#sandringham road | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

katwriting · 2 years

Text

Fic: Man's Best Friend

Red, White & Royal Blue // One Shot

5+1 moments of Henry and David through the years. Featuring Arthur, Bea and possibly some Alex.

Word Count: 8.4k // Read on AO3 or continue reading below

One

Norfolk, December 2014

Sandringham is as gray and dull as ever. It's raining and there is barely any light coming through, which makes the ancient walls appear even more daunting than usual.

When Henry gets out of the car, he feels like the walls are staring back at him, the high windows a glassy copy of his grandmother's most judgmental stare. She's waiting there, behind one of those windows, expecting them all for the annual Christmas celebrations. Henry would much rather be anywhere else, literally. With Pez in the Maldives maybe. Or just back at the country house in Wales with his family.

Behind him, the car trunk slams shut and slow steps walk up behind him. His father comes to a stop next to Henry, pulling Henry's suitcase behind him over the gravel.

They look at the ancient brick in front of them for a moment until Arthur lets out a sigh. "You know," he says, "if it were up to me, we would be in Wales right now. Just the five of us. Let you all have a proper family Christmas for once."

Henry laughs at the thought. "I bet Gran would be thrilled about that."

Arthur pats his shoulder. "Don't worry. I have annoyed your grandmother so many times over the last twenty years. One more time really isn't going to matter."

He winks at Henry, then starts walking towards the main house. "Come on, son. Let's get this over with."

They don't get a moment to themselves for the next approximately 48 hours. Between the official family reunion, the photo session, the stiff, black-tie event that is Christmas Eve, and the photographed walk to the church service on Christmas morning, Henry feels like he doesn't get a moment to breathe either.

So when Arthur suggests going for a walk on the early afternoon of the 26th, Henry doesn't have to think twice. He makes sure to drive Philip off Rainbow Road one last time for good measure, then hands the controller to Bea and abandons their heated game of Mario Kart.

"Make sure to bring a scarf, you two. I don't need either of you to get sick," Catherine calls after them from where she's snuggled up in the window seat with a book and a fluffy blanket. Arthur makes a show of rolling his eyes, but begrudgingly grabs thick scarves for the both of them from the wardrobe by the door.

When they step out of the castle and the crisp December air hits them, Henry feels like he is taking his first proper breath in days. He lets out a sigh, his breath forming a little cloud in the cold air in front of his face.

Arthur looks over at him and smirks. "I suppose you are about as tired of all of this as I am?"

"You have no idea," Henry says, his shoes scuffling over the pebbles. "Sometimes I wish I'd stayed at Eton for the holidays. But then again, Pez is not coming back until the new year, so."

Arthur makes an offended noise. "You wound me, son. First you stay away from us all year, and then you can't bring yourself to show some excitement about seeing your old man. I can't believe I raised such an ungrateful traitor. I must speak to your mother about this, maybe there's still a chance we can return you."

Henry laughs and bumps his shoulder into Arthur's as they continue walking down the misty trail.

They walk for about an hour and venture into the public area of the Sandringham Estate, their PPOs walking discreetly behind them. Arthur has been working with the same ones for years. He trusts them, so Henry trusts them too.

(He might also trust them because they discreetly got him out of a number of potentially very embarrassing situations over the past year or two. Anyway. Details.)

They are about halfway on their way back to the castle, when an elderly man with a dog walks by. A beagle, fur already slightly gray around the eyes. When they pass, the dog ventures over and barks at them accusingly.

"Dolly, stop it!", its owner says and closes the distance between them. "I'm terribly sorry, she's usually nicer to people. But you know, when they are in one of their moods," he says, completely unaware of who he is talking to.

"Oh, it's quite alright," Arthur says and crouches down to scratch the beagle between its ears. It stops barking immediately. "I used to have one just like that when I was young. Had him for almost fifteen years, he was a good lad."

The man nods. "Oh yes, if you are lucky they get quite old. Dolly here is turning 12 next month, aren't you, girl? I got her as a present for my wife, and after my Nina passed away last year, the old girl has been keeping me company."

Dolly has now moved on from enjoying Arthur's attention to giving Henry her best attempt at puppy dog eyes. And despite her obviously old age, she is still quite effective. Henry laughs and crouches down to scratch her between the ears. The dog positively melts at the attention.

Arthur watches him with a fond smile. "They make for great friends, don't they? Especially when you're lonely. I always wanted to get our kids one, but never got around to it."

