Archive of Our Own

"Am I going insane? I swear we've met before,” Alex says, with his arm outstretched to shake the new cast member’s hand.

Alex doesn’t forget a face. He’d certainly never forget this face.

But he can’t think about that right now. He’s still reeling from his last on-set fling. Susie played Alex’s dogwalker who secretly ran a dog fighting ring on the side, and was fun and flirty with Alex until it progressed into taking lunch together in his trailer which turned into having breakfast together in his apartment, which came to an abrupt halt when he caught her creeping on the balcony outside his bedroom window in the early hours of the morning.

He lives five floors up.

He’d begged the writers to write her out of the show, and they did; the victim of a dog attack that even the best trauma surgeon in Hollowbrook couldn’t save.

He tries to remember the name that was on his call sheet this morning — Harvey? Harry? — as the man says, in an incredibly charming British accent, “No, I don’t think so. I’m Henry Windsor.”

Henry. He’ll have to remember that.

Alex remembers when he first joined the cast, he was still so new to the acting world and in desperate need of a mentor on set, someone to show him the ropes and teach him all the unspoken etiquette that the veteran cast members follow. Matthew — the man who played his father, Mario, on the show — made him feel welcome from the first moment he stepped on set, and demonstrated a calmness and warmth that Alex has strived to follow. Unfortunately Mario was thrown overboard a yacht just ten episodes later and presumed dead, eaten by a shark. They’ve still never found the body.

Alex has stuck it out and bided his time. He’s worked his way up from a six episode arc to top billing on the call sheet. He’s proud of how hard he works, and the atmosphere he’s created on set. He puts a lot of effort into being welcoming and inclusive so that everyone is welcoming and inclusive. Not that it’s hard. He’s a natural born extrovert, could charm the birds out of the trees. He knows how to talk to people, how to read people, and how to treat people.

He was just 21 when he was cast as Jack Lopez. Practically a baby in the industry, despite how very grown up he felt at the time. He’s been in too many commercials to name, a few very minor roles in teen dramas, a three-episode stint on a Disney family sitcom, and then this.

The Hot & The Horny.

His dream role, if he’s totally honest.

A full-time acting gig that pays pretty well, and a lot of women (and decidedly less men) of all ages, of all nationalities, tune in to watch him be incredibly handsome every single day.

How fucking cool is that.

He’s heard horror stories of daytime tv actors being unceremoniously cut from shows, when their character falls down an elevator shaft or gets rampaged by a bull, but he’s quietly confident that won’t happen to him.

Alex doesn’t like to brag, but he does play the first openly bisexual half-Mexican trauma surgeon on daytime television. That’s kind of a big deal.

He pushed hard for that representation. Timed his character’s first on-screen kiss with a man with his own personal coming out, and a cover shoot for Soap Opera Digest.

He shakes Henry’s hand and introduces himself — Alex Claremont-Diaz, playing Jack Lopez — and introduces Henry to his other co-star nearby: Amalia Martinez but we all call her Molly, playing Lucy, Jack’s younger sister.

“Yes, we met at my audition,” Henry says, smiling at Molly.

Of course. Henry is playing Edward Smith, a British tourist with a secret criminal past, who falls in love with Lucy Lopez while visiting Hollowbrook.

Alex quickly shows Henry around the set. He knows there’s assistants and gofers to do this kind of thing, and someone called a best boy who Alex is endlessly jealous of, but he likes doing it. Likes knowing the names of all the cast and the production crew, knows how special it is to be a part of something as big and important as a daytime soap opera. There’s a legacy here, of decades of work and craftsmanship that have come together to bring joy and escapism to people every single day. He feels that legacy down to his bones every time he steps on set. Breathes it in, soaks in it, lets it become a part of him, just as Alex himself is now a part of that legacy. Of history.

Besides, It’s barely a hardship, spending time with someone as hot as Henry.

They don’t call it The Hot & The Horny for nothing.

He walks Henry over to the craft services table, and introduces him to Katie, the craft services manager. Alex points out the best flavour of muffin, tells him which sandwich to grab at lunch before they all disappear, and leads Henry around to the coffee station. Alex grabs two paper cups from the table and fills them both to the brim, and passes one to Henry.

“I actually prefer tea, if there’s any available?” Henry asks nervously. It's cute. Alex remembers that feeling, being the newest person on set and not wanting to be seen as difficult or demanding but also needing the comfort of your favourite hot beverage. That’s the only reason they keep a cinnamon shaker next to the coffee machine, because Alex was brave enough to ask for one back on his first day.

Alex calls Katie over to them, and asks where they could find tea for Henry.

“Oh,” she says. “No one has ever asked for that before.”

“Not to worry,” Henry says, a little too quickly. But Alex knows that expression on his face, can see him hiding his disappointment down underneath layers of fear and anxiety, buried deep down underneath his gorgeous fucking cheekbones.

Alex knows that feeling well. Not the cheekbones, unfortunately. Remembers the day he told his mother he was giving up his law firm internship — that she had arranged, did she need to remind him — to spend the summer in LA. Remembers the brave face he put on as he packed a car full of all his possessions and drove west, searching for something he couldn’t find anywhere else. Remembers the tremble in his voice over the phone, the long pause on the other end of the line, when he told his mother he’d been cast in a soap opera.

And later, the PowerPoint presentation she had emailed to him: Exploring Career Options: Healthy. But Does It Have To Be In LA?

Henry takes his coffee to his trailer, and Alex chats to Katie.

When Henry comes back on day two, there’s an electric kettle and assortment of teas on the craft services table.

— — —

Henry’s been on the show for a few weeks now, and apart from a nod and a slight smile in Alex’s direction when he made a cup of tea on that second morning, they haven’t really interacted. He always looks the same when he arrives to set each morning; in a neatly pressed button up and chinos, his hair perfectly coiffed in that way that makes Alex’s stomach swoop just a tiny bit, carrying all his things in some fancy leather overnight bag as he greets anyone he passes with a hello or a good morning in that posh pretty accent of his.

He never seems to pass Alex, though. He walks straight to his trailer and stays there until he’s needed on set, and they haven’t filmed any scenes together yet. Jack Lopez primarily works out of the Hollowbrook Hospital, and Edward hasn’t had any reason to appear there.

He’s been too busy kissing Jack’s sister, Lucy.

Molly and Henry have amazing chemistry. Alex has been watching the dailies any chance he gets, perhaps a little more often than usual. He looks out for Molly, he can’t help it. She’s been his on-screen little sister for over ten years, since they were cast as siblings that ran into their long lost father in the grocery store, recognisable only by Jack’s unique chin dimple. They were originally only in a few episodes and then written out, but the fan response was so strong and immediate that they were both made permanent cast members by the start of the following season.

Lucy is a high school teacher in Hollowbrook. Unlucky in love, always in the shadow of her older brother, occasionally possessed by the spirit of her deceased grandmother. So Alex is checking the footage, making sure that Henry is behaving appropriately in the few romantic scenes they’ve had together so far.

Henry appears to be a perfect gentleman. He kisses Molly softly and gently. Sorry. Edward kisses Lucy softly and gently. It doesn’t look like he uses any tongue, and he doesn’t seem to have his hands in places he shouldn’t. Like wrapped up in her hair or running up and down her back, or gripped tightly around her waist while he pushes his body up against hers. That’s good.

Alex clears his throat, suddenly aware of the dryness in his mouth and the heat rising in his cheeks. He thanks the crew for their time and heads back to his trailer.

Alex hasn’t been on set much the last few days. Most of Jack’s scenes have been filmed outdoors, performing emergency surgery on the half of the town that has been caught in an avalanche. When he hasn’t been filming, Alex has spent every spare moment he has practicing his surgical movements and perfecting his rapidfire medical jargon.

There’s no time for rehearsals on a show like this; if you get any down time on set you might run lines with another actor, but otherwise you learn your script on your own time and you step on set ready to go. There are multiple actors and sets and a million convoluted plotlines to get through in each episode. Delays can really fuck up the shooting schedule.

