Archive of Our Own

Alex has had his crisis, is the thing. 

He's confronted all the things he’s done that apparently, straight people don’t do. Like trying to convince themselves they're straight. He's even reflected on what Nora calls his internalized biphobia: his hesitancy to claim a space in a group he only hypothetically belongs to.

Well, it’s not really hypothetical. His interactions with Liam, while not meaningful to him the way they should have been, were admittedly Not Straight. Hindsight's 20/20, right? Once your sister and your ex make you hold a magnifying glass up to your mirror image and force you to look. 

So, yeah. It's obvious now. 

The point is – the point is, now that the re-election is over, and his mother’s securely in her second term in the White House, he can’t stop thinking about it. There's nothing to block out the Prince Henry-sized fixation in his brain, nothing to stop him from...testing the waters. 

But he knows it’s got to be a bad idea, so he makes a list to talk himself out of it.

Reasons Alex should not thirst over Prince Henry on main:

One. Henry's probably straight. Nora’d laughed until she cried at that, but you never know. 

Two. Implications on political future?

Three. Easier to explore something with someone less annoyingly buttoned up, less stupidly hot, less...royal. Less complicated. 

So, yeah. Not that he has any idea how to pursue Prince Henry in the first place, leaving it alone is probably best. 

“Okay,” says Jimmy Fallon. “I’m going to ask you a series of questions about your first time doing things, and you give me your answer. First thing that comes to mind.”

Easy enough, thinks Alex. “Got it. I’m ready.”

“First concert?”

“Bad Bunny.”

The crowd claps approvingly. Alex is in his element. 

“First thing you do when you wake up?”

“Coffee. Then some more coffee. Then it’s safe to be around me.” 

Coffee is deeply relatable. Alex is nailing this. He’s glad he accepted the invite, even though the election’s over. It’s strategic. Staying likable and relevant is going to help garner support for the platforms he cares about.

Jimmy raises his eyebrows in anticipation. “First celebrity crush?” 

As usual, Alex’s mouth is moving before his mind can catch up. 

“Oh,” he gestures, like this is both obvious and the easiest question he’s ever been asked. “Prince Henry.”

The audience doesn’t quite drown out the buzzing in Alex’s ears. 

Okay, so he’s doing it like this. Right now. 

It’s a credit to Jimmy that he remains relatively unfazed by the apparent coming out of the First Son, or maybe he’s not sure that’s what’s happening. He’s incredulous, but he laughs good-naturedly. “Your first celebrity crush was Prince Henry?”

His filter obviously leaks like a sieve, so it’s only his sense of self-preservation that keeps ‘J14’ from falling out of Alex’s mouth. The origin of his crush will keep him company in his grave, which Zahra is probably preparing as he speaks. 

But he’s not going to play it off like a joke. Nope, the bandage is off and he’s committed. Who knows? Maybe this will be the start of an epic love story. 

He can’t say that, though.

“I mean…have you seen those polo thighs?”

The audience is loud. Alex’s confidence is boosted by the validation. Everyone knows Prince Henry is hot, objectively. This is fine.

“Well, if they’ve captured the First Son’s attention from across the pond, I’m gonna have to check them out,” Jimmy chuckles. “Okay, first thing you wanted to be when you grew up?”

Alex isn’t sure how he answers a single question for the rest of the interview, but somehow he’s shaking Jimmy’s hand and being escorted backstage. His phone looks deceptively innocent but he knows what it holds for him. 

In addition to missed calls from his parents and some sweetly supportive “sugar” and “mijo” texts, he finds:

Zahra: The election may be over (count your fucking blessings for that) but a HEADS-UP would have been nice, kid. Call me.”

June: magazine’s on your bed, it’s alllll yours now. 🙈 love you, baby bro.

Nora: well, that happened 😅 proud of u Alejandro! one of us!

Pez is fairly vibrating with glee. “Watch, Hazza.” 

“I’m watching.” Henry holds the phone pressed into his hands. He hears his heartbeat in his ears as the man he’s pined over – since he caught a glimpse of him in Rio – expresses interest in Henry’s thighs. 

“Oh my Christ,” Henry whispers. “He’s joking, surely. He's not serious. This is…American trickery.”

“It doesn’t sound like a joke, Henry,” says Bea. “The internet doesn’t seem to think he was joking, either.”

He’s trending, as is Alex. Henry scrolls, but the words don’t register. 