"You know, it's never too late for a belated Christmas present," Henry jokes from the ground. He gets up and brushes the dust of his pants. "Or you could put it on the list for next year. I'm sure Mum would be thrilled."

When they have walked on and the man and his dog are out of earshot, Henry leans over to his dad. "Also, having a dog running around Sandringham on Christmas Eve would make Gran go so mad. Just imagine that."

Arthur laughs loudly. "It would, wouldn't it? Even more reason to get one. Maybe next year."

+++

Two

Wales, December 2015

They don't go to Sandringham next year.

In fact, they don't really do much for Christmas at all. Neither of them feels like celebrating, given the circumstances. If Bea hadn't called Henry and practically begged him to come home for the holidays, Henry would have stayed at Oxford. Even the Queen, despite her longstanding indifference towards Arthur, respects their choice to stay away from the extended family celebrations without comment.

They go to the country house in Wales instead, just the four of them. But they don't get much into a holiday spirit there, either.

The thing is, while Catherine found some hiding places back in London, the country house was all Arthur. It's not even an official royal residence, just an old house near a small town that Arthur bought some time after his first Bond movie and used as a hideaway whenever the press and the attention in London got too much. Henry has heard many stories about how he and Catherine would camp out here when they were younger, get to know each other without the scrutinizing glances of the public and the even more scrutinizing glares of courtiers and the queen. He found out later that this was also where Arthur proposed to Catherine, way before they had even thought of asking for the queen's official approval. The movie star and the rebel princess at their best.

His presence in the house is everywhere – in the fluffy old rugs that he picked, the old chimney he'd light a fire in whenever they were here in the winter, the family photos on the wall. He is everywhere and nowhere at all, the memories of him light as the wind drafting through the hallway, yet weighing heavier than the old bricks that carry the roof.

Maybe that's an appropriate analogy, Henry thinks – his father was the foundation that kept their family together. Now that he's gone, they stray apart, like a home that's been dismantled by a storm.

And in in the eye of the storm, there is nothing but quiet. Cold, empty, suffocating quiet.

When Henry feels like he can't take it anymore, he grabs Catherine's keys to unlock the backdoor and steps out into the garden. There are a few concrete steps leading down from the patio to the lawn – his siblings and him spent many summers drawing on them with chalk – and Henry almost slips when he walks. He catches himself on the railing – Arthur put it there after he almost broke a leg once slipping just like Henry almost did. The backyard is abandoned, the grass more brown than green. The sky is covered by heavy clouds and there is thick fog clouding Henry's vision.

It almost feels like Wales misses Henry's dad too.

Henry steps over the wet grass towards the old oak tree in the corner of the garden. There is a swing hanging from a strong branch that he remembers building with his father and Philip, back in the day. Before.

Henry's stomach lurches as he realizes that this is what his life is going to feel like from now on – split into a before and an after.

He leans heavily against the tree and squeezes his eyes shut to fight back the tears. It's ironic, really. Considering the amount of crying he has done over the past months, he should be out of tears by now. But apparently life won't even grant him that small favor. His gaze drifts over to the swing. It's still there, swaying softly in the wind, just like it has for years. For winter holidays, autumn getaways, long weekends in early spring when it was still too cold to stay outside for too long. But it no longer reminds Henry of all those happy memories. Instead, the sight of it just stings.

He remembers building the swing as clearly as though it happened days, not years ago: His dad coming home from an incognito trip to the hardware store, searching in the shed for the right piece of wood. Picking the right tree with his dad and Philipp. His mom's voice calling from the patio, warning them to be careful. Philipp spraining his wrist anyway when an attempted jump from the swing went wrong one day. Himself sitting on the swing, his legs dangling in the air and Arthur next to him on the ground, flipping through an old script. Bea and Philipp playing ball in the grass, Catherine sunbathing nearby.

Just a few short months ago, those moments were memories he looked back on fondly. Now, they feel like relicts from a different time. Henry looks at the old swing, contemplates sitting on it to see if it will make him feel any different, any better, make him hurt any less.

Instead, he sighs because he already knows the answer.

He turns his back on the tree, the swing and the memories, and heads back into the house. His jacket is still on the armrest of the sofa, just where he has carelessly left his stuff for years. His mother would always playfully scold him, tell him to clean up after himself. This year, she doesn’t. Henry's not even sure she realized the jacket was there. Just another one of those things that Arthur's death ripped away from them.

