Archive of Our Own

“Come with me to the party.”

“No.”

“Henry, please.”

“Pez, I said no.”

Pez frowns. “You’re no fun. I need a wingman, Hen! You of all people know how much I love these Friday nights and letting loose. I deserve this break.”

“What, just so you can flirt and drink?” Henry rolls his eyes. “Who’s it going to be this time, Nora or June?”

“I don’t like this judgemental tone I’m hearing from you, Henry. And you’re missing the most obvious thing,” Percy crosses his arms, an eyebrow raised. “Why not both?”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Henry. I cannot believe you are judging me right now.”

Henry frowns. “I would never. I’m sorry, I just—”

“Got you. Now you owe me.”

“Pez!”

“No buts, babes. I’ve been telling you to accompany me every time the opportunity comes along, and you always have the most outrageous excuses as to why you’re not able to. So, I repeat, you owe me.”

Henry sighs, exasperated. “I don’t want to see Alex, Percy.”

“I have no idea what it is about the man that annoys you so much. He’s a nice guy, Henry.”

But actually, he’s not, Henry wants to say, but he’s quite tired of arguing about this with Percy, who looks at him as if he’s actually serious. Every other week or so of the month, Alex Claremont-Diaz, known asshole of the century and sworn worst enemy of Henry Fox, holds a small get-together in his cave of an apartment with his best friend Nora, sister June, and Henry’s best friend, Pez, who never passes an opportunity to drink with people he takes a liking to. That, or he’s slowly getting to know June and Nora better, and Henry can care less about what the man does, as long as he doesn’t involve him in his festivities. Not when his sworn enemy is the host.

Henry settles on, “I don’t see how that’s true.” He clears his throat. “And what on earth makes you think I’d enjoy drinking with people I barely know?”

“You make it sound like we never had a life after Eton. Besides,” Pez grins, throwing an arm around Henry. “Maybe you and Alex can settle your little tiff and finally shag.”

Henry pushes him off so hard that Percy almost drops to the floor, laughing. He catches Henry’s shirt instead, holding onto him for dear life as he laughs his arse off.

“What the fuck, Pez? I am not interested in Alex!” Henry shivers at the thought of even being near Alex. “Do you not know how much I hate that man?”

“I don’t, actually. Not when it’s all you talk about every time I come over. Do tell.”

“You are such a prick.” Henry groans, smoothing out the creases on his shirt. “And so is Alex. He’s yet to apologize for being such an arse.”

“All the more reason for me to say, babes,” Percy raises his hands up in surrender, backing off. “That it wouldn’t kill you to attend for once. Do it for me?”

Henry sighs. Friday nights are reserved for him to rest, to recharge, and maybe to even get a few thousand words into his book that’s been a work in progress for god knows how long. But, Pez also never asks for a lot. Though he can be difficult sometimes, Henry would give up his life for the man.

I’m going to regret this, he thinks, before sighing once more and replying with, “Fine. I’ll come with.”

“Excellent.” Pez replies, mouth spread into a cheshire grin. “You won’t regret it, my beloved Henry. I promise.”

“I highly doubt it.”

The next day is Friday, and despite only living across from the gremlin himself, Henry finds himself early as usual, standing by the doormat and not thinking twice before ringing the bell. Pez should be arriving sometime soon, as his last text indicated that he was near.

Unfortunately, Henry spoke too soon. Just as he releases the doorbell button, a notification rings out from Henry’s phone, and he frowns as he reads the contents of the text.

Pez

I'll be running a bit late btw!

picking up June and Nora

Henry

I thought you said you were near?

Pez

near june’s, Hen. I thought I told you I'd be picking them up?

Henry

No you did not??

You can’t leave me alone with Alex, Pez.

Pez

don’t be such a baby. live a little, Henry!

enjoy your alone time with mr handsome over there

gtg love you x

Henry wants to scream.

Before he can text a set of profanities to his best friend, the door opens, and fuck.

Look. The thing about a lot of arseholes is the fact that a lot of them tend to be some sort of attractive, despite their attitude. The thing with Alexander Claremont-Diaz is that he’s, unfortunately for Henry’s gay arse, extremely attractive. Like, Greek god-like attractive. Athletic build attractive. Tanned skin and washboard abs attractive.

It’s the kind of attractive that only comes from a mix of Mexican and American blood. If Henry had a type, it would regrettably be the demon’s spawn in front of him who happens to have the face and body crafted by God herself.

“Well, this is a surprise.” Alex is smug as he leans against his doorframe, eyeing Henry up and down. “You finally came.”

Henry’s face burns. He hates the way Alex just… looks at him. He hates everything about the man in front of him, even when he looks like that, curls all perfect and smile so— so distracting. Like, what the fuck?

At the lack of a reply, Alex adds, “I thought you were too uptight to come to one of my parties, your highness.”

“Stop calling me that. Seriously, just because I’m British?”

“Wow, okay. Good to know the attitude’s still the same.” Alex rolls his eyes, stepping back to make space for him to enter. “Hello to you too, Henry.”

Henry rolls his eyes as well before entering the apartment, about to take his shoes off when Alex gestures for him to come in anyway. Stepping further into the apartment, Henry takes in the interior, genuinely intrigued by what he sees. Not that he thought Alex would actually have bad taste, but he managed to make his apartment look so comfy that it catches Henry by surprise. Unlit candles by different parts of the living room, lighting that isn’t too harsh, and soft music playing from the speakers by his television set.

Alex notices him observing the latter, and Henry jumps a bit when the curly haired man hands him his phone. “Pick the next song, or whatever. Don’t make it boring.”

Henry scoffs. “You’re actually insinuating that your music taste is better?”

“Because it’s true. Go crazy.”

Alex leaves Henry alone in favor of busying himself in the kitchen. Henry can’t help but be annoyed at his lack of hospitality, but it’s not as if he’s been the kindest of guests upon arrival either. Nevertheless, it’s not like what Alex does really matters to Henry. He hates him, and nothing he does surprises Henry anymore.

Henry decides to do as told, busying himself with scrolling through Alex’s Spotify account. He snorts at some of the playlist titles, two notable ones being ADHD brain things and for the gains— because of course Alex has a workout playlist. Literally nothing can surprise Henry at this point.

Except the fact that he spoke too soon, stumbling on a playlist with a familiar title. That familiar title being Henry's name.

Um.

What the fuck?

Almost immediately, a million thoughts cross through Henry’s mind. Is this named after me? What does this mean? What songs has he added in?

Before he could do anything to answer his last thought, Alex emerges from the kitchen, drinks in hand. Henry panics, picks a random song from a different playlist of Alex’s, and presses down on the power button to avoid any suspicion.

The beginning notes of edamame by bbno$ and Rich Brian start playing, and Alex tilts his head, impressed by the song choice. “Wow. Good job, Fox. You actually picked a decent song. Balls hanging low—”

Henry doesn’t register what else Alex says after that because his ears are ringing and Alex has given Henry a drink in exchange for his phone back. A million questions still swarm his mind, and he hates that Alex remains as oblivious as ever, vibing to the music as if he doesn’t have a fucking playlist named after Henry, as in, his worst enemy Henry.

