Archive of Our Own

Apparently, no one else in this bar thinks that a collared button down and slacks fits the dress code. Alex unbuttons the first two. Does one back up again. Compromise. 

He’s never been good with crowds, less with meeting new people. But he guesses it’s a little better that he only has to meet Nora’s friend this time. It’s a good feeler, even if he decides to leave in about an hour or so. 

“Alex! You made it!” 

He tosses her a smile as she jumps up out of the booth they’re in, catching her halfway in a hug. 

“It’s been way too long,” she says, patting him on the shoulder as she pulls away. “Come on. Meet my friends.” 

He opens his mouth to question her about the plurality, and finds himself tugged forward before he can. 

In the space next to her in the booth, there’s a well-dressed man with bleached, buzzed hair and a dazzling grin. He raises his glass to Alex in greeting, and Alex smiles back and subtly gives Nora a side eye. He wonders where she met him. He’s obviously younger than them. 

“This is Percy,” Nora tells him, “but he goes by Pez.” 

“Pez,” Alex offers. He extends a hand. “Alex. Nice to meet you, man.” 

He shakes Alex’s palm firmly. “You as well, Alex. Please. Join us.” 

Nora takes her own seat back beside Pez and Alex turns finally toward the other side of the booth. 

And looks straight into a pair of striking blue eyes. 

Alex can feel himself physically pause, hears Pez clear his throat and Nora suck up the last of her drink with her straw. 

Blue eyes abandons his own glass and swipes a dot of liquid from his lower lip with his tongue, places a hand on the booth to lean forward and offer his own hand. 

“Henry,” he says. 

The anger he feels boiling in his stomach isn’t Henry’s fault. Really, it’s not. In fact, Alex is probably going to feel terribly later about the way he goes about this. 

And it’s a damn shame, too, because Henry’s a culmination of every one of Alex’s types —dirty blonde and strong jawed with eyes he could drown in, broad shoulders and dainty collarbones covered in a shirt that might be a size or two too tight. 

Alex can’t even blame him for it. It’s working wonders. Even his palm looks soft and inviting, tilted up and waiting to be met with his own. When he blinks, his lower lip juts out the tiniest bit. 

Alex spins toward Nora, leaves Henry’s hand in the air beside him. 

“Is this the only reason you invited me out tonight?” 

She sucks in a breath, her smile disappearing. 

“Come on, Alex.” 

“I’ve already told you I don’t want to be involved with anyone right now.” 

Henry’s hand makes a thud when it drops to the booth. Nora skirts a look at her friends and lowers her voice, leaning over the table. 

“But you’re lonely, with Carmen at college now and—” 

“Apologies that my daughter being away from me for the first time in eighteen goddamned years has me bringing down the vibes,” he snaps. 

Her jaw ticks. “Alex, that’s not what I said.” 

“This isn’t me anymore, Nora,” he gestures around at the bar. “It’s not my scene. Hasn’t been in a long time. And I’m fine with that.” 

“June and I just want you to be happy,” she sighs. 

“June? She’s in on this too? Great. Awesome.” 

He turns to walk away, and she jumps up to follow him. “We just care about you, okay? It’s not a fucking crime.” 

“You care?” He spins to face her. “Then how about calling me to check in? Dropping by to hang out? Planning things we actually like doing instead of forcing me into something I’ve already told you I don’t want.” 

“Fuck, Alex. Fine. Deal with it how you wanna deal with it.” She raises her hands and steps back. “Sorry for trying to get you out of the house for a minute. Won’t happen again.” 

Eye twitching, Alex turns again and marches toward the nearest door. He needs some fucking air.  

This was a big deal. Coming out. Doing something fun for himself. He knows Nora knows how down he’s been since Carmen left because June knows, and no matter how much Alex tells her to keep things between them, they always end up coming out anyway. Even this many years later. 

He shoves open the doors to the patio and drops his elbows to the railing overlooking the street, trying to focus on his breathing. There’s this technique that Carmen taught him from some video she’d found online, they’d practiced it together months ago and he’s skipping a step, he knows he is, but he can’t think of what it is. 

It makes it worse, kind of. He’d call her to ask her what it is, if they hadn’t already talked on his way over. 

Fuck. He hates when Nora’s right. 

“Not to overstep here, but,” the patio door creaks open and closed again behind him, a shadow to his left, “are you alright?” 

Swiping at his cheek, Alex straightens just in time to find Henry leaning on the railing a bit away. Alex sniffs and nods. 

“Uh. Yeah. M’fine. Sorry.” 

“You don’t need to be sorry,” Henry smiles softly. 

He glances back out toward the view and Alex follows his gaze, fingers tapping on the wood. He feels a little bad about how he’d acted. Not with Nora, but he’s sure the other two hadn’t expected his little outburst. 

“Did Nora send you out here?” 

“No,” Henry says earnestly. “She disappeared after your conversation. I’m not sure where she went, but Percy went after her. I came to check on you.” 

“Thanks,” Alex sighs. He’s not sure if that’s better or worse, really. “I’m sorry y’all got roped into the middle of this. I’m sure it’s not your ideal Saturday night.” 

“This is much better than most of them, actually. You’d be surprised.” 

Alex chuckles a little self-deprecatingly, but Henry brightens at the noise regardless. Neither of them say anything for a stretch of several minutes, the last of Alex’s irritation draining into a more manageable fatigue. 

It’s comfortable enough that he’s nearly forgotten Henry was there altogether when he speaks again, just louder than the rumble of the bar over their shoulders. 

“Where does she go?” 

Alex looks at him. “What?” 

“Your daughter. Nora mentioned she was gone to uni.” Henry’s lip disappears behind his teeth again for a moment. “You don’t have to tell me, I’m sorry if—” 

“Oh. No, it’s fine. I—um. She goes to U.T. Austin. That’s—Texas.” He smiles. “It’s where I graduated.” 

“Ah. Following in your footsteps, then.” 

Alex laughs. “Yeah. And I didn’t even try to sway her. She picked it herself.” 

“You must have set quite the example,” Henry reasons. 

“I try to,” Alex nods. 

He opens his mouth and closes it again, waits to see if Henry is going to say anything else before he keeps going. 

“I worry about her, you know? She’s like, incredibly smart. Well rounded. Confident. Once she sets her mind to something, she goes and gets it.” 

Henry tilts his head. “But you’re worried?” 

“Hard not to be. It’s been just us for as long as I can remember. It’s one thing to let her go off on her own when I know she’ll be home for dinner or to sleep. But being away from her for so long, even though we talk a lot, it’s…” he trails off. “It’s not her I worry about. It’s the rest of the world. What it’s capable of.” 

“You still let her go, though.” 

Alex scoffs. “Of course. She’s got so many dreams. I’d never try to stand in her way.” 

“I’d say you’re more supportive than most parents, then,” Henry offers. “My grandmother nearly had a conniption when I asked to move here instead of attending uni there, like all of the men in the generations before me. And that was before I told her I preferred men.” 

