the volunteer coordinator for the march. This need not involve him.

He still emails Alex back with the questions. And:

PS: Although I support your creativity, I am concerned those pronouns may not be appreciated in a professional setting such as, for instance, a court of law. Just a thought. However, I do suspect they might be rather popular at Pride.

~~~~~

They keep on exchanging emails, even though Henry should have sent Alex’s contact info to sponsor coordination ages ago, even though it becomes clear that Alex is not the one who will be ultimately responsible for the clinic either. On every one, there is a postscript in which Alex makes some kind of joke about the size of Henry’s dick.

do you have to get all your pants specially made with extra room in the crotch

do you have to check your dick as luggage when you fly

have you ever used it as a tripod

is your dick in another time zone

do you call your dick Sir Richard because it’s that prominent

In turn, Henry responds as dryly as possible, which only seems to encourage him. Oddly for someone who is volunteering at the event, Alex seems to have a lot of questions about Pride itself, as though this is the first one he’s attending on any continent. They exchange emails almost right up to the day of the march itself, but if they do taper off, Henry is too busy to notice. Coordinating volunteers for something as big as Edinburgh Pride is intense, and the days tick by before he even knows it.

He’s standing off to the side at the volunteer check-in tent on the morning of the march, going over some last minute logistics with one of his staff, when a voice carries over the hubbub, deep and rich with an out-of-place American accent.

“Sorry, but I was hoping… is Henry here?”

Henry straightens up and turns toward the voice only to find perhaps the most stunning man he’s ever seen standing at the front table. Dark, curly hair, a sharp jaw, big brown eyes with the longest eyelashes Henry has ever seen— he’s actually impossibly beautiful. Unbelievable, really. As is the fact that he’s asking for Henry.

“Hello,” Henry says as he walks over to the front. “How can I help you?”

The man’s eyes snap over to him, and he very clearly looks Henry up and down and swears, “Jesus fuck,” under his breath. Then his eyes come back up to Henry’s face, and he swallows. “You’re not Scottish.”

Henry cocks an eyebrow at him. “Neither are you.”

“Yeah, sorry. I just— need to adjust what you sound like in my head,” he says nonsensically. “I’m Alex?”

Oh.

Oh, Christ.

Henry should have known, because how many other Americans could there be volunteering at Edinburgh Pride? That reality does nothing to help him cope with the situation presented before him, though, in which this is the man who’s been teasing him about the size of his dick for the last month.

“I, uh,” he says eloquently as he tries to pull himself together. There are far too many people standing around watching this exchange. “Hello. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. Did your firm get everything sorted with the clinic?”

“Oh,” Alex says, blinking. “Yeah, thanks. Look, I’m sure you’re busy, but I have something for you?”

It kind of comes out as a question, and he’s scratching the back of his head uncertainly, so even though Henry has no idea what’s coming, he nods. Then Alex reaches into his pocket, fishes out something small and round, and places it on the table between them.

It’s a button. A pronoun button, not unlike the one Henry’s already wearing, but instead it reads: he/hung.

Henry’s eyes snap up to find Alex grinning at him with the kind of mischief that Henry honestly should have expected from him sparkling in his eye. “Wanted to make sure you were prepared,” he says with a little one-shouldered shrug. “I’ll see you around, I guess.”

Then he takes his volunteer t-shirt and saunters off—and Christ those jeans are ridiculously tight and doing everything for his arse—leaving Henry gawping after him. A moment later, one of his regular volunteers, Robin, bustles by, catches sight of the button, and lets out a sound that can only be described as a cackle.

“My god, it’s perfect,” they say. “Did he really make this for you?”

Henry can only sigh, dragging a hand over his face. “It appears so. Robin, can you do me a favour?”

“Make sure you’re working the same stations all day?” they surmise. Henry doesn’t need to look to imagine the knowing grin on their face.

Henry wants to say no. Just because Henry’s already managed to combine the affection engendered by their previous email conversations with Alex’s stunning good looks into a powerfully intoxicating cocktail of a crush—well, that’s on Henry and his poor decision-making.

Instead, he says: “Yes, exactly that.”

~~~~~ ~~~~~

Alex had only signed up to volunteer at Pride on a whim. He’s always complaining that he doesn’t know anyone in Edinburgh outside of his coworkers, and one such coworker—someone that he could safely call a friend—suggested that getting involved in the festival would be a good way to meet people. Alex had tried to explain that he wasn’t actually queer, but she’d just given him an odd look and told him that allies were welcome at Pride too. It had felt a little weird signing up despite her assurances, but also kind of good. He was finally going get out there and have a life beyond his job.

He certainly hadn’t expected to strike up a prolonged email exchange with the volunteer coordinator, Henry. He also doesn’t really know why he kept finding excuses to send him new messages, except for Henry’s responses to Alex’s stupid jokes made Alex imagine him rolling his eyes and trying not to laugh, which only egged Alex on further. It was fun. That’s all.

Nothing about any of this made him prepared to show up to the volunteer check-in tent today and be plunged directly into a sexuality crisis. But that seems to be exactly what’s currently happening now that he’s been confronted by quite possibly the hottest man he’s ever seen. Alex doesn’t even get it because it’s not like he hasn’t been able to objectively appreciate attractive men before, and blond hair and blue eyes have historically never really done it for him. Even if they are combined with swooping cheekbones, and broad shoulders, and obscenely full, pink lips.

All he knows is that as much as this doesn’t make sense, it also suddenly does. Why he’d felt drawn to sign up in the first place. Why he spent the last month reading about the history of Pride in Edinburgh and around the world. Why he’d gone on a deep dive doing research about different sexualities, brushing it off as wanting to be informed before meeting new people.

Why he was so obsessed with Henry’s dick.

Jesus fuck.

He thinks he manages to hold a short conversation. Somehow he even gives Henry the custom button he brought as a joke, smiling the whole time like he’s not moment’s away from dropping to his knees. He flees the table safe in the knowledge that Henry will likely be too busy coordinating stuff all day and Alex probably won’t see him again. That confidence is shattered when, not even an hour later, Henry shows up at the station Alex is supposed to be working. He’s even wearing the joke button, under his regular pronoun button and next to a little rainbow flag pin. Alex is going to die.

“Oh hey,” Alex says in a reasonable facsimile of nonchalance. “Did you need me for something?”

“Not exactly,” Henry replies. “I’ll be working this station too.”

Yeah, Alex is definitely not going to make it through the day.

~~~~~

It actually turns out to be not as bad as he feared, despite how Henry’s volunteer t-shirt is probably a size too small (never mind that in the context of everyone else at Pride he looks downright conservative) and Alex keeps getting caught staring at his shoulders or his back or his waist. Henry keeps on giving him weird looks at the beginning, probably because he’s expecting Alex to be cracking crude jokes. Too bad Alex is way too wound up in his own head to think of anything at all.

They’re pretty busy all day, but they do get a chance to chat occasionally, mostly small talk stuff about jobs and how they both ended up in Edinburgh. Henry is there for grad school, apparently, and has been volunteering for Pride since he moved out from under his grandmother’s restrictive shadow. In turn, Alex tells him about applying for the law job on a whim, desperate to set himself apart from his parents, and how much he likes Edinburgh (despite the weather). As the day stretches on and the streets fill up, Alex feels himself relaxing into his skin again, undeniably enjoying the festivities as well as Henry’s company.

See, the other thing he never, ever expected is how good it feels to be here. All the people around him loudly comfortable in themselves, and the color and glitter and celebration— it’s amazing, but it’s not just that he’s watching other people be happy. There’s a kind of ecstatic joy that bubbles up inside him at the fact that he’s part of it, one that he feels down to his bones. A sense of belonging that he’s never really experienced before, and that, more than anything else, makes him more certain of his newfound revelation.

Straight people probably don’t feel like this at Pride.

