Chapter Text
It should be noted that it’s entirely June’s fault that Alex is here in Boston, some two hundred miles and four hours away, when he should be working on the Mezei case.
He had barely been provided an excuse when she’d presented him with a ticket Nora had bought him. And by that, he means that they’d clearly decided on it together. He knows that the two of them had been planning on coming for a while, had listened to them talk his ear off about it when they met up every other day, and that it was something firmly non-Alex related.
Appalling, really.
Something about him working too hard, June had mentioned. Something about too much focus on the firm and not on himself.
Which. Like. It is objectively true. He’d been doing too much, he knew that. Single father and running his own firm before thirty-five?
Too much like his dad, in DC more than he wasn’t. Too much like his mom, talking to him but never seeing him when she was around, her focus always on that work phone in her palm. Permanently on, just like her.
June’s face when she’d asked him to come a week ago said everything for him. He didn’t need to dissect the meaning hidden between her words when she’d told him somebody had just happened to give her a spare ticket to the very same festival, he’d just had to take in the desperation on her face.
On another note, it also just happened to be headlined by a band Nora loves, and one Nell mentioned to him a lot too.
Admittedly, Alex knew very little about them beyond her descriptions. He didn’t get that much time to listen to music when he was home, and when he did, it was either the last record he’d set up or Nell’s designated Disney track of the week. Meaning, he didn’t listen to YRS that often. He doesn’t have a clue what their set will involve.
Although Nora's frequent eyebrow wiggles every time they announce they’re the next act on the main stage doesn’t bode well.
Their lead, Henry Fox, is mind bogglingly gorgeous, he thinks she’s said no more than four times today.
Henry Fox. Alex certainly knew who he was.
He was the frontman. Twenty-six and nepo baby of Arthur Fox, famed guitarist of the biggest and arguably last true rock band of the nineties. Arthur’s impact on the industry had been unprecedented. He’d been awarded a Grammy posthumously for his contribution to it. Alex remembers watching it with June, cross-legged and choked up when Henry had accepted it on his behalf.
Henry was already a winner of no less than three Grammys including Record of the Year. He knows this because June had covered it in one of her articles and, because he was the bestest little brother in the world, he’d bought every copy his local bodega had had.
So. Alex had to admit that what he’d heard of their music wasn’t half bad. Catchy. A little too out there to be called pop but too mainstream to truly be called rock either. Sweet, maybe, was a better word for it. He’s maybe found himself playing his current hit once or twice in the kitchen on he and Nell’s designated chore day.
The bass was great to clean to.
Most importantly of all, Henry is hot. Disgustingly so.
Henry Fox’s was the kind of classic handsomeness you’d be wise to not expect to exist now. A face like his, that pretty and that gorgeous, belongs in black and white print with some kind of wild story from the sixties attached.
He had seen clips of him over the years and something had stuck with him every time he did. Fluttered in his stomach and clawed it's way up his chest and set up home there.
He just hadn’t realised that something was his bisexuality.
It’d been ridiculously simple; a clip of him performing had been trending a few months ago, he’d clicked on his lunch break, and seen Henry doused in water falling to his knees. The crowd had gone wild as he laughed into the mic and Jesus, his smile was cute.
Anyways. Alex had gotten half-hard and taken the rest of the afternoon off to deal with it. It’d been a pretty simple staple in his journey of self-discovery.
Plus the tickets to the festival were free. Free for him, anyway. So, whatever. Alex lets June and Nora drag him along to Rolling Loud and doesn’t think about work. He does think about Nell back home with his dad. He misses her something awful and he left this morning.
He lets June press a beer into his hand and tries to resist the urge to call his dad to check on Nell. Again.
The first few acts are good. They get Alex’s inhibitions to wane at least. He dances with Nora to MUNA and he cries to Kali Uches and he loses his fucking mind to Bad Bunny’s entire set so hard he remembers none of it.
He watches June and Nora dance together to Un Preview which is how they remain for the rest of the night. In each other’s arms. It's disgustingly cute.
He drinks a little too. Proceeds onto whiskey. That fact might not be unrelated.
And when Henry walks out at the end of the night, all golden-haired and pretty and bashful at the resounding applause, Nora turns to him with a shit-eating grin.