“Drink up! There’s no alcohol in that yet, promise. Maybe a little in mine, though.” Alex grins. Henry hates the weird feeling he gets in his stomach. “Let’s wait for the rest.”

Henry tries to ignore the way his ears are heating up. “Who else is coming?”

Alex doesn’t notice. “Just Nora, June, and Pez. As usual.”

"No one else?"

“I mean, yeah? It’s usually just the four of us on Friday nights. Saturdays are a little different for me, though.” Alex winks, and Henry wants to either run away or kick this man in his balls. Anything to make him stop doing… that. He doesn’t want to know how Alex keeps his weekend busy.

“Anyway,” Alex sips his drink before continuing, “It’s usually just the four of us, so I thought, you know, that—”

Alex is cut off by the ringing of the doorbell. Henry steps forward, wanting the man to continue what he was saying, but Alex’s strides are so fast that he’s by the entrance of the apartment before Henry could even process it. And just like that, Henry is left with a multitude of questions once more, brain struggling to catch up with him as their friends pile into the apartment with snacks and drinks.

June is the first to greet Henry, a hug around his wide frame as if she hasn’t seen him in forever. It may as well have been, since Henry doesn’t see her too often unless they run into each other in the hallways of the building. “Henry!” she squeals, cheery. “How have you been? I hope my brother hasn’t been too annoying as your neighbor. Though I highly doubt that.”

Nora follows with a hug of her own after June releases her embrace, but not without letting go of her hand intertwined with Nora’s. Henry puts that thought aside for now. “Yeah, I can’t imagine what you must’ve been going through, knowing the walls aren’t that thick. You probably use earplugs to block out his weekend escapades.”

“Okay, fuck off, Nora!” Alex says, at the same time June says, “Ew, TMI!”

Henry can only stare, because if he’s being honest with himself, he hasn’t heard much of these so-called escapades. Not that he wants to.

The walls can’t be that thin, right?

Henry finds himself blushing at the thought. Why should he care? What Alex does is none of his business entirely.

And yet. Yet.

“Don’t worry, there’s nothing my dear Henry here can't take. Isn’t that right, babes?”

Henry ignores Pez, mind still clouded by Alex’s unfinished statement, and of course, the fucking playlist. If his best friend rolls his eyes, he pays him no notice. He instead moves to help the women bring in the snacks they bought, June making an offhand comment about Henry being more gentlemanly than Alex will ever be. 

Eventually, the group form a rhythm familiar to them, and Henry adjusts accordingly. Nora and Alex are in charge of making the drinks, while Pez and June take their time arranging the snacks to look as good as they taste. Henry goes back and forth between the groups, helping as much as he can, though he can only contribute in aesthetics as his skillset doesn't necessarily include cooking and or bartending. When the time comes that the preparation is complete, the five make their way back to the living room with the mojitos — feature a touch of too much rum — in hand and Nora declares herself game master before they even take their seats. She pulls out a box from her bag, the game appropriately titled These Cards Will Get You Drunk.

“Ooh, I love this one!” Pez says, excited.

Henry tilts his head, confused, so Nora explains as she takes out the cards. “So for Henry’s sake, let me explain. We each take turns taking a card, going clockwise. You have, and I repeat, have to show your card to everyone — I’m looking at you, Alejandro — and do as the card says. It’s usually dares, or little challenges. If you choose not to do what the card says, you drink. Understood?”

“Understood.” Henry nods, raising his drink up. “Who starts?”

“You, my dear, since you’re our initiate.” Nora’s grin is wild. “Then we go clockwise. So you’re up first, then Pez, then me, then June, then Alex. Sounds good?”

Everyone nods in approval. Henry takes a breath before taking the card and placing it face up, as per instruction. He reads it aloud, “Pick someone and guess the colour of their underwear. If you guess correctly, they drink, otherwise you drink.” Henry laughs. “What?”

“Oh come on, that one’s too easy!” Alex complains, earning a shush from June.

“Um, I guess I’ll go with Pez. I’m about fifty percent sure that yours are white, mate.”

“You menace. You know I only own grey and white ones!”

June butts in, “Didn’t you say last time that you owned pink underwear?”

“We don’t talk about that, June!”

The group laughs, Pez drinks, and then it moves on to him taking a card. It reads, misery loves company! Keep this card. You can use this card once to force someone to drink with you. Pez lets out a loud cheer while the rest groan, and Henry is left confused.

“What, what does that mean?”

“It’s basically a skip card.” June explains, “So if there’s something he wants to skip later, he can use that card.”

“And he doesn’t have to drink now?”

“Nope. So it’s my turn.” Nora reaches across to take a card, and she places it on the growing stack. “ Everyone who is shorter than you drinks. Oh, fuck this!”

“No one’s shorter than you, ha,” Alex teases, an evil smile on his lips. “Drink up, Nora!”

“It doesn’t say that on the card, though!”

“All in favor of Nora drinking?” Everyone but Nora raises their hands. Alex smirks. “Drink. Up.”

“I’m going to kill you someday, CD.” Nora takes a long sip from her drink, not phased by the alcohol knowing that it’s not the hardest she’s drank. “Next!”

June picks up a card. “Name the last person you kissed or drink. Um.”

“I don’t need to know this,” Alex says, shaking his head, and Henry tries not to get distracted by the bounce of his curls.

“Yeah, I’m just gonna—”

Pez boos. Nora laughs and nudges June with her shoulder. “You can tell them.”

“Fine. It was Nora.” Pez’s eyes widen at June’s confession, and Henry wants to elbow him. He doesn’t.

“Well then,” Pez nods, ignoring Henry’s eyes. “Shall we continue?”

“First of all, ew. Second,” Alex picks up a card, reading it quickly and chuckling. Nora swats him in the arm.

“Put it down!”

“Calm your tits, holy shit.”

“Don’t fucking tell my breasts what to do."

Alex rolls his eyes before doing as told, albeit slowly. "Starting with you, take turns naming a color. Continue until someone hesitates or repeats a color. That person drinks. Easy. Red, go."

Everyone looks to Henry. He struggles to answer, "Uh, blue."

Alex's reply comes instantly. "You hesitated."

"I wasn't ready. I'm new to this game, if you've forgotten."

"That's what hesitating means."

"No, it is not."

"Then what does it mean, your majesty?"

"To hesitate is to pause before saying or doing something. I wasn't ready, due to the fact I haven't actually played this game before." 

"But you paused, didn't you? I don't think I need any further—"

"You two are actually impossible. Both of you, drink. Now." June leaves no room for arguments, even as Alex opens his mouth to say something in retaliation. She shuts him down immediately. "I said, now."

With a roll of his eyes, Alex downs half of his drink, Henry doing the same only moments after. He scrunches his face at the taste of the rum before shaking it off and pulling a card. You drink, it says.

"Christ," Henry mutters before finishing his drink. He clears his throat as the alcohol goes down his throat. “That’s hardly fair.”