Alex Claremont-Diaz is…bisexual. Alex is bisexual? Polo thighs. Henry’s thighs. Those are words that came out of Alex’s mouth.

Henry watches the clip approximately 38 more times and scrolls twitter for hours, noting with a dangerous mix of hope and despair that Alex has retweeted a few of the wittiest commentaries. He doesn’t dare address it, though. Alex couldn’t have been serious. He’s only ever been seen with women, for one. To be fair, Henry knows firsthand how little that means. But Alex is so vibrant and full of life, energetic and opinionated and…well, bold enough to do something like this. Henry can’t imagine how he’d ever have caught his eye.

He finally falls asleep, hoping the press didn’t notice, or will at least be gracious enough to leave it alone at his conference in the morning.

Of course, the press have noticed. It’s the first thing they ask about, shouting over each other.

His hands are behind the podium, out of sight, and he spins his ring as he smiles wryly. "I didn't realize the First Son was such a polo enthusiast.”

Shaan keeps a straight face (as always) and gracefully redirects the questions like the professional he is. Henry maintains his posture from muscle memory, fielding charity-related questions only before escaping to his room.

By the time Henry’s back in his pajamas and settled into bed, having a very minor panic attack about his impulsive acknowledgment, Alex has already retweeted a clip of his response.

Alex Claremont-Diaz @agcd

You have no idea, sweetheart.

Henry considers screaming into a pillow but makes the mature decision to practice his grounding techniques instead. He exercises great restraint by opting not to count the sound of Alex’s voice talking about his thighs – currently on heavy rotation in his brain – among the three things he can hear.

“Are you sure engaging with this topic was a good idea, sir?” Shaan asks quietly later, after delivering a cup of tea.

“No,” Henry says ruefully. “What’s the fallout?”

“Well, I'm not sure Her Majesty has noticed yet. But the internet…”

Henry takes a bracing deep breath.

“Sir, the internet…‘ships it.’” 

Henry stares at him. Surely he's misheard, because those aren't words Henry can imagine coming from Shaan. 

“Pardon?”

“They're writing fanfiction, sir. About you and Mr. Claremont-Diaz.”

“Fanfiction,” Henry says faintly.

“Yes. The portmanteau is ‘firstprince.’”

Hmm. Clever. Henry wishes he thought of it himself. “Thank you, Shaan. I’ll think about where to go from here.”

Where Henry goes is straight to his Archive of Our Own account, reading two fanfics before having a small crisis. The odds are good he will actually see Alex in person again at some point. This feels vaguely wrong.

He reads three more, takes a long shower he tells himself is for stress relief and completely unrelated, and falls asleep wondering what's happening to his life. Does Alex really have no gag reflex? It seems awfully prevalent in fanfic. Henry wonders if he's missed a cheeky interview somewhere. 

“People kind of love it, Alejandro. There's fanfic.” 

Alex grimaces. "You know I don’t like self-insert."

“Is it really y/n self-insert if your name is literally in it?”

He tilts his head, considering. “I guess not. Hey, is there fanfic about you and June?”

“Of course, babe. A lot. It’s inspiring.”

“Gross. What about you and me?”

“Meh. Not much. Everyone knows that was a bad idea.”

Alex sighs. “Well, don't send me any Henry fanfic. I mean it, Nora. I don't need to obsess over him even more when he’s not even interested.”

Henry knows what’s going to happen. 

He’d known as soon as Shaan let him know he’d be talking about the charity polo match on Jimmy Fallon. “Is that alright?” he’d asked, head still tilted over his schedule but shrewd eyes lifting to Henry’s.

“Oh. Yes, of course. Good opportunity for awareness. For the charity.”

“Indeed.” 

Shaan knows, and has always known, all of Henry’s sins. He’s worth his weight in gold.

Henry dresses in his standard shades of gray for the appearance. His nerves are shot but that’s nothing new; he’s trained to appear calm in much more stressful circumstances.

“So tell us about the Okonjo Foundation.”

Henry dives in, sharing the virtues of Pez’s pet project, schooling his face with practiced casual confidence as the letters LGBTQ roll off his tongue. 

“And there’s a charity fundraiser next month, correct?”

“Yes.” Henry takes a bolstering sip of water from his cup. “A polo tournament.”

“Polo, you say?”  Jimmy’s smile shifts into a devious grin. “Will you be playing?”

Henry can’t help his own smile. It’s not as if he didn’t know this would come up. He could have gotten out of the appearance, but he didn’t, and he’ll just have to examine that later. “I will.”