He passes through the hallway and walks out the front door. The PPOs are stationed outside the fence as usual. Henry throws their head of security a hopeful glance. She doesn't acknowledge it, but when her colleagues set off to follow him, she holds them back.

Henry shoots her a little smile. His favorite person on the royal staff might be Shaan, but there is a reason she comes in at a very close second place.

He's made it just a few steps down the road when someone calls his name. When Henry turns around, Bea is following him with quick little steps, bundled up in that ratty trench coat she claims is vintage and a scarf that could better be described as a middle-sized blanket.

"Going somewhere?", she calls after him.

"Can't stay at the house," Henry mutters. His soles drag over the wet pavement. He kicks a rogue pebble out of the way.

Bea catches up to him in a matter of moments. She stops and looks at him for a moment, really looks at him. It's one of those looks she gets when she sees right through him. He hates that look.

"Mind if I join you?"

Henry shrugs and doesn't say anything. But he doesn't send her away either.

They walk in silence for a while, passing by a house or a street sign every now and then, but otherwise not running into a single person. This is what Henry loves about this place. The remoteness of it all, the ability for them to be just them, away from the prying eyes of the public and the even more prying eyes of the people at Gran's court.

They make it to the little town's center and are walking down the main street lined by little shops and a handful of pubs and coffee shops. There are a few more people here, but they don't recognize them. And if they do, they have the decency not to bother them.

"He loved this place so much," Bea says.

Henry sighs. "I know. We came here so often."

He looks around the familiar shop displays decorated with Christmas lights, the coffee shops selling gingerbread flavored everything, the warm light that comes out from the pub windows.

It's almost like nothing changed. Except everything did.

His throat closes up and he takes a deep breath to swallow down the wave of emotion that suddenly hits him.

Grief really is the most unpredictable bastard.

Bea doesn't say anything, but takes his hand and squeezes it gently.

Suddenly, she stops and points at a building that's still brightly lit although it's past 4pm on December 23rd.

Maisie's Pet Shelter, the sign across the door says.

Bea frowns. "Well that one's new for sure."

She nods towards the place. "Wanna head in?"

And Henry would do just about anything to get away from the kind, but still curious eyes from the old ladies having coffee in the little shop across the street. So he nods.

"Sure."

***

There's nobody there when they walk into the shelter – just the front desk, a computer, a bunch of flowers and a few pictures of all kinds of pets on the brightly colored walls. But as soon as they walk in, a bell chimes over their heads and announces their entrance.

"Be right there!", a bright voice calls from behind the doorway that leads out of the reception area and is covered with a colorful curtain. Quick steps approach and a moment later, a young woman walks through, auburn curls bouncing with every step. She smiles at them when she sees them standing in her shop. "Hello, welcome! I'm Maisie! How can I help you?"

Bea smiles at her. "Oh, we just stopped by to check out your shelter. Are you new here?"

The woman – Maisie – nods. "I am, I just opened it a few months ago. Would you like a tour?"

Henry nods and speaks up for the first time since they entered the shop. "Why not?"

Turns out a tour through a shelter full of adorable pets of all ages is exactly what Henry needed. Maisie happily shows them around the different rooms and introduces them to all kinds of animals – from adorable hamsters and rabbits up to pigs, a pony and even a donkey that's deaf and half-blind, but no less adorable. With each kennel they visit and each animal they get to pet and coo over, the iron grip of sadness around Henry's heart seems to lighten a little more.

That is, until they make it to the part of the shelter that houses the latest arrivals and a kennel with a tiny beagle inside. As they walk up to it, the dog rises up on its chubby little feet and pads over to the kennel door. He yaps excitedly at Henry, even though it doesn't quite carry yet.

Henry laughs and crouches down in front of the kennel. "Hello there," he says and reaches a finger through the bars. The beagle taps his cold little nose against them.

"That's one of our newest arrivals," Maisie says from behind them. "We got him just a few days ago. He was supposed to be a Christmas present, but you know how people are sometimes. A friendly guy, that one. He made friends with all of our other dogs. Even with Mr Wobbles over here. They have been inseparable ever since the little guy arrived here."

Henry looks up and sees her pointing towards – well, the most giant cat he has ever seen. It is sitting in the corner, preening and waving its tail, just a few feet away from the little beagle's bed. Henry can't quite pinpoint what it is, but something in the cat's glare unsettles him.

Bea, not so much.

"Oh my god", she coos as soon as she sees the cat. She walks over and starts petting it. Henry can hear the cat's weird purrs all the way from over where he's still busy petting the dog. "Mr Wobbles, though?," Bea says, "what a funny name for a cat."

