Chapter Text
Alex has made his peace with the breakup. Honestly, he and Nora were better as friends anyway. They had realized it together—what they had wasn’t love, not the kind that makes you write poetry or buy overpriced bouquets, anyway.
It was convenient. They were already inseparable, attached at the hip, and somewhere along the way, they mistook that for romance. It didn't help that the media was shipping them either.
But they’d figured it out, and they were better for it. Still loved each other, just not like that.
They’d even kept their big plans. A (very) private European food and wine tour—the romantic kind of trip that was supposed to involve candlelit dinners and shared glasses of wine.
Despite the romantic air of it all, they were still going to go as friends because, hey, who wouldn’t want to eat their way through Europe?
Or at least, that was the plan until Nora called a week before their flight.
Her voice came crackling through the phone before Alex could even say hello. “Okay, don’t kill me, but I have to bail on the trip.”
Alex froze his fork freezing mid-air. “What? Why?”
“I know, I know,” she rushed on. “Work’s a dumpster fire, and if I don’t stay to put it out, I’ll be buried alive in emails by the time I get back.”
He slumped back in his chair, poking listlessly at a noodle. “You realize I’m holding this over you forever, right?”
“Oh, please. You owe me three cancellations minimum before we’re even.” She was smiling, he could tell, but it didn’t soften the blow.
Alex sighed dramatically. “What am I supposed to do now? I can’t go solo.”
“Take June,” Nora suggested easily, like June was some kind of universal problem solver. To be fair, she normally was.
He snorted. “Yeah, I would, except she’s her interview with The Washington Post.”
Nora swore under her breath. “You sure you can’t convince her to ditch? Maybe pull her ‘First Daughter’ card?”
“Come on, Nora. You know June.” He let out a heavy sigh. “Guess it’s just me and my sad playlist.”
“Or,” Nora said, voice tilting upward like she was about to drop a brilliant idea, “you could take a million obnoxious pictures to make me jealous.”
Alex grinned despite himself. “You know I will.”
“Good. I expect at least one tragic sunset shot. Bonus points if you’re shirtless.”
“Deal,” he said. “But when you’re drowning in work, remember you bailed on me .”
“I deserve that,” she groaned.
“Love you, Nora.”
“Love you too, Alex.”
Alex was going on the trip alone. It was fine. Totally fine. Maybe even a good opportunity for introspection or whatever people did on solo trips.
***
Alex stood in the White House foyer, sunglasses perched on his head, backpack slung over one shoulder. Nora leaned against the wall nearby, arms crossed, her trademark smirk firmly in place.
“I did the math, Alejandro. There's a ninety-three percent probability you’ll have the time of your life." Alex starts to say something before he’s cut off. “Ah. You know how good I am with numbers. No need to try and argue.”
“Alex,” Zahra says from behind him, clipboard in hand, phone in the other, and an expression that screams I am one minor inconvenience away from a homicide.
Nora gives Alex a look that says, h ave fun , before she pushes off her spot on the wall to leave. “Call me if you meet someone hot.” She winks before walking away. Alex rolls his eyes before turning to face Zahra again.
“Come to wave me off, Z?”
“No.” Zahra doesn’t even look up from her clipboard. “I’m here to make sure you don’t embarrass your mother, yourself, or me. Especially me.” She finally raises her gaze to his. “And to tell you that I’ve already taken care of everything.”
Alex blinks. “What do you mean everything?”
“I sent your luggage ahead. All you need is that backpack, your passport, and whatever loose morals you’re planning to use in Europe.”
“You wha t ?” Alex stares at her like she’s just announced Richards won the election. “You sent my stuff to the bus without asking me? What if I needed something?”
“Like what?” Zahra asks, tilting her head. “Your three extra pairs of sneakers? Your second charger? Your emotional baggage? I think you’ll manage.”
“That’s a gross violation of my civil liberties,” Alex protests, crossing his arms.
“Oh, cry me a river, Hamilton,” Zahra snaps. “I saved you from lugging around two massive suitcases like a lost tourist. You should be thanking me.”
Alex sighs dramatically, but he can’t argue with her logic. “Thank you,” he mumbles. “But I reserve the right to be annoyed.”
“Noted,” Zahra says dryly, already typing something on her phone. “And, Alex?”