“So,” She shouts over the crowd, and he tears his gaze away from Henry Fox, muse of his bisexual realisation and nearly every shower fantasy of his for the past few months, to Nora’s crossed arms and knowing smirk. “I should probably tell you something.”
“What?” He yells back, and gets a couple glares. He glares back.
“The festival passes,” She says, mouth quirked, “They’re kind of not just your regular ass passes.”
“And? What, did you find the golden ticket?”
“Shut it, Alejandro,” She stares at him. “I, in my infinite wisdom, happened to have haggled with a sweet, young fan of Mr. Fox’s online who couldn’t make it out here with what is now your pass since it was so last minute. Just so happens that they were such a huge fan that they’d preemptively bought an extra special one.”
Alex gesticulates, hands shooting out in front of him. “Yeah, so?”
“So I’m saying that we’re meeting the dude right after he performs,” She clarifies, and June’s face splits in a grin. “I bought June’s and I’s months ago.”
“So you lied to me,” Alex says, when the opening guitar riff to one of their tracks plays. The crowd cheers resoundingly, and Alex doesn’t even really care when Nora shrugs at him.
“You needed this, and you’re gonna love it,” is all that she shouts back when Henry steps up to the central stage light with the entire band playing behind him. He doesn’t say shit back.
“Good evening, Boston,” Henry says into the mic, and everybody around them deafens him. Including June and Nora.
Alex just claps. Jesus, the guy is gorgeous even from such a distance away. Even under unflatteringly harsh stage lights. Thank you to the overlords who decide on genes. His are perfectly hand-picked. Sugar, spice and everything nice, so to speak.
“I have a few songs I’d like to play for you,” Henry teases, and grins at the crowd’s reaction. “Alright, a fair few. Are you amenable?”
Amenable? What the fuck was this guy’s deal, why was his voice as perfect as his face, and why was Alex grinning along with him?
The crowd’s screams drown him out.
“Alright, well. My name is Henry Fox and this is my band YRS. Most importantly, I want to assure you that you’re about to have the most fun hour of your life!”
Alex thinks that he’s a little full of himself, then the lights go up and the band kicks in properly, and Alex loses himself to the music.
The second that the set ends, they’re found by a bearded guy in the most well-fitted suit he has ever seen and informed they must follow him backstage. Alex gladly agrees. Like, the guy is hot. Must be a requirement to work under Henry. All of the crew that they pass are the same.
Pretty, happy people. All adorning their fair share of open exhilaration; a show well-done, he assumes.
God, it’d been so good. Henry was a natural. And his voice? His voice was beautiful. Powerful. It dared to command each and every person’s attention, and kept it for well over an hour.
Well. It’d kept Alex’s. He didn’t give a fuck about anybody else.
“Just in here,” Hot Guy tells them, and holds the door labelled ‘Backstage :)’ open.
Cute.
There’s already a bunch of people ahead of them he assumes are waiting too. Mostly teenagers, shaking and giggling, which he finds adorable. Smiles to himself and can’t help but think of Nell. Of how excited she would be to be here.
She knows exactly one album by them, their most recent, but the lead single is in their mandatory chore day playlist, so. It's a pretty vital song to the both of them and key to said chore day.
The thought of last Sunday makes him grin; a vision of Nell bopping along to Crash My Car, an empty laundry basket in hand as Alex held the top end of the broom to her face.
He’s still smiling to himself when Hot Guy stops them with a hand in front of Alex.
“The band asks that you be respectful with your poses, no inappropriate topics when speaking to them, and do not ask for selfies per Mr. Fox’s request.”
He feels Nora side-eye him. It's not exactly fair. He wouldn’t do something just because he’s been told not to. He wouldn’t. He’s a responsible, single father now. He has an image to uphold. He would never.
He is also a filthy liar.
“Don’t you dare,” June hisses as they approach, one group away from meeting them.
Alex gapes at her. “Do you seriously think so little of me?”
“Yes,” Nora says as June cuts in, “You were staring at Henry the entire set.”
“He’s the main singer, Bug, where else was I meant to look?”
June levels him with a look. “No, you were, like, staring. Not breathing. Did you even notice the other members?”
No, he thinks. Not really.
“Of course I did,” is what he goes with.
June continues to stare at him with that face on. The investigative journalist who just had a scoop fall in her lap because her brother can’t shut the fuck up and be normal.