At the end of the day, he’s helping pack up the main volunteer tent when he comes across a table full of pins depicting different pride flags. He dimly remembers seeing them when he’d checked in and thinking that none of them applied to him. Now, he stares down at them and bites his lower lip uncertainly.

“There’s a box for those under the table,” Henry tells him from across the tent, misinterpreting his hesitation.

“Oh, yeah, thanks,” Alex says, and Henry’s already turning back to whatever he’s doing when he manages to continue, “Hey, can I— um, can I take one of these?”

Henry stops, his brow creasing as he tips his head slightly. “Of course. That’s what they’re there for.”

“Right, thanks,” Alex says with a tight smile.

He puts his hand out, hesitates, then picks up one with pink, purple, and blue stripes. Stares down at it for another moment before he realizes he’s probably being weird and he’s pretty sure Henry is still watching him. He swallows hard, then pins it to his shirt next to his pronoun button.

No one jumps out to call him out for being an impostor. Henry offers him a careful smile, then turns back to his work like he knows Alex needs a moment to himself. He lets his fingers rub over the surface of the pin, feeling the little enamel ridges, and something settles under his skin, like an itch he hadn’t even been aware of until it was gone.

He feels almost normal by the time Henry walks up to him once they’re finished and everything is packed away in someone’s car.

“Thanks so much for your help today,” Henry says.

“It was my pleasure,” Alex replies, and means it more than he can say. “I’m really glad I decided to sign up.”

“I realize you may very well be tired of my face at this point, but if you don’t already have plans, I was wondering if you’d like to go get a drink?”

Alex would like to make a joke about how it might be literally impossible to get tired of Henry’s face, but at this point he’d probably fuck up and confess his undying love for a guy he just met. “Sounds great,” he says instead, looking around at where a few of the other volunteers are lingering nearby. “Do y’all usually all go out together afterward?”

Henry coughs slightly and glances down at the ground for a few seconds as his cheeks turn faintly pink. “Well yes, a group of them usually do. But I was actually asking if you wanted to go out with me,” he says. “Just the two of us.”

“Oh,” Alex breathes as his stomach decides to do a backflip. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Spending all day volunteering with Henry was fun. Going on a date with Henry, being the sole focus of his attention, is intoxicating. Alex feels like he could sit here all night listening to Henry talk about his research on queer history, although that’s far from the only thing they talk about. As the night wears on and the pub slowly empties, Alex is buzzing with a few drinks and the euphoria of really clicking with someone, already wondering when would be too soon to ask Henry out again.

Henry shifts slightly so his legs press against Alex’s where they’re tangled together under the table—have been for several hours, actually. He’s playing with the stirrer in his empty glass, and a little teasing smirk sneaks onto his lips as he looks up at Alex.

“So you made me a custom pronoun button but forgot your own?”

“Ah, you know,” Alex replies with a shit-eating grin and a one-shouldered shrug, “thought it would be too distracting, what with how everyone would be hitting on me all day.”

Henry hums thoughtfully, biting back a wider smile. “If you wanted to avoid that, you probably should have chosen some looser trousers.”

“That’s fair. I suppose you had to go for the room in yours.” Alex pauses a beat. “You know, on account of the size of your dick.”

That makes Henry actually laugh and shake his head fondly. “I was waiting all day for that.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” Alex says, chuckling along with him. It does feel like he owes Henry something of an explanation of why he was so weird all day. He looks down and licks his lips. “Can I confess something?”

“Of course,” Henry answers with a small, encouraging smile.

“A friend of mine suggested I volunteer for this because I wanted to meet people. Make new friends. But until today I actually thought I was… mostly straight?” Alex admits, trying not to wince as he stares fixedly into his empty glass. “Being part of this made me realize why I always felt a little like I wasn’t my whole self. So I was… kind of going through it a bit today.” He pauses, then adds, “Also you’re so ridiculously fucking hot that you kind of melted my brain.”

Henry laughs again, but it’s softer this time. Gentle. Alex kind of wants to sink into the sound. Henry’s cheeks are slightly pink as he extends a hand across the table, and Alex doesn’t hesitate before he slides his hand into Henry’s and links their fingers together.

“I’m glad to hear that, Alex,” Henry says. “I mean, the feeling like your whole self part. Not the brain melting part,” he adds, and Alex can’t help but laugh with him.

Henry doesn’t let go of his hand as they walk outside, and once they’re alone on the sidewalk he uses it to pull Alex close. He puts a hand on Alex’s hip and Alex has to tip his head up to look at him, and it’s a lot but he’s also pretty sure he’s never wanted anything more than to feel Henry’s lips pressed against his.

“I have a confession too,” Henry murmurs as he stares down into Alex’s eyes.

“Yeah?”

“I’ve been dreaming of kissing you since the very first moment I saw you.”

Alex lets one corner of his mouth tug upwards. “What’s stopping you, baby?”

“Christ, Alex,” Henry breathes, looking momentarily overwhelmed, but then he’s pressing his lips to Alex’s, and Alex feels his blood sing. It’s brief and chaste and leaves him aching for more, but then Henry looks down at him with heavy lidded eyes and asks, “Given your recent personal revelations, would it be terribly forward of me to ask you back to my place?”

“Ask away, sweetheart,” Alex replies, then he reaches up to touch the side of the ridiculous he/hung button that Henry is still wearing for some reason. “I wanna find out how accurate this button is.”

(It doesn’t take long for him to find out that the answer is: extremely.)

#rwrb #red white and royal blue #firstprince #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #rwrb fic #rwrb fanfic #firstprince fic #firstprince fanfic #chamel's fandom fest #my fic

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meraki-yao · 8 months

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The taylor zakhar perez hashtag just full of praise for Nicholas acting and twitter full of anonymous messages asking for his recast because he's not as good as Nick. That shit hurts and I can't even enjoy the new content I'm tired of the hate that man has been getting for a year and a half (it's not about Nicholas I love him so much)

First and foremost this is awful and Taylor doesn't deserve any of this unfair critism that are frankly insults, it's fucking sick

I will say this about the acting (and I'm typing this while listening to the podcast where Matthew talks about how well suited the boys are for the roles)

Both of them nailed their roles. But because of how the roles are written, certain things show easily than others.

Henry is more emotional sensitive and "broken", and because that's kind of an unhealthy mentality which isn't the normal state of human being, it's easier to pick up, which is why even with a surface glance audience can pick up on Nick's intensity and level of performing. For example, Henry spiraling on the lake. It's a crescendo of negative emotions, and you can see it go from opposite of the previous emotion (happy and content) to increasing panic and heartache.

Alex is the healthier one, in the movie he doesn't have much baggage as Henry does, but he does have baggage. At first Alex might seem like a sunshine puppy or something but if you paid attention to the details which Taylor does, you can read so much more. His fingers fidgeting whenever he's nervous like when Henry's taking off his clothes or Zahra barging in looking out. Like him clenching his jaw and watching every second of Henry's face when he goes in. Like how you can feel the aggressiveness in him die down as Henry shouts his thoughts during the Kensington confrontation. Like how fucking in love he looks all conveyed in his eyes.

So TL DR and this is my understanding of the performance: the tricky part for Nick is not to go overboard so that it's too dramatic to the point of being unrealistic, while the tricky part for Taylor is too not under perform it that Alex becomes one dimensional. AND BOTH BOYS NAIL IT PERFECTLY.

But for people who watch it passively, or watch it with negative assessment already in mind, it's easier to miss Taylor's details than Nick's details.