He pauses, halfway to the door. “What?”
“Don’t stress about anything. Just try to have fun. You work hard.” She smiled for a moment before her expression turned serious again, which was probably her resting face by now. “And if you lose that backpack, so help me, god , I’ll end you.”
“Aw, you do care,” Alex says, grinning.
Zahra rolled her eyes, but Alex could see a faint smile. “Just go before you miss your flight, kid.”
***
The next morning, after spending the night in a hotel, Alex makes his way to the tour bus. He spots the tour guide waiting at the door, clipboard in hand, her gaze darting between the list and the group of tourists filing past her. She’s got that kind of effortless French chic thing going on—casual but clearly put-together, with dark, wavy hair pinned loosely at the back of her head.
“Name?” she asks, smiling at him. Alex hears a faint French accent peeking curling around her words.
“Alex,” he said, adjusting his backpack. “Claremont-Diaz.”
“Ah, yes,” she said, checking her list. “I’m Colette,” she says, extending her hand to shake his. “Welcome aboard, Alex.”
He was the last one on, which meant most of the seats were taken. He scanned the rows until he spotted a familiar head of blond hair. His stomach dropped.
Is that…Henry? Like Prince of England Henry? Like Mr. Perfect? Mr. Uptight-and-Unbearable? Like—Fuck now he’s staring.
Henry looked up, equally horrified to see Alex. “Well,” he said dryly, “this is… unexpected.”
Alex groaned. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” He tentatively slides into the seat and glances around, hoping there’s an empty seat somewhere he missed. There’s not.
Well, shit.
The bus ride stretched on forever. Alex tried to distract himself, listening to music, an audiobook, something , but he just couldn’t when Henry was sitting literally centimeters away from him. Alex pulled out his phone and sent a message to June and Nora.
The Whitehouse Trio
Today 11:40 AM
you guys will never guess who i’m sitting next to
on this bus right now
BUG
Ooo who?
irl chaos demon
is she hot?
HE is not.
he’s actually a huge dickhead
irl chaos demon
NO FUCKING WAY
BUG
Holy. Shit.
irl chaos demon
why is he even there
no idea. definitely not asking.
pls kill me
i don’t think i can do this
irl chaos demon
lmaooooo
is my pain funny to you?
irl chaos demon
hell yeah!!!
you cold-hearted bitch
*irl chaos demon loved the message*
BUG
Alex, I think you're being a little dramatic
The last time you talked to him was YEARS ago
And I don’t know what you keep going on
about. I think he’s nice
okay, ignoring the last part.
but i won’t let him ruin this
even if he is genuinely so insufferable
_________________________________
“You’re not exactly a walk in the park either,” Henry mumbled.
“Did you just look at my messages?” Alex said, snapping his phone away. Henry just hummed in response and returned his gaze to the window. Alex stared at him in disbelief.
He settled farther back in his seat and spread his legs wider, squishing Henry against the side of the bus more than he already was.
Henry nudged him back with his knee. “Are you quite finished?” He said through gritted teeth.
“Are you just going to stare out the window the whole time?”
"Well, it’s proven to be much better than talking to you.” Henry quipped.
Alex elbowed him in response.
Henry shifted so he was facing Alex. “Are you going to try and act like a decent person, or is it your mission to make this trip a living hell for me?”
“Me? You’re the one snooping through people’s phones.”
“I was not snooping ,” he sneered. “I was only looking over and happened to glance at your phone.”
“Right. And you just had to make a comment about it,” Alex deadpanned.
“I’m not the one who started it!” Henry whispered angrily. “You were the one to make a rude comment first. What was I supposed to do? Let it slide?”
“Yes!” Alex whispered back. “Because it wasn’t meant for you! I mean, in my defense, you weren’t supposed to see it.”
“And in mine, I did.” Henry shifted, so he was looking out of the window again.
Alex slouched further into his seat, clutching his backpack, hard, resisting the urge to throttle him. It was going to be a very long trip.
***
The bus screeched to a stop, and Alex was out of his seat before the doors even opened. He wasn’t running from anything ( anyone ) in particular—just the vague, all-encompassing need to not be on that bus anymore.