She shakes her head, “Just don’t ask the guy anything weird.”
Honestly, the lack of respect from all corners here was purely offensive.
So. Fuck them. He’d show the both of them just how respectful and nice and passive he could be. He was gonna charm the fuck out of them all. Especially Henry.
Truthfully, he really hadn’t paid attention to anything that wasn’t him that whole performance. It was still the case now; he could see all of them perfectly now but he just found himself, well, staring.
Out on stage, he’d been insanely hot. Dancing around to risque lyrics, letting his bassist pour water over him and rub it into his shirt. A white tee, Alex reminds himself. Very white. Thin.
But it was like a light had been flipped, watching him now. He was reserved; keeping to small smiles and firm handshakes for everyone ahead. Polite. Shy.
It was kind of ridiculously endearing.
And, look. His possible bisexual tendencies had been found a couple months back, but it was still new and, in theory, unpracticed. He’d never been with a guy, jerked off to them, sure. Henry had been his main muse, whatever. It was different. Hypotheticals.
Jesus, it was on full throttle now. Henry was fucking gorgeous. And, like, who the fuck had golden hair? Like, actually golden? He’d thought it was thanks to the stage lights earlier but apparently fucking not.
He looks softer now, having swapped the ripped tee for a baby blue sweater. It's well-worn and a little too big, extending to his knuckles. He thinks it's cute that he’s worn it to a meet and greet. Wow , Alex is screwed.
This is ridiculous. Who the fuck is that pretty. Fuck.
The bassist, a black guy with pastel-pink hair that June whispers is called Percy and the one who had poured the fucking water on Henry, notices Alex looking and waves all cordial. Like a royal.
So naturally, Henry frowns and looks over to gauge what he’s reacting to.
Fuck. Fuck his goddamn life.
Henry stares at him for a moment. He blinks, and then a smile graces his face. It's followed by Percy saying something to him, Henry rolling his eyes, and him instantly looking back to Alex.
The person ahead of him shifts, and gives Alex a total view of the band. So, of Henry. It lets him see Henry’s eyes skitter over his body, and his cheeks flush pink.
Oh yeah. He’d gone all out for the festival; donning three-quarter length chino shorts, an open green vest with the Longhorn logo on and nothing beneath it. Plus a billion bracelets courtesy of Nell, and a chain necklace.
Alex grins at him, and when Henry looks away to greet the next fan approaching, he notices the tips of his ears are pink too.
So. The group ahead pass pretty quickly, or it feels like they do. Then Alex is approaching another member who introduces himself as Spencer and Percy, who decidedly ignores him and goes to take June’s hand instead.
He hears Pez, like the sweets, and decides he wants no further part in any of that. So Alex turns away, and finds Henry right there.
Oh.
“Hi,” Alex says, sticking out a hand. “Apparently I’m not allowed to ask you anything inappropriate. I have an issue with that.”
Henry’s eyes dance. He takes Alex’s hand in his. It's soft. Elegant. The hands of someone who knows their way around an instrument. Nothing at all like Alex’s, calloused and disproportionate and odd. His own engulfs Henry’s, he thinks as he shakes it a second too long.
Henry takes him in with a slow sweep of his body. He feels dizzied by the slow blink and the look beneath his lashes when he gets back to his face.
“Hello to you as well. I love the bracelet,” Henry commends, voice deep and silky. The bracelet in mention is a pink, beaded monstrosity with the initials ACD and NCD side-by-side. Nell’s best creation - he wears it to work, at home, and backstage at festivals apparently.
Alex grins, elated. “Thanks!”
“Onto more pressing issues,” Henry hums. Alex thinks it's important to note their hands are still joined here. “Do tell me, what fault are you having with Shaan’s advice?”
“See, I don’t quite get what he meant; he was pretty vague on the terms,” Alex drops an octave, “What exactly would you deem an inappropriate topic?”
Henry looks down briefly at their hands still clasped together, and tugs Alex in a little closer. Alex’s stomach swoops at how he says in a stage-whisper;
“Do you really want to know?”
He doesn’t have to think about it. “I really do, yeah.”
The corner of Henry’s mouth twitches, and his eyes meet Alex’s again. “Nobody’s allowed to ask any of us about our personal lives, lest the press find out about any proclivities we partake in.”