Alex laughs, louder this time, and leans on the railing again. 

“She sounds… great.” 

“Lovely,” Henry agrees. 

“Your grandmother,” Alex echoes carefully after a pause, “not your parents?” 

“Mm. My father wouldn’t have cared. He and I were very similar to you and your daughter. But he passed shortly before those decisions were being made and though mum would have agreed with him, she wasn’t… involved in the same way. Afterward.” 

“Oh. Shit. That’s—I’m sorry.” 

“It’s alright.” He gives a wry smile. “I ended up at NYU with Pez regardless. Graduated with a degree in English Lit with an emphasis on queer history.”  

“What do you do now?” 

Henry’s nose scrunches up. “Officially, I’m a writer.” 

“And unofficially?” Alex asks. 

He exhales a laugh. “Still a writer, just. One that does a lot less writing and a lot more procrastinating. Waiting around for inspiration to strike.” He lifts a shoulder. “I’ve self-published some poetry here and there. Saved up what little I made. Pez and I have this dream of opening up some youth shelters in the city, but. Neither of us want to use our family’s money for it, and the jobs we have now certainly aren’t realistic for that any time soon.” 

It reminds Alex briefly, overwhelmingly, of a younger version of himself. Away from home for the very first time; unstoppable in his endless goals and desire to change the world. Things had gone a little off track, but Alex is happy with how it all turned out. 

Maybe he hadn’t been able to change the whole world, but he’d certainly given it to the person he loves most. And he thinks she turned out pretty damn good. 

Henry clears his throat eventually, and Alex realizes he’s been staring this entire time. The darkening of Henry’s cheeks makes him a little softer, more human, and Alex feels the corners of his own lips twitch as he looks away. 

He really is handsome. 

“I’m sorry. That was—much more information than you asked for.” 

“No, it’s—I appreciate you telling me. And, as much as I hate to admit it, Nora’s right about one thing.” 

Henry turns to him. “Oh?” 

“I…I am lonely. Especially these last few years, I’ve been so tied up in helping my daughter get everything situated for graduation and college and making the most of our time together that I’m pretty rusty with the whole social-interaction thing now.” Alex shrugs. “I don’t really know how to be around anyone without talking about her. I guess that gets old. But…” 

“You love her. That doesn’t get old,” Henry says gently. “But I think you shouldn’t have to limit yourself to one or the other.” 

Hesitant as always when anyone pokes at their relationship, Alex frowns. 

“What do you mean?” 

“There’s her and there’s you. And you know who you are when you’re together. But you’re both in pretty formative years right now. She’s navigating university and you’re…” 

Alex laughs. “I’m…?” 

“You’ve got to find out who you are now, too. In this part of your life.” 

Pushing off of the railing with a huff, Alex grins as he turns to lean back against it instead, glancing down at Henry beside him. 

“Aren’t you too young still to be dishing out sage wisdom to strangers outside of bars?” 

It’s Henry that chuckles this time, warm and raspy around the corners. He stands fully. 

“I’m twenty-six.” 

“Oh, God.” 

Blue eyes roll as he mirrors Alex’s position, his elbow brushing Alex’s. 

“Surely it’s not that bad.” 

“It’s not,” Alex says. “I just—I had a five year old at your age. I was still figuring all my shit out.” 

Henry’s head tilts. 

“Is that not what you’re still doing now?” 

Blowing out a breath, Alex shakes his head. “Yeah, alright.” 

He watches his own crossed ankles until Henry’s begin to move beside him, and Alex is surprised at the disappointment he feels at the thought of him leaving. It’s gotten dark outside, the string lights on the patio dim, and the muscles in Henry’s back stretch out his shirt as he leans over to grab something from a nearby table. 

It’s a napkin, Alex realizes belatedly, watching Henry lean on the wooden railing to steady it with his palm from the wind. He pulls a pen out of his pocket as if he’s just always carrying one, and Alex holds his breath when the scribbles begin to take the distinct shape of numbers, a pre-rehearsed denial on his tongue. 

But Henry caps his pen, puts it back in his pocket, and gently folds the napkin, just holding it between his fingers. 

“Listen, Alex. I don’t want to be too forward or make you uncomfortable at all. I’ve really enjoyed talking with you tonight. And I’d very much be open to doing that again, if you’d like to. I’m a good listener, if you need it.” 

The wind picks up a little and Alex shivers in spite of himself, Henry stepping closer. He’s got a couple of inches or so on Alex, despite their ages. He hates the swoop of his stomach that accompanies the realization. 

“However,” Henry murmurs, holding his gaze as he reaches forward to slip the folded napkin into Alex’s breast pocket, “I wouldn’t have accepted your friend’s invitation if I weren’t attracted to you. So, if, on your own time, you do decide you want to find out a bit more about what this version of you wants,” he swipes a thumb just underneath Alex’s collarbone as he pulls away, “I do hope you’d consider me for that as well.” 

He steps back and a rush of air greets Alex’s lungs again as he inhales sharply. He feels a little unsteady, enough that he grips the railing at his hip without really thinking about it. Henry takes notice. 

“I—” Alex clears his throat, swallowing down his denial. “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

Henry smiles. “Do.” 

He steps further away, his chin inclined toward the door. 

“I’d better go make sure Pez and your friend are alright. But, Alex?” 

Alex’s “Yeah?” is entirely too breathless. 

Henry seems to like that, too. 

“It really was lovely to meet you.” 

He disappears through the doors and back into the crowd of people inside the bar, and Alex turns back toward the street when he can’t make out his shoulders anymore. It takes him a minute even then to catch his breath, laughing to himself at the sheer absurdity of the situation. 

The napkin feels like it burns a hole in his pocket. 

He’s not going to use it. He isn’t quite ready for that yet. To date or—whatever the fuck it is Nora had prepped him for that he couldn’t deliver on. Alex isn’t sure he wants to know. 

He’ll take himself back to his home, quiet with only half the people in it now, and he’ll go to bed. This’ll be a good memory despite how it started out, the way Henry had openly wanted him and offered his companionship. Maybe Alex will even tell Carmen about it one day, and she’ll make fun of him for not accepting the offer, and they’ll laugh about it together next time she’s home. 

He’s not getting rid of the napkin though, even if he won’t use it. It’ll be like a good luck charm, or something. A reminder for the nights he’s feeling particularly shitty. 

That’s all. 

+

“Seriously? Not one interesting thing has happened in the last month?” 

Carmen blinks expectantly at him through his computer screen, her winged liner making her look more severe than she actually is. Alex shifts in the dining room chair, hiding half of his face with his coffee mug. 

“Oh. You know. The usual. Work is good. I tried this new blend of coffee, the one you recommended. I think it’s a little too dry for me, but. The new episode of Severance was pretty good—” 

“Dad.” 

“Okay, fine,” Alex sasses. “Your turn. You name all of your interesting developments.” 