This is what other actors don’t get. How focused you have to be, how prepared, how in tune with everyone around you from the second you start filming. There’s no time for blooper reels or pranks on set, no space for egos or errors or missing lines. That kind of behaviour is wildly unprofessional, and if you do it too many times you might find your character goes deep sea diving one episode and never surfaces. Swallowed by a whale, most likely.

Alex knows the way other actors talk about his chosen industry — not his cast, they adore him, but actors in other shows. The shows that air in prime time, or that only film eight episodes every two years. He knows how soap operas are treated in the industry, how they’re mocked and ridiculed. How the actors are mocked and ridiculed.

But what a lazy joke. Where’s the creativity, the ingenuity, in always going for the easy target?

Alex takes his job seriously. He understands how forms of entertainment that predominantly cater to women are treated as inferior. Because women don’t know what they like, right? It’s not like teenage girls put The fucking Beatles on the map, or anything. That they determine trends and dictate what’s cool for every other demographic, and then grow up to be women with a firm grasp on what they like and what they don’t. That when men rearrange their time around watching the football, that’s normal and expected, but if a woman plans out her day so she’s free at 12:30pm to tune into the goings on in Hollowbrook that’s considered sad or obsessive.

Alex was raised by a strong, intelligent woman. Two of them, if you count his older sister. He’s done his research, he understands women.

He understands that women control a significant portion of discretionary spending in the economy and advertisers are scrambling to find ways to market directly to them.

He understands that even when all that is taken into consideration, starring on a show that’s mostly watched by women is somehow considered less than, and that means he’s not worthy of being invited to premieres or after parties or fashion shows in Paris like all the other actors he started out with.

But he also understands that he can walk into a room at SoapCon and have women of all ages screaming his name.

Screaming his name in his hotel room afterwards, if he wants.

— — —

The cast go out for drinks every now and again. It’s mostly ad hoc, sometimes for someone’s birthday, or sometimes to say farewell to a cast member whose character was killed by a rampaging elephant when the zoo gates broke in the hurricane.

In a town like LA, where there’s a million more famous people — more people, significantly more famous than Alex is — in every second bar, it’s pretty easy for them to hang out together without much fanfare.

Alex is excited. He hasn’t been out in a while; he’s long overdue for a night on a sweaty dancefloor. A night with no complications and no expectations, just two — sometimes more — people getting lost in the beat, the movement of the crowd, the alcohol slowly filling up their senses. He has an entire weekend ahead of him with no plans, and all the time in the world to nurse a hangover on his couch.

It’s not, like, the law, that everyone has to attend, but it is expected. There’s no egos on set, that’s the rule. And this is a way for the cast to come together, outside the insanity of Hollowbrook, and just hang out as people. No hair and makeup at their beck and call, no craft services tending to their every request. Just Alex, and Molly, and all the others.

And Henry. Alex heard Henry was coming.

Alex is on his second whiskey. He’s conveniently situated at the end of the table, where he has a direct line of sight to the entrance of the bar. He takes a long, slow sip, his eyes fixated on the front door, barely listening to the conversation that’s happening around him. Molly is talking to someone about the hurricane episode last season, when all of Hollowbrook lost power and they filmed the entire episode in the dark, and Alex is aware enough to nod his head or smile when needed but he’s not at all invested in the conversation.

He’s distracted.

He’s not necessarily waiting for Henry, but he is very aware that he hasn’t shown up yet.

Did anyone tell him it’s happening? That it’s tonight?

Yes, Molly did. She said she did.

He asks her to check again.

“Why are you so obsessed with him?” Molly asks.

“I’m not obsessed,” Alex says, maybe slightly too defensively. “I’m…”

What is he, exactly?

He’s looking out for his newest cast member, obviously. They haven’t had a lot of opportunities to connect on set yet, and Alex wants to make sure he feels welcome.

Yeah, that’s it. That’s all it is.

It’s not that he’s got a silly schoolboy crush on the guy despite knowing nothing about him, or that he can’t figure out why the fuck Henry won’t just hang out with him in the few rare moments they’ve had together, or why he seems to get along with everyone else in the cast except for Alex.

It’s none of that.

He’s just being a good castmate.

He knows film and TV sets don’t have a structured hierarchy to them like a corporate office does. Like the life he left behind. There’s no top-down reporting framework or monthly check-ins and one-on-one meetings with your boss. You show up on set, you do your job, and you pray your character doesn’t decide to go camping on a whim, because it is almost guaranteed that a tree will fall on their tent in the middle of the night.

Alex isn’t their leader or their boss, he’s not the self-appointed Chief People Officer of Hollowbrook, but he does feel a responsibility over them. He’s been on the show for more than ten years now, and although that pales in comparison to some of his longest running castmates, he’s the face of the show. He’s the one on the cover of Soap Opera Digest, he’s the biggest draw at SoapCon, and he has more followers on Instagram than almost anyone else on daytime television.

So when someone isn’t fitting in, or isn’t connecting with the rest of the cast, he takes it personally. They’re like a family, The Hot & The Horny, and Henry is part of that family now.

Molly’s phone vibrates on the table, the screen lighting up as she leans over to read the message.

“Henry isn’t coming, he said something has come up,” she says casually, swiping the notification away and pocketing her phone, then jumping straight back into the blackout conversation.

Alex leaves after his third whiskey.

— — —

Alex can’t find Molly anywhere on set.

He wants to chat with her about the scene they’re filming together that afternoon. It’s the emotional climax of a multi-episode arc; the discovery that Jack’s deceased wife has been reincarnated as the bird that visits Lucy’s garden every morning. It’s going to be passionate and intense for both of them, and Alex always likes to check in with his co-stars before filming such a scene. Check where their headspace is at, make sure they’re both aligned on the emotional resonance of the scene, that sort of thing.

Molly usually isn’t difficult to find. She’s either hanging out in Alex’s trailer when she’s bored, or loitering by craft services trying to score the good sandwiches before anyone else. When she’s not in either of those places, Alex can usually find her in the writers’ room. She likes to flirt with the head writer to see how much she can sway upcoming storylines, often to Alex’s detriment. Such a typical younger sister. She’s the reason Alex spent an entire episode stuck up a tree last season; a small child asked for Jack’s help rescuing their kitten, until he discovered both the child and the kitten were a ghost.

There’s laughter coming from Molly’s trailer. Unmistakeable, joyous laughter. He knows Molly’s voice like the back of his hand, but there’s another voice with her that he can’t quite place. It’s low and warm and Alex can’t help but follow it up the few steps to the front door of her trailer, opening without knocking as he has done every other day they’ve worked together.

Molly and Henry are sitting next to each other on the couch, cups of tea in hand — Alex is certain he’s never seen Molly drink tea before, but whatever — both wiping tears from their eyes as their laughter comes to a slow. He’s never actually heard Henry laugh before. It suits him. Happiness. Alex likes it.

“Hey Molly, Henry — “ Alex says, waving in their direction.

Henry looks at Molly, wide-eyed, like a terrified baby deer.

His blonde hair looks weightless, soft and delicate. Alex wants to touch it.

But he can’t read that expression. Is he interrupting something?

“Hey Alex!” Molly says cheerfully. “We’re just hanging out for a bit, want to join us?”

Alex looks at Henry. Henry looks at Molly.

Alex understands when he’s not welcome.

He’s used to it, being too much. He was Class President in high school, captain of the lacrosse team, and had a sea of friends in college before he left. But he was never anyone’s person.

He knows how to work a crowd, how to win people over with his effortless charisma. But how to make someone stay, to want them to want him as much as he deserves? He’s never figured it out.

So he sticks to his strengths — everyone’s friend, no one’s best friend. And that’s okay. He’s comfortable there.

He just doesn’t understand why Henry has written him off before even getting to know him. It seems unfair.

Alex gives everyone a chance to disappoint him, so why won’t Henry allow him the same grace?

