where ground meets light
alex and henry go on a double date. modern au. based on the prompt: a kiss to distract, for @caressthosecheekbones. ~1.2k.
They’ve only been dating a few weeks when he suggests it.
“Sorry.” Henry has to take this all in for a moment. Surely he must have misheard. “You want to go on a double date? With Alex?”
“Is that weird?” Gregory asks, in the manner of one who’s merely being rhetorical. “He’s your best friend. I want to get to know him better.”
“Well. Sure,” Henry says, because he cannot think of a single reasonable objection that a normal person would make. A normal person who’s not been harboring an ill-advised torch for his best friend for years. “Though,” he hedges, as if the thought’s just occurring to him, “I’m not sure he’s dating anyone at the moment.”
Henry would know if he is. In fact, according to Pez, the whole world would be hard-pressed not to notice because of the moods Henry gets in when it happens.
But it’s been well over a month now since his latest “little London fog,” as Pez calls it, so Henry mentions the idea to Alex as an afterthought, thinking there’s no real danger of him saying yes.
“Great!” says Alex brightly. “I’ll bring Yvette.”
He’ll bring fucking whom?
.
Yvette is a bloody knockout, of course.
Henry expects nothing less. Alex is only the most beautiful man who’s ever walked the planet, so it stands to reason that his date should look as she does.
The more unfortunate thing is that Yvette is also supremely likable. She’s warm, and funny, and seems to share Alex’s knack for livening up the conversation as though they’ve all been friends for years.
By all counts, the date should be a success. Henry laughs more than he thought he would and drinks far less than he thought he would need to. Alex is impressed by the food, which makes Henry feel absurdly pleased to have chosen this particular restaurant.
And, perhaps most importantly: because they’re seated at a round table with Alex angled off to his left, Henry hasn’t caught himself staring at him even once.
Perhaps he’s not so at risk of giving himself away as he’d thought.
.
The trouble, turns out, starts elsewhere.
The trouble is that Henry doesn’t have to be looking at Alex to be attuned to his every feeling and movement.
The way Alex’s knee keeps jittering under the table. The tic in his finger as he taps, then stills. Taps, then stills. The fact that he’s hardly stopped for a breath since they sat down.
He’s antsy, and miserable, but he’s trying so hard and his smile’s so vibrant that not a single person can tell. Not a one but Henry, and he needs to do something, needs Alex to know that he’s seen.
“Darling,” says Henry, without even thinking, and puts his hand on Alex’s wrist. Christ. Fuck. What did he say? What is he doing? But none of that seems to matter right now. “Are you all right?”
He feels Alex relax as though instantly calmed by that one simple touch, and Henry knows that if Alex hadn’t been all right before, he is more so now, somehow.
“Another round of drinks?” Henry asks the table, not even waiting, not even looking, before pulling Alex to his feet. “We’ll be right back.”
.
This is the difference between them. They both have their moods, but Henry wears his on his sleeve and has to shut himself away until it’s passed.
Alex, meanwhile, hides his in plain sight from most people, but Henry likes to think he’s not most people, and as soon as they’re at the bar out of earshot he looks Alex in the eye and says, “What happened? What’s wrong?”
“Was it that obvious? Fuck.” Alex shakes his head. “It’s nothing, Hen, just—want to make a good first impression, you know?”
Henry’s brow furrows. He tells that jealous little twinge in his chest that now is not the time. “Is this your first date with Yvette or something?” No wonder he’s not heard of her earlier. “Christ, Alex, why didn’t you say so sooner? You didn’t have to come if you didn’t—”
Alex laughs under his breath for some reason. “We’re not dating.”
“You’re—what?”
“She’s a friend,” says Alex. “She’s helping me out. And if the lov—I mean, if my best friend’s boyfriend wants to meet me, I’m going to need all the help I can get.”
Henry’s chest is positively aching now. “He’s not my boyfriend,” he says, firmly despite how breathless he feels. “It’s not that dire, trust me. We’ve only been on, like, three dates before this one.”
“Oh.” Alex seems to process this. His expression looks lighter for just a split second before it gets all heavy again. “Well, if you’re wanting there to be a fifth, you should probably talk to him before it’s too late. Looks like he’s about to leave.”
Henry glances over his shoulder, and sighs. “I should probably talk to him, yeah.”
.
Gregory is putting his coat on as Henry walks over. They both muster up a small smile, Henry’s more rueful, Gregory’s resigned.
“I’m really sorry,” Henry says, and means it.
“It’s okay. I’m not going to make it into a thing,” Gregory says. “Unless you’re about to tell me to stay. That would be pushing it.”
“I’m not,” Henry admits. “What I did want to say is that—well, I haven’t been entirely honest with myself about what I want. Which means I haven’t been honest with you, and that’s not fair to you at all.”
Gregory nods. “I do like you, Henry. You deserve to be happy. And I deserve to not be the guy that you use as an excuse to keep standing in your own way.” He glances at Alex back at the bar. Yvette is there now too, flirting up a storm with the bartender.
“I wanted to get to know your best friend,” Gregory continues. “And now that I have, I can say that he’s a really lucky guy.” He gives Henry a meaningful look. “Even if he doesn’t know it yet.”
.
Alex straightens as Henry approaches the bar, an untouched whiskey in one hand. “What are you doing? I thought you were going to go talk to him.”
“I did.” Henry shrugs, and helps himself to Alex’s drink.
Alex is looking as though he’ll never again know happiness in this world. “I fucked things up for you, didn’t I. Fuck.”
“What? No,” says Henry, but Alex doesn’t seem to be listening. “Alex. Alex.”
“Do you want me to go talk to him? I can explain.” Alex runs a hand through his hair, sending his curls all breathtakingly askew.
He doesn’t even know, Henry marvels. He doesn’t even know.
“I mean, it’s not your fault that I—” Alex breaks off with a frustrated sigh before starting back up again. “I’ll tell him that you don’t feel the same way, and that I’m really fucking sorry I ruined your night with my—you know—feelings, and—”
“You’ll do no such thing,” Henry says.
Then he leans in and kisses him, because Alex is an unstoppable force, and this is the one place where Henry has not been brave enough to meet him, until now.
Alex goes quiet at last, save for the sigh he lets out as their lips part and his hands find Henry’s waist and pull in.
“Whoa,” he breathes after a moment. “Yeah, we gotta do that again.”
“Shh,” Henry murmurs, “we were doing so well.” He puts his hand on Alex’s nape, drawing him back in.
Alex kisses him back like it’s the only thing that centers him, the only thing that keeps him grounded, and Henry—well.
Henry can’t help but think that it feels a bit like flying, too.
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