Maisie grins. "His previous owners named him. A lovely old couple, but they were moving to a retirement home and couldn't bring him with them. They said their grandkids named him and the name sort of stuck."

She tells Bea more about the cat, but Henry is only half listening. The little beagle has now moved on to sniffing Henry's hand, the one that isn't busy scratching the dog's ears. When Henry stops for a second, the beagle nudges its head against his had – as though it wants to tell him to go on. When he does, the puppy lets out a satisfied little noise and settles down next to Henry, looking up at him his enormous dark brown puppy eyes.

Henry is melting.

Maisie's voice draws him out of puppy heaven and back to the present. "They are both still available for adoption, you know? Just in case that is something you both are interested in," she adds, smirking.

Bea looks at him from where she's still snuggling the gigantic cat, its hair all over her coat and a mischievous glint in her eyes. "What do you say, brother? Fancy being reckless?"

Two weeks later, Kensington Palace gets two furry new residents and Maisie's Pet Shelter receives a sizeable donation. Along with it, she's delivered a giant flower bouquet with a card and a photo. It's Bea and Henry in the music room back at Kensington Palace, the young beagle snuggled up in Henry's lap and Mr Wobbles sitting next to Bea, eating what appears to be an entire box of…Jaffa Cakes?

"Merry belated Christmas! Thank you for introducing us to the best Christmas presents we have ever gotten for ourselves. Love – Henry, Bea, Mr Wobbles & David"

Three

London, Summer 2016

Henry never thought of himself as a dog person. Or just a pet person in general.

All of that changed once David came into his life – all soft fur, floppy ears, midnight cuddles and that adorable glance he gets when he wants a treat. Ever since, Henry's world absolutely revolves around his fluffy new roommate. And David quickly turns into much more of a friend than Henry expected.

He is there for everything – the good times and the bad, the happy and sad days, the first anniversary of Arthur's death. Henry's dating disasters and subsequent breakups, Bea's relapse, Philipp's stubbornness. Catherine's empty glance, the Queen's snide comments and Henry's bad moods about her snide comments. He is there when Henry feels like ranting, when he needs someone to listen, when could use a run to clear his head, or when he just needs to curl up in his room and shut the world out for a while.

Most importantly, David is there when Henry comes home from Rio.

His time in Brazil passed by in a whirlwind of heat and handshakes, drinks with important people, polite smiles and meaningless conversations. A toxic mix of smiling for the cameras, discreetly accepting the pills Shaan hands him, just as discreetly taking them and all the while making sure nobody notices how he really feels just about a year after his father's death.

But then, in the middle of it all, shining bright like a lightning rod and just as electric: A head full of dark curls, a yellow flower tucked into the pocket of a loose button-down shirt. A Texan drawl. A smile so bright it stood out even among the most flashing of camera lights around them.

Alex Claremont-Diaz.

The son of the woman who might be America's next president. Radiant, confident, unapologetic, and without a single ounce of doubt the most gorgeous human beings Henry has ever seen. And thus, completely off limits.

At least that's what he has been telling himself to at least somehow justify the fact that he behaved like an absolute idiot when Alex simply wanted to introduce himself.

He's back in his room at Kensington, sitting on the sofa by the window, wrapped up in his oldest cardigan and stress-eating a truly embarrassing amount Jaffa cakes. David is curled up by the fire place, and has been listening to him ranting about his fabulous first encounter with Alex Claremont-Diaz for the better part of an hour now.

Every now and then, he gives Henry a sympathetic wince or barks a little. Henry tells himself that's David's way of trying to cheer him up. Maybe he also just wants to go for a walk. Unfortunately, neither scenario is in the cards until Henry has found a way out of his predicament.

"Can you believe it?", he goes on. "For once in my life, I meet this absolutely gorgeous, charming person and all I can do is make him believe I'm too arrogant to talk to him?"

David gives him another little sympathetic wince. He pads over from his spot near the fireplace, eyes the distance between the floor and where Henry is sitting, then hops up and into Henry's lap. David has gotten much better at that, Henry realizes – when he was a puppy, he could barely climb over the edge of his dog bed. Now, he jumps onto the couch or Henry's bed like it's nothing.

Henry scratches him behind his floppy little ears. David stretches out his paws and yawns in satisfaction.

"And you know what's the worst bit?", Henry goes on. "I had a plan, David. I was going to get the Olympics over with, preferably without completely embarrassing myself and then go on a nice holiday or something. Just…get away from everything for a while. Think about what I'm going to do next. No drama allowed. And yet, here I am."