“Nothing’s fair in life, baby,” Alex comments, shrugging and finishing off his drink before rambling on about something else. Henry doesn’t know what about, because his ears start to ring after the word baby.

He shakes himself out of it when Pez says, loud and clear, “The person with the least Instagram followers drinks.”

Henry groans, and June tops off his glass for him to drink.

The game goes on, the mojitos replaced by vodka shots as the pitcher drains. Call/text an ex or drink. Nora texts a girl she dated over the summer, and shuts her phone down accordingly. Everyone votes on who is the most likely to get arrested. Alex takes a shot, cursing out everyone. All guys drink. Alex and Henry take shots, with Pez using his skip card. All girls drink. June berates Nora for not shuffling the cards properly, then takes a shot with her, their arms locked. Everyone votes who the biggest slut is. An argument breaks out in the group, and they all end up drinking and laughing their asses off. Eventually, the order goes counterclockwise.

“Alright, gaydies and gentlegays,” Pez raises his shot and his card. “Everyone votes on who is the biggest alcoholic. That person drinks and also picks another person to drink. Right now, it’s our ever-beloved Nora Holleran. Do I hear any objections?”

“Nope!” Everyone and Nora herself agrees, before she turns to June, smiling drunkenly and taking her hand. “You have to drink with me, Ju.”

The ladies drink, and Henry can’t ignore it any longer. If hanging out with this group has taught him anything, it's that June and Nora can’t get their hands off each other. Though he knows his best friend is interested in the two, both may just be off the market at this point.

Henry takes a card, reading, “Everyone who is single drinks.”

All the men drink. Nora and June don’t, awkwardly thumbing their glasses. Aha.

“Um, Nora? Bug?” Alex takes the bottle to refill his shot, eyes furrowed at the women.

“I’m too drunk to lie.” Nora shrugs. “June and I have this… thing going on. You can’t be weird about it.”

"What?" Alex asks, but he backtracks, lowering his tone. “I’m not— Since when?”

“A few weeks. Not exclusive, we’re thinking of bringing in a third. It’s nothing.”

Henry’s eyes widen at this, but he tries his hardest not to look at Pez. The man must be listening intently.

Alex, on the other hand, is slightly perplexed. “And neither of you thought about telling me anything?”

“Alex, it’s not a big deal. We didn’t want to tell anyone until we were ready, but here we are.” June frowns. “You’re not upset, are you?”

“No. No, I’m not, it’s just— weird. That’s all.”

Alex sighs. He takes a shot. Henry watches him shake his head, eyes distant. A tell.

It’s quickly gone as Alex’s cocky demeanor returns. “My turn, right?”

Henry nods. He almost wishes the conversation continued, just to see a real side of Alex. “Yeah.”

The game continues, and they move on to another topic. Henry notices, though, the weird way Alex holds himself up now, as if the news actually shook him. Nothing shakes Alexander Claremont-Diaz— that, Henry knows. It makes him wonder what kind of history he had with Nora, and that thought alone makes his stomach turn. 

Why should I care? Henry asks himself. I don’t care.

“Name the last person you have hooked up with or drink. His name was George, or something.”

Henry’s head turns to look at Alex so quickly, he almost breaks his neck. Just as quickly, he turns away, feeling his cheeks heat up. I don’t care.

“Now we’re even. I never knew of this George, Alex," Nora teases, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Blonde guy I met at a club last week. He didn’t last very long, but his accent was nice.” Alex snorts.

Henry’s face burns.

I. Don't. Care. 

“Way to go, Alejandro. What’s with you and guys with accents, hm?”

Abruptly, Henry stands.

Everyone turns to look at him.

“I need to use the restroom. Excuse me.”

When Henry closes the door shut, he lets out a long exhale. The night has been nothing short from weird, and he can’t think straight. Maybe it's all the alcohol, but his mind is fogged in a way that doesn’t feel right. At all. Maybe it’s time to call it a night.

After splashing his face with water a few times, he makes his way back to the living room, taking a seat and pretending nothing happened. The rest don’t seem to notice anyway, only urging Henry to take a card. He hesitates, but the deck is almost finished anyway, and he has a few skip cards in hand.

Name a person from the group playing that you would hook up with or drink, the card reads, and he frowns. He’s about to use his skip card — or take a shot, he hasn't decided — when Nora speaks up, the alcohol causing her to have no filter.

“You’re drinking to that? You only have two options, and I don’t think you’d be interested in hooking up with your best friend. Your only option is Alex.”

“Ever the analyst. The card is asking who I would hook up with, and I’m not interested in shagging Alex, thanks.”

“Wow, okay.” Alex grunts, and even Henry is surprised by his attitude. He knows Alex is already upset, but that offends him so much? “Good to know I’m too repulsive for his royal highness.”

Henry frowns. “It’s not personal.”

“I didn’t say it was.”

“You’re acting like it is.”

“It really isn’t.” And he goes off and picks the next card, “Say the kinkiest thing you've done or drink. Gladly. George wanted me blindfolded while he rode my cock, and that’s why he didn’t last very long, because I’m actually fucking great at sex, for all your information. Next.”

Henry is left gaping at him while the rest burst out in a mess of actions— June covering her ears and eyes, Nora screaming out god knows what, and Pez cheering him on.

Henry can only stare, because Alex isn’t looking at him, face still tight and eyes locked on his drink, furrowed.

But he doesn't care, right?

The game eventually slows to a stop, with Pez using up his skip cards and hardly drinking a thing while the rest get further and further sloshed. Where Pez is only slightly buzzed, Alex and Henry are tipsy while the ladies are absolutely gone. Despite this, they make quick work of cleaning up the mess, realizing how late into the night it is already.

Pez offers to bring June and Nora home, and Alex makes him promise to take care of them, drive home safely, and update him once they’re in their respective apartments. He swears to do so, silently giving his word to Henry that he won’t lay as much as a finger on the two when they are far from sober. Not that Henry would ever believe that he’d do otherwise.

They say their goodbyes and Alex leads them to the exit, while Henry cleans up the rest of what’s left. In his efforts, he spots Alex’s phone once again, and even his tipsy self has half the mind to remember what he had found earlier in the night. With shaky hands he navigates his way back to the playlist and scans its Spotify code with his own phone, swiping the application away just as Alex reenters the kitchen. He immediately makes himself busy with the trash, even if he’s probably not going to make all the empty bottles fit in anyway.

“You can leave it,” Alex mutters, taking a rag from beside Henry and wiping the counters down. He’s still upset, Henry can tell, and he really wishes he doesn’t care, but he hates the fact that Alex finds more and more reasons to hate him, pulling it all out of his arse when all Henry wanted to begin with was nothing but to befriend a neighbor.

Henry moves to leave, but Alex stops him. “I don’t hate you, you know.”

Oh, he's being confronted. “Why do I highly doubt that?”

“I don't get why you get so defensive. Why you find me so repulsive.” That word again. Henry’s lips twitch. “Why do you hate me so much? Ever since you moved in, you’ve been nothing but a dick to me.”

What?

“No, you were a prick first.”

“No, you were.”