Jimmy leans forward, clearly delighted. “I don’t know how often you catch the show, Your Royal Highness, but are you aware of a recent polo fan I had on as a guest?”

“I am, yes. In fact,” Henry resists the urge to swipe at his brow, nodding along with the swell of the audience and taking another sip of water for something to do with his hands. His palms are distressingly sweaty, but he presses onward. “In fact, Mr. Claremont-Diaz would be welcome as my guest.”

“Wait a minute,” Jimmy says, leaning back in his chair, waiting for the crowd to die down. “Hold on. Are you – are you two using me like Tinder?”

Henry’s cheeks are on fire, but he laughs along with everyone else before demurring. “It’s always nice to have strong international relations.”

Jimmy moves on and years of practice carry Henry through with grace, but all he can think is I didn’t say no I didn’t say no I didn’t say no.

“He didn’t say no!” Nora crows. “Go get your man.”

Alex can’t really argue. Henry didn’t have to keep this going. He may or may not have reciprocal interest, but who is Alex to turn down an invitation like that? At the very least, he might get to see his celebrity crush in person. Might even get to see if his hair is as soft as it looks. 

He will certainly get to see polo thighs in action.

He starts to retweet the clip from the show, tapping out It’s a date, Your Majesty. He stares at it, thinks about facing Zahra, and replaces it with Your Royal Highness before posting it.

He has international relations to think of, after all.

Plus, he needs to keep Zahra on his good side, because he’s about to ask her to pass his number on to Henry through official channels.

Can I consider your tweet your official RSVP?

This is Henry, btw.

Alex stares at his phone. 

If Henry was serious about the invitation, Alex had expected some palace official would communicate details to Zahra. Having her give Henry his number was always a long shot. He never expected that he’d actually hear from Henry himself – and certainly not so soon.

He takes a deep breath. Banter…banter he can do. 

if I can consider your interview my official invitation…absolutely, sweetheart.

Alex doesn’t know what to expect from Henry between now and the polo tournament, but the texting continues. It starts out mostly as jokes and quotes from whatever Henry’s reading, but it becomes a daily – and then all-day – occurrence.

can you bring David to the fundraiser?

David.

yeah 

your dog? 

Henry 

I embarrassed myself enough telling the world you’re my celebrity crush 

do I need to admit that I’ve read your wikipedia page?

Henry sends anecdotes about Bea and Pez, pictures of David, and details of the banal daily life of a prince.

Alex sends anything and everything. The stupid thing his bitch-eating-crackers Hunter said in class today. The time he almost died when the turkeys stayed in his room at Thanksgiving; no good deed goes unpunished. How he loves Leo and hates hearing his parents fight, but still sometimes feels nostalgia for when his whole family was under one roof. Whatever comes to mind throughout the day. Henry never seems bothered, and Alex never feels like too much.

Henry has time for him. Henry makes time for him. 

After a few weeks, Henry bites his lip and finally gives in to the urge to clarify Alex’s intentions. 

May I ask you something personal?

I’m an open book for you, sweetheart

I was unaware you were…into men. If that is, in fact, the case.

uh, yeah. it’s always probably been there but I’ve been able to put a label on it recently. bisexual, for the record.

Ah. I’m very, very gay.

thanks for sharing

glad I haven’t had my hopes up for nothing

Not for nothing.  

I can’t – do anything, though. Publicly. It’s complicated.

I get it

your secret’s safe with me as long as you want it to be, Hen

Alex calls him for the first time on the anniversary of Arthur’s death. Henry hadn’t been able to bring himself to respond to Alex’s texts. Alex gently tells him Bea called, and asks if he wants to switch over to facetime and tell him about his dad. 

He listens for hours and doesn’t once zone out of the conversation. He’s wearing glasses and looking like every fantasy Henry’s ever had. Infinitely better, actually; Henry’s fantasies have never stretched so far as to imagine someone like Alex caring about him.

On Oscar’s birthday, they talk about Alex’s parents also; how their divorce and fighting make relationships terrifying to Alex. How can two people love each other deeply and end up like that? How can he know it won’t happen to him?

“It’s not always like that,” Henry says. “I’ve seen it last.” 

It’s not all heavy, though. After a thirty-minute debate on the merits of episode five vs episode six, Henry finally sighs. “Can we…can we just agree that Rogue One is perhaps the best overall in the entire franchise?”

Alex pauses for several seconds, and Henry knows he’s actually considering it. He might love him, a little bit.