I WANNA MAKE IT PERFECTLY CLEAR THAT I DON'T AGREE WITH THE SHIT TAYLOR'S GETTING I DON'T AGREE WITH ANY OF THIS AND TAYLOR JUST IS ALEX TO ME

But this is a speculation from the acting perspective as to part of the reason why Taylor's getting so much shit

Also Twitter people are just another fucking type of crowd who mostly should use their life to do something better (I'm not on Twitter and never will be) and I'm convinced that there's still racism involved in these commentary even if it's internalized or latent

Anyone who says Taylor should be recast or is not as good as Nick either didn't actually pay attention to the movie or don't understand Alex. Taylor read the book 8 times. Matthew and Nick, the two most important people in regards to his performance, have nothing but praise for him.

Taylor is Alex, just as Nick is Henry.

Hopefully after a while these stupid "opinions" die down and only intelligent/genuine/constructive comments will be left and things will get better. And I truly hope Taylor can see more support than insults. He doesn't deserve any of this.

I'm sorry that this has affect you, and I understand it. Honestly this is why I don't directly look at tags, especially the actors' tag, block whoever I don't wanna see or deal with, and don't go on Twitter.

Just from my experience on dealing with shit like this, I would say give yourself some distance from RWRB and social media for a bit, even if it's a day or two, and come back when it hurts less. Take a bit of a break. And avoid places you know you will see shit like this as much as you can.

Both of the boys did amazing, and imo perfectly in the movie and in these roles, and they deserve all the love and support. Both of them.

#rwrb #red white and royal blue #rwrb movie #firstprince #nicholas galitzine #taylor zakhar perez #rwrb thoughts #Anon ask #answered #meraki essay

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eliotquillon · 10 months

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just finished the rwrb movie and although i really enjoyed it (and was kicking my feet giggling the whole time) i do have a couple of major criticisms, some of which i think aren’t really the movie’s fault because they had to fit a whole book into 2 hours, but some of which left me kind of disappointed:

-i feel slightly icky that bea and nora got their screentime SIGNIFICANTLY reduced even after june got cut entirely (which i was upset about, but did understand). i loved zahra and adored her on screen but i do think it’s very odd that she is pretty much the only major female character in this movie since bea was nonexistent and nora got permanently spirited away to pez’s bed or something sometime during the second act

-it felt like a lot of the internal conflict in alex and henry’s relationship was very unbalanced and henry heavy - alex’s neurodivergence was erased, his bi epiphany was barely even an epiphany, and him not being explicitly kicked off the campaign after ellen finds out about him and henry essentially killed his whole subplot about realising he doesn’t need to have everything achieved at thirty and deciding he wants to apply to law school instead. which wouldn’t have been terrible but on the flipside it felt weird that we didn’t see very much of henry’s family considering how much they affect and shape his fear of being outed and his feeling of being in a glass cage - e.g bea’s treatment by the media during her active addiction (which was entirely erased), the extent of the tension between him and philip. felt like henry’s pov scenes were a super wasted opportunity for that and we were mostly just being Told about all of these things

-i am not actually that mad about oscar and ellen still being together lol but i felt like in the scene with oscar smoking the cigar on the balcony they were kinda building up to there being significant strain in his and ellen’s relationship that just wasn’t explored. especially since it’s clear oscar would never be able to be president because he’s not a natural born citizen + the sacrifice of his career for ellen’s is so much bigger now that he’s first gentleman in this version

-pacing in general was a bit off but the worst offender was the fact that there was a complete time skip between the alex henry confrontation/reconciliation and the outing. so much of the tension and desperation from that outing scene comes from the fact that the risk of it happening was slowly increasing throughout the book and it felt almost inevitable (the elevator cctv being leaked, henry having to fake date june) and honestly making it so abrupt weirdly reduced a lot of its impact for me

-similarly i actually completely understand why the richards plot / rafael luna plot was cut (i suspect republican election interference hits a bit too close to home after 2020) but my god was miguel a lame fucking villain and him being queer and hispanic erased a lot of the original commentary about racism and homophobia that the richards plot lent itself to. like in general this movie was a lot lighter than the book which is fine! but for a movie where the main subplot is a presidential election So Much of the political themes were heavily neutered or cut to the point that it seemed like the pressure on henry and alex’s relationship was disproportionately coming from henry’s side when in the book it was more balanced

again on the whole i really really loved this movie and i knew going in that certain changed were going to be made. and i hope more movies get made like it! these r just my Thots and i may change my mind when i rewatch it with my friend tomorrow

#rwrb #red white and royal blue #putting this in the tags but the movie actually kind of emphasised a lot of the problems i have with the book #re: gender at least #i remember first reading the book in 2019 and being upset that june giving up so many of her dreams #to support her family wasnt explored more #like with her ex boyfriend who it was implied she still kind of had feelings for but had moced to california #it also feels slightly disingenuous that casey hyped up bea/nora so much after the teaser scene of them talking was revealed #except that was the only scene they ever interacted in. ever #and i know it’s not that deep I KNOWWWW #but i’ve been thinking a lot about fandom treatment of women lately #and weirdly this movie kind of exemplifies a lot of the issues i have witb fandom as a whole and not just rwrb #anyway.

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rwrbficrecs · 1 year

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5+1 Things Recs Part 1

I want you, I need you (oh baby oh baby) by @rmd-writes

From the first time Henry saw Alex leaning against their dorm, he's thought that he's one of the most beautiful men he's ever seen.

This is five times Henry was interested in Alex, and one time he actually did something about it.

Some Element of Mystery by @xthelastknownsurvivorx

Alex has to face it. He has proof. The evidence is irrefutable. His very attractive roommate is a stripper. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but it means that sleeping in the same room as him just got that much harder (ha). ... What he knows is this: 1. Henry works a night job, usually smells like alcohol when he comes home, and is weirdly cagey about what he does. 2. Henry is a highly-skilled pole dancer. 3. Pez let it spill while drunk that Henry knows how to give a lap dance. Henry, red to his ears, confirmed it. 4. Alex accidentally saw Henry's very extensive collection of sexy underwear on laundry day. 5. Henry always pays Alex back in wrinkled small bills from his job, apparently on account of how customers "handle" them.

Or, five times that Alex thought Henry was a stripper, plus one time Henry corrected him.

self-awareness (and lack thereof) by aftgray

Alex is not as observant as he’d like to be. His crush on Henry goes unnoticed to no one but himself—and perhaps Henry, who is too busy suppressing feelings for his apparently straight roommate. Pining ensues.

5 times Alex liked Henry and had no clue, +1 time he knew.

David is quite literally the whole reason Alex and Henry meet and eventually stop being idiots and realize they’re in love

take me out, and take me home by weather_stained

They’ve only been living together for two months, since Alex moved to the city for law school. Henry's Brooklyn apartment was a short commute to NYU, and the price was unbeatable, so he agreed to move in without even meeting the man in person. He was nervous, at first, to share close quarters with a stranger, but it’s worked out shockingly well; Henry is kind and considerate, and they mostly leave each other alone.

He’s also quite obviously gorgeous, and Alex doesn’t know why there isn’t a string of men coming and going from Henry’s room at all times, or perhaps one steady man. Inexplicably, Henry seems to have been single since Alex moved in in August.

AKA:5 times Alex doesn't realize Henry's in love with him, and 1 time he gets a clue.

sex ed in 6 steps by @coffeecatsme

“Please tell me you used a condom, Fox,” Alex drawls out, leaning against the wall, and Henry chokes on his next breath.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re gonna tell me all about this tomorrow, but for the love of God, tell me you used a condom and we won’t have mini Henrys on campus anytime soon.”

Or, 5 times Alex thinks Henry's straight and 1 time he finds out the truth.

Or, 5 times Alex jokes about Henry's sex life and 1 time he gets to be a part of it.

Shards of Glass by Sebastian (taydrawrs)

Alex fights the frustration welling up in his stomach, gritting his teeth so hard his jaw hurts. The thing is, this isn’t the first time he’s lost out on a date because they’ve been threatened by what he shares with Henry. He doesn’t know what it is about their relationship that seems to scare people off, or make them think they’re not welcome around the duo. He feels more emotionally connected to Henry than to anyone else, but swears he doesn’t treat Henry any differently to how he would treat any other friend.