She does, actually. Like. An entire list. 

The classes she likes, friends she’s made in one of her study groups, a cute barista she met at the cafe right next to the dorms. She’s meeting up with his dad next week too for lunch, and she just talked to June the day before to thank her for the care package she’d sent. 

Carmen looks brighter the more she talks, each new subject spinning off into another different one. Alex gets all of the gossip about a girl down the hall who’s managed to trick everyone into thinking she’s dating an internet celebrity but just got busted for it, and then he dumps his chin into his hand. 

“I did see Nora last week,” he says. 

Carmen raises a brow. “How’d that go? It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” 

“Yeah. It has.” Alex picks at the threaded corner of a place setting. “She introduced me to a couple of her friends.” 

Her lips curve up. “Special friends?” 

“Don’t be gross,” Alex huffs, though his chest feels a little lighter at her reaction. 

“So they were just regular friends, then.” 

Alex hesitates. “I didn’t say that.” 

He has to take out a headphone at the sheer volume of the noise she makes. Once he settles it back in, she launches in with questions. 

“Who are they? Are they hot? What’s the vibe like?” 

“It’s—there’s no vibe yet. We just talked, briefly, and it was nice and I’m probably not even gonna call him, so—” 

“Him,” she interjects. “Great. That significantly narrows down my stalking possibilities.” 

“No stalking,” Alex says sternly. 

“Aw. That’s cute.” She tosses her hair over her shoulder and Alex can see her subtly reach for her phone. “What’s his name?” 

“That, I will not be telling you.” 

Carmen pouts. “You’re no fun.” 

They get off on some other topics for another half an hour or so, and any misplaced guilt he’d been feeling quickly evaporates at how obviously happy she is. She’s an extrovert, just like he used to be, and he wonders idly if his own parents ever felt this way. Like one of their limbs has broken off and he’s watching it have a life, friends, hopes and dreams of its own. 

But she’s happy, and something inside of him eases at that. 

They exchange plans for the coming week before she leaves to go get dinner with some friends, and plan a time for their next call. And just when Alex thinks he’s off the hook completely—

“Promise me you’ll call him.”  

He splutters, sipping from his empty mug. “What? Why?” 

“Because you deserve to have a little fun,” she insists. “Seriously. I don’t think you’ve left the house in weeks.” 

He makes a noise. “I just told you I went out last week.” 

Her head tilts, and her liner seems infinitely more intimidating from that angle. Alex sighs. 

“Okay. Alright. Fine. I’ll call him.” 

She points at the camera with her pinky. 

“Promise.” 

Alex lifts his own. 

“I promise.” 

He feels much better about the whole thing when they hang up, even a little excited as he puts his laptop away and starts preparing dinner. 

It lasts right up until he realizes he hasn’t actually been on a real date in years. 

It can’t really be that difficult, can it? 

+

Alex might be hyperventilating. 

Not, like, actually. Just. Internally. He tries not to count the dial tones while he paces restlessly around his kitchen. In. Out. In. Out. In—

“Hello?” 

Out. 

“Hey, Henry. It’s Alex. Uh. From the bar.” 

Henry’s laugh is soft and warm. “Bold of you to assume I’d forgotten.” 

Alex blinks at the tile. 

“Oh.” 

That’s flirting, right? It’s got to be. 

“Was there something you wanted, Alex?” 

“Yeah, yes. I—” he glances at the note he’d prepared beforehand; it’s probably better not to go off-script. “Would you happen to be free this Saturday?” 

He hums. “I can move a few things around.” 

“Oh, no, you don’t have to do that. We can do another day, or—” 

“Alex,” Henry interjects before he can spiral, “there is not a single thing in my calendar more interesting than the prospect of seeing you again.” 

Okay. That’s definitely flirting. 

“Um. Okay. If you’re sure.” 

“I’m sure. Where should I meet you?” 

“Just—my house, if that’s okay? I was going to cook. If—if you don’t have any allergies, or anything.” 

Maybe that’s too forward. A public place might’ve been better for a first date, he recalls reading somewhere. Is this technically a date? Alex’s face flames, but Henry doesn’t skip a beat. 

“No allergies, no. That sounds lovely. Shall I bring wine?” 

Wine. Wine. Wine implies certain things, does it not? 

Does it mean something sexual? Is Henry suggesting it because it seems like someone Alex’s age would prefer wine over something else? Or does he just genuinely like wine? 

There’s not enough time to Google any of this, and it’s definitely not in his script. He chews at his bottom lip, his pacing stalled for the moment, and wishes desperately he had a cheat code for all of this. 

Or that, you know, he’d maybe at least tried to gather a little more experience without jumping straight into inviting someone into his house for wine.  

“Alex?” 

“I like beer,” he blurts. 

Henry’s laugh blossoms through the speaker. Alex flushes red. 

“I mean—if you like wine, then yeah, absolutely. We can—” 

“Beer is just fine, I assure you. Though it’s admittedly a bit out of my element, if you wouldn’t mind sending me what you prefer to drink?” 

“I can pick some up, it’s no big deal.” 

“You’re cooking and offering your home. I’d like to contribute at least something,” Henry insists. 

“You already agreed to it in the first place, so that’s—you know, more than I even—” Alex sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Fuck. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. I’m sorry.” 

There’s a pause. “I think you’re doing better than you think you are, darling.” 

Fuck. 

Alex can’t remember the last time someone’s used a term of endearment on him. He needs to pace himself. He can already tell Henry’s going to change things—for better or worse. 

“Okay. So I’ll—see you on Saturday? Around, like, seven?” 

“I’ll be there,” Henry agrees. 

“Okay. Cool.” 

Henry sniffs. “Cool.” 

“So. Um. Bye, Henry.” 

“Bye, Alex,” he says. “I’ll see you soon.” 

Alex hangs up after a beat of silence when it becomes clear that Henry isn’t going to do it first, drops his phone face down on the island and his head into his hands with a groan. 

Phase one of date prep: complete. 

+

Phase two, the actual date itself, is a little more nerve wracking. 

Alex makes a seasoned chicken and pasta dish because Carmen says it’s sophisticated but still shows that he can make something special with limited ingredients. She says it’s some kind of metaphor that Henry might subconsciously pick up on, or whatever. She’s studying law of attraction right now in one of her courses and is generally much smarter than Alex, so he listens. 

He hangs up on her when she tries to offer him after dinner advice, though. He can’t think about any of that right now. 

He has to get through the rest of it first; the table settings, the lighting, whether or not he’s going to have quiet music playing from the kitchen speaker or not, getting just the right amount of wood in the hearth to be an ambience but not make it smell like a factory. And, speaking of scent, cologne. 

The shirt June got him for his birthday last year sits snug on his shoulders, dark and clean cut and collared, tucked into his nicer jeans. Sophisticated and simple. He can do that. 

Except when Henry arrives, punctual and bearing a six pack and a soft smile on Alex’s front steps, Alex sort of freaks. 