David looks at him from his big brown dog eyes. Henry thinks there's something understanding in them.

He looks at his dog, who from the looks of it, couldn't be more comfortable if he tried. "You're such a good boy, aren't you? I wish I could switch places with you sometimes. You don't have to worry about gorgeous Americans who will probably never talk to you again."

"Well that sounds depressing," a voice chirps from his door.

Henry jumps and turns around to see his sister standing in the doorway. She's got a smug smile on her face and that awful cat of hers on her arm. Henry swears Mr Wobbles gained at least another five pounds since he last saw him before Rio.

"You know, you need to stop feeding Mr Wobbles so many treats."

"Nonsense. He's a little small for his weight, is all."

Scoffing, Henry looks at the frankly gigantic cat who, even though he is a goddamn cat, manages to somehow stare right back at him. Smugly.

"Anyway, stop trying to distract me from the giant rainbow-colored elephant in the room. Why don't you just apologize to Alex?"

"How would you know I was even talking about Alex?"

Bea shoots him a look.

Henry sighs. "Fine. But seriously, how would I do that? It's not like we exchanged contact details before I behaved like an absolute arse to him."

"You know, there's this thing called the internet," Bea deadpans, "and another one called Instagram DMs. Welcome to the 21st century, brother. I'm starting to think all these books about regency England are starting to rub off on you."

Henry grabs the nearest pillow and throws it at her. "Stop Austen-shaming me in my moment of crisis. Her books are still better than whatever you're reading. What was that again? People and the latest trending threads on Twitter?"

Moments later, the pillow comes right back at him. "Stop trying to change the subject, then!"

Bea walks over to the couch and sits down next to him, reaches for his Jaffa cakes and feeds one to Mr Wobbles. "So. What happened with the American?"

Henry sighs. "Where do I start? We were at the diving finals, and I ran into him backstage and he introduced himself and wanted to shake my hand and I…well, I wasn't really in a mood to talk to anyone because that day was absolute hell and packed with boring people, and then there was Alex and I sort of panicked and I sort of…asked Shaan to get rid of him?

Bea gives him one of those looks she always gives him when she knows he fucked up, but doesn't want to tell him so. "You did not."

If the floor was so kind as to open a hole for Henry to jump into, he would do so without a second thought. Right about now. "I did. And I could punch myself in the face for it. But I still did and now the possible future First Sone of the United States it going to hate me for the rest of his life."

"You're an idiot." "I know."

"Also you are gone on him."

"I know. A terrible decision, really."

Bea chuckles and feeds Mr Wobbles another one of Henry's Jaffa cakes. Henry is so distraught he doesn't even bother telling her off.

She looks at her obese cat for a moment, then back at him. "I mean, now that I heard the story I have to admit you're right. You did behave like an arse. And Alex might hate you now, sure. But who knows – you might get lucky within all of this."

Henry frowns. "What do you mean?"

"His mum is just a presidential candidate for now, isn't she? Maybe she ends up losing and you'll never have to see him again. Presto, problem solved."

"Maybe", Henry concedes, picking at a loose thread in the couch cushion. "I'll just hope for the best."

He doesn't tell her that never seeing Alex again is the absolute last thing he wants. But then again, it would make things a lot easier for him, wouldn't it? So maybe it would not be such a bad thing. Maybe Bea is right after all.

Six months later, Henry wakes up to the news that the next president of the United States is going to be Ellen Claremont.

Upon reading the news, he drops his phone on the mattress next to him and yells into his pillow. Apparently, easy isn't in the cards for him for another while.

Certainly not for the next four years.

Four

London, Summer 2018

It is, indeed, everything but easy. But thankfully, David is there to listen to Henry as always.

Even when he's acting like a hopelessly lovesick fool.

Especially then.

Five

London, December 2020

It's another one of those early, gloomy winter mornings and Henry is out at the park with David. David is antsy today, tugging at his leash, wagging his tail, and barking at every other tree they pass. His excitement proves to be contagious – even Henry finds himself in quite a good mood today. Ever since the disaster at Philip's wedding (Martha has been dragging his ass for weeks about it), him and Alex have been talking more or less every day. Alex's texts come in at all hours of the day and night, sometimes at such an ungodly hour that Henry gets slightly worried about Alex's sleep schedule. Or just…his general ability to sleep. But nevertheless, they are a beacon of light in otherwise dull days and Henry would not miss them for the world. Even if his own sleep schedule has to suffer for a bit.