He says it like he’s quoting somebody else, but that teasing smile is still there, so Alex does what he does best, and presses.
“Well, what kind would that be?”
Henry smiles, his thumb pressing down on Alex’s wrist before he drops his hand. “I’m legally not allowed to say.”
“You got me in a box here,” Alex pouts, “Just what am I allowed to talk to you about?”
With his face sufficiently pink, Henry says, “Perhaps the wonderful show I just put on for you and thirty thousand people?”
Alex thinks back to Henry on his knees again. Covered in water. Thin, white shirt. A wonderful show indeed. He was struggling to comprehend this being the same guy with all of an hour’s difference.
But. Alex is nothing if not committed, so he ignores the swirl in his gut and continues.
“Nah, definitely not it,” He argues, and Henry muffles the beginnings of a laugh with a bite of his lip. Very full. Very, extremely pink. Bitten.
“You are trouble,” Henry grins with a shake of his head. “And I haven’t even said hello to the rest of your party!”
“No thanks to Alex,” June says somewhere to his left, and Henry grins wider.
“Alex,” He says, like he’s trying the word on his tongue. It sounds.. it's fucking sinful. He didn’t realise hearing his own name could be a turn on. Like, he’s not that narcissistic.
Henry’s eyes drag from him to June and Nora. “It's lovely to meet you both too, my apologies.”
“None needed,” June shakes her head, and thus two things happen in quick succession.
One, Henry extends a hand to June too, his own much larger than hers, and Alex ignores how he wants to take it back in his. Two, there’s a crash from a door subtly labelled Exit.
“Fuck,” comes a voice from it, “Fuck, Shaan, I’m so sorry. I didn’t miss too many - June? Wait, holy fuck, Alex?”
Alex freezes because he knows that voice. He knows exactly who it belongs to. And he thinks, offhandedly, about how weird it had been to walk in here and see three members when he’d been sure there were at least four. Granted, he had only stared at and then interacted with one of them, he could hardly be blamed, but - not the point.
Henry looks to him like something remarkable has just clicked for him, and his jaw drops.
But it's Spencer who exclaims, “This is Alex?”
Sure enough, the body that crashes into him is none other than Liam’s.
Alex collects himself, forcing himself to rip his gaze from Henry, and takes Liam in after half a decade.
“Oh my god,” A loud, shril laugh escapes Alex’s mouth, “You’re the fucking drummer?”
“Kind of figured you’d have known that already, man,” Liam grins wide, and pulls him into a quick hug that Alex squeezes him in before pulling back.
“Um.”
“Why the hell did you think I asked if you’d bothered to pay attention to anybody else onstage,” June hisses in his ear before pulling Liam into a hug too, and Alex doesn’t miss Henry’s rapidly growing delight at the sight of them.
“You have a captivating stage presence,” Alex tells him by way of explanation, and Henry breathes out a soft laugh.
“Thank you very much,” Henry says, and Alex doesn’t feel that guilty for directing his attention to him when June instigates conversation with the other three and Liam slides an arm around Spencer’s waist.
Huh.
“You’re welcome,” Alex grins back, and Henry smiles too.
“You’re the Alex that Liam went to school with?” He asks like the words are bubbling out of him, excitable and light, “From Texas?”
“Yeah,” Alex winces, “Don’t tell me your opinion on me is skewed by his lies now. I was doing so well.”
“No, no,” Henry grins, “He hasn’t said anything too risque. Something about a lacrosse game and loose astroturf?”
Alex shakes his head, making to leave for the exit. “I’m leaving. It's been good-”
“No,” Henry’s laugh is more an inescapable, giddy wheeze as he grabs for Alex’s wrist. “No, forgive me. I’m sure you falling on your arse and missing the goal wasn’t as embarrassing as he made it out to be, Alex.”
Alex is really enjoying the way his name sounds in that velvety, posh voice. He’s enjoying the hand around his wrist more.
“Nope. It was worse,” June joins in from beside him, and he throws a glare her way. Henry watches them with thinly-veiled bemusement, and drops his hand again.
“They’re dramatising it,” Alex clarifies, “And I still scored the winning point thus winning us the championship. Or, at least I think I did. Sorry, did I get that right, Liam?”