“No, it’s okay, I wanted to chat about our scene this afternoon but I’ll catch you later.”

Alex turns and leaves before either of them can respond.

— — —

It’s a few weeks later when Alex knocks on Henry’s trailer door. They’ve still barely talked on set and Alex just can’t figure it out. He sees Henry laughing with Molly over a cup of tea in the morning, or being cheeky with the writers from time to time, but he won’t even look at Alex most days.

Alex can’t stop looking at Henry, though.

Henry opens the door, shirtless, toweling his hair like he’s just stepped out of the shower.

“Oh, sorry — “ Alex says, not sure where to look. The droplets dripping down Henry’s chest, or the lone drop of water stuck to the mole in the corner of his mouth, or the muscles flexing in his arm as he rubs a towel through his hair, or his deep, deep blue eyes, or —

“Hello, Alex.”

“Hey, sorry. I can come back if this is a bad time?”

Henry steps aside, opening the door wider for Alex to walk through. “It’s fine, please. Come on in.”

Alex still can’t shake the feeling that he’s met Henry before. He looked up his IMDB profile on Henry’s first day to see if they’d crossed paths on another set, but this appears to be Henry’s first acting credit. But that voice and the accent and the hair and the fucking everything that Alex can’t get out of his mind. He knows he’s had these thoughts before.

“Thanks. I thought we could run lines together while we have some time to spare.”

“Oh.” Henry turns around and digs through his bag to find a shirt to put on, and Alex would be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed by this turn of events.

Henry, now unfortunately fully-clothed, says, “I don’t need any assistance, actually,” with his back still to Alex.

Huh.

Alex is kind of a big deal on set, okay. He doesn’t like to brag or draw attention to it, but he is. First on the call sheet, loved and respected by all the cast and crew, knows all the ins and outs and how to bend anyone to his charm. It’s a gift. So when you’re new on set and he offers you his time, you say yes. He didn’t even phrase it as a question, so he’s not sure how Henry could have turned him down.

And Henry isn't being rude about it. He's speaking with a firm but gentle tone, assertive, leaving no room for Alex to argue with him. But he will, anyway.

“It’s just that we haven’t had any scenes together yet, or really even spoken to each other, and I know this is your first role, so I thought — “

Henry cuts him off. Turns around, all warmth gone from his eyes and no hint of a smile or anything on his face. “You looked me up?”

Alex is shocked. Isn't that standard procedure when you meet someone new at work? If he was in any other industry he'd have a LinkedIn profile for people to refer to, but he doesn’t, so instead he looks his colleagues up on IMDB to find their work history.

He also searched Deadline and Variety for any mention of a “Henry Windsor” and found nothing. Plus Instagram, Snapchat, Tik Tok… solely for research purposes, of course.

“Well, yeah,” he says. “I couldn't find any credits under your name so I assumed this is your first role. Right?”

“Right,” Henry says, but Alex can't help but notice the slight tremor in his voice, the delicate tremble in his hand as he reaches behind Alex to open the door. “But I'm fine. Thanks.”

Okay.

Alex leaves the trailer, too stunned to know what to say. He doesn’t slam the door shut, but he doesn’t close it gently, either.

— — —

Henry really should have run lines with Alex.

He’s a mess, keeps missing his cues, can’t get his lines right, can barely even look at Alex for most of the scene.

The director finally puts him out of his misery, calling for a 30 minute break with an excuse of needing to reset the scene, but they all know it’s so Henry can get a fucking grip and come back with a clear head.

Henry storms off set, not saying a word to anyone as he stomps off to his trailer, a black cloud hovering above him practically visible as he seethes and snarls at all he passes.

Alex gets it, everyone has a bad day. He’s had plenty in his time. But Henry doesn’t get to be rude about it. Alex fucking offered to run lines with him yesterday, and if Henry had listened maybe they wouldn’t be in this situation now.

Henry flings open his trailer door and charges inside, with Alex following close behind.

“What the fuck was that, Henry?” Alex yells, once they’re both inside. Henry turns, startled, obviously unaware that Alex has followed him.

“I’m not supposed to be here, I’m not… “

“Not what?”

“I’m not meant to be on a soap opera.” The bitter disgust in Henry’s voice rattles around inside Alex’s head. Like being on a show that’s televised in more than 120 countries is something to be ashamed of.

Like being here, with Alex, is something to be ashamed of.

Alex has put up with a lot of ridicule from his fellow actors. The teen stars he started out with who have gone on to win awards and prestige, getting their pick of the latest A24 film then cameo-ing in a Marvel blockbuster just for laughs, who have stopped returning his messages or liking his instagram posts. He knows, he knows, soap operas are not well-respected. He expects it from them, now. He doesn’t expect it from a fellow castmate, and he won’t tolerate it.

“Oh I’m sorry, are we beneath you, Your Majesty?”

“What are we actually creating here, this is just fantasy wish fulfillment for bored housewives who need something to fill their day.”

Alex scoffs. “Unlike, say, James Bond?”

Henry looks like he’s been slapped across the face. “What?” he says with such abject horror in his voice that Alex is ready to call victory right here and now.

“James Bond is the ultimate masculine fantasy; he’s a charismatic spy who fucks beautiful women and defeats the bad guys, while looking hot as fuck in a tux. Super realistic.” Henry is silent, it looks like his brain has gone offline judging by the blank stare he’s giving Alex. “You’ve never thought about it that way before, have you?” Alex says, smug as fuck. His mother was right, he would have been such a fucking great lawyer.

Except. While he’s mentally cheering that he’s won this argument, Henry looks fucking broken. Like Alex personally ripped his heart out of his chest and stomped on it, just for fun.

“Alex. My father is Arthur Fox.”

Oh, fuck.

And that’s when he realises.

The familiarity and the accent and the deja vu every time he sees Henry’s obscene shoulder-to-waist ratio.

He’s the son of James Fucking Bond. Of the best James Bond, if you ask Alex.

“But your last name is Windsor?” Alex says, surprised he can still form coherent words after so thoroughly destroying the man in front of him.

“Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, actually. Fox on my father’s side, and my mother’s side all use Mountchristen as their stage name.”

“So why… ?”

Henry takes a deep breath. Looks down at the floor like if he concentrates just hard enough it might swallow him whole and remove him from this conversation. (That happened on The Hot & The Horny once, three seasons ago.)

“I come from an acting legacy. My father is James Bond, Alex. Do you know what it’s like to grow up in the shadow of that? I’ve spent my whole life looking up to him and wanting desperately to be him, to have a career that he’d be proud of. So he’d know, somewhere out there, that his name and his legacy has lived on even though he’s gone.”

Alex remembers when Arthur Fox died. He was still living at home then, back in Texas. His mom had ordered pizza and put on a Bond marathon into the wee hours of the night, finally falling asleep on the couch somewhere between An Ounce of Prevention and The Shadow of a Doubt. It felt like the whole world had mourned him, together. He hadn’t given any thought to what it must be like to privately mourn such a public figure. To work through your own grief and sorrow of losing the most important man in your life while the world mourns the fictional characters he played. Fuck.

“My mother’s side is practically theatre royalty in London. She has had her name up in lights in the West End for most of my life, and her mother’s name before that.” Alex didn’t know that. “My grandmother forbade me from using the Mountchristen name when she realised I was never going to make it as a serious actor. My brother Phillip is the only one she’s allowed to keep the name. She said she didn’t want me bringing disgrace to the Mountchristens, and...” Henry fights back tears, swallows them down with a ferocity Alex has never seen in him before. “And I don’t want the same thing to happen to my father’s name. So on this show, I am simply Henry Windsor.”

Fuck.

Alex wants to hug him. Can he hug him? He’s always been such a tactile person, constantly fidgeting and touching and wanting. Always wanting to be closer, needing a connection. Those “do not touch the display” signs you see at museums and art galleries? They’re there because of Alex.

