Work Text:
1
“Yes, I understand that, but unfortunately it was your less-than-well-moderated website that locked Henry out from submitting his roommate request until after the deadline in the first place.”
Henry chews on his lip, perching on the edge of his desk chair, as he watches Alex pace back and forth across their dorm room floor. His hair is a veritable bird’s nest from running his hand through it in frustration during the phone call.
“His form was in the queue before that, I can send you the screenshot if that helps.” Alex meets Henry’s gaze, flashes a grin sharper than steel, and mouths I’m winning.
Thank god for Alex, really.
He’s the best random roommate Henry could have ever asked for, nervous as he was on a new continent, already a year older than the rest of his class, and still missing his dad something fierce. Alex had taken one look at him and basically adopted him, pulling him along to social events and mandated Roommate Study Buddy Hours and brought him terrible tea and generally forced him into being a functioning human again through sheer force of personality.
Today, Henry had been ready to concede defeat to the eldritch horror that is the NYU Housing Office and just find a place in the vicinity of campus for next year instead, but Alex was having none of it.
“Absolutely not,” Alex had proclaimed, pulling up the Housing website and dialing the number himself. “You did everything right, took time out of your studying just for them to totally shaft you.”
“It’s really fine—” he tried to protest, but Alex cut him off again.
“And actually, they’re fucking over both of us, sweetheart—if they don’t honor your request to live with me, I won’t have a good reason to turn them down when they send me roommate options. I just know they’ll try and stick me with someone awful. Like fucking Hunter.”
And then the call had connected and Alex’s usual penchant for swearing and pet names had disappeared into a pitch-perfect phone voice. He was every inch a polite, upstanding gentleman and Henry couldn’t look away.
“No, actually, you can’t talk to him, he has laryngitis—the doctor said he has to rest his voice. Also you’ve been giving him the runaround for two days now, so I volunteered.” Alex’s voice, still polite, takes on an edge that makes the hair on the back of Henry’s neck stand up. He’s sure the person on the other end of the line just sat up a little straighter in their chair.
“I’m going to level with you, Joe. I don’t care what your guidelines say; they don’t allow for extenuating circumstances, which in your department is a massive oversight that you should really look into remedying. And I don’t like the way my friend has been treated by y’all.” Alex stops pacing now, stands in the center of the room. It’s not a sign of Alex backing down, oh no, it’s much more akin to the eye of a storm—a brief respite before the onslaught continues.
“The room is already assigned to me, both Henry and I would like Henry to be in the other bed. Any other assignment to the room would have to be approved by me regardless since he’s petitioning to join my housing assignment. So. Either fix it yourself, right now, or get me your supervisor.”
Christ, he’s gorgeous when he’s righteously indignant.
“I thought you’d see it my way, thank you. Yes, I’ll stay on the line while you verify all of that.”
Alex punches the air and beams at Henry.
Helpless, Henry grins back.
2
“When did maintenance say they were coming to fix the leaking faucet again?” Alex asks on his way to the kitchen.
“They said they couldn’t get to it until Friday at the earliest.”
“Fuckin’ ridiculous. I could fix it myself if they didn’t put up such a fuss about residents doing their own home repair. Like I haven’t fixed the sink in my mom’s house twice a month since I was old enough to hold a wrench.”
Henry hides his grin in his book, listening to Alex grumble as he moves about the kitchen.
“Just a drip—take them five minutes—not even—fuck!”
Alex’s curse heralds the sounds of spraying water and a heavy pot hitting the bottom of the sink. Henry hurriedly puts his book aside and rushes to the kitchen. The sight that greets him makes his mouth hang open.
Apparently, the leak got worse. Much worse.
Because Alex’s torso is now soaking wet. His t-shirt is plastered to his body, the unfairly transparent white fabric shows every detail. The nipples pebbled from the sudden chill. The outline of the key he wears around his neck that he fiddles with when he’s stressed or homesick. The lines of gently defined abs. The sharp cut of his hip bones above low-slung jeans. The trail of dark hair leading Henry’s eyes lower and lower before disappearing into his waistband. The water now starting to soak and cling lower, outlining his c—
“—nry? Earth to Henry?”
Henry jerks his gaze up guiltily. “Hmm?”
“Can you call them back while I get this cleaned up?”
“Oh! Yes, of course.”
Henry fumbles for his phone, trying not to get too distracted watching Alex bend down to wipe the cabinet fronts dry.