And then suddenly, it all makes sense. Suddenly, Henry realizes, “You don't remember what happened when I moved in.”

Alex makes a face. “No?”

“I was bringing my things in and you closed the elevator door on me on purpose. Told me to fuck off.” Henry scowls. “Wasn’t exactly the best welcome here.”

All that’s painted on Alex's face is confusion. “What? I don’t remember seeing you, or doing that ever, I—”

The way Alex’s face breaks should be studied. It happens so fast that Henry takes a step back, not wanting anything to do with the way he’s upset.

“I was…” Alex sighs, and the confession comes in almost a whisper. “I do remember that. I was on the phone, my ex was calling, asking if I wanted to get back together with her. She had cheated on me just a month prior, which led to a really messy breakup. Then she had the audacity to want me back. Ha.”

It’s the most unsatisfying answer to their year-long dispute, and Henry can’t help but mourn the time wasted hating this man when it all had been just a petty misunderstanding.

“So yeah. That's that. I told her to fuck off, not you,” Alex finishes, frowning.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘Oh,’” he mocks, throwing the rag elsewhere.

Henry is so embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I—”

“It’s whatever. It was over a year ago anyway.” Alex shrugs. “Alright, what else?”

“Huh? Oh, um…”

“No way. There’s no way that’s it.”

“Look, just because it was only one thing—”

“Oh my god, Henry. What the fuck?” 

“It was a big deal to me, Alex!” Henry steps forward, frustration clear in his own voice. “I was new and I didn’t get the best welcome from someone who happens to live right across from me. Forgive me for not being the least bit thrilled about that.”

Alex sighs, pouting. Henry can see the million thoughts going through his mind before he settles on one, exhaling. “Fine. Let’s start over.”

He extends his hand.

“I’m Alex. Alex Claremont-Diaz.”

Henry rolls his eyes. “Don’t be silly Alex, I—”

“Do it.”

Blue eyes never leave brown ones. He takes his hand and shakes it. “I’m Henry. Henry George Edward James Fox.”

Alex sputters. “Are you shitting me?”

“Not at all. My mother picked out my first, my last name is my father's, and my grandfather picked out the other three.”

“Sounds like a grand man.”

“Don’t even get me started.”

For the first time after what feels like forever, Alex cracks a smile at Henry’s words. He finds himself smiling too, amused, before he shakes his head. “Anyway. What were you saying earlier?”

“What do you mean?”

“Before the others arrived. You said it's usually just you four."

“Oh, right. I just asked Pez to invite you. If you were free and all.”

Henry finds himself flushing at the admission. “You asked?”

“Yeah. I’m surprised you came, actually.”

Henry panics. “Well, he asked me to wingman, so.”

“Oh.” Alex frowns. Henry mourns the loss of his smile. “That's why you came?”

“I owed him.” Henry feels sweat dripping down his forehead. “I really enjoyed being here, though.”

“Well,” Tan shoulders shrug, "I do this every other Friday so feel free to… wingman every now and then, I guess.”

“No promises.”

They eventually part ways, Henry making his way back to his apartment and stumbling inside. He’s not too wasted, but he still feels the effects of the alcohol in his system. He decides, for once, to skip his nightly routine in favour of getting rest, knowing his morning self is going to kill him for it.

He opens his phone up to set an alarm for the morning, but he’s instead faced with the playlist. Right.

He presses play on the first song, letting the starting notes fill the silence of his room.

It’s a short playlist — only 16 songs — but Henry finds himself not sleeping a wink as he listens to it all, repeating a few songs to absorb the lyrics better. I wish, the caption of the playlist reads, and what the fuck is that supposed to mean? What the fuck do these songs mean? Does he like me? Does he hate me?

Do I like him?

His heart is restless as it beats against his chest, unrelenting. Fuck these mixed signals. He’s hated Alex for so long that thinking about him in any other way makes his heart ache.

And yet.

And fucking yet.

He doesn't sleep well that night, and the playlist is on repeat as he drifts in and out of his slumber.

Sunday is a blur because Henry doesn't leave his apartment.

He only leaves when Monday comes, groggy due to the lack of sleep, and he doesn’t even register Alex waving at him by his own car in the parking lot.

He can’t bear to look at him, so Henry decides to ignore Alex and gets straight into his car, pulling out quickly. He resists the urge to play the playlist — it’s been on fucking repeat for the past two nights — and plays a random one instead as he drives. He’s already as late as it is, and his family thinks the same the moment he enters their meeting.

“You’re late,” His grandfather, CEO of Hanover-Stuart Enterprises, says in lieu of a greeting, right in front of his coworkers. Henry isn’t even phased when he sees Philip beside him the at the head of the table, rolling his eyes at Henry’s tardiness.

“I apologize, sir. Please, continue,”

“As I was saying…”

Henry tunes out the man as he takes a seat beside his sister. Bea gestures to the papers in front of him and whispers, “Stock talk. He’s thinking of pulling back a few and investing in new companies. Thank me later.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” he whispers back, sighing as he starts going through his own work.

It’s a boring day at work as usual. It’s a shit ton of reading, of listening to whatever crap comes out of his brother’s mouth, and a whole lot of nothing processing in his head when all he wants is to dive back into the playlist and get lost in the lyrics. He wants to listen to music, to write… Anything but this.

When he gets back home, he’s so tired. All Henry wants to do is shower and head to bed, maybe give the playlist one more listen. So the songs are good. So what? It doesn’t mean anything. It doesn't have to mean anything.

He gets in the shower. He turns the valve. Nothing happens.

To his horror, his water isn't running, and Henry has this stark realization that he’s going to have to go to work tomorrow disheveled until he can get his pipes fixed, and he can’t have that. His life is already messy enough, and he won’t hear the end of it from Philip once he steps into the office with a single strand of hair out of place.

He needs to shower. Henry thinks he'll go crazy if he doesn’t, and against his better judgement he finds himself at Alex’s door, a hand clutched tight on his bathrobe as he rings the doorbell. Everything is fine. He’ll just ask for some water to freshen up with, then maybe head over to Pez or Bea’s early morning to shower properly. It’s fine.

Except everything is certainly not fine, not when Alex opens the door after having freshly showered himself. Oh, and he has nothing but a towel on.

Henry feels all the blood in his face rush elsewhere. “I, um. I just wanted to—”

Alex raises an eyebrow.

Water drips down along his abs.

Henry wants to die.

“My water stopped running. I just wanted to brush my teeth.”

Alex scoffs. “Don’t be ridiculous. Feel free to use my shower.”

“I couldn't impose…”

“I couldn't impose,” Alex mocks, running a hand through his damp locks. His biceps bulge. So does something under Henry’s bathrobe. “You’re tired, I’m tired, and we both shower in the evening. I’ve showered. You can use it.”

Fucking law students. Henry mumbles a small thanks before grabbing his toiletries and speed walking towards the bathroom he remembers using only days before, and he proceeds to take the quickest shower of his life. He can’t give a fuck about how fast he rubs the shampoo into his hair, not when his very obvious and very hard erection distracts him all the way through. He even turns the heat off and the cool water isn’t enough, isn’t doing anything for that matter. He tries to ignore it when he soaps himself down, but it’s painful, and he wants to leave as soon as possible.