“Henry.” Alex reaches out a hand, tentative, but Henry shakes his head and doesn’t move any closer.

Alex lowers his arm back down to his side, a fucking useless limb if ever he’s had one.

“Do you think you’re disappointing your father by being here?”

“It’s not the kind of television I should be on," Henry says.

“Says who?”

“My grandmother. She rang me, yesterday, moments before you asked to run lines with me.” Henry stops. He looks at Alex, really looks at Alex, open and heartfelt. “I was incredibly rude to you. I have been incredibly rude to you since I got here, and you haven’t deserved any of it.”

“Fuck your grandmother.”

Henry coughs back a laugh. He sits down on the small couch in his trailer, his shoulders sagging visibly as he melts into the cushions.

“Look, I get it,” Alex continues. “It’s an adjustment, being on a show like this. You work your ass off on set for nine months a year but none of your peers watch the show and you don’t get a fraction of the attention as someone on an eight episode Netflix series that gets cancelled after one season. And we’re good at what we do, both of us. But thank you for apologising, and — " Alex gets that twinkle in his eye, the ones that has got him both in and out of trouble multiple times in his life. "I’m glad we both agree you’ve been an obtuse fucking asshole.”

Henry tilts his head. “I don’t think those are the precise words I used?”

“No, no, it’s done,” Alex grins. “We agree.”

They look at each other in silence, the tension that has been building around them finally breaks to make way for a lightness; matching dopey grins slowly form on their faces as their eyes sparkle across the dim trailer light.

It’s like they’re seeing each other for the first time.

Alex stands abruptly, then looks at Henry and says, “Do not go anywhere. I’ll be right back,” before he opens the trailer door and disappears outside.

He runs back to his trailer and opens the small mini-fridge where he stores his protein shakes, his knees cracking as he crouches down in front of it. He pulls out two beers and takes off the screw-top lids, shuts the fridge door and jogs back. Alex walks in calmly and passes a bottle to Henry. They’re not supposed to have alcohol on set due to strict work and safety laws, but who is going to say no to Alex? No one. Henry takes a sip.

“You know we’re actually not that different,” Alex says, leaning against the wall of the trailer, his beer bottle resting casually between two fingers. “I was never supposed to be here, either.”

Henry rolls his eyes with the slightest hint of affection. “Alex, please. This show was made for you. You practically run this set.”

“Do you think it started out that way?” Henry shrugs. “I have a family legacy as well. Not acting, but I am the product of two very accomplished lawyers. I was born screaming, and my mom still jokes that I haven’t shut up since. Arguing with people, that was my destiny.”

Henry smirks. “Really? I couldn’t tell.”

Alex likes seeing this snarky side of Henry, likes seeing all sides of Henry, but he continues on. “I went to New York for college, so I could stay there for my law degree and segue straight into one of those big asshole corporate law firms my parents both have connections in. But one weekend they were filming a TV show on campus and needed extras. It was a few hours of work for decent money, so I signed up. And immediately, as soon as I saw the cameras and the director and the fucking energy vibrating off of everyone on that set, I knew I had to be a part of it. It just lit me up inside, you know? I’ve never felt anything else like it.”

Henry smiles, a gentle little thing, just for himself. “Yes, I know the feeling.”

“So I sought out any opportunities I could in New York. I went to so many open castings and auditions, taking whatever work I could find and making college fit around it as best as I could, but not really caring if it didn’t. I signed with an agent who scored me a few episodes in a teen show, so I went to LA the summer after my first year. I came back to New York again for six months but I was miserable. All the friends I’d made over the summer were getting parts in movies and other shows and I was working towards a degree for a career I didn’t want anymore. So I packed up my dorm, rented a car, and drove to LA.”

Alex takes another long sip of his beer. “I didn’t tell my mom I’d moved until I was already here. I knew if I told her beforehand she’d talk me out of it, so I didn’t let her. She was so mad at me, she didn’t talk to me for six weeks. No, she wasn’t mad, she was disappointed, which is so much worse. Six fucking weeks, can you believe that?”

Henry looks like he can believe that.

“I had a few small roles and commercials, and my mom finally started talking to me again, even flew out with my sister a few times just to make sure I was taking care of myself. But when they offered me six episodes on this I was so embarrassed to be on a soap, I didn’t tell anyone. And when they offered me a permanent role, I was excited but also, like, kind of ashamed, you know? I rang my mom and told her and she said oh, Alex, with such a sadness in her voice I almost regretted signing the contract. But I needed the money, and an acting credit is an acting credit. So I figured I’d stay here for a season and then move onto something else. Is that your plan too?”

Henry looks down at the bottle in his hands, at the edge of the label he’s scratched off and the tiny remnants of paper that are now stuck to his couch.

Henry nods, and says, “I’ve tried, Alex. I’ve bloody tried. I’ve self-taped and auditioned and I’ve done chemistry tests, and I have for years, and I always just miss out on getting the role. Every bloody time, I’m always so close but never the first choice. Do you know how many individual episodes of a TV show I’ve been on? Always hoping it would turn into something more and it never, ever did. Or how many pilots I’ve filmed, only for the show to never be picked up? This is the only show that would cast me as an actual permanent cast member.”

“Yeah, I felt much the same when I started here. But you know what happened? My mother’s friends happened. They started calling her, so excited to see me on the show, wanting to get the inside scoop on upcoming plot points. And she had to pretend like she knew what they were talking about, too embarrassed to admit she wasn’t up to date on her own son’s career. So then she actually watched the show, and rang me to say how proud she was. Can you believe that? And the more time I spent on this show, meeting fans, going to fan events, reading what people say online, I realised something else. This show is a legacy. There are women in our audience who watched the show as small children with their grandmother, who are watching it now with their own children. You sometimes meet three generations of a family that have all watched the show together. We are a part of that family’s history, a part of the fabric and language that melds together to form their memories, and that’s a fucking incredible thing to be a part of. And I am so proud of that.”

Alex has been pacing around the limited space of the trailer as he talks, and stops in front of Henry. “And yeah, I had to work through some of my own internalised misogyny, that I didn’t even know was there. I’m a fucking feminist, right? I donate to Planned Parenthood and go to women’s marches. I’ve dated enough emotionally unavailable men to consider myself an ally. So why was I so ashamed to be on a show for bored housewives? Doesn’t everyone deserve to have entertainment they enjoy? And the plots are silly, the writers know they’re silly, we know they’re silly, but you know what? The people at home watching it know that as well.

“We don’t need to act like we’re above it because they’re in on the joke. That’s the whole point. It’s like this secret code that only us and the viewers know about, and really how is that any different to a Marvel movie, or fucking Star Wars or whatever. The only difference is the audience it caters to.”

Henry looks lost in thought, and he nods like he might actually get it.

Alex continues, “And now, I’m here for life. This is it for me, and I’ve never been happier.”

“That’s wonderful, Alex. Truly.”

“You need to come to SoapCon with me.” Henry’s expression is blank. “It’s this big annual convention for soap opera fans. Fuck, you’ll love it. You’re fresh meat so they’ll treat you like a God. You’ll have women of all ages throwing their underwear at you. And their phone numbers…” Alex raises a suggestive eyebrow in place of finishing the sentence.

“I’m not really interested in women’s underwear, if we’re being honest.”

Oh.

Oh.

Okay. That’s good to know.

“Men’s underwear, then?”

Henry grins at Alex. “Much preferred.”

— — —

Henry fucking nails his scene.

— — —

Alex barges into Henry's trailer. They do that now, hang out on set. Sometimes with Molly, and often without.

Henry is mid-phone call, and he holds up a single finger to silence Alex before he gets the chance to speak. As if Alex would just walk into a room uninvited and start talking a mile a minute. The nerve.

Alex plonks himself down on the couch as Henry turns around, his back to Alex. Alex figures he'd ask him to leave if this is a private call, so he stays.

He can hear the happiness in Henry's voice as he speaks softly into the phone. There's a muffled female voice coming through the speaker; Alex can't understand the words but the accent is unmistakably British.