“Maintenance.” Henry’s chest goes a little tight when he recognizes the same voice from when he called the line yesterday. The interaction had been…less than ideal.
“Yes, hello. This is Henry Fox from apartment four—”
“I told you the last time, we can’t get up there ‘till Friday,” the man says pointedly.
“I do recall. It’s only that just now the faucet—”
“Listen, you’ll just have to deal with a little dribbling for two more days. We have higher priority maintenance tickets to deal with today.” There’s a click and then a dial tone echoes in Henry’s ear.
Henry pulls the phone away from his ear, staring at the screen in anxious disbelief. What the bloody hell was he meant to do now?
“Did he just hang up on you?” Alex demands.
Henry nods.
Alex’s face goes positively thunderous and he motions for Henry to hand over his phone. Alex is the one dripping wet and probably cold, but Henry is the one who shivers at the expression.
“This is Alex Claremont-Diaz. Apartment four sixt—no, don’t interrupt.” The barely banked fury in Alex’s voice leaks out a little. It’s not even directed at Henry and he gulps.
“You just hung up on my roommate, which, by the way? Majorly rude of you. He wasn’t trying to waste your time. He was trying to tell you that our barely leaking faucet is now a fucking geyser that just sprayed all over our kitchen and thus, is now a high priority repair.”
Henry shifts anxiously on his feet as he watches Alex grit his teeth against the diatribe Henry knows he’s holding back and grip the counter so tightly his fingers go white.
“Mhmm. Yep. Yep. All I did was turn it on. A normal amount. Yes, I’m fucking sure. That’s fine, we’ll be home,” he forces out. Alex is clearly about to hang up when he catches Henry’s eye, frowning as he takes in the sight of Henry’s obviously tense posture.
“One last thing—no, I’m not done, that’s what ‘one last thing’ means. Now then, are you normally one of the repair technicians for jobs like this one?”
Henry’s chest seizes. He hadn’t even thought about that possibility. He desperately doesn’t want that man in their apartment. Not here, the place he and Alex had lived together all of senior year. Not here, where Henry had finally admitted to himself that he was all the way in love with Alex, despite knowing that Alex would never love him that way.
“If you don’t want an even bigger dressing down from your supervisor than the one you’re already going to get as soon as I call them—I would strongly suggest that you schedule someone else to come up here.” There’s a beat and then: “Fucking stellar, let’s not do this again,” and Alex hangs up on him, tossing Henry’s phone back.
It’s a miracle Henry catches it at all given the relief and gratitude flooding through his body.
“Fuck, what a shithead,” Alex says, pushing his still-dripping hair back off of his forehead in frustration. “That man needs an attitude adjustment, like, yesterday. Possibly years ago.”
“Mmm,” Henry hums his agreement. The majority of Henry’s anxiety had disappeared as soon as he honed in on the drop of water slowly making its way down from Alex’s temple to his neck before finally meeting the collar of his t-shirt.
“I’ve never talked to such an unpleasant person before, have you?”
“Deeply unpleasant,” he agrees vaguely, attention fully caught by the shadow of shoulder muscles moving beneath the wet fabric.
“Hey, Henry?” There’s a thread of something that may be amusement in Alex’s voice now, but Henry literally doesn’t have enough brainpower left to devote to parsing that right now. He’s much too busy watching the rise and fall of Alex’s chest.
“What?”
Suddenly that chest is moving toward him and there’s a cold hand beneath his chin, tilting Henry’s face up to meet Alex’s eyes, dancing in amusement.
“If I knew all it took to catch you ogling me was a wet t-shirt, I would have broken the sink myself.”
“I—oh Christ—I didn’t mean to objectify you or—” “I sorta hope you were. Objectifying me, I mean.”
Henry’s brain fully short circuits at that.
“You—you’re straight?” Henry squeaks. “You told me you were straight.”
Alex still hasn’t let go of Henry; he has, in fact, moved his hand so he’s cupping the back of Henry’s neck. Henry feels like his body is made up of something particularly non-structural. Damp candyfloss would make a better structure than his body right now.
Alex smiles, a bit ruefully. “I figured some stuff out recently. Well— Nora basically hit me over the head with a doctoral thesis’ worth of evidence detailing my fucking gigantic crush on you so—mphff.”
Henry can’t actually let Alex say one more devastatingly perfect, daydream-fulfilling word. He covers Alex’s mouth with his own and everything goes utterly warm and syrupy around them.