Except for the cuddles on the couch.

And the pet names.

And maybe he’s a little touchier with Henry than he is with Nora or his lacrosse teammates.

And okay, maybe he openly flirts with Henry more than necessary, but it’s so fun seeing Henry blush and seeing his cool façade crumble to dust in front of him, and it’s even more fun when Henry is feeling a little silly and flirts back.

…oh.

5 times Alex and Henry get mistaken for a couple, and one time it’s not a mistake.

#5+1 #5+1 things #rwrbficrecs #red white and royal blue #first prince #firstprinceficrecs #fic rec list #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor

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brownbitchshit · 10 months

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Despite my disappointment towards the film, I have to give credit where it is due. Nicholas Galitzine and Taylor Zakhar Perez are the epitome of perfection as Henry and Alex.

Obviously Alex's character is all about being chaotic and passionate and TZP played it to perfection. It also helps that he is absolutely a beautiful beautiful man. If I had a crush on him from Kissing Booth, I'm goner for him here. His eyelashes alone can make people write poetry about him. Now his prettiness is obviously an advantage, especially since I don't think anyone imagined Alex to be this much beautiful and hot while reading the book simply because we were reading his POV and thus our brain was filled with HenryHenryHenry, TZP' s acting was spot on as Alex, which made the character even more amazing. I can only imagine how epic it would have been if the movie could keep the essence of the story true and how greater TZP's performance would've been.

Now the star of the movie, Nicholas Galitzine. Henry is literally my most favourite fictional man of all times and I was so sure I would never be satisfied with anyone playing him. But I ofc was wrong because Nick knocked it off the park. The pain, yearning and the vulnerability he brought to Henry is everything I dreamt and hoped for this character in this movie. Especially the lake scene was better in the movie than the book, simply because of his acting. When he was casted, I searched and watched all of his work because I was scared he wouldn’t do a good job. But this man acted the shit out of this character. If there is a reason why this movie completely didnt succumb to the cliched, cringy rom com, ruining the heart of this story, then the credit is mostly due to Nick. He portrayed Henry so well, that even when Matthew Lopez didn’t do shit to explain what kind of pressure he was under (like being forced to date girls, forced to enlist to the army, forced to find a wife, being taken advantage of older men when he was young, being absolutely broken hearted by his father's death because he was the only one who could protect him from the crown, having a mom who is alive but lost in grief, having a sister with drugs problem etc), Nick's expression decided to tell the story without giving us the contexts. This man will definitely go a long way and I am already excited about his next projects, especially for the one with Anna Hathway (I've read the book and I know Nick will kill the role).

Lastly, I loved TZP and Nick's chemistry. The intimate scenes and the chemistry were off the charts. It was simply beautiful. If I hadn't read the book, maybe I could've appreciated it as slightly better Hallmark type of movie. But since I have read the book, and I know this story had much more depth and the characters were much more nuanced and there were some major social and political issues needed addressing that is essential for the Queer communities, I cannot love this movie wholeheartedly. But I'm glad at least we got Nick and TZP as our FirstPrince.

#red white and royal blue #red white and royal blue movie #nicholas galitzine #rwrb movie #taylor zakhar perez #hrh prince henry #alex claremont diaz

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everwitch-magiks · 11 months

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Shameless

Henry has a lot of sex. A lot. He's young and in college and there is no shortage of men to fall in bed with. What better time to explore what he likes and what he fucking loves, as well as to catalogue how to make his many, many partners feel as good as possible? It’s all part of the learning experience. And Henry is a very dedicated student.

Alex has been inescapably aware of Henry ever since that one time they kissed. You don’t just stop being aware of the guy who basically caused your sexuality. So when Henry propositions Alex at a lame frat party, Alex accepts eagerly. Maybe this is exactly what he needs. Maybe, if he can just have Henry once, he’ll have a better chance of finally getting over his embarrassing fixation with Henry. It's worth a try.

I wrote this fic just about two years ago, in 2021, and I still think about it frequently. I'd gotten this idea that I wanted to write one where Henry has a bit of a reputation. It came largely from the parts in the book that reference Henry's time at university: Henry says that was where he picked up 'skills' in the bedroom, and he also tells Alex about his 'assortment of guys' at Oxford. Fun, right?

I just kind of loved that whole idea; Henry exploring his sexuality, having all the sex he wants, and figuring out all the things he likes in the bedroom. And when I put Alex there with him - at the same college, interested in Henry, and perfectly aware of the fact that Henry has many, many sexual partners - I realised I had a lot of interesting questions to answer. Would Alex even consider the idea that Henry might be interested in him beyond sex? Would Henry think Alex had approached him for anything but sex? And even if they managed to get on the same page, how would things shake out if Alex felt that he wanted to take sex off the table for a while?

'Shameless' is a story almost exclusively about sex: it’s about having sex, about not having sex, about the trust it takes to say both yes and no, and about how incredibly sexy it is to be open and honest about what you want and why. I do so love to write intimate conversations about sex - there’s something to be said (ha) for when they put it all into words, you know? What they want. How much they want it. How utterly enthusiastically they consent.

I'm so glad my hobby is smut - it brings so much goddamn joy.

Below the cut, you'll find an excerpt from this fic that I'm still so proud of. Alex and Henry are at a point where they are not fucking, but that doesn’t mean they aren't thinking about fucking. Also, Alex is pretty curious about the other partners Henry has fucked - so they talk about it. A safe distance apart. Did somebody say sexual tension?

“Hey,” Henry tells him softly, tugging on Alex’s hand. “What’s up?”

Alex turns towards him, startled. They’re not even there yet. But Henry is watching him closely, his brows creased slightly. Like he knows. Like he cares.

“I just have a lot of thoughts,” Alex says, smiling weakly. “I’m fine. I promise.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Kind of,” Alex admits hesitantly. “Look. I don’t want to say goodnight just yet.”

“Okay,” Henry says easily. “Do you want to go somewhere else?”

“Yeah.” Alex takes a breath. “To mine. But not to… you know.”

“Okay,” Henry repeats. He frowns. “We can hang out in your room without having sex, Alex.”

“Yeah,” Alex agrees hurriedly. “I know, I know. It’s just, the words ‘do you want to come up’, they kind of imply things.”

“Sure.” Henry nods, like he understands better. “But I know you’re not implying anything. You just want to spend time with me. Right?”

“Yes,” Alex says. Except then he hesitates. “I mean, mostly.”

Henry is quiet for a moment. “Okay,” he says slowly. “Can I ask you to try to explain that?”

Goddamnit. Alex usually isn’t this useless at communicating what he’s feeling.

“I keep thinking about it,” he finally says, the words coming out in a rush. “Sex. With you. And I’d kind of like to talk about that? But that doesn’t feel fair, because I know you want to, and I don’t want to rub it in your face that I don’t, so like—”

“Hey,” Henry cuts in gently. “Alex, it’s okay. I think you’re being a little hard on yourself.”

“Maybe. I don’t know.” Alex sighs. “I just feel like I should make up my fucking mind.”

“Not necessarily,” Henry says. He smiles. “Can I take you up on the offer to hang out in your room? I feel like this is a longer conversation.”

They do go to Alex’s room. Alex digs out two cans of beer from his mini fridge, not because he wants to drink but because he needs something to do with his hands. He doesn’t even open his, just holds it between his palms and feels the cold metal against his skin. He’s not sure how he feels about Henry watching his movements carefully.

“Okay,” Henry says calmly, and Alex looks up at him in surprise. He’d kind of expected Henry to want Alex to explain himself more. “Look. You don’t need to justify to me, or to yourself, why you want the things you want. Okay? It’s okay to just feel what you feel, and it’s okay if some of those feelings contradict each other.”