“I know, yes, I know,” Henry says, all soft and fond. “Yes, we'll speak soon… I miss you too… Bye.”

Henry ends the call and pockets his phone, then sits down on the couch next to Alex, turning and tucking his knee up against the back cushion so they're facing each other. His eyes are watery, his face almost gooey with tenderness. Alex restrains himself from reaching out to touch him, but it's not easy. Impulse control has never been his specialty.

“Was that your sister?” Alex asks.

“No.” Henry shakes his head, almost disbelieving the answer himself. “No, that was my mother.”

They've been talking a lot more, since that day Henry stormed off the set. Stealing quiet moments in each other's trailers whenever they can, whether to run lines or just to chat and de-stress. Whoever gets to set first usually saves the best muffin from the craft services table, hiding it under a napkin until the other arrives.

Henry even came to the cast night out a few weeks ago. He'd texted Alex that time, to say that he was running late, and then the two of them sat hidden away in a quiet booth in the corner. Alex might have stared at Henry’s plush lips for a moment too long, and their fingers possibly grazed ever so slightly as Alex handed him his drink, and their thighs were definitely pressed up against each other underneath the table. Henry nursed his gin and tonic while Alex downed a few whiskeys, and other cast members came and went from their table while the two of them remained in place. It wasn't a big night — no sweaty dance floors or hangovers to worry about — but he can't recall ever enjoying a cast night out quite so much.

Alex knows that Henry hasn't spoken to his mother in years, not since he moved to LA. She retired from the stage after his father died, retreated into herself from the overwhelming grief, and then, Henry assumed, was so ashamed of Henry's career path she couldn't bring herself to call him.

His brother Phillip hosts a weekly show every Sunday evening on BBC2, Backyards of Britain with Phillip Mountchristen. Henry performed a dramatic retelling of some of the episodes he has seen: how fast various shades of brown paint dry in the shade, the perfect length of grass and how to measure it accurately, and the evaporation rate of various birdbaths.

It’s their grandmother’s favorite show.

Henry dialled up his posh accent and wore a tweed jacket as he reenacted it for Alex, and they laughed so hard and for so long in Henry’s trailer that they were late to set to film their next scene. It was worth it.

His grandmother is a villainous ghoul from the way Henry talks about her, her evil talons making their way into every part of his and his siblings’ lives, and working as hard as she can to make Henry miserable even from across an ocean. His sister Bea isn’t allowed to use the Mountchristen name either, their grandmother forbade it while she was in rehab after Arthur died. She turned that experience into an explosive debut album which won her Best New Artist at the Brit Awards a few years back. The first time Henry mentioned her, Alex immediately opened Spotify to find Bea Fox’s profile and save her albums. She’s the only family member Henry still talks to, though her touring schedule makes it hard for them to spend much time together.

Alex knows that Henry is one of the kindest, smartest, and just plain good people that Alex has ever met. He feels proud to know him the way that he does, now. He can't understand how anyone could know Henry and choose not to keep him in their life. Alex would never.

Alex also knows what it's like to disappoint a parent. But he always knew, even in those few weeks that his mother wasn't speaking to him, that she had his back. That if he ever truly needed her, she would be on the first plane west and knocking on his door. He can't imagine going through the ups and downs of a career like this without a single person in his corner. It's a wonder that Henry is still here, still working, still as effortlessly talented and beautiful and open and sincere in all the ways that matter.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Alex reaches out a delicate finger, stroking the back of Henry's hand where it's stretched out along the back of the couch. It's the most they've ever touched off-camera.

“She’s been watching our show,” Henry says with a grin, so wide and child-like it makes Alex's knees buckle. “Her neighbour popped around for a cup of tea last week. Mum said she hasn’t seen her in years, but her neighbour remembered me and invited herself in to catch up. She's been watching the show and wanted to talk to Mum about it.” His eyes brighten. “About me.”

“Oh, Hen,” Alex says softly. He calls him that now. Hen. He nearly let a sweetheart slip out once but was able to pull it back in just in time.

He’s still touching Henry's hand, unwilling to break the contact. He can't look away from Henry, the sheer joy on his face palpable, his eyes shimmering underneath the tears pooling in them.

Henry turns over his palm and grips Alex's hand in his. Alex looks down at where they join, Henry's fingers enclosed around his wrist. This is definitely the most contact they've had off-camera

“She rang to say she was proud of me.” Henry removes his hand from around Alex's to retrieve the handkerchief from his pocket and wipe the tears forming in his eyes, and Alex would be lying if he said he didn't immediately miss the touch. Although the thought of keeping a handkerchief in your pocket is so quintessentially Henry, so absurdly endearing, that he almost doesn't mind.

“That's wonderful, Hen. I'm really happy for you.”

“Thank you, Alex,” Henry says, almost a whisper. He clears his throats and smooths out the creases in his pants as he stands and walks towards the trailer door. “We’d best be getting back on set.”

— — —

There’s been a twist in Hollowbrook.

Lucy and Edward are very happy together; Edward’s shady criminal history no longer a concern once he recovered from the amnesia he didn’t know he had. Edward has been embraced into the Lopez family, but not literally, unfortunately, by Jack.

Alex wouldn’t mind that.

Although Jack Lopez is the first openly bisexual half-Mexican trauma surgeon on daytime television, it’s been a long time since he kissed a man. There was that first time, so many years ago, when he first came out. Jack kissed the firefighter that saved his life when he fell down a well, and then a year later kissed the farmer that found him after he was abducted by aliens. Then Jack met his wife and was happily married for many years, until she died in a tragic car accident when the bridge into Hollowbrook collapsed two seasons ago.

She died on the operating table, Jack tragically unable to save his own wife. He spent an entire season grieving her, then this season coming to terms with her reincarnation as the bird in Lucy’s garden. With his work at the hospital and his love for his dog taking up most of his time, it’s been a long time between kisses for poor, lonely, Jack Lopez.

Until he met Angus.

Edward’s identical twin brother who turned up in Hollowbrook Hospital with a mysterious wound on his abdomen. Henry plays both roles, of course, because he’s incredible.

Jack thought he was Edward at first, with Edward’s inability to recognise the doctor easily explained by his amnesia. Until, through the magic of television, Edward came to visit his twin brother in hospital. Jack did a double take when he saw them both in the same room, and Edward explained who Angus is and why he’s here.

Over time, Jack has grown very fond of Angus. He’s had an extended stay in hospital thanks to his mysterious wound, and Jack has been a devoted practitioner.

And now, it’s time to film their first kiss.

They didn’t practice this scene.

Alex nearly suggested it.

He wanted to — obviously, he's a professional — but he didn’t want to put Henry in a position where it was uncomfortable for him to say no. So he didn't ask.

There’s no need for an intimacy coordinator on set given that there’s no real sex scenes apart from some light kissing. The romance is all very closed-door; characters kiss, the screen fades to black, and then they wake up together.

The thing is. Angus has a wound on his abdomen which means that Henry is shirtless and Alex cannot stop fucking staring. It’s almost embarrassing how obvious he’s being, but he can’t help it. Henry is so hot and his arms are so solid and that obscene shoulder-to-waist ratio is making Alex’s heartrate skyrocket so fast his fucking Apple watch sounds an alarm.

The director yells “Action!” and Jack is helping Angus up out of his hospital bed with Alex’s hand gripped tightly around Henry’s bare waist, and Henry’s arm up around his shoulder. They limp together towards the hospital room doorway, until Angus falls forward onto Jack.

Jack helps him straighten up, with one arm wrapped tightly around Angus’ waist, and the other softly cradling his cheek.

Alex, with one arm wrapped tightly around Henry’s waist, and the other softly cradling his cheek.

Alex leans forward, and rests his forehead against Henry’s, and his hand moves from Henry’s cheek up into his hair, resting at the nape of his neck. They both take a moment to breathe each other in, before Henry brushes his lips against Alex’s. As it’s written in the script it’s a soft kiss, gentle and delicate. It’s a new beginning, for both Jack and Angus.