When he finally exits the shower, he ignores the disappointment he feels when he sees Alex dressed, instead making a beeline for the exit. Before Alex could even open his mouth, Henry speaks his gratitude once more and shuts the door behind him.

It all comes crashing down when he reaches his room. He abandons his bathrobe and looks at himself, just looks, at how hard and aching he is. After everything, Henry’s still a man, and a very gay one at that. It doesn’t have to mean anything.

So he strokes himself, just once, and his body shakes. His knees buckle from the first touch alone, so he takes a seat on his bed and lets himself continue. He lets out a loud fuck at an upturn stroke, and he blindly reaches for the lubricant in his nightstand as he starts to get rough and desperate.

He’s not thinking about wet tan skin, wet curly hair, and wet muscles as he fucks his fist. He’s not thinking about those muscles flexing, those muscles around his neck maybe, those muscles holding him down…

“God, Christ,” Henry picks up the pace, losing himself in the slide of his palm. He’s not wishing it was someone else’s hand, a possibly even stronger hand, and his body shakes at the sensitivity of touching his dripping tip. He’s so close, he can taste it.

With his free hand, he reaches behind himself just to tease, but it seems to be enough for his body. He comes as his fingers prod at his hole, and he doesn’t wish it was someone else’s fingers. He doesn’t.

And yet.

And fucking yet, he thinks, as he collapses on his bed, I might be attracted to Alex.

Pretending is always easier. Letting a few days pass by and pretending everything is fine is easier. Walking to the elevator, car keys in hand, is easier than reliving the events of the week’s nights— getting very acquainted with his hand. However, it isn’t easy to avoid the man he’s trying to pretend doesn't exist when said man yells at him to hold the elevator, and still, he pretends not to see or hear him, hoping the doors close fast enough without his prompting. Please, please, please, he internally begs, but Alex, what with his long legs, is fast enough. He reaches the elevator on time and stops the closing doors with his arm, much to Henry’s dismay.

"Trying to get back at me? Wow, Henry. Thought you were better than that."

Henry steps to the right as Alex enters the lift. He adjusts his collar before replying, "Well, you don't know me well enough, then.”

"I would like to." 

And, oh. What the fuck.

Henry’s face is blank as he stares at Alex, nothing but disbelief in his system. He can’t be serious, right? But all Henry sees is his usual cocky smirk, and he thinks he’s just about done with all the mixed signals for now.

The elevator suddenly dings as it reaches the parking lot, and Henry is out so fast that Alex can’t even get a word in before the blonde enters his car, starts it up, and drives far, far away from the brunette who’s been ruining his dreams.

When he arrives at the company building, Shaan meets him by the entrance of his office, coffee and his itinerary for the day in hand.

“Thank you, Shaan. Good morning.” Henry takes the coffee, but hesitates on the folder, adding, “Actually, is my sister available to chat with me for a short while?”

Shaan nods. “Miss Beatrice has a meeting at 9, sir, so I believe she’s available in her office at the moment.”

“Thank you. Let me know if you need me, I’ll be right back.”

Henry meets Bea in her office, and he sighs with his back against the door. She makes a face as he greets her, exasperation clear on his face. 

“I would ask how my baby brother is doing, but it seems that I quite have the answer already.”

“I think I like someone.”

“Well, good morning indeed.” Her smile is teasing as she gestures for him to take a seat. “I figured, since you didn’t even notice my hair the other day.”

It’s only then that Henry realizes that his once blonde sister has now gone for a full redhead look, and it all makes sense now, why Philip and his grandfather were in such a pissy mood. A late Henry and a rebellious Bea. As if a change of hair color really says much, right.

“It’s red,” he says. “You look beautiful, Bea.”

“Thank you.”

“But back to what I was saying,” Henry ignores the way she rolls her eyes, “We've been neighbors for quite a while now, at least, ever since I moved out of the estate. And, well, we weren’t the most friendly with each other when we were getting acquainted, and maybe I've always thought he's quite attractive, but,” Bea wiggles her eyebrows, but he continues, “He has this playlist, and it's named after me.”

She pauses. “Are you sure that it’s named after you?”

“Well, its cover is a vinyl similar to what I own, so I'm quite sure.”

“He’s been in your apartment?”

“Once, to drop Pez off from one of their Friday night get-togethers. He hosts it every other week, and Pez was so kind to invite himself over, and eventually urged me to join too. Hence, the revelation.”

“Aww.”

“And I've been playing it for a few days. It’s gotten to the point that I listen to it just to go to sleep.”

“Henry,” Bea smiles, “I think you have a crush.”

“That's the thing, though, Bea. I've recently come to the conclusion that I’ve always found him attractive, but I just— I'm just very confused. I can’t wrap my head around it.”

“What’s so confusing about having a crush?”

“It’s not that. It’s the playlist. The way he’s so— so mean to me sometimes. The way I thought he was straight, too.”

“And you’re quite sure he isn’t?”

“If the playlist isn’t already a possible indication, he’s talked about this guy he’s hooked up with.” Henry blushes. “Very explicitly, might I add.”

“And you’re coming to your aroace sister to share these details, because..?”

“Bea.” 

“I’m kidding, come off it.” She takes Henry’s hands into hers, smile soft. “You know what I think? I think… you should stop running away.”

He sputters, “H-how do you—”

“It's what you always do. The moment you think someone likes you back and it's not quite casual, you run. It’s almost like you’re afraid of the outcome.” She soothes him with her fingers, tracing his skin, soft and light. “You shouldn’t be afraid, Hen. Let things happen and see where they take you. The world won't end if nothing happens in the end, but I’m quite positive that there is something here. Who knows, you might be introducing him to me soon.”

“I highly doubt it.” Henry sighs. “I’ll see what happens.”

“Don’t be afraid,” she repeats, “because there’s nothing wrong if things shift a little, okay, Hen?”

“Okay, Bea.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

She stands. “Now leave before Philip finds us and berates us for not being as work-obsessed as he is.”

When Henry arrives home, he lets himself process it all.

Okay, fine. Maybe he does have a little crush on his neighbor, and that it’s just a harmless attraction. Maybe, maybe Alex feels the same too, even if they’ve only just started moving past their history of squabbles. Come to think of it, their arguments were all but actually fruitful, as they usually revolve around petty things like their outfits to their heights, and sometimes even about the takeout they see the other order. It’s all so insignificant that Henry can’t even begin to fathom why they were both so adamant not to talk it out sooner.

And, alright. Maybe he really is more attractive than he lets himself take credit for. And, he’s actually quite smarter than he looks. He’s a law student — or rather, graduate — after all, already busy studying for the bar without an eyebag in sight. It says a lot about his work ethic and how much he enjoys what he does.

And, okay, maybe Henry really, really likes the way the curls of his hair frame his face. Maybe he really likes when those curls bounce when he laughs, and when his long, long fingers run across them in an attempt to calm the beautiful chaos that is his model-worthy locks of hair.