Alex opens and closes his mouth. His mind spins. He hasn’t even told Henry how fucking frustrated he feels about wanting Henry but still not wanting to go there. At least not in so many words.

“And if you want to talk about sex, but still not have it, that’s okay.” Henry passes his own can of beer between his hands. He hasn’t opened it either. “Honestly, I’d be very interested in that.”

“You would?” Alex asks quickly. Henry is just full of surprises today. “Why?”

Henry smiles. It’s weirdly sheepish. “Look,” he says. “I’ve had a lot of sexual partners. I know you know this. And one of my hobbies is getting to the bottom of what people like and why. It’s kind of my thing.”

“Jesus,” Alex mutters. He takes a breath. “Just, for the record, that doesn’t make me want to sleep with you any less.”

“Noted,” Henry says, grinning. “That’s very mutual, by the way.”

A thrill runs down Alex’s spine. Yeah. He likes that. He’s very into how badly Henry wants him. Is that the feeling he’s chasing? Is that why he’s keeping Henry at arm’s length?

“So lets talk about sex,” Alex says quickly, before his thoughts can derail further. “I’m game.”

Henry looks at him for a moment. Then, very slowly, he cracks open his can of beer.

“Sure,” he says, like it’s that easy. “Sex. What about it?”

Alex bites his lower lip. That’s a fucking challenge, isn’t it? Henry is pushing him, just a little bit, and Alex likes it. God. He should start making a list.

“Well,” Alex says, thinking quickly. This shouldn’t be that hard. It usually isn’t. “We could talk about the time you fucked me, or what other things we might want to try. Or about the sex we’ve had with other people.”

“All good options,” Henry tells him. He drinks from his beer, keeping eye contact with Alex. “Would you want me to talk about the sex I’ve had with other people?”

“You would do that?” Alex asks him quickly. Too quickly. Too eagerly. “I mean, you don't need to explain any part of that to me. It's not like it bothers me."

“But maybe you’re curious,” Henry says with a knowing smile. “And you could ask me about it, if that’s the case.”

Alex swallows thickly. If this is still a challenge, then Alex is pretty sure he’s losing. Or, alternatively, he’s about to win big.

He is curious, is the thing. But he's figured it would be too rude to ask.

“Yeah,” he admits before he loses his nerve. “Yes. I am curious about that.”

“Well,” Henry says evenly. He thinks for a moment. “What was it that guy at the party said, something about me and half the football team...?” He meets Alex’s eyes steadily. “He’s actually not wrong.”

What. The fuck.

“Is half the football team gay?” Alex asks incredulously, before he can think to stop himself.

Henry shrugs and grins. “Some bi, some curious. I could make you a list.”

“No kidding.” Alex opens his can of beer but still doesn't drink. His heart is beating fast in his chest. “Did you really blow them all?”

“Most of them,” Henry admits. He’s still grinning. “I do like to give head. Although I should perhaps add that this wasn’t all in the same evening.”

“You didn’t do that to me,” Alex says, and then freezes. Shit. That can’t have been the right thing to say. “I mean, not that I minded. Not at all.”

Thankfully, Henry doesn’t look offended. “I just really wanted to fuck you,” he says, his tone earnest in a way that should not be as sexy as it is. "You asked me if I had a preference, remember? And I wasn’t sure if you’d be up for that, but I wanted to so badly, I figured I’d put it on the table and see what happened.”

“I’m glad you did,” Alex tells him honestly. His voice is actually fairly steady. “God, that night was so good. I’ve thought about it so many times.”

“Me too.” Henry’s gaze flickers down to Alex’s lips. “All the time, actually.”

Fuck. Alex wants him. Alex wants him so much.

“Well,” Henry says slowly, leaning back a little. He’s interrupting the moment, and it’s clearly on purpose. “What else did that idiot go on about… oh, right, the handcuffs.”

That makes Alex smile. “Look, you don’t need to confirm or deny every stupid rumour about you. Not that handcuffs are stupid, but you know. It’s okay if that’s not your thing.”

Henry’s eyes brighten with unmistakable interest. “They’re not my thing, exactly,” he tells Alex pleasantly. “I prefer ropes. They’re so much more versatile.”

Alex’s mouth turns very, very dry.

He remembers with vivid clarity the one time that Nora had tied him to her bedposts. He’s pretty sure that he hasn’t come that hard since then. Nora wasn’t crazy about it, so it didn’t happen again, but Alex has touched himself to the memory many times over. If Henry could do that to him—

“Which way do you like it?” Alex asks quickly. “Do you want to be tied down, or…?”

“I’m into both.” Henry is watching him closely. “And you?”

“I, uh.” Alex swallows. “I like having my hands tied. I like that a lot.”

“That would paint a lovely picture,” Henry tells him with a smile, and Alex has to close his eyes for a moment. Jesus fuck. “What is it that you like about it?”

Alex’s eyes fly open again. Is he supposed to have a succinct answer to that? Is he supposed to have words for that all-encompassing feeling?

“Is it that you’re giving up control?” Henry suggests curiosity. “Or do you still want to decide what’s about to happen?”

“No,” Alex admits after a moment's thought. “I mean, there are things I don’t want to happen, but I don’t want to pick and choose. I want to be taken care of.”

“Ah,” Henry says quietly. It takes him a couple of seconds to find actual words in response to that, and that’s a fucking first, isn’t it? “I’d be very into that, Alex. I’d be extremely into that.”

“Oh,” Alex breathes out. “Okay. Cool."

For a moment, they just look at each other. Something has shifted between them.

It would be so, so easy to just pull Henry close and take him to bed.

“Alex,” Henry says quietly, “I’m not going to have sex with you tonight.”

It’s really something, how Alex’s feelings of relief and disappointment mingle together. He should get a fucking therapist, shouldn’t he?

“Is it because I told you I want to wait?” Alex has to ask, his stomach knotting uncomfortably. If it’s not because of that, then…

“No,” Henry says plainly, and Alex’s heart sinks. “If you told me you want to, I'd trust you on that. No, I just didn’t think that’s where we were headed tonight, and you gave me a lot to think about just now. Sex and intimacy aren’t things I take lightly, contrary to popular belief."

“Oh,” Alex says. That makes sense, is the thing. It’s completely in line with everything Henry has shared with him. “Of course. And just so you know, I think I was equally relieved and frustrated when you said that just now.”

“That’s something to unpack, isn’t it?” Henry teases with a wry smile.

“I know,” Alex groans. “No need to rub it in."

"I think you’ll know when you're ready," Henry tells him softly. "Don't you?"

Alex looks at Henry for a moment, taking in the whole package of him—his kind smile and his clear blue eyes and his devastatingly attractive body. He's kind of impossible not to want.

"I fucking hope you're right," he mutters, and Henry grins and kisses his cheek.

Read 'Shameless' on AO3

#red white and royal blue #rwrb #firstprince #first prince #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #fanfiction #spotlight saturday #evie writes

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alittlefrenchtree · 4 months

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See to me- I always just vibed with Alex more than Henry (from the first time I read the book)

And I will admit I was bit ‘eh’ when Taylor (and Nick!!) were announced just because it wasn’t visually what I thought of firstprince but then when I saw them in the outfits and Taylor talking about RWRB I thought yes this is Alex(!) Nick actually had to convince me a bit more.

So, from when I saw the trailer and clips, I was convinced by TZP as Alex and I was impressed by his acting.