They kiss for a moment, lips delicately touching, until the director yells “Cut!”

They film the scene again, and again, with slight variations each time.

The kiss changes minutely every time. Closed lips, soft and brief, sometimes with a bit more pressure or movement but always much the same.

Until the tenth take.

That’s when Alex feels Henry’s mouth open ever so slightly, feels his tongue pressing into Alex’s mouth, and Alex fucking wants. He parts his lips to let Henry inside, grips Henry’s hair in his hand, feels Henry’s fingers flex against his back, and feels Henry pull his whole body closer into Alex’s.

It’s everything Alex has thought about since Henry first stepped on set all that time ago.

Months and months of longing and wanting and not doing a thing about it because he's a fucking professional and he doesn't date cast members, not again, and this kiss must be the longest take yet because it’s still going somehow, with Alex’s hands roaming over Henry’s back and neck, and his right leg now pressed between Henry’s thighs.

The director yells “Cut!” and it’s over.

Henry doesn’t look at Alex as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and he steps away from the camera to grab a bottle of water.

“Do we need to go again?” Alex asks, trying to bury the hope lingering in the back of his throat.

“No, we’ve got enough takes,” the director says.

Alex walks slowly back to his trailer, with an awkward limp in an attempt to conceal the strain in the front of his pants.

— — —

Jack and Angus keep kissing.

Alex and Henry keep not talking about it.

— — —

It’s SoapCon. The highlight of the year for any soap opera fan, a two-day convention in downtown Fresno with panels and signings from all the biggest stars.

Alex and Henry are the biggest drawcard on Day 1. They’ve got the last panel of the day — they’re headlining — just the two of them, talking about all things hot and horny in Hollowbrook.

The public reaction to their relationship has been insane. Alex somehow has even more Instagram followers, and he’s convinced Henry to start his own account. They often post behind the scenes photos hanging out in their trailers, or goofing off on set. He’s noticed a few of the new accounts following him, named things like AlexnHenry or JackAngusFans.

Alex’s sister sent him a link to some RPF fic she’d found about the two of them. He hasn’t read it, or told Henry about it.

But he hasn’t closed the tab yet, either.

Alex walks on stage at the convention center. The applause is overpowering, the entire room is filled with women of all ages standing and cheering and yelling their names. Alex is used to it; this is his 8th year at SoapCon.

But he can’t recall it ever being like this before.

Alex looks over at Henry waiting on the side of the stage, his expression somewhere between I can’t believe this is happening and Alex please save me, his eyes big and overwhelmed, his cheeks flushed and highlighting those fucking cheekbones, his grin as wide as the room they’re in.

Alex takes the microphone from the stand in the centre of the stage, thanks the crowd for that incredible welcome, and introduces his co-star from The Hot & The Henry. “Horny Windsor!”

Fuck shit fuck. He didn’t just say that outloud, did he?

He recovers quickly, always the consummate professional, and yells “Henry Windsor!” as Henry walks out to deafening applause.

Alex pulls Henry in for a hug on stage and the crowd goes wild. They are losing their minds, hollering and screaming while underwear of all shapes and sizes is being hurled at the men on stage.

Mid-hug, Henry whispers in Alex’s ear, “I think you botched that, love” and Alex grips him just that little bit tighter.

Alex whispers back, “You’re a fucking star, Henry” and pulls him in close again, before he notices Henry’s breath catching as they pull apart.

By the time the panel is over and they come off stage, Alex has been tagged in about a million reels, posts and stories of his on-stage faux pas, and followed by accounts named HornyHenry and AlexWindsor.

Perhaps he didn't recover as quickly as he thought. June has already texted him another fanfic link.

They’re both staying at the Hilton across the road from the convention centre. In previous years Alex would get dinner in the hotel restaurant with whatever co-stars attended SoapCon with him, have a drink in the bar, and chat with any fans that happen to be hanging around. Maybe invite one or two of them up to his room if he felt like it.

He doesn’t feel like it this year.

But also, the atmosphere this year is entirely different. It's electric. He knew there was a big response online to the relationship of Jack and Angus, but he never anticipated it would have this kind of response in person. He actually doesn’t think he can dine in the restaurant hotel, given the number of women swarming around them as they walk through the hotel reception and over to the elevators.

They're staying on the same level, two suites on opposite sides of the hallway on the top floor. Henry comes to a stop outside his door and turns to face Alex, the grin on his face contagious as he looks at Alex with those sparkling blue eyes.

Alex read something recently about a new colour that had been discovered in a lab by scientists. He's pretty sure he's found another one right here.

“That was incredible,” Henry says. Alex has never seen him so happy.

Henry turns to swipe his room card against the door, but Alex doesn't want the night to end. “Do you want to get dinner later? I'd usually eat at the restaurant downstairs but I think you're too famous for that now.”

Henry blushes a shade of pink so pretty Alex now has another new colour to add to the list.

“We could get room service?” Alex hopes his voice doesn’t reveal how insanely hopeful he actually is. He's fucking vibrating out of his skin with hope, and he doesn't know how to suppress it any more. He wants Henry so much, all of the time, and he's not sure what to do about it.

But he thinks if they're alone together in a hotel room they might be able to come up with something.

If Henry wants. He has no fucking idea what Henry wants. Fuck, he should have booked them one hotel room, forced an only-one-bed situation like that fic June sent him. That he only, uh, glanced at briefly.

He thinks Henry might want it too. He can’t remember the last time Molly joined them in one of their trailers to hang out during downtime on set. It’s been just the two of them for so long now.

And the kisses. Angus kisses Jack like it means something. And Alex still watches the dailies, he knows Edward doesn’t kiss Lucy the same way. When Henry kisses Molly it’s perfectly chaste and daytime television appropriate.

When Henry kisses Alex, it’s far more suitable for a late night time slot. His hands are somehow all over Alex, gripping his hair for purchase, and Alex swears he can feel traces of Henry right down to his toes.

Right down to his fucking soul.

Inevitably, the director will yell “Cut!” and they’ll walk away like nothing happened. Like they haven’t just rearranged their very beings, twelve takes in a row.

“That sounds lovely, Alex. Give me an hour or so and then I'll come over to your room?”

Fuck yes.

He is so tired of forcing himself to pretend he doesn’t want this. That he doesn’t think about Henry constantly, his warm smile and his thick thighs and his natural grace and his devastatingly toothy grin.

Alex has never been able to keep still. Always fidgeted in class, bit his nails when stressed, ran til his feet bled. The mental and physical exertion of not being able to touch Henry the way he wants? It’s the emotional equivalent of having to sit on his hands to stop himself from using them. It’s exhausting, right down to his very bones, and he’s not sure how much longer he can contain it.

Alex tidies up his room as best he can. Picks all his clothes up off the floor and throws them into his suitcase, gathers all his used coffee mugs and dumps them in the sink. He plays around with different lighting configurations before settling on one — overhead lights off with a few strategically placed lamps left on — that should set the mood for a night maybe-possibly-hopefully spent with Henry.

He picks out an outfit for the evening — he needs to look unbearably hot, obviously, but also somehow casual and like he hasn’t overplanned or over-thought about it. He takes out his best fitting jeans and a tight t-shirt that hits that perfect spot in his arm when he incidentally flexes — like when he lifts a glass to take a sip, or casually runs his hand through his hair.

Or, ideally, through someone else’s hair.

He places his clothes in the bathroom and turns on the shower, letting the damp air fill the room as the water warms up. The water is heaven on his body, the constant patter somehow soothes all the anxiety coursing through his veins as he soaps himself up. He’s trying not to get too excited, but he does spend a lot of time cleaning various parts of his body.

Just in case.

Once he’s dry and dressed and spent an inordinate amount of time making his hair look like it curls that perfect way effortlessly, he sits down on the couch. There’s a million instagram notifications on his phone — he knows most people with a large number of followers usually turn those off, but he fucking loves the ego boost.