He takes Henry on a brief tour of the downstairs and takes his coat for him, shows him to the table so he can set down the beer and Alex can pop the caps on the corner of the island. He rattles his way through the conversation while they eat, his brain bouncing from topic to topic and leaving his mouth in the dust, enough that, to Alex’s detriment, Henry takes notice. 

“Alex,” he leans over the table midway through the meal to set a hand on his arm, “this doesn’t have to be anything you don’t want it to be. I’m perfectly happy just to have dinner with you. Alright?” 

It takes the edge off, just a little. 

Henry compliments the meal and Alex’s home, and seems content with the beer even though he admits it isn’t his favorite. Alex promises to have wine on hand for next time, freaks out again when he realizes he’s kind of initiated a second date already, and gives a reluctant smile when Henry only grins and lifts his bottle in agreement. 

They move to the living room when the food’s finished, where Henry begins looking more closely at the shelves and photographs around the mantle. He lets Alex tell him all about the time two-year-old Carmen puked on his shirt right before an interview and her first day of school when Alex cried harder than she did. He asks for more, wants to know not only about her but about Alex too, which is kind of nice. Alex forgets about all the stuff that’d happened before Carmen, but he has fun remembering. 

His favorite part is when Henry talks, though. He sinks into Alex’s couch as if he’s been here before, a leg drawn up to his lap, comfortable. Alex listens to his stories that he’d been worried would make him feel out of place but don’t, laughs with him at the good parts and frowns at the darker ones. Henry’s less quiet than he’d been before, less reserved. He gestures wildly with his hands and Alex learns how expressive his face can be even when he isn’t trying to make it so, and at some point, Alex realizes he’s been staring at Henry’s mouth a probably inappropriate amount. 

It’s just. He doesn’t have a ton of experience with guys. He’d sort of given up on it, actually. 

Maybe that’s why the prospect of having Henry here, who Alex is pretty sure might want to kiss him back, is so exciting. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

Henry pauses mid-punchline, story forgotten as he glances at Alex. It seems like he hadn’t expected it, like he really would have been okay if Alex just wanted to talk, and that’s really nice, too. 

Henry nods. 

Alex leans in and doesn’t close his eyes until they’re less than a breath away, too scared that it’ll all disappear if he does. Henry tilts his head just enough to close the distance and Alex inhales sharply at the feeling of someone’s lips against his own for the first time in years. 

He melts into Henry without really meaning to, feels helpless to stop it as Henry eases the bottle out of his hands and sets it aside without pulling away, gets both hands on Alex’s cheeks, presses in even closer. He brings one of Alex’s hands to his hip, not pushing, just resting there, and slips his own into Alex’s hair and keeps everything slow enough that alarm bells don’t once sound off inside of his head. 

Alex waits for the graze of his tongue, for his fingers to wander, for him to suggest they move to the bedroom. It never comes. 

Henry pulls back eventually with a final, firm press of his lips to Alex’s, scratches his fingers in his curls lightly for a moment as he glances appreciatively at Alex’s slick, swollen mouth, and then pulls back to his spot on the cushion and resumes his story. 

He’s not ready to take things further yet, but the idea of it is exciting. All of it’s exciting—that there’s someone that flirts with him, likes to talk to him, is interested in seeing him again so they can do all of that more. 

Later, far past his usual self-imposed curfew, he walks Henry to the door and helps him back into his coat. He squeezes Alex’s arm and leans down to brush his lips against the very corner of Alex’s mouth in farewell, and Alex is still breathless even when Henry’s back in his car and out of sight. 

He’ll have to ask Google how long it’s appropriate to wait before scheduling a second date. 

+

“So,” Carmen says, “did you call him?” 

Alex bites his lip and says nothing into the phone, but his silence is confirmation enough. Her answering squeal is at a frequency that alerts several of the neighboring pets, he’s sure. 

“So,” Alex echoes finally, “how is your love life going?” 

She hangs up on him in retaliation, and Alex laughs until she calls back five minutes later to ask him if he’s had enough time to think about his behavior. 

It’s good. 

+

“Do you have like, a third date rule?” 

Henry glances over at him from the opposite end of Alex’s sofa that’s steadily taking the shape of his body, a dainty eyebrow raised. 

“You are aware we’ve seen each other more than that, yes?” 

Alex throws a pen at him. “Yes, I know that. I was just curious. But this hasn’t been totally normal, and I was wondering if you usually have some sort of rule about that kind of thing. I’m trying to communicate.”   

Henry hums, dropping the pen on the coffee table and turning his eyes back to the novel open in his lap. His legs shift under the blanket where his feet meet Alex’s thigh, but he doesn’t look up. 

“It’s been quite a while since my relationships have lasted any longer than a single night, to be honest with you.” 

Alex turns back to his own laptop, the work he’d been doing earlier the farthest thing from his mind. He closes the lid and sets it aside, then shifts so he can face Henry. 

“So you—you’re waiting because of me.” 

“I enjoy your company regardless of what we’re doing with the time,” Henry tells him. 

“But it’s. That’s. Something you want?” Alex asks. “With me?” 

Henry’s eyes lift from his book to meet his directly. The delay in response definitely isn’t hesitation. 

“Yes.” 

There’s rustling as he abandons it altogether and tosses the blanket away, crawling over the center cushion until he’s mere inches apart. He holds Alex’s eye as he moves a leg on either side of his thighs, and Alex’s hands go to his hips instinctively, even though it’s a place they haven’t been before. He swallows. 

It’s just so easy with Henry. That’s supposed to be scary, isn’t it? 

“Do you have a third date rule, Alex?” 

A nervous smile tugs at his lips. “You do know we’ve seen each other more than that, right?” 

“And I’m never opposed to seeing more of you,” Henry murmurs, undeterred. 

He sinks a hand into Alex’s hair and rubs at the spot, waiting patiently as Alex tries to figure out how to be honest without fucking anything up in the process. 

“I haven’t—it’s been—” he bites at his lip and makes eye contact with Henry’s collarbone. “It’s been a long time.” 

“Is that supposed to make me want you any less?” Henry slips a finger underneath his chin and tilts it upward, smooths his lips to the apple of Alex’s cheek. “That I’m the first one to have you next? That gets to help you find out what you like? That you wanted so badly you decided it might be worth it again?” 

Alex’s fingers twitch on his hip. 

“Henry,” he breathes. 

“Alex,” Henry returns. 

Simple. 

His lips have moved down now, trailing the corner of Alex’s mouth but never quite lining them up properly. Alex feels dizzy with it, fluid as he chases the movement, supported only by Henry’s palm at the back of his head. 

“I want you,” Alex confesses. 

Henry only smiles. Squeezes the back of his neck with his hand. Kisses him, finally. 

“I know, love.” 

+

The thing about having a younger boyfriend is that, initially, Alex had worried that they wouldn’t have enough in common. 