But, as everyone says Nick had the chance to shine more. And that is why more articles were written, as well as the obvious (racism). But he had to do several crying/emotional scenes and even the sex scene it was focused on Henry more than alex so he could show the slight facial expressions etc. Hence, Nick could show off a bit more than Taylor could. As even though Alex had difficulties he was largely supported by his family and had Nora. Henry was in a family and Institution that hated him and his dad dying and having to hide himself so Nick could be more sad and emotional whereas Alex’s anxiousness wasn’t a storyline and the divorce was also taken away. This is further proved that Taylor’s most rated scenes were when he discussed racism (which was only talked about once) and his coming out scenes.

But, as I was more drawn to Alex/TZP. From the first time I watched it, I was focusing on them more than Nick/Henry. And I was blown away and as that anon said it is subtle but I think brilliant.

Like, I really feel (maybe I’m wrong) Nick was chosen and asked to play Henry whereas Taylor had to audition for it. So, I do think all the writers and Matthew wanted to give Nick more chance to shine and told him to act things in a certain way(?) Not that they were trying to hinder Taylor but I really feel like they thought Henry is the more emotional one whereas Alex is a bit more laid back but Alex still has undiagnosed ADHD (which again TZP did subtle signals) and anxiety. Like take the eye contact scene in the NYE scene, there was so much more focus on Henry than Alex. Again I do not think Matthew did this in a negative way as he loves Taylor and would not have casted him if he wasn’t convinced but I do think they had a certain vision for Henry.

Sorry for the rant but I just adore Alex and how Taylor played him. To me he is an amazing actor and it is horrible the amount of hate he gets especially as a lot of it if not all is rooted in racism.

Hey there! Thank you for your very interesting message. A lot to unpack in your words so I’m going to try not to be too long.

I wasn’t there before so I didn’t have any opinion on the cast early on but I do understand how hard it is to accommodate with actors when you’ve been sitting with the characters of a beloved book for so long.

I’m completely on board with connecting with TZP’s Alex first. I’ve already talked about it in a previous post so I’m not going to dwell on the subject but you are right indeed about the difference of treatment between actors of comedy and actors of drama. It doesn’t devalue any of their respective work but it does mean we need to jump on every occasion to praise the performance that are overlooked.

What you said next is really interesting even if I’m not sure I agree.

Firstly, because I don’t actually know how Nick has been attached to the project, if he has auditioned or how he was approached for the project. I only know he was on board first and that they struggled for quite a time before finding the right Alex. So I can’t know if or how the process has had any kind of influence over the making of the movie.

Secondly, I have two other theories about why you might feel that way.

The main one is the way the story is told. The book is a Alex’s POV from start to finish and the movie is mostly an exclusive Alex’s POV so you’re supposed to feel that way. Closer to Alex and falling in love with Henry while he does. You need less focus on TZP’s acting to understand who Alex is and what’s his story because you have many scenes to explain how he feels at any second of the movie. But you need to rely on Nick’s acting to understand Henry because you doesn’t get to see the world through his eyes for the majority of the movie.

And since you’re supposed to be in Alex’s shoes, you get to see specific scenes through his eyes. Like the night in Paris. You’re seeing Henry’s face through Alex’s eyes. Hence the moment being so mesmerizing for the audience.

So yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s why you feel like Nick’s was asked to act a certain way or has more chance to shine. In a sense, it’s probably true but for me it was mostly in the service of the storytelling. Since Alex doesn’t look at himself with the same amount of love he has when he looks at Henry, the gaze on him and the way of acting him is different.

That’s for the artistic part of the theory.

When I read your ask I thought about something else and the lovely reality of capitalism 🩷 Since Nick was casted first and was the most known (and the most white) of the two, I guess his name was the more important for the producers and Amazon during the process of making the movie -- in a sense that they've probably relied on him first to drag attention to the movie and money to their pockets. I don’t know movie paper work enough to know if or how and to which extend it could have influenced the movie but I guess it's a possibility.

Of course none of this is Nick’s fault or depreciate his performance as Henry 💜 But it’s an interesting talk, thank you for stopping by my inbox 🙏😘

#alft asks #red white and royal blue #rwrb movie

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nhasablogg · 10 months

Text

Be still

Fandom: Red White and Royal Blue

Characters: Alex/Henry

Anonymous said: Maybe one where Alex and Henry make out during their friends with benefits phase and one of them strokes their hand over a sensitive area.

Warnings: Non-graphic foreplay of some sort. Also me not being able to read because I changed the hand part of the prompt to mouth lmao

Words: 830 ish

Henry wasn’t used to there being a bed involved. He’d started associating cupping Alex’s face with a broom sticking into his shoulder blade, Alex kissing down his chest with a hand pressed tightly over his mouth. He almost felt as if he wasn’t sure what to do lying down, although there wasn’t much time to think anyway. Alex was shirtless beneath him and was trying very hard to get his pants off too, although it seemed difficult if his frustrated grunting was anything to go by.

“Need help?” he asked, laughing when he shot him a glare. “I’ll take that as a yes.” Henry hovered over his thighs, fingertips hooking onto the waistband of Alex’s jeans. “Stop squirming.”

“Stop taking so long.”

“Why, do you have somewhere to be?” It was mostly a joke. Henry knew they only had barely half an hour.

Alex pointed at Henry’s belly, then slowly lowered his finger. “I have somewhere to be, all right.”

A surprised laugh bubbled out of him and he started pulling the pants down. “Aren’t you crude.”

“Just being honest.” Alex was smiling. Henry adored his smile.

He pulled the jeans down past Alex’s hips, pausing just before he could slide them entirely off. “Hmm, I think you need to learn how to slow down a bit. Hey hey, no whining,” he added when Alex did just that. “I’ll make it feel good.”

Alex’s cheeks were now tinted a lovely shade of pink. Henry found himself grinning as he lowered his head, blinking up at him through his eyelashes with his mouth ghosting over the skin of Alex’s hip bone.

“Is this okay?” he asked, barely touching skin and yet Alex was moaning anyway.

“Yes. God, yes.”

Henry kissed the bone. “Told you.” He enjoyed the sounds Alex was making and kissed it again, and again. “Now be good and keep still for me, okay?” He trailed his lips over his lower belly as he moved to the other bone, intending on giving it the same treatment, but Alex had decided to do the opposite of what he’d asked and was squirming like crazy. The only thing more fun than making Alex squirm with pleasure was making him squirm with impatience.

Henry glanced up, a playful reprimand at the tip of his tongue. “Now what did I just say?”

But instead of huffing or rolling his eyes Alex’s blush seemed to deepen, which was interesting since he didn’t tend to blush much to begin with. From what Henry had seen anyway. He suddenly felt uncertain, although it made no sense. But maybe he’d crossed a line, had acted too impulsively, not given Alex a chance to protest. But what was there to blush about, if Henry had toyed with his trust?

He sat up, heart suddenly hammering. “What is it?”

“N-nothing.”

“Alex.”

Alex covered his face with his hands, groaning so suddenly and loudly that Henry jumped. “It’s stupid, don’t worry about it.”

“Alex.”

“Seriously, please just go back to doing what you were doing, only-”

“Only?”

Alex dropped his hands with a sigh. “Make it tickle less.”

“Oh my god.” Henry sunk down again, pressing his face to Alex’s belly. “You scared the everloving shit out of me. I thought I had offended you! And all this time you were just ticklish. Which I will take advantage of, by the way, once I’ve recovered from this heart attack.”

“Uh, you will do no such thing.” Alex poked his head. “I’m a kicker, better be careful.”

“You can’t kick me if I’ve got you pinned.” Henry looked up. “But since I promised I will make you feel good, who am I to go back on my promises? Be still.”

He caught Alex’s eyes widening before he went back down, lips tracing skin in a much more determined way now. Softly, slowly, making sure to kiss every inch of skin between his hip bones. Alex started squirming immediately, his breath becoming heavier, before he was finally laughing. Henry had never heard this laugh before. It was choppy, panicked, nearly a giggle. He couldn’t get enough of it.

