Chapter Text
The radiator is making a lot of noise and doing a whole lot of nothing.
It's a bit unfair for him to expect it to, considering the below freezing temperatures New York City has been blessed with for the past few days but Alex is a Texas boy, and despite his thermals and two sweaters, he's still freezing.
The hardwood floor creaks as he makes his way over to the window, peeling back the curtain and all but pressing his nose into the cold glass to see outside. The heavy snow continues to fall, covering the roads and sidewalks like a blanket.
Living in DC has given him some exposure to the elements, but he's never seen anything like this before. Never has the street been so deserted, it's magical and just a tiny bit eerie. It's got to be a whole entire minute 'til he sees another human being, a poor door dash kid tripping over the snow that is past his ankles, pizza in hand.
He's hungry, but no way in Hell is he hungry enough to order a pizza and put someone through an episode of survivor to deliver it. Besides, the Shepard's Pie Henry put into the oven is starting to smell really good, filling their home with the promise of a meal made with love.
Shaking his head, he turns his attention back to the sounds coming from behind him.
The record player is playing softly.
♪ My sister will be suspicious
Gosh, your lips look delicious ♪
Henry is a vision on the sofa, laying against his head against the arm while he reads. Beside him the fireplace is roaring. Alex's breath catches in his throat when their eyes meet, as it always does. But this, now, is something else. The warmth from the fire accentuates the golden hue that Henry always emanates.
The gold of his eyes, of his hair and of the ring on his finger. He looks damn adorable in his silk pajamas bottoms and black hoodie, his hair soft and unkempt, forehead covered in a way that makes him look younger than his 28 years.
It's not Christmas yet, but it is Christmas for them.
Alex's mom may almost be done with her second term, and Henry may have given up his title, but there are still appearances to be made and places that they're expected to be. He cringes inwardly thinking about the flashing cameras, the endless questions, the begging for an exclusive interview from various news outlets who can't seem to grasp what on our own terms means. Then of course there's the flights to the UK and back, too. Though with the snow piling up, he sort of hopes it means they never have to leave their little cocoon ever again.
They celebrate Christmas early, stretching it longer so it feels like it's theirs.
At the very least he doesn't have work tomorrow, and then it's the weekend. Henry steps away every few hours to check on the shelters, which are at full capacity. A bit past full capacity, honestly - but Henry can't bear to have them turn anyone away, going as far as renting out for hotel rooms for homeless youths to stay in during this time.
Just when Alex doesn't think he could love him more, he's proved wrong once again.
With a sigh, he crawls into Henry's warm arms. They have plenty of room, having specifically shopped for a couch big enough for them to cuddle. Clearly having expected this, Henry chuckles and rearranges himself to make room for him, smiling into Alex's unruly curls and swiftly kissing the top of his head.
Alex settles, pressing his freezing face into Henry's neck and laughing when Henry flinches and squirms, then squirms even more when Alex warms his hands up by shoving them under Henry's hoodie.
He definitely does not purr like a cat as he absorbs Henry's body heat. No way.
"Get those ice cubes away from me, you reprobate." Henry protests, half-heartedly pushing Alex's arm down and not meaning it for one second. Knowingly, Alex presses his face further into Henry's neck, breathing in the familiar scent of him.
Touching has become second nature to them, as essential as breathing. As automatic as blinking. It always has been, from that first goodbye kiss in his old bedroom after the first of many mind melting blowjobs, until now — but the years have only cemented it further. If he could bottle the place where Henry's neck meets his shoulder up he'd call it Henry Fox at home. Fresh, clean and unmarred by any fancy cologne and it would never be sold in stores. He'd keep it in his pocket, carry it around on the grueling days when they're apart and the shirts they share stop smelling like him.
And yeah, maybe Nora and Pez are onto something when they call them just a tiny bit co-dependent, but they've got four years of kisses, cuddles and lost time to make up for thank you very much. It would help if his happiness didn't seem to speed time up, and his days slow down to the pace of molasses on those days that they are apart.
He thanks his lucky stars that those days have become less and less common, and he especially thanks them that today has not been one of those days at all.
Henry uses Alex's shoulder blade as a bookrest while Alex fights the urge to take a nap that will throw his sleep schedule off for weeks, feeling safe and content down to his bones and even further down. Somewhere that isn't physical.
"Read to me," Alex murmurs, in a place between asleep and awake and just wanting to hear Henry's deep voice in his ear, no matter what the words are.
A few weeks ago Henry decided to give Dickens a second chance, staring that he'd "perhaps been too ungenerous in his judgement of his work during his younger years." so Alex makes a quip about how they're definitely going to rewatch the Muppet's version of this story. Scrooge is still majorly screwed when Alex loses his battle and falls asleep on Henry's chest, only to be awoken almost immediately.
"Ugh."
"If you fall asleep now-"
Alex grumbles, rubbing his eye under his glasses. "Yeah, I know."
Henry presses a firm kiss to the middle of his forehead and moves to stand, setting the book on the table. "The food should be ready."
In the kitchen, Alex pours them each a glass of red wine. The wind blows harshly against the window until they both shiver, grab their plates and follow David back to the fireplace, opting to sit on the floor directly in front of it.
David curls into a donut shaped ball.
They eat in comfortable silence. Let is snow is playing now, but Alex's mind drifts back to the story, to the ghost of Christmas past.
"Baby?"
"Yes, what is it, darling?"
"Do you ever wish things had been different?"
Henry pauses mid-bite, looking up at him with a furrowed brow as if knows Alex's mind has started to wander.
Which it definitely has.
"Different how?"
Alex shrugs, looks off to the side. "Between us. If we hadn't wasted so much time hating each other."
"We never hated each other." Henry reminds him, placing his hand on his knee and rubbing gently. Alex takes his hand.
"Exactly."
Out of the corner of his eye he watches Henry's expression morph into one of concern. They've talked about this before, the guilt that comes from both of them sometimes. The misunderstandings and the pain that they once caused each other.
They're working on it.
Henry puts his nearly empty plate down. He hooks his index finger under Alex's chin, urging him look meet his eyes.
"Alex, you have never been a scrooge to me. I was a scrooge to you."
"I was kinda scrooge-y to you too, baby."
They both smile, leaning forward and meeting in the middle for a lingering kiss that Alex feels in his soul, catching Henry's lips once again when he manages to stop smiling.
"Are you forgetting that I like when you're mean to me? Because I can assure you that the rest of the world has not.
Alex presses their foreheads together, "I just wish you'd never felt alone. I wish I had spent every second I could kissing you."
He hears Henry's breath hitch at the thought.
"Who knows who we would be then, though. I certainly share your sentiments from time to time, love, but I wouldn't change anything about us."
"Really?"
Henry leans back and gently caresses Alex's cheek, his gaze tender. "Certainly not. It's still a wonder to me. All of this. You, me, our life together. I never dreamed I would be sitting here with you, betrothed. And if someone had told me this would be my life, I would have been desperate to believe them. And all of this happened because you saw me for the man that I am, not the prince the world wanted me to be."
"Did you seriously just say betrothed? Who even are you?"
Henry rolls his eyes and pulls him in for another kiss, "That's more like it."
Still, the thought nags at him, follows him to bed and into the beginnings of unconsciousness.
He holds Henry close as the flurries scatter angrily in the wind outside, swirling and swirling and unsure where to land.
Whispering his love into Henry's ear as he falls asleep, he wishes it could somehow ripple back in time.