Henry wonders what those curls must feel, if they’re softer than they look. How they would feel if he tugged on them, hard, while pretty lips wrapped around his—

He lets out a loud moan at the thought, but he bites his lips and tries to ground himself on his bed only to find a pillow underneath himself, unsuccessful as he begins to feel his cock stir at the stimulation against the soft cushion.

Fuck it, he thinks, and then he spirals.

He rolls his hips against the pillow, really only experimentally, but the reaction that bubbles up in his chest is instantaneous enough that it drives him in a frenzy. He rids himself of his trousers and underwear so fast that he almost trips over them before returning back to settle himself down on his bed comfortably, pillow between his thighs and a mission in mind. Let go.

He lets himself think of how Alex’s throat would feel, if his lips would feel as soft as they looked, wrapped around his cock and taking him so, so well. He thinks, just for a moment, of sliding down his throat, how warm and tight he must feel. The vision appeals to him very effectively, apparently, as he rolls his hips against the pillow and lets his cock feel the drag of the cushion, both soft and rough and doing wonders for his pleasure.

He thinks, as he discards the rest of his clothing, how Alex's skin must feel against him like this, hot-bodied and sweaty and so fucking hot with that cocky smirk of his, because his confidence would tell him that he’d most likely be good at bed with Henry and he’d be absolutely right.

“Fuck,” Henry moans as he thinks about the visual Alex provided them so willingly, blindfolded while he pounds into a blonde with his cock, and he want so badly to be in that place, to be the one riding Alex’s dick like his life depended on it.

In the spur of the moment and with his chest heaving, Henry stumbles towards his dresser and takes out his very generously sized silicone toy and the lube beside it, not being liberal with the amount of liquid he’s using. He knows he can take it, if all the angry fingering he’s done to himself all week is any indication.

“Alex,” he finds himself begging, when he teases the tip of the dildo along his begging hole. He doesn’t stop rutting against the pillow, soiling it with his precum that is nothing short of obscene at this point.

“Please, please,” he whispers, pressing the tip inside just to breach his hole a bit. Maybe he really should’ve stretched, but he’s so fucking desperate that he feels like he might come if he takes too much of his time.

And in his mind, it’s Alex’s dick behind him, and that’s enough fuel for him to push it in.

The gasp he lets out is pornographic. Seriously, Henry thinks he’s only ever heard a moan like that in porn, and it’s ridiculous to think that a sound like that can actually come from the confines of his mouth. It’s well behind him now, really, as he pushes the toy as far as he can take before it gets any more uncomfortable than it should be, and he rolls and rolls his hips against his pillow like a goddamn slut.

“Oh, god, Alex,” he cries out, starting to fuck himself with the dildo that he almost whites out. “Fuck me, fuck me,”

His hand almost cramps at his efforts, and so Henry readjusts himself so the dildo is suctioned to his headboard, and he gets on his knees and fucks himself onto the toy. Henry’s eyes roll back instantly, and he ruts his cock against the pillow like he’s fucking into it too.

He thinks of the playlist, and he fumbles to press play on his phone, promptly letting out the most salacious moan at the Lil Nas X song that comes on.

Back and forth, back and forth, Henry slowly feels himself losing his mind as the heat pools in the depths of his belly. He wishes, so badly, that it’s Alex fucking into him so roughly, that it’s Alex wrapping his hand around Henry’s cock to jerk him off to completion, and that it’s Alex that he comes for, his name the last word on his lips as he reaches his peak.

His phone lets out a loud ding! in front of Henry, and he barely makes out the text from Pez, his mind filled with a haze of lust.

Pez

same time tomorrow?

To be quite honest, Henry doesn’t know why Alex is holding another gathering so soon, but he doesn’t question it. Pez has mentioned that sometimes it happens every other Friday and other times, it’s when everyone is free. It seems that everyone is free this time, then, and though Henry dreads actually facing the handsome arsehole at such an untimely period of his life, he knows he has bite the bullet soon, anyway.

When Alex opens the door, Henry almost knows what to expect. He expects that cocky fucking smile that gets him week in the knees, tousled hair that he so badly wants to run his hands through, just so he can finally know what its like, and a biting remark waiting at the tip of his tongue—

But Alex only greets him, emotion lacking, and steps aside to let Henry in. It catches him by surprise, but Alex isn’t looking at him as he steps inside, only mumbling make yourself at home before closing the door.

Henry wants to reach out, to ask him what’s wrong, why he's so upset, but he knows very well that they aren’t at that point of… whatever they are. Enemies, friends.

His phone buzzes before he can make any sort of move.

Pez

you’re going to hate me for this

but I can't make it tonight

last minute change of plans with June and Nora ;)

Henry

You have to be kidding, Pez.

You're just going to leave me here?

Pez

yes.

good luck sorting things out babes

hope the sex is HOT

Henry

I hate you.

Pez

you love me x

Henry groans. He must've done it loud enough for Alex to notice, since he says, "Yeah, Nora and June just texted me too. So much for being free."

Henry sighs. He doesn't want to feel any more awkward than he already does, so he starts moving towards the exit, saying, "I'm just going to leave—" 

But Alex cuts him off. "No, Henry. Why do you keep ignoring me?"

He's almost unphased by his question, but it still catches him by surprise. “I—”

“I thought that we were okay, that things were just a misunderstanding. Now you're avoiding me, purposely not holding the elevator door for me, which, I guess I deserve, and then you— You—”

“What, Alex?” Henry challenges, confidence returning. If Alex wants to finally tell him something, he wants to hear it loud and clear. “I what?”

“Nevermind. It doesn’t matter.” Alex sighs, turning away. “You can go.”

“No, Alex. Tell me.”

“It’s— It’s whatever, Henry, don’t—” Alex groans. He runs a hand through his hair, and where Henry would’ve found it alluring, it’s anything but at the moment. “If you really want to, then leave.”

Oh my god.

Henry’s just about had it with Alex’s incessant mood swings. He’s done with the mixed signals, and is especially done with Alex starting things he can’t finish.

With quick strides, Henry makes his way towards Alex, takes his phone from his hands which earns him a vexed “Hey! What the fuck?” in retaliation, but Henry pays him no attention, opening up the unlocked phone, scrolling until he finds the playlist, which doesn’t take long seeing that it’s been recently played, even.

All the color drains from Alex’s face when he sees what Henry’s opened up. “That’s— that's nothing. That’s just, that’s—”

Henry almost finds his nervousness endearing. “It's clearly not nothing. What is the meaning of this, Alex?”

And for once, Alex is rendered speechless by Henry’s words. Who would’ve thought that it was possible for Alex Claremont-Diaz to shut up?

So Henry continues, “Because I’ve been listening to it every night for the past week and I just don’t get it.” Henry frowns, looking directly at Alex who almost refuses to meet his eyes. “Do you hate me? Like me? Which is it, Alex?”

This time, Alex does meet his eyes, brown ones boring into blue, but his mouth remains sealed. Henry tries to search for an answer in his gaze, anything, but he comes up short. Nothing on Alex’s face gives anything away about what he really wants to tell Henry.