As they're walking, Henry's phone chimes with a new message. Given that it is just past 6 am on a Sunday and there is no humanly possible way Pez has risen from the dead yet, there is only one person the message could be from.

ACD 🦃 I have a situation. Some help please?

Upon reading the message, Henry lets out an exasperated sigh and tries to ignore the treacherous warmth bubbling up in his chest. He sits down at a park bench and clicks the extend button on David's leash. On second thought, he lets out a sharp whistle and waits until David abandons the puddle he'd been inspecting and trots over to him.

"Sit, David", Henry says and scratches David behind the ears. He unclicks David's leash altogether and takes David's favorite toy out of his messenger bag. He tosses it out into the meadow. "Go on, mate. This might take a while."

As David trots away, tail wagging happily, Henry hits the video call button on his phone and waits for it to connect. Ever since The Great Turkey Calamity, they found that video calls were a lot more convenient for them. Alex says it's because he needs Henry to "see my goddamn face and gestures" for him to really get his point across. Henry just happily obliges him.

When Alex picks up, Henry spots familiar glass paneling and a stack of comic books in the corner.

"The solarium this time?"

Alex sighs and runs a hand over his face. He looks tired. "Yeah. I needed somewhere quiet. Leo's on some engagement with mom tonight and June rarely comes up here. So."

"Hm."

A beat. Alex twists one of his curls around his fingers. It's only then that Henry realizes that he is once again perched upside down on one of the chairs up there. It makes Henry smile a little.

"Where are you? That doesn't look like Kensington Palace to me."

"Just out for a walk."

"Before 7 am on a Sunday." Alex doesn't even try to make it sound like a question.

Henry raises an eyebrow. "You're one to talk. What time is it now for you, 2 am?"

"Point."

Henry shrugs. "So what was that situation you talked about?"

Alex runs a hand over his face. "The fucking color scheme for New Year's."

Henry raises an eyebrow. "Come again?"

"The color scheme for, you know, the New Year's Young America Gala? The party we use as a ruse each year in order to get absolutely fucking wasted with half of the hottest young people of the country? The one we throw literally every year and that's like…the hottest New Year's Party in the country? Come on, Henry, pay attention. I can't do all the work here."

Henry rolls his eyes fondly. "Alright then. So what's going on about the color scheme?"

"It's more like what isn't going on about the color scheme at this point, man. Nora wants rainbow colors, June wants pastel, the PR department wants red, white and royal blue…and for some reason, everyone keeps annoying me about it. Do I look like a goddamn expert on fuckin' party confetti colors to you?"

"Well you are one of the hosts, so…"

"Ha ha. Very funny. You know, if I wanted someone to be all smart about it, I could have just talked to June."

Henry smirks. "Where is she, anyway?"

"Fuck if I know. She's been obsessing over the guest list all day and now her and Nora have gone MIA, but left me pretty clear instructions that I am to take care of the confetti thing."

"So I am your lone help in solving this color-coded matter?"

"Sort of."

Letting his gaze wander over the meadow, Henry smirks. David is apparently done inspecting a pile of leaves and is now coming back towards the bench.

"Well, lucky for you I shall not be the only one you have to rely on in this very delicate matter. We got some help." He whistles sharply and David's little feet speed up as they close the last few steps up to the bench. He hops up and nudges Henry's elbow, making the hand holding his phone wobble a bit.

Alex's tinny voice perks up as he puts two and two together. "Oh wait, is David here too? Let me say hi! Hi David!"

Henry sighs fondly. "Alright. Say hi, mate." He lowers the phone so Alex gets a screenful of adorable, slightly muddy Beagle. "Alex has an issue that he would like to discuss with us. And we need your help since you're the best with just about everything."

"Hey little buddy," Alex coos through the phone, "God, you're so adorable. Okay listen, I gotta pick colors for this party thing and your dad is no help, so you have to help me out here, alright?"

David tilts his little head to the side a little bit, just like when he's listening to Henry. If Henry weren't so absolutely gone on Alex, he would find it a little disquieting how easily David opened up to him. But then again, he's one to talk.

Luckily, Alex doesn't notice any of Henry's internal turmoil. Instead, he is busy explaining the New Year's Party to David, in all detail.

"…So, we got option A, rainbows. You know, the colorful things on the sky when it's just rained and the sun comes out and it looks all pretty and colorful and –"

"Dogs don't see all colors, Alex", Henry chimes in.