Colette clapped her hands as everyone slowly trickled out behind him. “Alright, we’ll meet in the lobby at six for dinner! Until then, welcome to Dover! Enjoy the hotel and get some rest.”
Alex mentally calculated the time: today, tomorrow, and the first half of day three to breathe before they were all crammed back together on the bus again. Plenty of time to avoid, namely, one royal pain in the ass.
When he got up to his room, Alex dropped his bag on the bed and flopped back onto the mattress, staring at the ceiling.
Eventually, he grabbed the pad of paper and pen by the phone on the side table to write down a quick list. He needed some reasons to continue to look forward to the trip.
The list was becoming increasingly difficult as the time approached six.
Still, he couldn’t avoid dinner forever. When the time rolled around, Alex found himself in the lobby, scanning the group. Henry was there, of course, looking effortlessly put together in a simple button-up that somehow made him look like he’d stepped out of a Vogue spread.
Whatever, Henry being annoyingly attractive has always been a thing, objectively. It’s fine.
Alex rolled his eyes and deliberately walked as far from him as possible.
***
Dinner was… fine. The food was good, the wine better, and Alex managed to get through most of the meal without even looking at Henry, despite them sitting across from each other. But, of course, fate had other plans. By the time dessert was served, their eyes met, and Alex offered a tight-lipped smile that screamed “please don’t talk to me.”
Henry, apparently, got the memo because he dropped his eyes down to his plate.
Alex thinks he may actually survive this. He and Henry have had to make multiple public appearances before, and nothing catastrophic has ever happened. There was bad blood, sure, but it’s not like they ever caused an international incident.
A real win in his books.
Alex shifted his focus to Colette, who sat to his left, effortlessly poised as she reached for her wineglass. Something caught the light—a glint so bright it yanked his attention downward. His eyes landed on her ring finger—a gold band with a diamond so big it looked like it had its own fucking gravitational pull.
“Holy shit,” he muttered, barely loud enough to be heard. But Colette glanced over, catching the direction of his gaze, and laughed.
“I know,” she said, extending her hand so he could get a better look. The diamond caught the light again, throwing tiny rainbows across the table. “I’m a very lucky woman.”
“No kidding,” Alex said, leaning in slightly, genuinely impressed. “Did your fiancé have to sell a castle for that thing?”
Colette’s laughter was warm and easy—the kind that made you feel like you were in on a private joke. “Not quite, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it was considered. I’ve got a hopeless romantic for a fiancé.”
***
The next day brought them to Dover Castle. Alex trailed behind the group, half-listening as Colette rattled off facts about medieval sieges or something. Henry, of course, was at the front, hanging on her every word like a teacher’s pet.
He was close to making a snide comment, but he decided to bite the inside of his cheek. He wasn’t in the mood to start something.
Well, not yet, anyway. The day was still young.
Instead, Alex pulled out his phone and sent a picture to Nora, which was probably going against at least three separate clauses in Henry's ridiculously long NDA he and everyone else had to sign. She responded back quickly with: omg ur obsessed.
He was most definitely not obsessed. He just couldn’t help but glance at Henry now and then. There was something irritatingly... magnetic about him. The way he moved, the way he spoke. It was infuriating.
***
Alex was doing everything in his power not to talk to Henry. He’d been managing so far. But, as always, fate had other plans.
Fate’s name was Colette, who somehow orchestrated the seating chart so that Alex was now stuck in a wine tasting... right next to Henry.
Fantastic .
He should have known she was up to something. After dinner the first night, she’s been giving him these looks .
Henry sat straight-backed and poised, the picture of British decorum, his attention fixed on the sommelier as if he were preparing for a pop quiz. Meanwhile, Alex was already half-checking out after the second wine.
Okay, maybe Alex is checking out Henry instead. Unintentionally, obviously. It’s just… his jawline was so stupidly sharp, and his lips did this thing when he swirled his glass, pursing ever so slightly. It was annoyingly… noticeable. And distracting. Very, very distracting.
Alex downed another sip of wine, feigning intense concentration even though it tasted exactly like the last one. Fruity? Earthy? Who knows? Who cares? He was bluffing his way through this whole thing, and he was fully aware of it.
“So, what do you think?”
Henry’s voice cut through Alex’s spiraling thoughts, annoyingly crisp and annoyingly British. Alex glances over, immediately regretting it. He meets Henry’s eyes and suddenly notices how blue they are.