“There’s a serious lack of Harrison Ford, but Diego Luna makes up for it with both representation and hotness. I’ll allow it.”

“Very heterosexual analysis of its merits.”

“Just take the win, Wales.”

Henry does. But he listens as Alex talks about what it meant to see a leading man who looked like him, who had an accent no one had trained out of him. And he falls a little more.

It’s so easy, talking to Henry. He shouldn’t be so normal or so charmed by Alex’s stream of consciousness. But Alex doesn’t seem to be too much for him. In fact, it feels like Henry can’t get enough. 

Neither can Alex. 

Twitter’s still talking. And yeah, the first son and the prince maybe being into each other is compelling and juicy gossip. But no one knows that they’re actually texting all day long, or that when Henry facetimes him, looking soft and rumpled in his bed, Alex's chest aches from missing something that's never officially been his.

This is why he calls him the night before the tournament, itching with anticipation and also restless in a way he can’t put his finger on.

“So, are we like, transatlantic besties who get to bond over a shared love of polo tomorrow?” Alex asks. They’re facetiming, each on their sides, faces partially obscured by their pillows. “Or...”

“Or?” Henry asks innocently, a gleam in the one eye Alex can see.

“You know what I’m getting at. Put me out of my misery here, H.”

Henry props himself up on an elbow so Alex can see his whole face, gilded in the low lamplight. His hair is tousled and there are deep purplish bags under his eyes. He’s so beautiful, Alex can’t breathe.

“You may not have been my first celebrity crush, Alex. But you are my current one.”

“Cool,” Alex says stupidly, heart racing.

Henry doesn’t break eye contact. “The only one.”

The relief that settles deep in Alex’s stomach must be evident on his face, because Henry’s eyes crinkle fondly. 

“I mean, same. Cool.”

Alex knows fuck-all about polo. He’s never watched a single…game? Match? He couldn’t care less. But he’s going to meet Henry. 

Henry, who didn’t say no. 

Henry, who’s become the most important part of his day in a shockingly short amount of time. 

And he is a sight to behold. Dressed in the sluttiest white pants, wearing leather gloves, apparently quite skilled at whatever it is he’s meant to be doing. Looking like hitting balls while bouncing in the saddle of a horse is very serious business.

Alex is very seriously into it. 

After Henry wins…whatever, he makes his way to Alex as soon as politely possible, leading him to what he calls a “tack room.”

“Whoa,” Alex says as he steps inside the shed. “No windows and a lot of leather in here, Wales–”

Henry’s got him turned around, pressed against the door before he can finish his sentence.

“You’re insufferable,” Henry says, looking down at Alex’s mouth. “Absolutely ridiculous. I don’t know why I like you so much.”

“But you do like me,” Alex breathes into the narrowing space between them. Henry’s got one leather-gloved hand at his waist and the other pressed against the door over his head. His hair falls across his forehead, and he’s flushed and damp with sweat. 

“I do.”

Henry’s lips are soft but his mouth is insistent. Alex lets him lead, but somehow Henry relaxes, leaning in like he knows Alex has got him if he lets go.

This…is someone who knows how to kiss him. It’s like Henry has a handbook on how to touch Alex and has studied it thoroughly. Alex is impressed with his past subconscious for choosing to obsess over someone who turned out to be such a good fit.

There are sounds outside, but they’ve faded away. The dusty scent of the tack room is eclipsed by Henry, green and freshly exercised. The door is solid behind his back and Henry is a firm weight against his front, groaning when Alex slides his hands over white polo trousers to pull him closer. 

Alex usually has things going on in different parts of his brain all the time; it’s rare for anything to have his undivided attention. But everything in his world is dialed in to the points where they’re connected, and the rest of his brain goes offline.

Alex breaks their kiss to turn Henry around, pressing him against the door. “Baby.”

It simultaneously makes Henry even harder, and makes him want to cry a little. 

But then Alex drops to his knees, asking “Can I?” in a low voice that Henry stands no chance against.

“Christ, Alex. Of course.”

The sound Alex makes when Henry sinks his hands into thick curls – well. It carves itself a little home in Henry's brain and settles in, certain to stay there forever. It also travels down his spine, lighting up every nerve in its path. Henry is on fire with it. 

“Huh,” Alex says, pulling off, licking slowly up Henry’s cock several times, getting his bearings. His enthusiasm exceeds his technique, but it’s taken an embarrassingly short time for him to get the measure of what Henry likes, and Henry can see him taking mental notes of his reactions. “So I guess I don't have a gag reflex. Lucky you.”