Alex makes a delighted noise against Henry’s lips and Henry half collapses into the counter with an answering groan.
The only reason they hear maintenance knock on their door an hour later is because they haven’t actually made it further than the couch, a trail of clothes abandoned in their wake.
3
Henry’s so bloody proud of himself for this night, actually.
Once they’d surfaced from a post-kitchen-maintenance sex marathon, Henry had insisted that Alex elaborate on just what he’d “figured out”. Alex had ducked his head charmingly, but obliged.
“I just—how could I not be all in with you after everything?” Alex had said simply, like he wasn’t saying everything Henry had ever hoped to hear. “You’re my fucking favourite, Hen.”
(If he also had an email from Nora in his inbox, empty except for a massive attachment labeled alex_u_want_him_2_dick_u_down.pdf—well, that was nobody’s business but Henry’s, actually.)
Henry had laced his fingers through Alex’s where they were resting on Henry’s chest and tucked himself closer.
“I’ve been mildly to severely fascinated by you since we met, love. And— I’d really love to take you on a date. Tonight, if you’re amenable.”
“I mean, we both already put out—”
“Miscreant.”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
Alex had nodded and dropped a kiss to Henry’s shoulder. “I can tell it’s important to you. And, obviously I really want to date you. I want to do this—us—right.”
They’d lost another couple of hours to frantic kisses and roaming hands and whispered praise and baby and another round in the shower and—
Well, that was yesterday.
Tonight, though—Henry had managed to keep his hands (mostly) to himself long enough to plan. He had come across this restaurant while on a work errand; spices he recognized from nights Alex cooked had wafted out the door, halting Henry in his tracks. He’d been waiting for an occasion to drag Alex here, but nothing had come up.
Until now—their first date.
Alex’s face had gone soft and awed the second they crossed the threshold. The brightly painted interior was lit with colorful lanterns, candles on every table. Spanish flew thick and fast between the servers and most of the tables. A pair of older women were stationed at a counter in the corner, making fresh tortillas by hand. Alex didn’t say a word, staring misty-eyed at the dried peppers hanging from the top of the window leading into the kitchen.
“I take it you approve?”
Alex had squeezed Henry’s hand tight and murmured, “When we get home I need to take you apart with my teeth about it, sweetheart.”
Henry shivered at the soft words full of promise, and then proceeded to have his brain dribble out through his ears as Alex effortlessly chatted to the host, their server, and, briefly, a neighboring table in beautiful, rolling Spanish.
It’s been such a perfect night. The guacamole was made right in front of them, and Alex’s eyes lit up with candlelight and excitement when he saw tres leches on the dessert menu.
It’s been such a perfect night, and Henry doesn’t want to cause a fuss, but—
“I thought you ordered the fish tacos, sweetheart,” Alex says, frowning a little at Henry’s plate.
“I did, but this is fine—”
“Henry, that’s steak.”
“I’m sure it will be as delicious as the fish would have been.”
“Henry—”
“Really, it’s fine, I don’t want to be a bother—”
Alex’s hand landing on his own stops his words.
“H— Baby, you’re allowed to ask for what you want.”
Henry’s breath hitches in his chest. “I’ve never been great at that. You know, historically.”
Alex squeezes his hand comfortingly and swipes his thumb along the back of Henry’s palm. “You’ve got me for that now,” he says, and signals their server.
“Alex, really, it’s—”
“¿Todo bien por acá?”
“Casi— Es que le dieron a mi novio carne en lugar de pescado en sus tacos ¿Podríamos hacer el cambio?”
“Lo siento mucho, ya mismo se los arreglo.” The server whisks Henry’s plate away with an apologetic smile before he can try and protest.
“¡Gracias!” Alex calls after her. “See, Hen? Easy peasy.”
“I really would have been fine with steak.”
“Henry. Get it through your thick head: I want you to have everything you want. Okay?”
Henry can tell Alex’s words refer to a great deal more than dinner orders. Suddenly a little choked up from a swell of love, he manages a nod.
“Good.”
Henry surreptitiously wipes his eyes with his napkin before clearing his throat. “So I’m your boyfriend, am I?”
“Thought you didn’t speak Spanish,” Alex says, eyes narrowed playfully.
“Pez likes telenovelas.” Henry shrugs, scooping some salsa onto a tortilla chip. “I picked up a couple of things.”