Alex goes to work and has his scheduled dates with Carmen and still attempts the gym sometimes, and Henry writes and volunteers and goes to book club each week. The thing is though, that their differing interests don’t feel like as much like an age thing as Alex thought they might. It just feels…good. Healthy. Like Alex has his own interests and Henry has his too, and they go and do those things sometimes and then come back together and tell each other about them. 

And then there are the things that intersect. Alex introduces Henry to all the old ladies at the stalls near the bodega that fawn over him, and Henry makes him try this one dish at the Thai place down the street that Alex swore he was going to hate but actually ended up loving. There’s a balance and, for once, Alex feels like he can let himself enjoy it without constantly worrying about when it’s going to tip over and shatter. 

The friend situation is a little rocky, admittedly. When Henry invites Alex out with him and Pez he nearly declines, but something about the surety in Henry’s palm against his makes him agree. If he’s uncomfortable, he can tell Henry. Henry cares about how he feels. 

It isn’t, though. Pez is straight faced and solemn at the bar when they arrive, and he addresses Alex before they’ve even taken a seat. 

“Alex, darling. I am so incredibly sorry for the way we all bombarded you that night. It was only clear afterward that your friend had neglected to share some rather pertinent details with Henry and I, and for everything save for the fact that you and Henry were able to connect, I am tremendously regretful.” 

Huh. Alex had kind of forgotten what it was like to be apologized to. 

He accepts it, earnestly, and goes easily when Pez squeezes his shoulder and brings him into a hug, while Henry watches on with a tentative but approving smile. 

“Now that that’s sorted,” Pez claps his hands and turns back to the bar, a bleached brow raised, “shall we cheers to this glorious occasion?” 

It’s Alex that picks up his shot glass first, with an ease that he honestly can’t pinpoint the origins of as someone who hasn’t done them in years. He lifts it in the air and tilts his head, watches Henry’s smile stretch into a grin as he leans into his side. 

“We shall.” 

+

They’re taking things slow, despite the whole third-date conversation. 

Alex isn’t mad about it. Can’t be, when he feels like he’s in this soft, exciting honeymoon phase. He has a feeling that once they get their hands on each other they won’t be able to stop, and that makes all of this prelude feel that much sweeter. 

Ironically, it’s been a while since he’s taken his time with something. Something for himself, anyway. 

He feels wound tight and splayed loose at the same time, so much so that when, after a particularly nice date where they had dinner, saw a showing of one of Henry’s favorite films, and spent hours talking outside of a quaint bakery downtown, it feels like the most natural thing in the world to take things a step further. 

There’s a documentary they were going to watch and leftovers that still need to be put away, but Henry seems to think Alex is more important than any of that. Alex follows him to the bedroom instead of the foyer or even the sofa, and Henry kisses him sweetly and pushes him to his knees and pulls his hair and smiles down at him when he says good boy and pushes into his mouth and it’s—

Alex had forgotten, is the thing. 

It feels good to remember. 

+

Alex had been right about the whole honeymoon thing. 

He’s gone years not being able to get it up after the separation and being too scared to try again, stumbled his way through a string of failed one night stands and rocky, short-term relationships, then had resorted back to just his own hand for a while before it seemed like most of his libido had fucked off anyway, buried under mountains of work, stress, prom dress shopping and graduation caps. 

His own sexual awakening—both of them, really—hadn’t been all that exciting. He’d realized he was bi one night shortly after Carmen was born, when it was newly just the two of them and Alex had taken to walking her around on his chest until they both were tired enough to sleep. He’d have the television on low, just enough to keep him alert, on whatever old movie they were playing at the time. 

Until it was just The Holiday. Over and over again, from his recorded shows. It’d just clicked one night, when he realized that he was watching it less for Cameron Diaz and more for Jude Law than anything else. The whole sweater vest thing on top of everything else was enlightening, to say the least. 

But he’d had Carmen, and though Alex wouldn’t change a single thing about it now, he had forfeited the obligatory slutty college years meant for experimentation. 

Henry, though—Henry shows him an entirely new world. 

It should be weird how easily he reads Alex, but it’s not. It’s just as easy as anything else between them has been, really. 

Or—that isn’t entirely true. It takes them a few tries to get things totally right, Alex overly anxious that he’s going to do something wrong or that he won’t be able to keep up and Henry navigating intimacy that isn’t purely casual for the first time, but they talk. They communicate, and it’s fucking good.  

The first time Alex fucks him it’s another thing that wasn’t really planned but they were prepared for nonetheless. Alex had bought the condoms ages ago and stuffed them in his bedside drawer, Henry had tucked a bottle of his favorite lube in alongside it, and it’d sat there for a while. 

Alex doesn’t think about them until he does, until Henry’s finally spread out on his sheets and Alex is working him open with said lube, slick and wet and hot up to his knuckles while Henry directs him how to move. 

Alex apologizes, somewhere between pushing Henry’s thigh further back and sucking a delicate mark into the plush skin of his stomach, for Henry having to teach him all of this. 

“Alex. You should know I’m not one to have opinions on anyone’s sexual history, whatever it may be—” Henry begins, drawing Alex’s face up to meet his by the hand in his hair, “but the fact that I’m the first one you’ve done this with?” His eyes darken as he licks over his lips. A shake of his head, a breathy little laugh. “You have no fucking idea what that does to me.” 

Henry’s warm and pliant and fucking tight when Alex sinks inside of him for the first time, and Alex doesn’t even move for a minute as they kiss messily and attempt to slot their sweat-sticky palms together on the sheets. 

It was going to be over quickly regardless. Alex had already told him that. 

Still, he thinks he lasts longer than either of them expected, in his position; Henry’s muscular thighs locked around his hips, blunt nails digging into his shoulder blades, surprisingly filthy mouth pressed to the shell of Alex’s ear as he murmurs praise and asks Alex to move, love, please because he needs him. Needs Alex.  

And isn’t that kind of amazing? 

So Alex gives it to him, lets Henry give in return, and their rhythm goes from shaky to something solid, sweet, a little rough, something perfectly them.  

He wonders idly if that whole thing about saying I-love-you while you’re actively inside of someone is still too cliche, but he’s pretty sure Henry already knows somehow anyway. 

“You don’t have to hold back,” Henry tells him, lips to Alex’s jaw as he moves. “I just want you to feel good, Alex. The way you make me feel.” 

Henry’s astute. Alex can already feel the heat in his abdomen and, as much as he wants it, and as much as he’s a little embarrassed to admit it, he’s kind of nervous. It’s been a while since he’s even bothered to get himself off. Doing it with someone else, inside of someone else, even with the condom, feels vulnerable as hell. 

“What do you need?” Henry asks him. 

Alex’s hips stutter, hovering right on the edge, leaving fingerprints on the underside of Henry’s knee where he’s holding it up and back. 

“I—I don’t know,” he admits. 

It seems Henry does, though. 

He bats Alex’s hand away from his leg until he falls and narrowly catches himself on a palm on the mattress, until they’re nose to nose again and breathing the same air. 