"-don't listen to your dad, I think that you could do anything you want to do. Anyway, so we got the rainbow option…"

David stays silent.

On the screen, Alex grins. "Hm, no? Okay, then the other option would be pastel colors, you know like flowers in the spring when they're just coming out and-"

A bug flies by. David tries to eat it.

"I see how it is then. Okay, David, so last option – we got this dark blue theme going on with like –"

At that, David barks and tries to lick the screen. Henry pulls his phone away at the very last second, but there's still a bit of dog slobber all over the screen.

Alex laughs.

David blinks.

Henry melts.

He clears his throat to cover it up. Luckily, it's Alex who keeps talking and Henry doesn't risk embarrassing himself any further.

"Well, looks like we got a decision. Thanks David, I appreciate it," Alex says, smirking. "You've been a great help. Much better than your dad."

"Hey! I brought the two of you together, it's not like I didn't do anything at all", Henry says to cover up the fact that he didn't do anything at all.

On screen, Alex is now telling David how good of a dog he is and absently running his hand through his hair, making it just the tiniest bit messier than usual. A stray curl falls into his face.

Henry is officially going to die.

Mercifully, Alex decides that he has tortured Henry enough for one day.

"Alright y'all, thanks for helping me. I'm gonna let you all go continue your walk and pester June some more about the guest list. Talk to you soon."

When he hangs up, Henry lets out a sigh. He looks over at David, who is still sitting on the bench next to him and is looking at him quite quizzically.

Henry sighs. "Stop looking at me like that. I already know I am in so much trouble."

***

The next day, Henry receives an email from Shaan.

June Claremont-Diaz has invited you to the Young America Gala on New Year's Eve. Would you like to attend? The invitation includes a plus one. Maybe Mr Okonjo would be interested in joining you?

Attached, as always, is a calendar invite. Shaan likes to have these things in order.

Henry has never clicked "Attend" to one of Shaan's calendar invites faster.

When he looks up, David is back by side, looking up at him with that slightly judging look he sometimes gets. Mostly when he knows Henry has done something stupid. Henry is sure he got that look from Mr. Wobbles.

He lets out a sigh and pets David's head. "Stop it. I'm only human."

And instead of pondering on it for much longer, he opens his chat thread with Pez and starts typing a new message.

What are you doing for New Year's?

Five

London, January 2020

He should have known.

Nothing good ever came from him actually being excited about something. About someone.

Henry really needs to stop putting himself into miserable situations like that. Well, actually, he just needs to stop kissing gorgeous Americans at New Year's and then running away.

He's back at Kensington, has been for a few days, but his mind is still under that Linden tree at the White House. Never actually left. At this point, Henry has some serious doubts that it ever will.

He gets up. Paces through the room. Sits back down. Yells into one of the ugly pillows on the even uglier couch. Makes a note in his mind that he needs to get a new one. If he doesn't die of embarrassment first, that is. Starts pacing again.

However, none of it will make what happened on New Year's go away. It's all like a slow, torturing movie playing in the back of Henry's head – with the sole purpose of tormenting him and making him feel even more miserable about the whole thing. And if that doesn't suffice, there's always Alex's texts and phone calls.

He has been ignoring him for days now. Which would be fine if there weren't the state dinner later that month. Which Henry needs to attend. In person. And can't back out of because of their stupid best-friends-rouse agreement that's got him into this fucked up situation in the first place.

It's not that Henry didn't try to get out of the state dinner. He actually talked to Shaan about it. Or at least, tried to. Until Shaan raised one unimpressed eyebrow and reminded him that unfortunately, Henry was bound to the agreement and there was nothing he could do "unless you would like to discuss this personally with Miss Bankston, sir."

Henry very much wouldn't.

He hates his life a lot of the time. But today just a little extra.

Even more so when the stylist calls and asks him what he would like to wear for the state dinner. When Philip texts and reminds him to make the new prime minister look good. When Shaan forwards him a briefing by the Downing Street press team about the photo ops they're going to have to do at the White House. When he finds a staged photo with the Prime Minister, the President and the White House Trio at the top of that very list. And just a little more when he learns that he is being sent on another one of those fake dates with some model or aspiring actress to keep up appearances. Which is of course going to be photographed and put into the press. For all the world, including Alex Claremont-Diaz, to see.

Henry is so royally fucked.

Even David winces a little when Henry tells him about his situation. When Henry eventually slouches on the couch, David hops up into his lap and snuggles into him. Henry lets out a sigh.