“It’s, uh, fruity?” Alex managed, feeling every bit as dumb as he sounded.
Henry’s lips twitched into a maddeningly subtle almost-smile. “Really going for the expert analysis, then?”
“Oh, shut up, Your Majesty ,” Alex shot back, rolling his eyes.
Henry cleared his throat. "Actually, it's Your Royal Highness,” he said before taking another sip of his wine.
They fell into a tense silence after that.
Still, Alex couldn’t help but notice everything. The way Henry swirled his glass, his fingers brushing the delicate stem, the faint flex of his bicep when he lifted it to his lips. It was infuriating how aware he was of all of it.
After a few more sips and entirely too much internal distraction, Alex couldn’t take it anymore. He set his glass down a little harder than necessary and turned to Henry.
“What’s your deal with me?” he blurted.
Henry blinked, clearly caught off guard. He lowered his glass with a soft clink and stared at Alex as if he’d just sprouted a second head. “I beg your pardon?”
Alex felt his face heat but pushed forward anyway. “What’s your problem?”
Henry raises an eyebrow, looking genuinely surprised. “My problem with you? You’ve been acting like you can’t stand me for years. I’ve been trying to make polite conversation here.”
Alex let out a disbelieving laugh. “Seriously? You’ve been cold as hell to me since, fuck... forever. The Olympics? You acted like I was beneath you the whole time.”
Henry winced, a slight flinch that Alex almost missed. He looked down at his glass, turning it slowly in his hands. “I wasn’t… It wasn’t about you. It was only a little while after my father died. I didn’t know how to talk to anyone. I didn’t want to talk to anyone.”
The words hit Alex harder than he expected. He remembered that time, how the media had hounded Henry relentlessly—his whole family, actually. But Alex had been so wrapped up in his own life that he hadn’t considered what Henry might have been going through.
“Oh,” Alex said, his voice quieter than he’d intended. “I… didn’t know.”
Henry shrugged, still not meeting Alex’s eyes. “It’s fine. I should’ve… I don’t know. Explained, I suppose.”
Alex scratched the back of his neck, trying to shake off the awkwardness settling between them. “Yeah, well… Now I feel like an ass.”
“We’ve both been arses,” Henry offered, a small, tentative smile tugging at his lips.
Alex huffs out a laugh, the tension easing just a little. And for the first time, he didn’t feel like he was talking to Prince Henry anymore. Just Henry. Henry, who maybe wasn’t as untouchable and perfectly poised as Alex had always assumed.
For the rest of the tasting, they found themselves in a strange sort of truce. Still bickering, still poking at each other, but softer now—like they’d peeled back a layer of rivalry and found something more honest underneath.
Alex grabbed Henry’s phone off the table, holding it up to Henry's face to unlock it so quick Henry didn't have time to protest. He quickly added his number and set it back down. “There. My number. Since it seems we’re stuck together on this trip. No booty calls, though.” He winked.
Alex couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face as he saw Henry shake his head and laugh at the contact name: Pain in Your Royal Ass.
***
On the third morning, they headed out to the White Cliffs of Dover, which, admittedly, were pretty damn impressive. The cliffs rose, stark and white against the churning sea below, and Alex couldn’t help but inch closer to the edge, curious.
“Don’t be an idiot,” Henry said, his voice sharp with warning.
Alex grinned over his shoulder. “What, worried about me, sweetheart?”
Henry narrowed his eyes, stepping closer. “Someone has to be. You’re bound to do something reckless.”
“Aw, look at you, all protective.” Alex wiggled his eyebrows, but he took a step back from the edge anyway. Maybe because Henry was right. Maybe because he liked the way Henry was looking at him right now, all tense and serious like Alex’s well-being actually mattered to him.
"Yeah, well, your track record isn’t that great,” Henry mumbled.
They stood there for a second, just staring out at the sea together, the wind tugging at their clothes. And it felt kind of… peaceful, in a way Alex wasn’t expecting.
By the time they boarded the bus to Paris, something between them had shifted. The sharp edges of their rivalry hadn’t disappeared, but they’d softened, rounded out by something Alex couldn’t quite put his finger on.
Maybe this trip wouldn’t be a complete disaster after all.