“Fuck you,” Liam snorts from Pez’s side, “Some of us don’t keep track of everything that happened to us a decade ago. Well, those of us who didn’t peak in high school, anyways.”
Alex’s jaw drops. “Man, you know what, I’ll have you know I am a registered lawyer.”
Liam cackles, “Yeah I’ll believe that when I see it.”
“I could hardly believe it either,” Nora cuts in, “Hi, Nora, big fan of your music which is the reason we’re even here and not to discuss Alex’s lost sports career.”
“Hey Nora,” Liam laughs, “So-”
Alex finds himself drawn to Henry again, who is watching them with polite interest. Alex wants to poke at it. He wants to draw out that smile again.
“So, I had no idea so many fruits could take on a phallic resemblance until today.”
Henry regards him with open interest and a bob of his throat. Alex suddenly cares very little for the debate about lacrosse or anything else at all but those hazel eyes that are set so heavily on him.
“Yes, quite,” Henry says, “Which was your favourite of all I’d mentioned?”
Alex grins. “The banana. Big fan of the taste. Shape. Girth. You know?”
He delights in the blotchy pink that appears across Henry’s cheeks, his ears, past his collar. He wants to follow it. Map it with his hands, his teeth. He wants to see how far it goes.
“You’re just so..” Henry cuts himself off, raking in another shameless look. His hand twitches between them, finger pointed at the chain around his neck. “Is there any particular reason for the key?”
“Ask me the next time,” Alex says, and Henry’s eyes snap up to meet Alex’s. He sways forward a little, and catches it in his fingers.
“That I shall,” He says with a smile that wavers. He goes to speak further, and is promptly cut off by a clearing of a throat.
Henry’s head lifts his chin in the direction of Hot Guy. Shaan, he’d said. Shaan stands, hands clasped, and watching them like a man used to exactly this. With little to no patience for the band he carts around.
“You’re behind schedule,” He reminds them, “And have taken about four minutes longer than you’re contractually obligated to.”
Henry blinks. “Sorry.”
Pez slides his arm around Henry’s shoulders. “Shaan, darling, they’re the last group for the night. We’ll be at the cars in a sec.” He squeezes Henry’s cheek, “Let Henry bid goodbye to his handsome new beau, yeah?”
Henry stammers a curse as he throws Pez off of him.
Shaan gives a deep, heavy sigh before leaving for the door that Liam had entered in from. “Two minutes.”
“Next time, we’ll have to get you in before soundcheck,” Pez says, turning back to them, flipping his hand. “Hardly much of a reunion, is it?”
“Definitely,” Liam grins, “Or you could just, like, text me back.”
It's Alex’s turn to flush. He hasn’t spoken to Liam beyond mandatory holiday wishes since college. They’d both gone to New York, him for Law and Liam for music.
To clarify: Liam may have texted him since. Alex hasn’t texted back. It's fucking awkward, okay? They’d gotten off in their dorm once in his final year, and then never spoken in person since.
Henry is staring at him. Alex realises he’s zoned out.
Henry’s pretty, perfectly plump lips tweak in the corner in a way that tells him Henry knows he had. “We’re in New York in a month. It's our final show for a while.”
“It’ll be a good one,” Liam adds. Henry doesn’t look away from him. Alex doesn’t look away either.
“Indeed,” Henry says, “Would you come? Each of you, of course.”
Alex doesn’t have to think at all when he says yes. Not when Henry’s looking at him like that, and Liam’s grinning to his side with his arms around June.
It feels good. It makes him smile when they line up to take a photo, and Henry’s arm slides around his waist, and he tells Henry that the tickets better be VIP.
It makes that thing in his stomach curl when Henry laughs in his ear and assures him it’s a guarantee.
It kind of hits him the second they’re back at the motel.
Well, not immediately.
First, he barges past Nora and June to get at the four-pack of water in the mini fridge he’d bought for them. He downs most of one by the time they make it inside too, and bristles at their slack jaws and wide eyes.
“Don’t,” He starts, and then June throws her hands up.
“You cannot expect me not to talk about this!” She says, exasperated. “Henry Fox?”
“Henry Fox,” He confirms. “Sweet guy, I guess.”
“You guess?” June inclines her head back to where Nora has sprawled on the second bed, “He guesses, Nora. He guesses.”
Nora nods, “Likelihood on you attending their next concert?”