He kisses Alex slowly, deep into his mouth, until Alex’s focus is there instead of anywhere else. It’s a thorough distraction, one that he falls into more than willingly. 

One so good that Alex doesn’t think much of the hand caressing his back until it’s dipping down over his ass and in between, two fingers wet with spit rubbing against his entrance, one just lightly pushing and—

The world spins when Alex comes but really it’s just Henry, rolling him over without actually separating them, and he’s clenching around Alex and bracing a hand against his shoulder and riding him the rest of the way through it and when he finally paints Alex’s chest white with his own release, Alex is only even halfway as aware of it as he’d like to be. 

Afterward, sated and sweaty and still inside of Henry, Alex comes back to himself in increments. With Henry’s hand in his hair and his lips to Henry’s temple, both of their hands exploring each other without any real purpose other than to be touching in the first place. 

“It’s never been like this for me with anyone else,” Alex admits. “Ever.” 

“I love you,” Henry replies eventually. Which is answer enough, Alex figures. 

He helps Alex with the condom and they both sort of limp to the ensuite to take a bath in the oversized tub that Alex always dreamed of sharing with someone but hasn’t until now, and they take turns washing each others hair and trading slippery kisses that taste a little like soap. 

When they’re pruny and the water’s been drained, Henry asks him where the sheets are. He’s wearing one of Alex’s sweatshirts and borrowed boxers when he heads for the laundry room to fetch them, and Alex curves off to the kitchen to grab them both a glass of water before he comes back to help. 

But Henry hasn’t made it back to the bedroom when he returns. Not Alex’s, anyway. 

“She’s a hell of an artist, huh?” Alex asks softly, resting his chin on Henry’s shoulder from behind as they look into Carmen’s room from the doorway. 

It’s so obviously her that Alex aches with it, from the box of vinyls by the bed to the reading glasses on the nightstand to the haphazard clothes still left on the floor by the closet that he can’t bring himself to pick up. 

Henry seems stuck on the wall behind her bed though, which is full of her own original art. All sorts of different things, passion projects to protest art to random bands and movies she liked at the time. Alex remembers when it was nothing more than a few scribbles she was scared to let him find behind the bed post. She’d been shocked when he bought her paints and brushes instead. 

Henry lifts a hand, points to an outline of the constellations up near the ceiling. 

“What’s that one?” 

“She had an astrology phase,” Alex says. “She’s not super into it anymore, but some of it stuck. She’s got Orion tattooed on her inner arm.” 

He can feel Henry’s breath catch where Alex’s chest is pressed against his back. Alex tilts his head to graze his lips against the pulsepoint in his neck, tired and sore and happy, and tugs the bundle of clean sheets from Henry’s arms. 

“Come on. Let’s get some sleep.” 

They tug off the dirty set and toss it in the hamper, Henry tucking one side while Alex does the other. It’s a little odd, having a side of the bed again after just lying in the middle of it for so long. With Henry, it doesn’t feel awkward. 

Alex turns out the lamp when they’re settled underneath the clean sheets, and Henry rubs his cheek against the skin above Alex’s pec. 

“Do you think she’ll like me?” 

“She already knows all about you,” Alex reminds him. “I’m sure she will.” 

He’s pretty confident about it, but Henry still feels hesitant. His fingers twitch on Alex’s stomach, and he slides them up and over his shoulder and squeezes. 

“Do you think…” 

Alex turns his cheek on the pillow to look down at him. “What is it?” 

“Do you think she’ll think I’m good enough for you?” Henry whispers. 

The ever obliging people pleaser in Alex aches to brush off his worry as quickly as possible, but Alex understands how he feels. He’d be scared too, if things were the other way around. He hugs Henry so close that he’s halfway on top of him and runs a hand up and down the notches of his spine underneath his borrowed shirt. 

He owes Henry the scary parts of vulnerability too. Owes himself. 

“I haven’t dated anyone, really dated, since before her. You saw what I was like the night we met. If there was any part of this I was unsure about, I guarantee I would’ve found a way out by now.” 

“You still could,” Henry says meekly into his collarbone. “I love you, and I—what if she doesn’t like me, and you—? I couldn’t blame you for it, but I don’t—I know how important her opinion is to you and I don’t want to lose you, Alex—” 

“Hey, woah,” Alex interjects, pulling back enough to swipe the tears from the corners of Henry’s eyes before they fall. “Henry, I’m not leaving you. I love you. And, yeah, she’s everything to me and of course I want her to love you too, but you’re the one that told me we both have to figure out who we are now, in this part of our lives.” 

He reaches for Henry’s clammy fingers that have made a fist against his shoulder and raises them to his lips, pressing his mouth to each bump and curve while Henry watches from his chest. 

“And you’re a part of me, here, where I’m at now. That’s not going to change, even if it takes some getting used to.” 

Alex sees the corner of his mouth curl in the sliver of moonlight from the window, the little self deprecating furrow of his brow as he blinks furiously in the dark. 

“Sorry. I don’t know why I…” Henry trails off, his chin quivering. “What you said to me, earlier. It’s never been like this for me with anyone else either. Ever.” 

“Well. I think we’re doing a pretty damn good job for two people who don’t know what the fuck they’re doing,” Alex reasons with a soft smile. 

The forceful exhale from Henry’s nose counts as a laugh, in Alex’s opinion. He shimmies enough to get Henry on his back on the pillow beside him and then rolls on top of him, pressing his lips over and over again to his cheeks, his forehead, his chin, his nose, his eyes, until the tears are gone and Alex is kissing a smile instead of a frown. 

“She’s going to love you because I love you,” he says. “And she’s seen me at my worst enough times to know that I don’t feel that way about just anybody.” 

It feels heavy in Alex’s bones, the realization that maybe Henry hadn’t been drawing all of this out solely for Alex’s benefit. Maybe he’d been waiting for himself a little too, dangling on the infinitely different but exact same precipice Alex has been on for weeks. 

Deciding if it’s safe enough to jump. And while they’d been thinking it over, they’d both already fallen. 

It’s ironic, but it’s not the time for that right now. 

He stays awake for a while even after Henry falls asleep, watching his eyes move behind closed lids, listening to his breathing, stroking the hair off of his forehead, feeling every bit like one of those cliches from the romance novels he kept asking June not to loan to Carmen through high school. He can’t bring himself to stop. 

The thing he hadn’t told Henry is that, with everyone else he’d attempted this with before, it’d felt so wrong that Alex had ended things almost immediately. There was always something off. The few that he’d considered dating seriously he’d figured it would be good to build a foundation with first, and then tell Carmen. With them, the guilt had driven him to the point of sickness. 

Nothing about Henry feels wrong. Or off, or anything other than overwhelmingly right. And that’s not something Alex is articulate enough to put into words, not in a way that he’d understand. 