Henry closes his eyes, tipping his head back, and revels in his luck.

Alex Claremont-Diaz @agcd

Had a fantastic day doing something I've had interest in for a long time.

Oh, the charity’s amazing too. Y’all, check out the Okonjo Foundation and give them some love.

You're a menace

you like it. you like me.

I do.

the feeling’s mutual, sweetheart 

when can I see you again?

Soon, I hope. I’ll let you know what I can work out.

Twitter goes wild. There are pictures of them before and after the tack room, analyzing changes in their hair and minute wrinkles in their clothing. Henry’d known there would be photographs and speculation. His hair had the excuse of a helmet; Alex’s did not.

Henry didn’t care then and he can’t bring himself to care now. He falls into a restless sleep, knowing he can’t make himself give this up.

The next morning, Shaan tells him the Queen has requested a meeting with him. 

“No,” he says pleasantly. 

Henry doesn’t need to reflect on what’s made him so impulsive lately. He’s running on little sleep and didn’t anticipate anything going into motion so soon, but he’s braver than he's ever felt. 

“No,” he repeats. “I won’t be doing that.” 

“Sir?”

Henry gestures for him to hold on, calling Pez. “Is the offer still on the table?” He doesn’t have to explain further. Pez knows him. 

“New York has your name on it, darling. I’ll have your room made up.”

Henry pulls up a draft of a post and passes his phone to Shaan.

“Are you certain, sir?”

Henry’s thought about nothing else. He’s had lovers, the kind willing to sign an NDA so they could fuck a prince, but not willing to have their lives turned upside down over anything meaningful. Not a single one made him even consider what that would be like. 

Whether things work out with Alex or not, now that he’s had a taste of what a different life could be like, he can’t stay. It'd have been harder if his father hadn't been James Bond, but the gift of freedom feels like his father’s blessing. Henry knows he'll be just fine with or without the crown. 

“Absolutely.”

Shaan looks thoughtful. "Might want to wait to post it until we've boarded the plane, sir." He scans the message again and Henry sees the barest hint of a smile. "Maybe until we're in the air, just to be safe."

Henry Fox Mountchristen-Windsor @hrhprincehenry

My family, from the top down, has always had a duty to our people. All our people, including the queer community. I would have no place in a family that chose not to demonstrate that with active support.

To those who have remained quiet and unseen, living inauthentically out of fear, I promise you: you are not alone. I am one of you, and I stand with you. 

In the coming months, my focus will be working with the Okonjo Foundation on the expansion of shelters, beginning in the United States. I hope you'll learn more about our mission to make life better and safer for LGBTQIA+ youth around the world. 

He holds David on the plane, ignoring calls from everyone, especially Philip. But he does pick up out of curiosity when he gets a call from Martha – his first ever.

“How is he?”

Martha tuts. “How are you, Henry?”

She’s always been kind to him, but he likes her even more now. 

“Relieved, I think. I’m not sure yet.”

“Well,” she says, “I asked your brother if he’d allow your Gran to treat one of our future children the way she’s treated you.” 

Henry’s hand stills on David’s back. “Oh.”

“He said no, and then looked surprised at how easy that answer came. He kissed my cheek, said I gave him something to chew on, and shut himself up in his study writing and talking to Bea. He – Henry, your Gran sent for him to meet with her immediately. And he sent word back that he would talk to her tomorrow.”

“Wow.”

“I think–” Martha pauses, sniffs. “I think everything’s going to be fine, Henry. I don’t blame you if you want to step away. But I don’t think you’ll have to. You're part of the family that matters either way. I’m proud of you.”

Finding an unexpected ally in Martha warms his heart. He ignores the calls from his mum, sending Bea a quick text that he’s fine. He can speak with them both tomorrow after whatever response the crown decides on. 

Right now there’s only one person whose voice he needs to hear.

“Baby. Oh my God.”

He takes a deep breath. “Hello, love. Turns out I’ll be in the States with regularity for the foreseeable future. I’m on a plane right now, actually.”

“Please tell me you're coming to DC.”

“I can. If you'd like. I realize it's early in...whatever this is. There's no pressure. I’ll be working on the shelter in New York, and I can stay with Pez until I’ve found a place.”

“I'm going to NYU in the fall.”

He can hear Alex’s smile through the phone, and Henry’s so fond, he could die. “I know.”