Alex makes a noise. One-hundred percent, but he’s not about to tell Nora that. “Yeah, if Nell wants to.”
“If Nell..” June rolls her eyes, “Little Bit, you have to go. I will force you to.”
“You mean just like the two of you already did this weekend?”
Nora shrugs. “Worked out well, didn’t it? You reunited with your childhood friend and a hot guy in a band wants to fuck you.”
“Hey, he does not-“
“He did initiate physical contact a lot,” June observes. “A lot, Alex.”
“Friendly reminder that I do not, in fact, live in an eighteenth-century romance novel and that Henry was just nice and, like, aggressively British.”
“Hm,” Nora fidgets, “Sure, let’s go with that.”
“Nora.”
She just hums, and yanks the comforter up to her chin. “He wants on that ass.”
“Right, well.” June looks at her with a soft, little smile despite the vitriol she just spewed at her own brother. It's honestly disgusting. “I’m calling first dibs on the shower.”
Nora nods. “You do that. Go forth. Alex, do you wanna go grab me some ice?”
“Uh,” He says, affronted, “And what the hell is stopping you?”
“Otherwise incapacitated,” She flouts a hand, “And a hundred dollars down just to bring you joy and happiness. And a potential future dicking.”
“Oh my god,” He rolls his eyes, grabbing the glass that she extends his way. “Fine. If I’m not back in ten then know that I’ve garroted myself so I don’t have to hear you say that again ever in my life.”
“Thanks!” She calls out brightly behind him as he pulls open the door and leaves.
So, yeah.
Henry goddamn Fox.
The truth was he hasn’t stopped thinking about the guy. Namely, his mouth. So plump, and so beautifully pink. How it formed around a smile, how pretty his laugh was. That mark right above them, the groove of his cupid’s bow that he wonders just how well his thumb would fit in.
He takes a look at the glass in his hand and wills himself to calm the fuck down.
It's. Look. He hates to fall into stereotypes about being a single dad and all but it has been a while. And by a while, he means months. And by months, he means twelve. So, a whole year.
He’s just busy. He’s busy a lot. When he’s not obsessing over cases, he’s with Nell. He genuinely wouldn’t have it any other way. To do what he does? To provide opportunities for those stuck in a shitty place and to come home to his girl? It's all he has ever wanted.
Nell was a surprise, but a welcome one, and the absolute best thing in his life. He’s glad his time is divided between both, and nothing else.
But, yeah. He is just busy. He has no time for hooking up. He doesn’t… he doesn’t have time for much, really. He should’ve been working on the Mezei files today.
And okay. Yeah. Sure. Maybe he did spend a little bit too much time in his office after hours. Maybe he did go in earlier than the rest of his staff.
Didn’t that set a precedent, though? He knows that having a boss in the form of Rafael goddamn Luna when he was interning made the world of a difference. It made him want to work because he knew that the shit he was doing mattered. Because Luna showed the fuck up for them.
But he’d let June and Nora drag him to Boston. And it’d probably been the most fun he’s had in, well, in about a year.
Well.
He looks down at the glass again as he shoves it under the dispenser as if it’ll give him all the answers.
“Alex?”
The voice is frustratingly deep and British. Alex looks at the glass again, perplexed. He’d been fucking kidding.
He turns to find none other than Henry there, a hand shoved in his pocket and his side leant against the wall of the alley. He should pinch himself. Make sure it's not a sex-addled bout of hysteria.
“Thought it was you,” Henry breathes out a laugh, and Alex bites back a smile.
“Are you following me?“
“Yes,” Henry answers, monotone. He pushes up and makes his way over. Saunters, probably, is a better word. “For quite some time.”
“Knew it,” Alex says, “That VIP offer was too good to be true.”
“Ha,” Henry actually says, and now he’s close enough, Alex can see how his hair has begun to fall over his forehead. A part of it sticks up, and his cheek is even redder than he remembers it being.
“I’m also here for ice,” Henry explains, as if the glass in his hand doesn’t explain it. “Fell asleep on the bus here. Hoping it’ll make me more alert.”
He doesn’t want to know why Henry wants to be awake at, like, one in the morning.
“The journey’s, like, an hour,” Alex says, and puts his glass aside. Nora’s glass. He puts Nora’s glass to the side and motions for Henry’s.