So he holds Henry tight enough that there’s no room leftover for doubt, sleeps beside him as easy as if he’d been doing it for years now. Part of him wishes he had. 

But this is the now, and Alex intends to live in it. To soak up every last part of it that he can. 

Whatever else comes after, they’ll deal with it together. 

+

“Are you positive it looks alright?” 

Henry shoots him a wide-eyed glance from the passenger seat where he’s had the compact mirror folded down the entire way to the restaurant, fingers still messing idly with his hair. Alex grins and plucks his wrist away so he can’t do any more damage, linking their fingers together over the console instead. 

“You look great, baby. I promise. She’s been on a flight for the last four hours, I guarantee she’s just happy to be back on solid ground and eat a meal she doesn’t have to pay for or microwave.” 

Henry’s frown deepens. “Maybe I should just let the two of you eat. She hasn’t seen you in months and I don’t want to impose—” 

“You already tried that excuse,” Alex chimes. He reaches over to fold up the compact mirror and kills the engine. “I talk to her multiple times a week. She wants to meet you, sweetheart. I promise you, it’s gonna be fine.” 

With a final distressed glance from Henry, they slip out of the car and walk, hand-in-hand, toward the restaurant. It’s right beside the airport where her flight landed only about an hour ago, and Alex is excited to see her. They really do talk a lot, but it’s different when she’s here in person. It’ll be the first time since she left for Texas. Alex promised he wouldn’t go visit her in her first semester, but the second one is fair game. 

It’s going to be nice to have her back at home for the break first, though. 

The host greets them inside, and Alex does his best not to skip over to the table near the window where he can see Carmen’s black hair in a messy bun on top of her head. God, he’s missed her. 

She doesn’t notice them until they’re already halfway there, typing away on her phone, but when she looks up and sees him she flings her airpod out and jumps from her chair, rushing up to greet him. 

He has to let go of Henry’s hand to catch her when she lands against his chest, one of his old jackets over her comfy plane clothes and jeans. 

“Oof. They got a gym down there I don’t know about?” Alex wheezes, grinning even as she compresses his ribcage with her arms. 

“Funny. I could have sworn you were going to the one here, but I guess not.” 

She pinches him in the bicep and he squeaks, tackling her back to him with her arms pinned to her sides so he can hug her without physical or emotional damage this time around. 

“You’re gonna have to let me go to introduce me, y’know,” she mutters into his chest. 

Henry, so quiet that Alex almost worries he might’ve left, is standing a bit unsurely by the table when Alex turns around. His worry radiates off of him almost visibly, and Alex presses a kiss to Carmen’s forehead and then shoves her playfully toward her chair so he can make sure Henry’s still breathing before they sit down. 

“Come on,” Alex urges, leading him to his own chair. 

He lets Henry sit and then takes his own beside him, and pointedly takes his hand under the table with a squeeze before he looks over at Carmen. 

“Mija, this is Henry.” 

She looks at Henry. Back at Alex. Blinks. 

Then begins talking in rapid fire Spanish to Alex while Henry’s eyes grow significantly wider. 

And Alex should probably say something about how rude it is to resort to that when Henry obviously doesn’t understand, but if he addresses that, he’d also have to address what she’s saying in the first place. 

It feels weird, getting berated by his daughter for neglecting to inform her that Henry is, in her own words, hotter than anyone she thought Alex would have the balls to have pulled in a million years. 

She goes quiet after a minute when she gets it all out, stoic and severe and breathing a little heavy, and Henry’s throat clicks audibly when he swallows beside Alex. 

“I… hope at least some part of that was good.” 

Alex, from behind his own hands, tells him, “It was good.” 

Henry whips to face him, relieved. “Really?” 

Before Alex can come up with some way to explain, Carmen beats him to it. 

“You’re insanely hot,” she tells Henry. 

Face flushing bright red, Henry chokes. 

“Oh. Well. That’s—” 

“And I’m mad at him for not showing me a picture before. Not at you. But if you hurt him, I’ll hunt you down and end your life.” 

Henry bobs his head. Nods. 

“I think that’s fair.” 

“Okay. Good.” 

She smiles at him for the first time, a genuine one instead of the one she does in her social media posts that Alex has learned to suss out, and pulls her phone out between them. 

“Now, since I know this loser has already shown you all my baby pictures, you have to see this folder I have on my phone of the most embarrassing shots of him—” 

“Mija,” Alex warns. 

“Don’t. It’s a rite of passage,” she insists. “Switch seats with me.” 

With a quick glance at Henry, Alex sighs and follows instructions. He pinches her on the arm when they pass each other, but as he settles in across from them and watches her yank the chair right up next to Henry and start scrolling through photos, he’s warm all over and his heart feels too big for his chest. 

The waitress stops by the table just as Carmen has pulled up a video of Alex from that time they’d been painting homecoming signs and he sat in pink paint and no one had told him his ass was peachy and glittery for hours. They’re so engrossed in it that they don’t even notice, and Alex orders them all waters and discreetly slips them a preemptive tip. 

“We’re probably gonna be a while,” he says. 

Alex sips his drink as the sun begins to set outside, appetizers hardly touched between them all as Carmen and Henry go from art to astrology to literature and, inevitably, back to embarrassing Alex. 

Carmen, ever uncaring of filtering herself, crunches on a tortilla chip and leans on an elbow toward Alex. 

“I like him.” 

Henry, cheeks the same color as that one video of Alex’s ass, smiles so big that Alex pulls out his own phone to add this night to the memories too. 

.

.

.

“—and I really just don’t even know what to say, because he’s so not part of my five year plan that I had, y’know? And I thought he was kind of weird at first but now he’s just… he seems sweet? I don’t know. You know?” 

“I…” Alex flounders, sorting through the mail at the island, phone between his shoulder and his ear, “I’m really trying to.” 

“Ugh. You don’t get it.” 

“No! No, I do get it. I’m—maybe you should just, like, talk to him? Ask him out? Maybe he’s nervous around really smart, confident women.” 

“Dad,” she whines. “It’s literally so much more complicated than that. Can you just put Henry on the phone?” 

Alex sighs through a grin. “Fine. I see how it is.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Carmen mutters. 

He abandons the mail and walks over to the living room where Henry looks all cuddly under a blanket on the sofa, a blanket and a crossword on his lap, Alex’s shirt on his shoulders. 

He glances up with a smile when Alex gets close, and it widens when he notices Carmen’s name on the screen. Using his pen to keep the page in his book, he slips it up to his ear and says hello. 

Alex isn’t even a few steps away when Henry says “Oh dear,” into the speaker. 

Lips quirking up, Alex finishes up in the kitchen and grabs his phone from the counter, dropping into one of the armchairs across from the couch. It’s a weekend, they can splurge on delivery for tonight. 

He does make a small pit stop first, though—a beer for himself, a glass of red for Henry. 

“I do,” Henry says into the phone, smiling fondly at Alex as he accepts the wine. “I did think he was rather weird at first, yes.” 