It’s more than enough of an answer. He presses the phone back on Alex’s hands and turns to leave, trying so hard to hide his disappointment as he walks towards the door of the apartment, Alex not attempting to stop him this time.

But as always, Alex is a man of many surprises. It all happens so fast, with Alex taking Henry’s wrist and pinning him to the door, chest heaving as if he’d just ran a mile to catch up to Henry. This time, his facial expression says everything.

And, oh shit, this is hot, Henry thinks.

Alex’s eyes are wild. They dart around Henry’s face, almost as if he’s studying it all, before they settle on Henry’s lips, and Henry finds himself licking them self-consciously. Alex lets out a shaky exhale at the sight.

Henry manages to breathe out, “Are you going to kiss me?”

“Do you want me to?” Alex whispers, forehead now against Henry’s, nose teasing the other’s.

“Yes,” Henry answers before his brain even catches up to his mouth, “And anything more you’re willing to give,”

Alex leans in, and it’s everything Henry could ever imagine and more.

To say that Alex is a good kisser would be the understatement of the century. He captures Henry’s lips and takes and takes and takes, adjusting as he goes based on Henry’s reactions. His hands trace Henry’s sides, gentle in its movements where his lips are not. He licks into Henry’s mouth, asking for a taste, and Henry gladly lets him take what he wants, tongues meeting with a moan that reverberates along their lips. Henry, once pinned down, now wraps his hands around Alex’s neck, hair, and fuck, everything about Alex is so good for him.

“How long have you known?” Alex asks in between kisses, pressing Henry up against the door. Henry strains at the weight, but groans at the feeling.

“Since the party, when you made me the DJ.”

“I’m such an idiot.” Alex laughs, kisses sweet.

“Yeah,” Henry kisses him, laughing against his lips. “You are.”

At that moment, Alex’s hands start to explore Henry’s body, making their way under his shirt where the heat of his skin causes Henry to gasp as it meets the cool of Henry’s abdomen. Henry thinks he’s just died and gone to heaven, and they’ve barely done anything.

“I keep— I keep listening to the playlist before I sleep,” Henry confesses, willing his brain to think straight as Alex kisses his way along the slope of Henry’s neck. “Sometimes even when I…”

“When you..?” Alex murmurs in a low tone, causing shivers to run Henry’s spine.

“When I get myself off,”

Henry expects Alex’s ego to burst at that, to kiss him again because it feels just too damn good, but he tenses at Henry’s whisper and stops the attention he’s giving to Henry’s neck.

“Didn’t you have someone over last night to help with that?”

What? Is that what he was upset about this whole time? “What? No, Alex.”

“Really, now? Because it sounded like you really were enjoying yourself back there.”

Oh, shit. The walls really are that thin.

Henry’s cheeks are absolutely crimson as he replies, eyes on Alex’s, “That was all me, Alex. I was— I have this toy…”

He watches the realization dawn on Alex’s face, and Henry feels naked as Alex fucking growls, “I should be the one making you feel good, baby.”

And what else could Henry do but moan at that?

He pulls Alex down for another kiss, this time not holding back. He wraps his arms around Alex’s neck, pulling him as close as he possibly can, and Alex’s hands fly everywhere, making themselves known around the curves and dips of Henry’s body. He fucking loves it, and he’s panting as Alex asks, “Can I take you to my bedroom?”

“Please,”

They don’t make it to the bed quick enough for Henry's taste. Their walk to the room is anything less than one would call normal, what with the urgent discarding of their shirts and shoes that leave a trail along their path, up until they struggle to get rid of each other’s belts which leave them breathless and laughing. Alex wants to touch as much of Henry as he can, and Henry lets him.

“Been wanting to fuck you since you moved in,” Alex mutters, leaving long kisses along Henry’s neck as he pins him down on the bed.

“Oh, god,” Henry moans. He wants Alex to mark his neck so badly. He asks instead, “Why’d you make the playlist?”

Alex’s answer comes easy. “Because I get off thinking about you too.”

And holy Jesus fucking Christ, if that isn’t the hottest thing Henry has ever heard, he doesn’t know what is.

His hands are on Henry’s hips once more, teasing the waistband of his garments, but he still manages to ask, “Can I undress you?”

Alex asking for permission is doing everything for Henry. “Yes,” he breathes out, urging Alex to lower his hands.

He takes Henry’s jeans and underwear off more gracefully than Henry expects of him, lips attaching to the skin of Henry’s thigh immediately once the skin is revealed to him. Henry throws his head back into the pillows, Alex’s pillows, as his hot, hot tongue makes its rounds on both of his thighs, ignoring Henry where he needs him most. Despite this, Henry moans at his touches.

“Shit, Henry— I want you so fucking bad.”

“Then fucking have me, Alex.”

And those lips are suddenly around Henry’s cock. Suddenly, it’s not a dream, and Alex is actually sucking Henry off like his life depends on it. Henry lets out his, now signature, obscene moans that he’s only ever let out for events related to Alex, and the man who’s caused that discovery hums happily at Henry’s noises, causing vibrations down Henry’s shaft. Henry’s body shakes.

“Yes, yes,” he moans, hands never leaving Alex’s curls. 

“Say my name,” Alex pulls off to say, eyelashes distracting as he blinks up at Henry.

“Alex,” Henry moans, red in the face.

“Louder,” Alex demands, “It’s only us. Let me hear you loud and clear, baby."

“Alex!” Henry whimpers, ”Please, Christ, please,”

And that cocky smirk Henry loves is back, confidence high as he takes Henry back in his mouth again to taste.

Henry wants him to know everything. “I dreamt of this whilst humping my pillow. Last night, with a dildo in my arse.” Alex growls at Henry’s confession, and he continues, moaning, “I so badly wanted it to be you.”

Alex moans at the admission, stroking Henry with a mix of his precome and spit. “You’re so beautiful like this for me Henry. All worked up, and fucking dripping for me.”

Heat builds up inside Henry, a pressure threatening to release so quickly, so fast. “Alex,”

“Yeah? You like that, baby?”

“Alex, I’m—”

“You can come, baby. Come for me.”

Henry’s body is so in tune with Alex’s voice that he reaches his peak almost immediately, the tight coil at the bottom of his stomach letting loose as he orgasms to the motions of Alex’s rough, rough hands. White stains tan skin as Henry releases his pleasure, showing Alex just how good he made him feel.

When Henry is done, he looks down to see Alex tasting his cum. He might just black out right then and there.

His lips are back on Henry’s almost immediately, as if wanting Henry to taste what he’s caused, what he’s proud of. Henry moans against his tongue, lapping his taste up and chasing after it even when Alex pulls away. like a man gone mad.

“Tell me what you want, Henry,” Alex whispers, rough hands tracing pale hips.

“Want you to fuck me,” Henry manages to breathe out, desperate despite having just come.

“Are you sure, baby?” Alex asks, genuinely worried, and Henry’s heart warms at the sweetness of his words.