“I’ve been working since five,” Henry informs. “So.”
“Alright,” Alex smiles. “Pass it over.”
“Er,” Henry says, “You don’t have to-“
“It’ll take two seconds,” He says, “Plus it gives me more time here to talk to you.”
Foot meet mouth. A habit he’s yet to find the solution to. Why the fuck would he say that?
(Rhetorical question.)
“Don’t be ridiculous, Alex,” Henry leans against the ice machine, close enough that Alex can smell the vanilla from Initio’s Absolute Aphrodisiac clinging to baby blue cashmere, and ponder just how fitting it is. He looks up through his lashes as he presses the glass into Alex’s open palm, “You hardly need an excuse for that.”
Alex blinks at him.
“Uh..” He breaks off into a laugh, painfully out of practice, “What the hell brings you to a motel?”
If Henry notices, he doesn’t say a thing. Instead he blinks lethargically at him, and says, “What brings me to a roadside hotel after I disclosed I have been travelling on a bus from the festival I performed at? I’ll give you three guesses.”
Alex feels something hot ripple through him despite the ice in his grip, and shoves Henry’s glass at his chest, “People of your stupor don’t typically lower themselves to the standards of roadside hotels.”
Henry dips his hand into the glass, pulls out a piece of ice, and pops it in his mouth. He says, muffled, “Oi,” and then, “We do when the Hilton overbooks us and it's all Shaan can find on zero notice.”
Alex snorts a laugh. “How’d you manage that?”
“Liam texted June in a panic,” Henry swallows. “Hope that’s alright.”
Alex doesn’t bother trying to hide his grin, “So you were following me.”
“You caught me,” Henry says, “I paid off the two teenage receptionists on minimum wage, zero hour contracts to purposely throw the entire system into disarray just to find and corner you, entirely alone, in this dark alleyway.”
“Knew it.”
Henry grins, “Are you always like this?”
“Charming? Hilarious? Perfect? Take your pick.”
“Something like that,” Henry sighs, like it's an inconvenience to him.
Alex blinks. Whatever he was going to quip next has straight up fizzled out of his head along with the rest of his every, waking thought.
“Well,” Henry says, popping another piece of ice in his mouth, “I did have a genuine query for you actually. I was going to save it for that gig in a few weeks, but here you are.”
“Mm,” Alex hums. “Here I am.”
Henry’s face does this thing. It flushes, gorgeously, except there’s a sudden frown that follows. He even pouts. It's disgustingly endearing.
“Are you truly a lawyer?”
“Yeah,” Alex clears his throat. He stands up properly at the very last thing he expected to hear from Henry. “Uh.. do I wanna ask why? Some skeletons in your closet?”
Henry’s mouth opens and closes, as though he were deciding on the right words. Alex waits him out, even though it makes him fidget in place.
“Something like that, yes.”
“Yeah?”
Henry shuffles. “I have an issue with, er, with a shit contract. I suppose I was wondering if I could wiggle out of it.”
Alex nods, “How bad are we talking?”
“Signed when I was a teenager, smallprint with a word count of half a billion.” He smiles self-deprecatingly. “Ironclad.”
“Do you have copies of it?”
“Yes, of course,” He says, “It sits in my office, and it taunts me. It has done for the past eight years. A stack of paper ruling my life, isn’t that funny?”
“You said you’re in New York in a few weeks?” Alex asks, and he knows that flirty, unreasonably horny part of his brain has been overtaken by what he does best. Almost.
“Yes, well, I do happen to live there. I’ll go with yes.”
Alex’s mouth quirks. “C.D. Associates on Lexington in the Upper East Side. I’m.. well, I’m kind of always there, so.”
“Thank you,” Henry smiles down at him. It's quite dizzying, actually, to look up at all of that. “I’ll be taking you up on that.”
“Yeah, sure,” Alex says, and his mind is reeling. Henry is beautiful. Lanky and awkward and sweet.
“Oh, and I’ll have Shaan send you your passes.”
“Great,” Alex says, thinking of any possible thing to say to keep the conversation from approaching it's natural conclusion, and comes up empty.
“Alright,” Henry breathes a laugh, “Well, Pez is absolutely about to send a search party if I don’t get back to our double bed, so.”
“Oh, you got the double? I’m on a single.”
Henry pushes off of the ice machine. “Lucky.”