“You’re not still,” he mumbled, looking up to grin at him. Alex had covered his face again, although he seemed to be alternating between that and gripping at his hair, the pillow, the headboard. Henry had never been so grateful for a bed.

“I can’t help it,” Alex said, peeking out at him. “You’re so fucking mean.”

“I barely hear you protesting though.” He decided to be bold and dragged a finger lightly over his lower belly, making Alex jump. “And you’re not stopping me.”

He huffed, reaching out to grab Henry’s wrist. He let him. “Kiss me.”

“What, are you done giggling?”

“Do I have to remind you of how little time we have?”

Henry sighed dramatically. “Fine. But I’ll remember this.”

“Of course you will,” Alex muttered before pulling him closer. Had Henry had a response he forgot it immediately.

#tickling #ticklish!alex #firstprince fic #firstprince #red white and royal blue #rwrb #rwrb fic #tickle fic #n writes #be still

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captain-hen · 9 months

Note

for the ask game: buddie and firstprince (is that the ship name for rwrb?)

buddie:

i love how they legitimately have so much fun with each other and that we get to see them be silly and light-hearted quite often

they're so Dramatic for No Reason (they keep almost dying in front of each other in visually stunning moments, they're twice divorced, they Will subject strangers to their drama) and i eat it up every time.

they make so much sense? nothing irks me more in media than when two characters are just shoved together for no reason, when they don't have any reason to want to be with each other. but buck and eddie would make so much sense because they literally give to each other exactly what they want and need, even if they don't realize it yet

firstprince (i'm mostly going off book canon here):

one of the things that actually makes me interested in them is the conflict of them having to hide their identities and their relationship from the world—especially in the book, the stakes were very high, and i liked it!

i really loved that in the book, henry is canonically the one person who kind of soothes alex's anxiety and makes him feel like he's doing something right because he's putting so much pressure on himself :)

alex's mild obsession with henry even when he's still pissed at him over their first meeting is genuinely so hilarious to read about in the books, they were such clowns xD

send me a ship and I’ll tell you three things I like about it, no matter my opinion on the ship overall

#neethu answers #greensaplinggrace #ask games

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themetaphorgirl · 2 years

Note

Prompt- daob Spence hanging out with Alex and James and the rest of the bau at rossi's place. Maybe they were invites for dinner or something like that?

how did you know that this was actually something that's been sitting in my brain for like two years??

I'm very rusty but this makes me so emo and I love baby Spencer Blake and his eight million aunts and uncles.

also it's interesting to see how many Patron Saint characterizations bled into this. I didn't even notice it until I went back and reread it this morning (I wrote this last night on my phone, mostly at work). also someone please ask me about my theories about Alex's aesthetic pipeline because she's my favorite and I love her.

-------

Spencer wasn’t sure what a Paw Patrol was and this point he didn’t want to ask, but he did know that Henry certainly liked it. The younger boy had been watching episodes on loop since he’d arrived, climbing over the furniture with his various toys and shrieking along with the action on TV. Jack was a little quieter but not by much; he was playing his Nintendo sprawled out on the floor and was clearly losing his game, judging by how often he yelped and scoffed and talked to himself as the handheld console beeped and chirped.

Spencer curled up small in the corner of the couch with his book balanced on his knees. When they’d first arrived at Grandpa Dave’s house, it had seemed like a good idea to go play with Henry and Jack in the den that had become the default playroom every time the grownups met for dinner. Now it was too chaotic and he couldn’t focus, but the idea of going to James and Alex stressed him out. What if he interrupted them?

“Hey, boys, who’s hungry?” Uncle Derek said as he stuck his head in the room.

“Me!” Henry yelled happily, throwing his plastic dog as he vaulted off the coffee table. Derek caught him easily.

“Uncle Derek, I can’t beat this level,” Jack complained. “Can you beat it for me?”

“I could try, but you’d be better off asking Aunt Penny when she gets here,” Derek said as he draped Henry over his shoulder, making him shriek with laughter. “Come on, kid. Spencer, you hungry?”

Spencer nodded, setting his book down carefully as he followed behind them. Derek patted him lightly on the back as Jack and Henry talked over each other.

The kitchen in Grandpa Dave’s house was massive and filled with the clatter of attempted cooking and multiple conversations. Dave was busy at the stove and Aunt JJ was setting out plates, and Aunt Emily was attempting to help her as she balanced a glass of wine in one hand. The sliding glass doors were open, late summer heat twining into the air conditioning inside, and he could hear James and Uncle Hotch talking as they worked at the grill.

“I got the kids!” Derek reported cheerfully. He swung Henry around, making him squeal. “Where should I put them?”

Jack draped himself over the arm of a chair. “Where’s my dad?” he asked.

“Outside with Uncle James,” JJ said as she shifted Henry from Derek’s hip to hers. “Dinner will be ready in just a second.”

Emily took a sip of her wine as she dropped a fork onto the table. “When’s Garcia getting here?” she asked.

The doorbell chimed loudly. “That’s her, I’ll get it,” Derek said as he loped away.

Spencer bit his lip and looked around. Emily smiled at him. “Looking for Mom?” she said. “She’ll be right back, she went outside for a second. Don’t worry.”

Right on cue Alex walked in from the back deck, her long summer dress swishing. “If the two of them will stop bickering over grilling techniques, we can eat,” she said. Spencer sidled up to her and tangled his fingers in her skirt; she immediately drew him closer to her side and bent to kiss the top of his head. “Hi, sweetheart. Having fun?”

He didn’t answer her but he leaned against her, some of the tension fading out of him as she rubbed his back. Things always seemed a little less intense when she was there.

Dave frowned as he pulled condiments out of the fridge and set them on the counters. “Listen, as long as nothing is well done, I’m good with whatever they’ve grilled,” he said.

James and Uncle Hotch walked inside from the deck, both of them balancing multiple plates. “That’s something we can agree on at least,” James laughed.

Hotch set down his plates on the counter. “Barbecue sauces, not so much. Jack, buddy, stop hanging off the chair like that.”

“Hi! I’m here! I hope I haven’t missed anything!” Penelope said as she bustled into the room, Derek right behind her. “Sorry, sorry, rehearsal ran a little late.”

Dave kissed her on the cheek. “What show is it this time?” he asked.

“Noises Off. I’m having a wonderful time, but gosh, am I going to be bruised,” she said.

“We’ll have to come see it,” Emily said, nearly spilling her wine as she hugged Penelope with one arm. “Family field trip.”

“Is it going to be as long as the musical?” Spencer asked.

“Hopefully not,” Alex said, barely hiding a smile.

“It wasn’t that long,” Penelope said. She looked Alex up and down. “Oh my god, Alex, you’re adorable. You look like a preppy mom blogger.”

Alex glanced down self consciously. “Is that a good thing?” she said.

“Oh, excellent, you look like you’re spending a weekend at your summer home on Nantucket,” Penelope said. “Classy mom vibes. Beautiful.”

James kissed Alex on the cheek as he walked past her. “She’s always a beauty,” he said.

Henry came running around the corner. “Aunt Penny!” he shrieked.

“Oh! My godbabies!” Penelope exclaimed. Henry ran to her first, flinging his arms around her neck. “You get bigger every time I see you! Stop! Stay little!”

Henry laughed as she hugged him and smooched him loudly on the cheek. “Aunt Penny, my tooth is loose!” Jack said, leaning around Henry as he vied for her attention. He opened his mouth wide and wiggled the offending tooth with his tongue. “See? See?”

“Oh, I do see, that’s disgusting,” Penelope laughed as she hugged him too.

“That’s his second tooth this week, he’s going to put the tooth fairy in bankruptcy at this rate,” Hotch said dryly.

Penelope smiled at Spencer. “Hi, sweetie,” she said. “Would you like a hug too?”