He scrolls over to one of the videos from today, when he introduced Henry as Horny, and sees the blush on Henry’s cheeks as he walks across the stage, sees how tightly Henry grips him when they hug. If he closes his eyes he can almost feel it again, Henry’s hair brushing against his forehead, the way his breath tightened as Alex whispered in his ear, and —

There’s a knock on his door.

Alex jumps to his feet and checks his reflection in the mirror one last time before he opens it.

Henry.

Henry with a big goofy grin on his face.

“Henry,” Alex says, far too fond.

“Alex,” Henry says softly.

Alex opens the door and stands to the side for Henry to squeeze past him. He feels Henry’s arm brush against his as he enters the room, and swears he feels a jolt of electricity in the air between them. He feels like there’s a fucking wildfire inside of him, consuming all of the oxygen and burning everything in its path. He’s not quite sure the science of it, but the wildfire could turn into a volcano at any moment, all of his thoughts and feelings erupting out of him and unable to be controlled.

And then he sees it. The large script in Henry’s hand, his fingers stretched to keep a few pages open in his grip.

Alex directs Henry to the couch, then walks over to the small kitchen and pours them both a glass of whiskey.

“Did you want to run lines?” Alex asks, as he passes Henry his glass and sits down beside him.

Henry grins. “Yes, but not for the show… I have an audition tomorrow. My agent rang me earlier and I've been running around trying to get this printed somewhere in the hotel.”

Oh. So they’ve used the last hour very differently, then.

Alex feels that flicker of hope in his chest slowly recede, the inferno now tamped down to a much more manageable low-lying brush fire.

Henry passes over the script — the pilot episode of a new HBO medical drama — and explains the role he’s going for, an overworked doctor on the brink of collapse, who is in a secret relationship with a patient.

Alex skims through the script as Henry excitedly paces around the room, he’s spinning off facts and names about the show, the timeline and locations for filming and —

It starts filming next autumn. Just like the next season of The Hot & The Horny.

But that’s okay, plenty of other people on the show have juggled two roles and made it work. They might just reduce his storyline for a few episodes and film some episodes out of order to maximise use of Henry’s time, and it’ll all be fine.

It starts filming next autumn in Canada.

He’s not sure why he’s surprised. Henry told him, months ago, that he was only staying for one season.

Just like Alex had originally planned for himself.

“You’re so good at all the medical scenes, Alex. I was hoping you could help me?”

Alex forces a smile, tries to hide the disappointment seeping out of his pores, as best as he can.

“Of course I will.”

He would do anything for Henry.

Even if he destroys himself in the process.

Alex downs his whiskey and stands up to pour another. He raises the bottle at Henry, an open invitation for a second glass.

“I’d better not, I have to be up quite early to drive back for the audition.”

Alex pours himself another glass anyway, and tosses a room service menu in Henry’s direction so they can get some food to absorb the alcohol he knows he’ll be drinking.

Alex orders meals for them both, and two glasses of chocolate mousse for afterwards. The thought of Henry’s lips curling around a spoon as he licks the last traces of dessert are a meagre replacement for the thought of his lips curling around somewhere else.

But that seems to be all that’s available tonight, and Alex is only a man.

Henry flips through the script to find the scene he needs. Henry’s highly unethical doctor character — Dr. Stuart Hanover — has snuck his terminal patient and secret boyfriend — Liam — into a cleaning closet in the hospital so he can talk to him in private.

Henry marks out the size of the closet with a couple of chairs, and Alex stands opposite him to begin their scene.

INT. CLEANING CLOSET

DR. HANOVER

Liam, I--

(they embrace)

LIAM

I know, Stuart. I know. I love you so much.

(they kiss)

That’s what the script says.

But that’s not what Alex says.

ALEX

I know, Henry. I know. I love you so much.

(they kiss)

He can’t fucking believe he’s done that twice today.

He knows Henry heard it too.

From the way his eyes soften at the edges and the way his hands slowly wind their way up Alex’s back and the way his fingers tightly grip his hair.

From the way they kiss, not pretending for even a second that this is for daytime television.

No, this kiss is NC-17, meant for some kind of raunchy Showtime series that everyone discusses around the water cooler at work the next day.

And with no director standing behind them to interrupt, they don’t stop. Alex’s hand cradles Henry’s cheek as they kiss, his end of day stubble rough and scratchy against Alex’s open palm, a sensation that Alex cannot get enough of. The contrast of the coarse hairs grazing his hand with the soft moans coming from Henry’s mouth directly into Alex’s ear, is a kind of sensory overload he’s not sure he’ll ever recover from.

Kissing Henry is everything and if it stops Alex might die but if it doesn’t stop he’s not sure what he’ll do when Henry inevitably leaves him for another show. He doesn’t stop.

Alex couldn’t tell you how long they’ve been kissing. Minutes blur into days blur into a lifetime as he feels himself getting hard where Henry is pressed up against his thigh. He’s sure Henry can feel it too, from the way his hands are slowly working their way down Alex’s back, getting closer and closer and —

Henry’s phone rings.

They pull apart, Henry’s mouth ripe and bitten, and Alex instinctively leans forward for more but stops when Henry turns around to look for his phone.

He finds it on the couch, and quickly says “It’s my agent,” as he answers, his voice low and hoarse in his throat. “Hello, Shaan. Uh huh… yes, yes I have got the script… Yes. Yes, thank you so much. I’ll call you afterwards. Bye.”

Henry ends the calls and pockets his phone. He turns around to look at Alex, smoothing his hand through his hair as he does, and it’s immediately back to that perfectly swooped thing his hair does.

One simple hand movement and Henry has erased all evidence that Alex was ever there, ravaging that perfect exterior and drawing truly obscene noises out of him.

“That was my agent, so I should, uh…” Henry motions with his thumb over his shoulder, picks up his script and walks towards the door.

“Henry, wait —”

Henry turns. Gives Alex a look so beautiful and devastating it could stop time.

It feels like it does, for a second.

Alex bites down everything he wants to say like stay or please don’t go or I fucking love you and instead he says, “Good luck tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Alex,” Henry says.

And then he’s gone.

Alex never got to see him lick the spoon.

— — —

Henry said his audition went well. They haven’t talked about the kiss.

Henry said his mother has been calling him every week. They haven’t talked about the kiss.

They’re filming the last few episodes of the season.

They haven’t talked about the kiss.

They’ve carried on as normal, after SoapCon.

Mostly normal.

Kissing scenes between Jack and Angus have been mostly closed-mouth since then. Alex knows why he does, because he can’t bear the thought of kissing Henry the way he wants to, again, and have it mean nothing, again.

Henry doesn’t kiss him that way because he doesn’t want Alex that way.

That’s the only explanation that makes sense.

But there’s still something that’s gnawing away at him. He’s become very good at containing his feelings for Henry. He’s had months and months of practice by now, could represent America if they add ignoring romantic feelings to the next Olympic games.

Henry is a friend, probably his best friend if he’s brutally honest, and he knows Henry values their friendship.

Knows it by how much he shares with him, still; by how honest and open and sincere he is, all the time. So if that’s all Henry wants from him, he’ll take it. Alex would rather keep Henry in his life than push something that isn’t there and lose him completely.

But there is still an unknowable that he can’t solve on his own. So when they’re having lunch, seated facing each other on the couch in Alex’s trailer — Henry scored them both the best sandwich that day — Alex just blurts it out.

“Why did you hate me so much when you joined the cast?”

Alex knows they’ve moved past it, that whatever constrained their relationship in the beginning is a distant memory by now. But he can’t help but feel that it’s important. That it might unlock the reason why Henry seemingly doesn’t want him back.

Henry stops mid-chew and places his half-eaten sandwich down on the plate in front of him, allowing himself a moment to collect his thoughts.