“Of course you did, you talented asshole,” sighs Alex. “Yes, you’re my boyfriend. That should have been a given. I told you—I’m all in.”
Henry quickly discovers that trying to swallow a tortilla chip without chewing in order to kiss one’s boyfriend leads to undignified sputtering and an alarming amount of food bits littering the tabletop.
4
“I hate to be a bother, but I was wondering if you had time to send someone round our flat today?”
“Unfortunately, Mr. Fox, our technicians have to restore service to those homes that’ve been without the longest and there are a few more customers in line ahead of you.” The woman on the phone sounds bored. And a little patronizing. But Henry supposes she’s been fielding calls like this one for the last few days. She’s probably just exhausted.
“Oh I see, that makes sense. Thank you for y—”
“We’ve been without wifi for three days, ma’am, and I can see a Comcast truck parked outside our building,” Alex interrupts, his tone both bright and biting.
“Oh.”
Alex rolls his eyes at Henry, but keeps his voice light. “Yeah, so if you could quit taking advantage of my boyfriend’s ingrained non-confrontational Britishness and get your guy to set us back up, that would be stellar.”
The woman’s voice is fully professional now. “I’ll call him right now. Is this a good number to call you back when I’ve got a hold of him?”
“It is.”
“Then I’ll speak with you as soon as I can.”
“Delightful, thank you!” Alex rings off and turns to Henry, eyebrows near his hairline.
“I know, I know—”
“You have got to stop letting customer service reps take advantage of your kind nature, sweetheart.”
“I know.” Henry hangs his head.
“Besides, as your boyfriend, I’m the only one who gets to take advantage of you.”
“You’re a demon.”
“And you love me anyway,” Alex says, batting his eyes.
Henry sighs. “And I love you anyway.”
5
“What’s next?”
“Music,” Sharon says. “My firm has a number of bands and DJs on the roster, I can send you some samples of their styles for you and Henry to pick from.”
“Awesome. Live band probably, you can’t beat that,” Alex says. “Every one of my cousins’ weddings and quinces had live bands—just magic.”
The wedding planner grins at him. “Noted.”
“And I’d like to make sure there’s a piano available so I can play a song for Alex at the reception,” Henry adds.
“Oh. I’m—”
Alex’s phone ringing cuts off her response.
“Shit, it’s my sister. I’ll be right back, sweetheart.” June’s voice, already pouring out of the phone a mile a minute, fades as Alex steps out of the room.
“Do you mind if we press on?” Sharon asks. “This time is for you to decide whether I’d be a good fit for planning your wedding.”
“Not at all, I know what Alex’s preferences are.”
“Alright, we’ve got music narrowed down to a band, so let’s move on to—”
“And the piano?”
“That’s more complicated just from the weight requirements.”
“Oh.”
“So, reception. Traditionally there’s about an hour of drinks and passed appetizers immediately following the ceremony so that the wedding party can get staged photos. How many people are you thinking?”
“Pretty small, probably not even fifty.”
Sharon falters at that but recovers quickly. “More budget can go to the food then!” she says brightly. “My firm has its own in-house catering company attached to it, so that’s already taken care of. How many courses? Three plus dessert?”
“Alex wants to do a big buffet—or maybe get his mom to grill, actually. And his grandmother volunteered to make the cake.”
“How…generous,” she says. “Let me know about what you decide food-wise by our next meeting—we’ll need lead time to set the menu.”
Alex comes back in from the door behind Sharon.
“I have some photos from past weddings’ flowers, I thought we could look at those next, get you some ideas.”
“Oh, well, those are all quite lovely—”
“We work with local greenhouses to provide bouquets, boutonnieres, corsages, centerpieces—we can even make a big floral arch for the ceremony, here let me show you.”
“We don’t want huge centerpieces, we might even just do a set of candles or make something ourselves, actually. My mom’s pretty nifty with a glue gun. But— Could we get marigolds to decorate the piano for the reception?”
“Well, like I said, pianos are tricky—”
“Good news, baby,” Alex cuts in, voice sickly sweet. “June’s got it all figured out—one of our friends from high school now runs an event company in Austin, and they’re willing to come out to the lakehouse and set us up with whatever we need.” He comes around the table and takes his seat, putting an arm around Henry’s shoulders and pulling him close. “Including a platform solid enough for a piano if they determine the porch isn’t strong enough at Dad’s. Isn’t that amazing, Sharon?”
“Absolutely astonishing,” she says through a wide, fake smile.