He nodded, slipping away from Alex, and Penelope hugged him tight. “Oh, you’re so precious. Are you getting taller? You seem taller.”

“I don’t think so,” Spencer said. He wrinkled his nose. “Yesterday one of the parents at therapy group asked me when I was turning nine. I had to explain that I’m already nine.”

Alex laughed. “You’ll catch up, I’m sure of it,” she said, smoothing his hair.

“Yeah, keep eating your vegetables and you’ll be as tall and strong as me,” Derek said, playfully flexing.

Spencer rolled his eyes. “Height is mostly determined by genetics, Uncle Derek,” he said. “Eating vegetables wouldn’t cause that much growth. Minimal at best.”

“My mom always said I would have been taller if I’d just eaten vegetables,” JJ said.

“Adults just say stuff like that so children eat vegetables,” Spencer said. He looked up at James. “Right, Dad?”

“Yeah, he’s right,” James said, beaming down at him.

“Ha! I knew it!” Jack said, grinning cheekily at his dad.

Hotch raised an eyebrow. “You’re still eating your vegetables,” he said. “They’re still good for you even if it doesn’t make you taller. Right?”

“Oh, yeah, right,” James said. He pointed a scolding finger playfully at Jack. “Listen to your father, young man.”

“All right, all right, all right, stop squabbling and let’s eat,” Dave said as he set down the last plate of food on the table. “Everybody sit, before it gets cold.”

Spencer hung back as everyone starting taking their seats, but James took him by the hand, walked him up to the table, and guided him to a chair next to Alex. “What do you want to drink, kiddo?” James asked as he sat down at his other side. “Water or something else?”

Spencer shifted around to sit cross legged. “Something else,” he said.

“Lemonade or sweet tea?”

“Lemonade,” he said, and James picked up the pitcher and poured it into his glass.

Dinners at Grandpa Dave’s house were always chaotic as everyone carried on multiple conversations and passed around food. It made him feel better to sit between James and Alex. He knew his parents would take care of him, they would make sure he got enough to eat and they would understand if everything started to feel like too much.

Although they weren’t his parents. He had to keep reminding himself of that. But he almost didn’t mind when he forgot.

His plate ended up overly full, but with just enough space to keep his food from touching. He listened to the grownups talk as he ate, sometimes chiming in. They never minded when he joined in their conversations.

Most of his dinner was delicious, but somehow a pile of grilled mushrooms had ended up in his plate. Spencer poked at it with his fork. He hated mushrooms, they were slick and spongy and left a weird taste in the back of his mouth. But he couldn’t just not eat them, he might make someone upset. He stabbed one with his fork and gritted his teeth.

Alex touched his back lightly. “You don’t have to eat those if you don’t want to,” she whispered. He bit his lip. “Do you want to eat it? No one will be upset if you don’t.” He paused, then shook his head.

Alex caught James’s eye and nodded towards Spencer’s plate. Without dating a word he scooped the offending mushrooms away. “Are you still hungry, Spencer?” he asked as he spooned the mushrooms onto his own plate. “You can have more if you want. Or you can have more later if you’re not hungry now.”

Spencer took a deep breath. Sometimes he had to remind himself that he was going to be able to eat again, that things weren’t how they used to be and he wouldn’t have to go hungry anymore. His therapist talked about it a lot, and so did James and Alex. But it was easier to talk about it than actually remember.

“I think I’m a little bit hungry,” he says in a small voice.

James smiled at him and scooped out a little more grilled corn and roasted potatoes for him. Spencer relaxed.

By the time dinner had wound down he was comfortably full and a little sleepy. “Who wants dessert?” Dave asked.

“Oh, I couldn’t eat anything else if you paid me,” Penelope sighed.

“I don’t know, I think there’s pie. I would live off dessert if I could,,” JJ said. “I’m going to put a movie on for Henry. Jack, Spence, do you want to come?”

Jack immediately slid down from his chair, a half eaten hot dog still in his hand. “Yeah!” he said.

“Finish that first and then you can go play,” Hotch said, half laughing.

Spencer climbed down. He didn’t really want to go, he sort of wanted to just stay with his parents, but if the other boys were leaving he was probably expected to go too. Alex squeezed his arm lightly as he walked away.

He went back to his corner of the couch and his book, and Aunt JJ set up a Disney movie for them. Towards the end of the movie Aunt Emily checked on them and brought them brownies and apple pie and vanilla ice cream, and kept them company for a while before switching to another and going back to the grownups.

Spencer was barely interested in the first movie and even less in the second, and he’d long since finished the books he’d brought with him. Jack was still playing his Switch, much more subdued than earlier, and Henry had fallen asleep on the floor with a toy in one hand and a brownie in the other.

He bit down on the pad of his thumb. Lately he’d been trying even harder to break his thumbsucking habit, but it was tempting, especially when he could feel exhaustion creeping into him. The novelty of going to Grandpa Dave’s had worn off, and he wanted his normal bedtime routine and to sleep in his own bed. He felt like he was wound too tight, tense enough to give himself a headache.

Before he could talk himself out it of he slid down from the couch and slipped out of the room. The kitchen was empty, but the sliding glass doors to the backyard were open. It was dark outside, but the lawn was lit with string lights and he could hear the adults talking.

The grownups were sitting outside on a scattered collection of deck chairs and loungers; most of them were sipping drinks and Grandpa Dave had lit one of his cigars. Spencer crept closer, his bare toes curling at the feel of damp fresh cut grass under him.

His parents were sitting together, Alex with a glass of wine in her hand and James leaning back with his arm around her shoulders. Spencer paused. The grownups were deep in conversation and he didn’t want to interrupt. He inched closer, hoping they would notice him.

“No, I remember reading about that,” Alex was saying, but as she talked she opened her arm to him and he crawled into her lap. “There was a journal published six months ago, I think?” Spencer leaned his head against her shoulder as she cuddled him close. “It brought up some good points about the legitimacy of the previous research.”

He exhaled slowly. Already he felt better, the pressure in his head beginning to lift. Alex patted his hip absently with her free hand as she talked, and James shifted his legs over his lap to make him more comfortable.

The adults’ conversation began to blur in his ears as he snuggled closer to Alex and twined his fingers in the shoulder strap of her dress. He could feel the steady thump of her heartbeat and the softness of her dress, and she smelled like her violet and vanilla perfume and the strawberry scent of her half drunk glass of moscato. He nuzzled his cheek against her shoulder and she kissed the top of his head.

He didn’t remember falling asleep, but the next thing he knew he was being carried, but not by Alex. He whined through his teeth. “It’s okay, baby, go back to sleep,” James said softly. “It’s okay. Daddy’s got you.”

He blinked sleepily as James lifted him into the car and buckled him in, but he must’ve fallen asleep again, because the next time he opened his eyes he was in his own room. The nightlight was switched on, casting soft gentle shadows on the wall, and Alex was changing him out of his shorts and his tee shirt.

He scrunched up his face. “‘m home?” he mumbled.

“Yes, my darling, we’re home,” Alex said. “Time for bed.”

He was too sleepy to try to sit up and get his pajamas on himself, so he didn’t fight as Alex dressed him and got him settled against the pillows. “Mama?” he said.

Alex smiled as she tucked him in. “What dearest?”

He rubbed his eyes. “Love you.”

Alex kissed his cheek, then his forehead. “I love you too,” she said. “Get some sleep. You’re home and you’re safe.”

She sat down on the edge of his bed, and it didn’t take him very long to fall back asleep as Alex stroked his hair away from his face.

#au: spencer blake #caitlin writes things #spencer reid #alex blake #james blake #aaron hotchner #hotch #jack hotchner #david rossi #emily prentiss #jj jareau #henry lamontagne #please don't ask where will is i just now realized i forgot to write him into this #derek morgan #penelope garcia

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