Alex waits while Henry finishes chewing his bite. And then he waits a bit longer. The silence lengthens in front of them until it’s almost unbearable, Alex fighting down every overwhelming urge in his body to say something, anything, just to break the tension.

He opens his mouth to apologise, he can’t believe he’s done it again and just exploded his thoughts out like that, when Henry starts to speak.

“I didn’t hate you,” he says, his eyes unbearably soft.

“You didn’t like me, though. You completely avoided me.”

“Alex.” Henry says. “You already know that I felt like I didn’t belong here.”

“I do know that, but that doesn’t feel like enough. I can’t stop thinking about it, and it can’t just be that, because you’ve been friends with Molly from day one, so if that was the only issue it would apply to both of us, not just me.”

Henry closes his eyes and inhales ever so slowly through his nose, taking all the time in the world to gather himself before he speaks again.

He doesn’t speak, though. Instead, he slides his phones out of his pocket and scrolls through his text messages, then passes his phone to Alex with a picture of a bird on the screen.

“What is this?” Alex asks.

“That’s the bird that visits my mother in her garden every morning while she’s having a cup of tea in the sun. She didn’t pay any attention to the birds until she started watching our show. And now…”

“Now she thinks this is your father coming to visit her?”

Henry nods, and a delicious grin spreads across his face. “Once upon a time I would have thought she was insane. But, Alex, our show has helped her. You don’t understand how lost she was after he died. I hadn’t seen her outside of her bedroom in years. For her to be sitting outside, regularly… Alex, this is such a big change. And we did that for her.”

“That’s wonderful, Hen.”

Henry collects his and Alex’s sandwiches and places the plates on the floor in front of them, then reaches his hand across and links his fingers with Alex’s.

“I never hated you, Alex. I just didn’t know how to be around you.”

Alex looks down at where their hands are joined — he’s trying not to be offended by Henry’s words, after a lifetime of being told he’s exhausting and too much and not the one he’s quite used to this type of rejection. But this contact, the way their palms fit so seamlessly together and the delicacy of this touch, makes him feel alive.

And he knows, he knows, there’s something here. Something worth keeping.

“I’m not sure how to take that, Henry.”

“It’s a compliment, love. I promise. You fit in here, and you act like you’ve always fitted in here, like you were born to be Dr Jack Lopez, the first openly bisexual half-Mexican trauma surgeon on television.”

“On daytime television,” Alex corrects.

Henry smirks at him. “My apologies,” he says, only half-sincere. Henry taps his foot against the side of the couch, the rhythm making time with the beat in Alex’s chest.

“I was a shell of a person when I arrived here, all locked up in my brain and my heart and I didn’t know how to get past it or how to…” He stops to take another slow breath. “I didn’t know what to do with you. What to do with someone as comfortable in their life as you are, who is so caring and generous with his time and energy. Someone so selfless with his heart.”

Henry moves his hand up Alex’s arm and curls it around his left bicep, right near where Alex’s heart is beating thunderously in his chest. “So I, foolishly, thought it best that I keep my distance from you. I thought that I could do my brief time here and move on without letting you get close to me.”

Alex places his hand over Henry’s, on his arm. Grips it tight, tries to send all the love and emotion coursing through him out through his fingertips and straight into Henry’s soul.

“But, Alex. You are inevitable, to me. I don’t think there is any world where I could be near you and not want to know you.”

Alex’s heartbeat is getting faster and faster in his chest, threatening to burst out of him at any moment. His skin is tingling, and he can’t focus on anything other than where Henry is rubbing his hand back and forth on his arm. If he’s reading this wrong and Henry isn’t —

“I need to tell you something,” Henry says.

This is it. Alex leans forward closer to Henry, his eyes naturally falling down to Henry’s plush lips and that fucking mole in the corner that he can’t get enough of.

“I got the part on that HBO show. Dr. Hanover.”

Oh.

Alex leans back and he knows he should be reacting or saying something but his mouth is completely bone dry and he wants to either vomit or cry, he’s not sure which.

Either. Both.

He just needs to do something, he needs to show Henry that he’s happy for him. That he’ll always be happy for him, even if that means Alex isn’t in his life anymore.

He swallows with great difficulty — there’s absolutely no saliva in his mouth at this point — and says “I knew you would,” with a weak smile.

“Well, I had an excellent helper,” Henry says sweetly.

So this is it then. Henry’s last week on set, probably the last time Alex will ever see him before Henry goes on to star in his new show, and then be cast in a million movies and attend all the parties and the premieres that Alex never gets invited to.

A few years from now his one season on The Hot & The Horny will be just a minor blip in his IMDB filmography while Alex remains in Hollowbrook, forever frozen in time as Dr. Jack Lopez. Alex gives it a year, tops, until Henry stops liking his Instagram posts.

“But,” Henry continues, and Alex immediately snaps to attention. “I turned it down.”

“What? Why? Henry, that's what you’ve always wanted.”

“It’s not, actually. It’s what I’ve always thought I wanted. You have shown me that there are so many other important things in life, Alex, and that we should be proud of what we do here. I am proud of what we do here, thanks to you. I’ve signed on for another season.”

“You’re staying in Hollowbrook?”

“I’m staying in Hollowbrook.”

Alex stands up and pulls Henry into a hug. Henry throws his arms around Alex’s neck and pulls him in close, and Alex is crying and Henry is crying and Alex couldn’t tell you who started it, whether it was him or Henry or whether it even matters, but they’re kissing. A decidedly off-camera kiss, with emotion and feeling, and months of everything unspoken between them, every longing glance and quiet smile, all pouring out of them.

Henry pulls back and says softly through gentle tears, his lips pressed against Alex’s forehead, “I didn’t tell you my other news. When I come back next season, it’s going to be as Henry Fox, not Henry Windsor.”

Alex stands up straight, pulls away from Henry so he can get a good look at him. Looks at every gorgeous inch of him, from head to toe, as if he hasn’t spent every moment of their time together memorising every one of Henry’s ridges and curves.

“Henry Fox. Baby, I am so fucking proud of you,” Alex says, peppering Henry’s face with gentle kisses. “I know your dad would be, too.”

— — —

Jack and Angus keep kissing.

Alex and Henry keep kissing, too.

In character, on camera. And then again in their trailers in between takes. In Alex's apartment late at night, and over breakfast again the next morning.

Alex doesn't think he's ever been so happy. Fuck his no-dating-cast-members policy, Henry is the exception to every rule.

Henry changes his Instagram account to HenryFoxOfficial and Alex is the first person to like his first post under that name.

Henry spends a few weeks in London over the summer visiting his mother, and meets his father’s bird form over a cup of tea in the garden one morning.

Molly decides to leave the show after the next season, which gives Henry the opportunity to leave as well, if he wants.

Lucy is leaving Hollowbrook to join a religious cult — a non-permanent storyline so she can return whenever she likes — and Edward is welcome to go with her, too.

Edward does decide to leave.

But Angus stays.

It's two seasons later when Jack and Angus get married. Alex and Henry time it with their own relationship announcement, and a joint cover of Soap Opera Digest to match.

On the morning of their wedding episode, Alex posts a photo of the two of them on his Instagram account.

It's a photo of them slow dancing at Bea's wedding a few months earlier, both devastatingly handsome in their matching tuxes, and both looking completely and utterly in love as they gaze into each other’s eyes.

He captions it: I can't believe I get paid to kiss this guy. I'd do it for free.

HenryFoxOfficial is the first to comment: You do, most of the time ❤️

He’s finally turned his Instagram notifications off, sets it so he only gets notified if Henry comments or posts. But the deluge of likes and comments and people tagging their friends to say “I fucking knew it!!!” is hard to avoid, so he allows himself an hour or two to scroll through them all.

June sends him some more fanfic links, and he reads one to Henry over dinner that night, and takes a few notes of some things they might like to try.

Their wedding episode is the most watched episode in the history of daytime television.

Their own wedding six months later is a private affair, for friends and family only.

Birds included.