History, huh?

One

I love Henry and Alex too much to just not  write fic about them. Here's a short lil intro!

It was strange to have mornings like this: mornings where Alex could take his time waking up and, when he did wake up, seeing Henry nestled against him. On mornings like this when they were both in their brownstone and they didn't have anywhere they needed to be, Alex liked to just sit back for a moment and take it all in. The smells leftover from whatever coffee, tea, or food had been made the day before. The sounds of Henry's gentle breath, of David's blissful snore, and the sounds of the traffic outside. The sight of Henry by his side with his perfect hair mussed from sleep and with the beautiful light draped across him and making him look like some sort of fucking angel. The sight of Henry was, no contest, his favorite part of these moments. There had been a time when this––a peaceful lie-in with him––seemed impossible. Now that Alex had it, had Henry, he had to revel in it. 

There was always the looming thought, somewhere in the depths of Alex's overactive mind, that something would happen. That the entire royal family would drop dead and that Henry would be made King or that he would get hurt. Or, which seemed more implausible somehow, that Henry would decide that all of this (everything they'd been through and would continue to go through) wasn't worth it and he would pack up his things and put David in a dog carrier and just...disappear. 

Realistically, Alex knew that it wasn't really going to happen, but he couldn't get those ghostings out of his mind. He constantly had to remind himself that this, this established life together, was different. They were out, they were proud, and they were stupidly in love. 

Henry stirred beside him, pressed his his face into Alex's bare chest. To silence his reeling mind, he picked up Henry's copy of Le Monde.

"Mm," Henry hummed, blinking his eyes open and adjusting to the morning light. Alex set down the newspaper and smiled at him. "Morning." 

"Morning, baby."

Henry beamed at him and pulled himself up to a sitting position, planting a quick kiss onto Alex's cheek. 

"I think I'll make you some breakfast," Henry said. 

"Oh, really? Are you sick of my huevos rancheros already? Dios mio, you're breaking my heart." 

Henry laughed, his eyes shining in that glorious way that made Alex's heart pang. 

"Of course not. I just think that you should have a taste of a real, English breakfast once in a while." 

"Mm, flavorless food and black tea. My favorite."

Henry poked Alex's ribs, but then Alex caught his wrist and pulled Henry so he straddled Alex. Alex brushed back a stray strand of silky, blonde hair from his face and kissed his forehead. "Hey, Hen?"

"Hm?" 

"I just...I really love you."

Sometimes, when Alex got too deep into his own stupid, spiraling thoughts, he felt like he had to tell Henry that he loved him as if that were in question. It was obvious that his fears of being abandoned were ridiculous, but he thought that if just said those words, he could explain to Henry what he was feeling without having to say it. I really love you meant that he wanted this forever. It was a question and a promise and an assurance and so much more. 

It was always so much more with Henry. 

"I really love you, too, Alex. More than...more than words can describe."

"Must be an awful lot, then. With you being a writer and all."

Henry rolled his eyes. "Watch it or I won't indulge you in that disgusting cinnamon nonsense you enjoy so much." 

"Aw, baby, I'm sorry. Mi corazón."

Henry cocked a (perfect, fucking perfect) eyebrow at him. "I really need to learn Spanish one of these days. What does that mean?"

Alex ran his fingers up and down Henry's slender, muscular arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. He moved his fingers up to Henry's chin and jaw, stroking his face and committing every memory of it to detail. "My heart," he whispered. "Eres mi sol," he kissed Henry's jaw. "Mi luna." A kiss to his eyelid. "Y todos mis estrellas." His cheek. "You, Henry, are my sun, my moon, and all of my stars." 

He captured Henry's lips in his own.

Breakfast could wait––they had more important things to do on this lazy Saturday morning.