“I’m quite sure,” Henry nods, genuine.

“Maybe I should take you out to dinner first?”

And Henry should laugh at that, tell him to get on with it already, but his breath catches in his throat. Something about Alex wanting to get to know him outside of the bedroom, actually asking something beyond sex, makes Henry’s heart jump, and now he knows that his sister is right. He shouldn’t be afraid. Maybe he’s been afraid that, all along, all that’s happened leading up to this moment had been a joke the world’s been playing on him, another false sense of hope that’ll slap him in the face sometime in the future. Maybe, he’s been afraid of what Alex truly felt, that it’d be far from the attraction he feels, that he wouldn’t like him that way, another sick joke from the universe.

And yet, when he looks at Alex, body anxious but eyes patient for Henry’s answer, he knows that he’s in good hands.

“I would love that.”

Alex smiles, and it might just be the most beautiful thing Henry’s ever laid his eyes upon.

“But,” Henry adds, “If you don’t put your prick in me ASAP, I might die.”

And Alex’s eyes fill back with lust, Henry smiling at the sight. “We wouldn’t want that now, would we?”

Henry laughs. “No, we wouldn’t.”

“Do you want me to put on the playlist?”

“You utter knob.”

Alex kisses him with a smile, so gentle and soft that Henry melts into it easily. It feels so easy now, kissing Alex like he’s everything to him, because with time he might just be. Alex is caring in all the ways he doesn’t know— adjusting the pillow so Henry lays more comfortably, setting one below his hips that Henry just knows is going to do wonders for the angles he’s going to hit later, and kissing him like he means it, like he’s been waiting just as long as Henry has for this. Henry’s heart skips a beat when he recalls he’s been waiting even longer.

“Alex,” Henry calls, surprised with the softness of his own voice. Alex pauses after he’s taken his bottoms off and rolled a condom on, halfway towards squeezing lube on his fingers. Henry feels lightheaded at the sight of his cock’s girth.

“Yeah, Henry?”

“I don’t hate you too, you know,” Henry confesses. “I don’t think I ever really did.”

And Alex nods, his smile not quite there, but if the beating of his heart against Henry’s hand is any indication, it’s that he’s going to fall for this man so easily and for once, he’s not afraid to fall.

“You ready?” Alex asks, one lubed finger prodding Henry’s rim. He whines at the gentle touch, needy for more from Alex.

“Yes, please, Alex, just—”

“Shh, baby. I got you.”

He pushes a finger inside, and Henry’s eyes widen at the intrusion. It’s not that he’s shocked at how long Alex’s fingers are, but he keeps pushing and pushing and doesn’t seem to stop, the thickness alone of his single digit making Henry shiver at the thought of another, or possibly two more.

“Is that alright?”

“Yes,” Henry breathes out, eyes screwed shut. “I just need a moment.”

“I can stop.”

“Please don’t,” Henry begs, “Feels so good— ah,”

Alex nods. He caresses Henry’s hip with his free hand, soothing the skin there until Henry nods, ready for him to move. Alex takes this as a sign to start moving his finger, and he fucks into Henry slowly but surely until he’s a moaning mess, begging for a second. He gives him what he wants, and Henry has to grab onto Alex’s arm to ground himself.

“So— So thick,” Henry moans, “Alex, fuck,”

“Yeah?”

“Can— Can add another. Need it,”

Alex groans, “Shit, Henry, you beg so prettily.”

When Alex adds a third and final finger, it feels like almost all the air is knocked out of Henry’s lungs. Alex watches him carefully, moving slowly so as not to hurt him, but Henry urges him on, wanting so badly to feel him deep. Alex catches on, fingering him faster and giving him what he needs. He makes sure not to hit his most sensitive spot, teasing Henry, but when he makes contact with it, Henry screams out his name.

“I love when you scream my name, baby, it’s so fucking hot,” Alex moans, pounding his fingers into him faster.

“Please, please fuck me,” Henry whimpers, “I want you so bad, Alex.”

“Fuck,” Alex pulls his fingers out and strokes himself with the lube remaining, hissing at the stimulation. “I’m gonna fuck you so well, Henry.”

“Do it.” It’s a challenge, and Henry keens at the way Alex’s eyes glisten at his demand. “Ruin me.”

Alex fucks into him, hard. It’s what Henry’s wanted, no, needed for god knows too long, and Alex is giving it to him willingly, and he wants it just as much as Henry does. The first stretch is always the most painful, but after a moment, Henry nods, and Alex pulls out halfway, only to slam back in. Henry moans and digs his fingers into Alex’s arms.

“You alright?” Next to repulsive, this might be Alex’s favorite word to use on Henry now.

Henry nods, gasping, “Please— Harder, Alex,”

And Alex does as told, leaning down to pull Henry into a kiss, unintentionally muffling Henry’s moans as they roll their hips in sync, breathing each other in. It’s so fucking hot, and they’re both sweating with the effort, but it feels so damn good and Henry wants it all and so much more.

“Fuck, Henry— Your ass is so tight, so good for me,” Alex murmurs, “I— I can’t believe I get to do this, get to fuck you like this,”

Henry mewls. “S-so good, so full,”

He takes Henry, hard and aching, in his hand, pumping him in time with his thrusts. It’s a series of moans and ah ah ahs, and Henry can feel it, feel his orgasm nearing one more time.

“I’m— I’m so fucking close, Henry,” Alex moans, hair messed up in the way Henry imagined it would look during sex, and he just can’t believe he’s getting the real deal now. “Are you?”

“So, so close,” Henry manages to grit out, tugging at Alex’s hair and making him moan at the action and thrust into Henry faster, quicker, deeper.

Alex speeds up his fist, and he pulls Henry into one last kiss before whispering, “Come for me.”

Henry spills onto Alex’s hand the second time that night, clenching around Alex, causing him to come into the condom only moments after. Their breaths are ragged as they come to, Alex slowing down the roll of his hips until he comes to a stop, kissing Henry until their lips swell.

Laughing, Alex pulls away from the kiss and presses his forehead against Henry’s, saying, “We have a lot of fucking things to talk about.”

Henry grins, pecking his lips one more time. “I’m not going anywhere this time.”

The next morning finds Henry stumbling out of Alex’s apartment door, lovesick like he’s never seen himself before in Alex’s arms, kisses never ending. Alex eventually lets him go, mumbling, “Don’t take too long, baby,” in that sultry voice of his before slapping Henry’s ass and watching him rush to his own apartment to fetch his box of tea, bound to make itself at home in Alex’s apartment in no time.

In his rush to claim the box as well as something else that comes to mind — it’s a surprise tool that will help them later — Henry opens up his phone to check the time, only to realize that he’d opened up his Spotify app by accident instead, faced with Alex’s playlist for the first time in what feels like eternity. He laughs, wondering how he’s ended up so far from the moment he first saw it.

He’s about to close the app when he realizes there are 17 songs instead of 16. Blinking, he scrolls down to check and sure enough, Alex added a new song whilst he was asleep. Henry plays it on the way back to his boyfriend’s apartment, his heart filling with warmth.