Chapter Text
Cash drops them off in front of the brownstone two hours later - after some obligatory apologies to studio executives that Alex bullshits his way through, all while making sure to emphasize the fact that the questions Henry was asked were not what he signed up for. Alex keeps a hand on Henry’s thigh the entire ride from Manhattan back to Brooklyn, rubbing his thumb back and forth very, very pointedly.
Have fun, Cash mouths out the front window as Alex and Henry stumble out of the backseat, and Alex very lovingly flips him off.
And then they’re inside, kicking off their shoes in the doorway, Henry stopping to greet David as Alex tosses their coats on the hooks above the credenza. When Henry turns back to him, Alex flicks his eyes to the staircase and Henry nods, leaning forward to press a steady kiss to Alex’s lips before stepping back. He turns towards the stairs, and Alex finds words leaving his mouth before he decides exactly what they’re going to be.
“Hey, Hen?” He waits until Henry walks back to him and takes his hands before he continues. “I don’t want you to think… to think that I thought you couldn’t handle those bullshit questions. You are so fucking strong and so capable, and I didn’t -”
“Alex, love,” Henry interrupts, his eyes brimming with gratitude. “I know that. I promise.”
“It just made me sick,” Alex breathes out in a rush, “the way they talked to you. The personal shit they brought up. That’s not what you were there for.”
“It’s not,” Henry nods. “I think I’m still learning what it’s like to be able to stand up for myself. You taught me that. You showed me that I deserve a voice. And I can never thank you enough for that.”
“Plus,” Henry cocks his head to one side, stepping back towards the stairs, “you storming in like that, all that fury and intensity on my behalf? That really did something to me.”
Alex shoves at his shoulder, laughing again. They stumble up the stairs to their bedroom, and the city narrows to the wood beneath their feet, the pull of Henry’s sweater over his head as Alex kisses him and kisses him and kisses him. Henry’s hands fumble at Alex’s belt, at the zipper of his jeans, and it feels new and familiar at the same time, snapshots of illicit meetings behind locked doors, quiet and intense, morphing into what he and Henry are now - a couple with a home, a life together, a promise of the future, and the better half of the world at their backs.
Alex kisses Henry again as they stagger backwards towards the window, until his bare back hits the wall and he’s able to pull the curtains closed. Wisps of Brooklyn sunlight find their way past the edges of the fabric, leaving bright streaks on the floor. Henry steps through them and it brings Alex back to their first time at the lake, to the crown of fireflies in his hair.
“Where do you want me, love?” Henry mumbles against Alex’s ear, and Alex feels dizzy with it. The very first word that comes to his mind, that’s been coming to his mind since the moment Henry first kissed him, is everywhere.
“Bed,” Alex manages, stepping away from the window. “Unless you want to put on a show for the neighbors.”
“I think we’ve made enough headlines for one day,” Henry smirks, kicking off his slacks and underwear as he falls into their unmade bed and pulls Alex down with him. It’s skin against skin, Alex’s knee back between Henry’s legs, Henry already half-hard against his thigh. There’s something so whole about this version of Henry - his cheeks are fuller, he looks healthier and happier than he ever has, and Alex will never get tired of getting lost in him.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” Alex breathes into the side of Henry’s neck. “And now you’re an author too? There’s only so much I can handle, sweetheart.”
Henry’s breath catches, and Alex grins. He trails his fingers up and down Henry’s sides, little sparks at every point of contact, and watches Henry lose himself in Alex’s touch. He loves to read Henry in these moments - to figure out what Henry needs, what he wants, and at what pace he wants it.
“You’re a menace,” Henry groans, and the fact that he’s already this undone tells Alex everything he needs to know.
They make out for what could be a minute or an hour, Henry’s fingernails digging into Alex’s back, his ass, anywhere he can reach. They don’t stop until Henry rocks his hips up into Alex’s stomach, his breath hot against Alex’s neck. “Alex,” he whines, and Alex feels it deep in his gut. “Please.”
“Anything you want, baby,” Alex pushes himself up, missing the feeling of Henry’s skin against his the moment he breaks the contact. He cradles Henry’s face in one hand, sweeping his thumb over Henry’s jaw. “Talk to me.”
The confirmation Alex is looking for serves two purposes. One, he loves to draw it all out like this sometimes - to watch as the want builds and builds on Henry’s face and in his voice with each passing second, and he knows that Henry loves it too. He is, in fact, a self-proclaimed little shit, and can’t resist teasing Henry a bit; making him work for it.
And two? Alex needs the words - needs Henry to say them again, so Alex knows he’s giving Henry exactly what he wants. He trusts Henry more than anyone in the world, and giving Henry that same level of trust back, that same comfort, is more important to him than anything.
He trails a lazy finger down the inside of Henry’s thigh, his knuckle brushing pointedly down the side of Henry’s cock. Henry seems to forget the entirety of the English language. He pushes his face deeper into Alex’s palm, breathing hard and fast against it. “You fucking bastard.”