“To be third-wheeling my sister and her fiancé? Oh yeah, living it up, man.”
Henry giggles, “Pez is a cuddler. Serial.”
“Yeesh. One to ten?”
“Oh, a thousand,” He enjoys watching Henry’s face become so animated before breaking into a yawn.
Alex shrugs. “Well, my mattress has a dip. A lot of bulging springs.”
Henry pulls a face. “Guess we’re both due a wonderful night of sleep.”
“Definitely,” Alex blows a breath. He makes to leave and Henry makes a noise.
“Er, sorry,” Henry’s cheeks grow pink, and he shoves something in Alex’s pocket with a polite finger tap to go with it. Oh, yeah, that’s right. He hasn’t changed since the festival. “That’s just in case you were serious about the contract.”
“I was.”
Henry nods belatedly. His face does that thing again, “I didn’t realise you were still wearing it.”
“Yeah,” Alex says uselessly. Licks his lips.
Henry’s lips lift. His fingers find the chain again, and they trail along the fine silver until they curl around the key. Alex can’t fucking breathe.
“I look forward to next time,” He says, and lifts his gaze to Alex’s.
Then he’s gone and Alex is alone in the alley, staring down at a glass of water and wondering what the likelihood of him having fallen and hit his head during the set was.
He checks his phone. Two missed calls from Nora twenty minutes ago and a charming text of a single eye roll emoji from her after.
He even presses the glass to his face, cold and shudder-inducing.
He wouldn’t feel that in a hallucination, right? He wouldn’t.
He makes his way back to the room, numb, and grins at himself before he pushes open the door.
June is in Nora’s place, snoring away softly.
“You told me if you weren’t back in ten to assume you’d garroted yourself,” Nora grumbles from inside the bathroom, “It's been twenty.”
“Yeah,” He calls out, “I got caught up.”
“Alejandro,” He hears her sigh as he digs into his pocket now that he’s somewhere with clear lighting. It's a slip of sleek paper, the back donning the logo to the festival. “Do not tell me you were working on that fucking case.”
There on the paper, in a neat scribble, is a number.
See below for all ticket-related enquiries.
“I can neither confirm nor deny,” He says back, and lets his grin take up his entire face.
They roll into Brooklyn the next day in the early afternoon.
Nora and June drop him off at the brownstone, and then he kind of forgets about everything else.
He jogs up the steps, two at a time, and throws the door open. The feel of home instantly hits him; the overpowering smell of cinnamon and lavender, the crackling of the log fire intercut by an old Vicente Fernández track.
Alex lets his bags drop, having barely shut the door behind him before he feels a tiny body barrel into him.
“Papa!” Nell cries, and he’s lifting her into his arms before she has to ask with a huge grin of his own.
“Hi, mi estrella,” Her tiny arms and legs wrap around him, and Alex is laughing into the hug they share. Well, it’s more her clinging to him, but it's a hug all the same. “Oh, honey, how are you?”
“Very good,” When she pulls back, he notices frosting around her mouth. Pink. “Abuela and I made cupcakes.”
“Abuel-o,” He corrects softly as he wipes her mouth and a boop of her nose. She giggles brightly. “I missed you so much.”
“I missed you a whole bunch more,” She says seriously, “Abue..lo.. he couldn’t even figure out how to find Frozen on the TV.”
“Good job,” He stage-whispers, and moves her to his hip so he can make his way from the hall to greet his dad hello. “We can watch later and make up for it, yeah?”
“Yes,” She agrees. “With cupcakes?”
He grins, and kisses the tight curls on her head. “Absolutely.”
And they do, eventually.
His dad leaves for Tribeca soon after, something about a meeting he’d forgotten about, but Alex sees it for what it is and appreciates it greatly.
He does just want to spend time with Nell. He’s back at the firm in the morning and he just. He kind of finds himself.. not dreading it, exactly, but he’s not really rearing to go either.
So. He settles in on the couch with Nell burrowed into him and a tray of chaotic, fuschia cupcakes on their laps. She explains that she’d decorated, and his dad had supervised. They watch Frozen, the first and the second, and he makes his throat hoarse from singing along.
He doesn’t think about that slip of paper in the pocket of his jacket. Not even a little bit. Not at all.
Three days later, he gets a call from the number scribbled on it.