Narrowing his eyes, Alex flips him off as he falls back into his chair and pulls up the food app. 

Things have moved both faster and slower with Henry than what Alex thought was normal, but he doesn’t really worry about that kind of thing these days. It feels so new but also like Alex has known him for years. It’d taken him forever to wear his glasses and stop covering up his grays with Nora and the few friends he’d made from work over the time he was there, but it never feels odd with Henry. 

Maybe it’s predictable of him to decide on forever with the first person he’s dated in a decade or more. But fuck it. If Jude Law can swan in and sweep Cameron Diaz off her feet in less than a week, Alex definitely has the right. 

They’re going at their own pace. There’s something unexpectedly tender about knowing and still being patient with each other. They have time. 

“As much as I’d like to say that I don’t, I think I’d have to agree with your father on this one,” Henry says to Carmen eventually. “You may have to reach out first. And it’s awkward and a little weird and very much terrifying, but the alternative is the possibility of missing out on something amazing and always wondering what could’ve been.” 

He listens quietly for a moment. Alex watches him take a sip of his wine and clear it off of his lips with his tongue as he places their order. 

“Well, if it’s awful, then you can swap the class you have with him this coming semester since it’s your last one anyway, and you can come and stay with us and we can eat all of the ice cream your father hides in the back of the freezer.” 

Alex’s mouth drops open. “And not the Jaffa Cakes?” he hisses. 

Henry covers the speaker. “Those are imported.”  

Huffing, Alex falls back in his chair and picks up the remote to find something they can watch while they eat. Which works well as a distraction until Henry’s voice softens, and he’s already looking at Alex when he glances over. 

“Yes. It did work for me.” He smiles to himself, then shakes his head. “If he’s even halfway as smart as you think he is, he’s absolutely going to say yes. Let us know how it goes, okay?” A pause. A nod. “Of course. Talk soon. Be safe.” 

He abandons the armchair when Henry holds the phone out to him again, dropping down on the cushion of the sofa beside Henry and stealing half of his blanket. He mimes an exaggerated exhale when he presses the phone to his ear again. 

“Feeling better?” 

“Yeah,” Carmen sighs. “Henry gave me some really good advice.” 

Alex makes a noise. “He literally gave you the same advice I did?” 

“You don’t get it,” she insists. “But I will keep y’all updated. I’m gonna talk to him tomorrow. Thanks for letting me vent.” 

“Anytime,” Alex smiles. 

“Okay. I’m good. Seriously. Go eat your dinner. Don’t let Henry near the stove again.” 

“It would hurt his feelings if he could hear you say that. Henry has apologized to our appliances.” 

Henry rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah, well. Still. That smoke alarm is not a pretty noise.” 

“No,” Alex agrees. “It’s not. I love you, okay? Call us tomorrow, if you want.” 

“Oh, I will. Unless you don’t hear from me, which means things probably went really well—” 

“Okay,” he interjects. “Be safe, like Henry says. I love you.” 

“I know, I know. Love y’all. Talk soon.” 

She hangs up, but Alex sits on the line for another few seconds. Love y’all. 

Carmen’s old enough that Alex doesn’t expect her to call Henry dad or anything, and he knows Henry feels the same way. But their relationship means a lot to him and even though Alex knows she likes him and wants him to be a part of their family, she’s never said this before. 

She doesn’t do that easily, either. 

“What are you smiling about over there?” 

Alex meets Henry’s playfully narrowed gaze with a smile, then tosses his phone aside to scoot even closer. He pulls Henry’s folded knees across his lap and catches his hand with his own, bringing it to his lips. 

“So. Were you terrified the night we first met?” 

Henry slips a hand into his hair, just like he’d done that first night. “Could you not actually feel my hand shaking when I slipped my number into your pocket?” 

“Figured you were cold.” 

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” Henry argues gently. 

Alex glances over at the mantle, where the aforementioned napkin sits in a frame, right beside another photo of the three of them at the lake house in Texas the summer before last when Henry met the rest of the family. 

“I was terrified too, you know,” Alex tells him. “No idea what I was doing. I couldn’t even believe someone like you was actually interested in me.” 

He feels Henry’s lips press to his forehead. “And look at us now. We took risks. It paid off.” 

“It did.” Alex nods. “And now you’re giving my daughter dating advice.” 

Henry laughs. “She asked!” 

“She also asks me for a new car. You wanna pay for that too?” 

“We’ll start a fund,” he says. 

“A fund,” Alex huffs. “S’that what you have?” 

“I did. Sunk nearly all of it into the first shelter, if you recall,” Henry reminds him, poking him in the cheek in retaliation. 

Alex’s chest warms at the memory. There’s still a ways to go before they’re up and operational, but he remembers vividly when he and Percy first signed the papers, the way Henry hadn’t stopped grinning for days.  

“Well. At least you’re not paying for the apartment downtown anymore.” 

“Mm. Why would I, when my boyfriend asked me so nicely to live with him instead?” 

That memory is a little less family friendly. Alex’d had a limp the entirety of the next day, which they both enjoyed so much that Henry had bent him over the kitchen island and—gently—made sure he’d have it the next day, too. 

“Sounds like a great guy. Generous. Charming. Good in bed.” 

“He certainly thinks so,” Henry murmurs. 

Alex jabs him in the side with his fingers until he relents, laughing and squirming away. 

“Okay, okay. Alright.” Henry catches his wrist before he can torment him further, then swoops down to press their mouths together. “Yes. He’s quite the catch.” 

He hums, satisfied, and settles in to wait until the food arrives. 

“Hey. And what exactly did you mean by ‘weird’?”  

Henry laughs until the doorbell rings. 

.

.

.

Apparently, no one else in this bar thinks that a collared button down and slacks fits the dress code. Turns out, with Henry’s vote of confidence and hand in his own, Alex actually doesn’t care what anyone else thinks. 

“You know, we don’t have to do this,” Henry tells him. 

Alex tugs him around the corner and pushes at his arm. 

“I know. But I do. So. Go.” 

With a roll of his eyes, Henry squeezes his hand and then disappears toward the bar. Alex waits approximately five minutes before he makes his way through the sparse groups of people to the table near the window. 

It looks empty while he’s walking up to it, just the strip of wood across the top and the peeling, turquoise fabric covering the cushions. But Alex knows it isn’t. 

Alex pauses only once to roll his shoulders and runs a hand through his hair, then rounds the corner. 

Blue eyes take their time glancing up at him, swiping some of the moisture from his bottom lip with his tongue. He sets his glass down on the table, tilts his head, holds out his hand. 

The engagement ring Alex put there a few weeks ago glistens in the light, along with the first sprouts of gray around his temples. 

He’s going to look ethereal in Texas. Alex can’t fucking wait. 

“Henry.” 

Alex takes it. 

“Alex,” he says, shaking firmly. “Pleasure to meet you. Mind if I sit, Henry?” 

Henry smiles. “I’d love nothing more.”