Alex flashes Henry a dazzling grin and leans back down to press sloppy kisses to the side of his neck. Henry’s pulse pounds under his lips. “I want you to fuck me,” Henry manages, desperate and hoarse against Alex’s ear. It doesn’t matter how many times Alex hears the words - they send a million shockwaves through him every single time. “Now.”
Alex hums against Henry’s neck and reaches blindly for the lube on the nightstand. His other hand finds Henry’s, and he laces their fingers together as he pushes it into the mattress. It’s the little, tiny details sometimes - Henry’s fingertips pressed against Alex’s knuckles, Henry’s flushed cheeks and stuttering heartbeat; all of this, the two of them tangled in their sheets, on their bed, in their home.
And Alex? Alex is still very much so in love he could die.
He says as much as he gently coaxes Henry’s knees up towards his chest and circles his hole with one finger, teasing, and watches every nerve ending he hits play out on Henry’s face. And then he’s pushing one finger inside Henry, and then two, and the noise Henry makes nearly brings Alex straight to the brink. “You’re incredible,” he says, voice wavering just slightly as he kisses Henry’s knee. “Fucking incredible, baby.”
Henry’s back arches off the mattress and Alex readjusts, twisting his wrist and driving his fingers in further. It’s slow, but Henry wants more - he bucks his hips and chokes on a gasp as Alex hooks his fingers up in response to Henry’s desperation. “So pushy,” he teases as he massages the muscles tightening around the base of his fingers.
Henry just shakes his head and jams his heel into Alex’s shoulder. Alex grins and, without warning, brushes his fingertips over Henry’s prostate, and that really does it. The noise Henry makes is something between a grunt and a sob, needy and intimate and solely for Alex. Something he knows the world can never take from them, never put on display.
So Alex does it again - pressing this time, instead of stroking. He watches Henry’s face the entire time, falls in love with every bob of his throat and flutter of his eyelashes.
He continues opening Henry up like it’s the easiest thing in the world, eventually nudging him onto his side, and then his knees, leaning forward to ghost kisses over the back of his neck and whisper into his hair.
“Ready?” he asks, and Henry’s answer is immediate.
“Always.”
Alex slides in slowly, carefully, a complete juxtaposition to what happens a second later - when Henry pushes back against him, driving him deeper with a punched out noise that Alex doesn’t think he’ll ever stop replaying. Alex tosses his head back like the lovestruck cliché he is as he grabs at Henry’s hips, trembling fingers over warm skin, and loses himself in the steady rhythm of it all.
The pressure of Henry around him, the litany of curses sounding more like prayers that Henry gasps against the pillows, his hand fisted in the sheets they picked out together. Each knob of Henry’s spine, every soft groan, every mumbled “God, Alex.” He pulses in and out in line with his hammering heartbeat, guided by muscle memory and the sensation of Henry urging him deeper, those fucking polo-player thighs every bit as powerful as they were the first time he and Henry fucked.
“You feel so - fuck,” Alex hisses as Henry clenches around his cock, effectively shutting him up. He can see Henry’s smirk without actually seeing Henry’s face, and he takes it as a challenge. He pulls back a bit, just for a second or two, before thrusting his hips forward, pushing back into Henry until his hips are flush with Henry’s ass and Henry’s knees are seconds from giving out. Every point of contact with Henry feels like a spark - one that Alex chases with each breath, each pulse.
Alex holds onto it all, love and adoration filling every inch of him until it spills out with an intensity that whites out his vision. He collapses forward onto Henry’s back, angling himself so that he can stay inside Henry and wrap a hand around Henry’s cock at the same time. “You’re perfect,” he mumbles into Henry’s sweaty head of hair as he gets Henry closer and closer. He slides his thumb up over Henry’s tip and Henry comes with a gasping, shaky noise that Alex catalogs in his heart, along with every other detail of Henry in this singular, perfect moment.
They fall back against the pillows, Henry trembling so hard Alex swears the headboard is shaking with it. Alex pulls Henry against his chest, strokes gentle lines over the shell of his ear and mumbles H and love and sweetheart into his hair, over and over and over again. They come back down together slowly, curled up in each other's arms, intensity morphing into an overwhelmingly calming and familiar gentleness. Henry passes Alex a water bottle at some point, and Alex reaches for the remote on the nightstand behind him and turns the TV on, volume almost all the way down, and it’s like the rest of New York, the rest of the world, stops existing for a little while. It couldn’t be more perfect.
“I love you,” Henry breathes into Alex’s curls some time after their heartbeats have recalibrated. “And I am not opposed to you making another scene on the news if this is what it leads to.”
Alex laughs as Henry pulls him impossibly closer. “We have an entire lifetime of opportunities ahead of us,” he replies. “I’m sure I’ll find a way.”
Henry hums, his breath warm against Alex’s skin. Alex doesn’t know what time it is, or how many Twitter notifications he’ll have when he turns on his phone. He doesn’t know what the headlines will be tomorrow, but he’s kissing Henry’s eyelids, the bridge of his nose, the corner of his mouth, and he couldn’t possibly care less.