Red, White, & Royal Pain

13.1

Alex rolls over in bed, a pleasant smile on his face. He looks at Henry and his heart is heavy and fluttery all at once.

Two years.

It had been two years since Henry and Alex officially started dating.

Two years since both of them made the life changing decision of being honest with the entire world about who they truly were.

And they didn't regret a single thing.

It was their two year anniversary and they were just as in love as ever.

Alex planted a whisper of a kiss on Henry's forehead, then quietly slipped out from underneath the bed covers. When Henry sleeps he's as good as dead to the world, so Alex didn't even have to worry about Henry hearing him. Regardless, he stayed as quiet as possible since his favorite version of Henry was him when he first wakes up in the morning - he wouldn't miss it if he could help it.

After he left the bedroom, Alex went to work on creating the most perfect breakfast. He made pancakes (with blueberries and chocolate chips, decorated with a whipped cream smile), an earl grey tea, a side of strawberries, and topped it off with a slice of crisp toast. He moved everything onto a tray and the walked back into the bedroom.

After delicately placing the tray on the side table, he leaned close to Henry. For just a second, all Alex did was lay his head on his chest and inhale deeply. Two more of his favorite things. L'odeur de Henry as he liked to refer to it, or more simply put, Henry's naturally clean smell, and how he always feels warm and welcoming. He remained there for another count of 3, then his tone changed quickly as he began planting kisses all over Henry's face. He kissed over each jagged sharp plain, from his jawline to his cheekbones. He left the most gentle kisses on his eyelids, then he picked up the pace as he trailed down his nose, then to his chin, his adam's apple, and his warm chest where his head had been just seconds ago. He lingered at the area right by his belly button, and at that moment Henry grabbed him around the waist and flipped them over so Alex was underneath him. Henry planted a large kiss on Alex's lips.

"Well a very good morning to you sir."

Alex's face split into the largest grin imaginable.

"Happy anniversary, Sweetheart," Alex said, still gazing at the perfect man he married.

"What time is it..." Henry mumbled, stretching his arm to reach the side table where his phone is. Since Henry's eyes stubbornly never left Alex's in a tension filled staring contest, his hand blindly patted the table. And his hand also found the plain piece of toast.

He finally broke eye contact in a state of confusion. He rolled off of Alex and observed the tray. Appreciation was written all over his face and as his lips slightly turned upwards, confusion returned.

"Alex, you know I appreciate you very, very much, and although you know I love when you cook for me, I would like to know why on God's good earth would you try to serve me plain toast."

Now it was Alex's turn for a small smile.

"Mmmm," he mumbled, "a truly harrowing sight, innit?'

It took him a second, but Henry broke out into that lovely laugh of his. Alex sat himself up so his back was against the headboard, not even bothering to hide that smile of admiration that appeared only for his husband.

"You, Alex Claremont-Diaz, might be the most thoughtful wiseass that I've had the pleasure of sleeping with."

"I hate to break it to you, baby, but that's what they all say," He cracked with a wink.

***

"Hey sweetcheeks, " Alex said with a firm slap to Henry's ass and a kiss to his cheek.

"My husband, the comedian," Henry playfully rolled his eyes as he watched Alex cross the kitchen to the coffee pot.

"So, babycakes, how does you, me, and dinner tonight at that restaurant with the good rolls sound," Alex inquired.

"If you're talking about Olive Garden again, I'm filling for divorce," Henry deadpanned.

"No, and Olive Garden's got the breadsticks dumbass. I'm talking about that fancy shmancy place that you love so much, Howard's I think it's called or something like that."

"It's called Harrison's, but that sounds like a fantastic idea, love."

"Ah! He said yes! He really said yes! Can you believe it?!" Alex whooped.

"You're unbelieveable."

"That's what you sa-"

"GOODBYE, ALEX. SEE YOU LATER!" Henry called as he walked out the door.

***

About an hour and a half into their meal and an unmeasured number of drinks later, Henry and Alex stumble out of the restaurant arm in arm.

"Y'know Hen? I reeeeeeeeeaaaaally like you. Like a lot. Like a lot a lot," Alex breathily slurred.

"Alex, I'm gaaaaaaaay. I'm in love with someone. And guess what? He. Is. A. He."

"WHAAAT???? B-but I'm a he also!! What about me??!!"

"This guy is the son of the president though. He's sorta off limits. His name is Alex. I'm in love with him. He can't know that though so shhhhhhhhhh," Henry shushed as they merrily turned down a darker alley way that shielded them from the electric glow of the stars.

"You are such a weirdo, mr poshy pants.

And as they continued to walk through the area that reaked of piss, they didn't have a single care in the world. Their senseless banter rambled on, until something brought them to a halt. A voice.

"Oh. Well what do we have here? The Prince and the FSOTUS in all their drunken glory. What a rare sight!"

"Well hello there. Yes, I am in fact Henry George Edward James Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor of Wales, and this is my lovely husband, Alex Claremont-Diaz of- well of my heart."

"Aw, baby!!! You're just the sweetest little thing!!" Alex gushed.

"Love, I'm like a whole foot taller than you"

"TWO inches, Hen. TWO!!! I can't believe-"

"Although this is all deeply touching, I could not give a singular shit on a shingle about his height or your love life. Well actually, your love life does sort of well...irk me, one might say," the strange voice stated.

"Huh? Hen, what does he-"

And at that moment, the sound of feet landing on the slightly damp cobblestone echoed, and a grunt from Henry could be heard.

Alex turned around, looking for Henry, only to find him swaying on his feet and covering his stomach with his hands. As the footsteps began to move farther and farther away, Alex could only stare at Henry. His eyes zeroed in on his hands which were leaking red ink. Why does he have a pen? Did he break it? Alex wondered, his thoughts still clouded by the alcohol.

But it was not red pen ink, Alex realized as Henry's legs gave out.

Henry only uses blue ink.

And red pen ink does not make people fall to the ground.

It was blood, and it was now flowing from between the cracks of Henry's fingers.

And Henry was on the ground.

This storyline was actually a request from @jinniewwh123 !! Sorry for not having written in a while, but I hope to get back on track with it. This story will have a few more parts to it coming soon :)