“In fact, Liam offered to coordinate everything, said that he and Spencer could be our boots on the ground since we’ll be here until my finals finish up and you can take vacation time.”
Henry can feel the hearts in his eyes as he gazes at Alex, and does absolutely nothing to rein them in.
“Sorry, Sharon, but I don’t see this partnership working out,” Alex says, still grinning widely. “We’ll just be going, have a lovely rest of your day.” Alex stands, holding out a hand to help Henry to his feet.
“But—”
“Maybe if you hadn’t tried to upsell us on things we didn’t ask for and don’t need, and instead brainstormed a way to get a piano for my fiancé to serenade me at the reception, things might have been different.”
Henry lets himself be pulled to his feet and out the door as Sharon splutters behind them.
“Sorry, baby, she was awful.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for, love.”
“She kept trying to put herself into our wedding just because she thought she could politely insist she knows best while you were alone with her.”
Henry squeezes Alex’s hand, trying to soothe his agitation.
“You were magnificent in there, though. A regular knight in shining armor. I could have swooned.”
“I’ll catch you every time, sweetheart,” Alex is clearly aiming for teasing, but gets lost along the way and ends up excessively fond instead.
“I know you will.”
They walk in silence for a few blocks, and Henry starts counting down from ten as they cross the fourth street.
Three, tw—
“And another thing! Pianos are not tricky!” Alex bursts out, unable to contain himself.
“Of course they aren’t,” Henry agrees placidly.
“Wedding bands have them all the time!”
“They do.”
“If I didn’t know how much she wanted our contract, I would have said she was being deliberately unhelpful.”
“Absolutely.” It’s getting difficult to hide his amusement now, but that’s alright because Alex is in full-on Ranting Mode now.
“Like, having a piano is the one thing about the actual day of the wedding that you care about? Why would she dig her heels in about that, of all th—”
“It’s not the only thing I care about.”
“Huh?”
Henry pulls Alex by their entwined hands onto a side street to get out of the flow of foot traffic. “You know what my number one priority for our wedding day is? You, meeting me at the altar, saying ‘I do.’”
Alex’s face goes satisfyingly gooey at those words.
“You’re a fucking simp, Fox.”
“Guilty as charged, I suppose.”
“C’mere. I need to kiss the sap off your face for a while.”
Henry, more than willing, goes.
+1
The email comes in at the literal worst point of Alex’s schedule: twenty minutes before he has to leave for the second day of the bar exam.
We regret to inform you that Flight FCD2548 JFK > AUS 7:21 AM has been canceled due to Airbus maintenance requirements.
Fuck.
They’re supposed to be in Austin in less than twenty-four hours, Alex has to take the literal most important test of his life in less than an hour, he doesn’t have time—
“Don’t think about it right now, focus on your test.”
“But—the tickets—I have to—”
“Catch your train to the testing centre? Yes you do. Off you pop.”
“I can try to call when we break for lunch—”
“You will do no such thing. I have the day off for last minute wedding and honeymoon packing anyway, I can take care of this.”
Alex isn’t sure what his face does at that but Henry crosses his arms in a pout.
“I will sort the tickets, Alex. I’ll call them as soon as you leave.”
“You know I love you, baby, I just— You didn’t even want to send the wrong tacos back on our first date. And I’m the one who called maintenance. And scheduled the movers when we bought the brownstone. And—”
“Alex,” Henry says, stepping close and cradling his face delicately. His eyes are really fucking blue this summer morning. Alex feels like he could dive into them and drown a happy man. “You and I getting to our wedding is infinitely more important to me than pushy movers or unpleasant maintenance technicians or incorrect but probably still just as delicious tacos. I. Will. Take. Care. Of. The. Tickets,” he says firmly, a kiss to a different part of Alex’s face between each word.
Alex tips his chin up to catch Henry’s lips with his own after he stops talking, and lets Henry’s kiss clear away all the doubts and nerves and anxiety swirling around his brain. Tragically, he has to pull away to breathe, but Henry doesn’t let him go far, holding him close and pressing their foreheads together.
“I love you. I can’t wait to marry you.”
“Uno Reverse.”
Henry shoves him away, but he’s smiling Alex’s favorite smile, the one that only he gets to see.
“Go. They won’t let you in if you’re late.”
Alex goes, but turns back at the front door.
“Hey, Henry?”
“Yes, dear?”
“I love you, and I can’t wait to marry you.”