"You know, I'd like to tell myself that there's nothing that could possibly go wrong", he muses and scratches David's head, "but that's what I told myself last time. And now here we are."

David winces in support. He climbs into Henry's lap and lays down, rolling into a ball of fluff. His cold little nose touches Henry's hand. Somehow, it's a little soothing.

Maybe there is a way to get through this. It's only a dinner, after all.

+ 1

New York, June 2021

"Love, hurry up. We're going to be late."

There's a curse coming from the vague direction of the bedroom, then the thud of footsteps rumbling down the stairs. Well, one footstep. Because for some reason, Alex is still pulling a sock over his other foot as he descends the staircase.

If they weren't almost late already, Henry would take a moment to appreciate that level of balance.

Instead, he cocks an eyebrow at Alex from opposite the stairs, where he's leaning against the wall and waiting. Shoes (and socks) on, jacket in hand, ready to go.

"You're going to trip and break your neck at some point."

Alex grins smugly. "Perhaps. But at least I know you'll write me one hell of a eulogy."

Somehow, Alex makes it to the bottom of the staircase without breaking his neck. Henry is secretly glad for it. Not only because he intends to keep Alex around for the rest of his life, but also because – well, it would be quite the situation to explain to paramedics et al. Henry would much rather avoid that.

"Besides, what do you mean we're gonna be late?" Alex asks as he pulls one of Henry's old Oxford hoodies over his t-shirt. He walks over to the hallway closet and starts rummaging around for something. Henry internally winces as scarves, caps and the occasional dog outfit start dropping out at random. He just organized that closet the other day. "We're talking David for a walk. Last time I checked, beagles don't know how to read a clock."

"Excuse you, I did raise him to be very punctual," Henry counters.

Alex scoffs from where he's halfway disappeared into the closet. "He's a goddamn dog, H."

At that, David winces.

Immediately, Alex steps away from the closet and crouches to the floor to pet David's head. "I'm sorry, buddy. I didn't mean that. You know I think you can do anything you set your mind to."

"You better," Henry mumbles. He and David take a step closer to the front door. Alex, not so much.

Henry pointedly checks his watch again. "Come on now, or we're going to be late for real."

"It's still a walk, H. The two people and one dog involved in it are right here. There's no way we can be late", Alex mumbles, his voice muffled because he's back to rummaging around their winter clothes.

"Well, there is if two of the three involved individuals made lunch plans with June and Nora after."

"They're used to me being late. It's fine."

Henry rolls his eyes again, but relents anyway. It might have to do with the fact that Alex finally emerges from the closet, all soft eyes and even softer smile. After all, Henry is only a man.

So, he extends the arm that isn't holding David's leash and lets Alex step into his embrace. He pulls him close, breathes in the familiar scent. Alex wraps his arms around Henry's waist and lays his head against his shoulder.

Henry drops a kiss on Alex's curls and lets himself enjoy the familiar warmth of Alex's hug for a minute.

Until David yaps again, that is.

This time, Alex lets out a laugh. "Alright, alright, buddy. Message received. We're leaving."

He leans up and kisses Henry softly, then plucks David's leash from his hand and steps away, towards the door. He shoots Henry a smirk. "You coming? I don't wanna be late."

It's only been a few months since Henry and David moved across the pond, but thanks to their daily walks, they have been able to explore plenty of nice routes in nearby parks. They are close enough to be enjoyable, but far enough away from the main trails to allow them a modicum of privacy.

Henry walks David before he leaves for the shelter and then once again after he comes home. Alex joins them often enough, particularly when he needs to clear his head, rant about his day, or both.

Today, however, is the rare kind of weekend where neither of them is all that busy and they can take a walk just for walking's sake. No deadlines, papers or exams breathing down Alex's neck (yet), no thoughts about the shelter occupying Henry's mind. Just the two of them and David, relaxing and enjoying the summer sun.

Henry has David's leash in one hand and Alex's hand in the other, the sun is shining, but it's not unbearably hot yet. Later, they're going to meet June and Nora at a restaurant June has been dying to try out. And maybe check out the new Bond movie Alex has been nagging Henry about for weeks. But other than that, their day is blissfully empty.

Henry could get used to this.

He smiles softly at the thought. Because he does indeed get to get used to this.

Alex's voice brings him back to reality and the track ahead of him. "What's so funny?"

"Oh, nothing. I was just thinking."

"Wanna share with the class?"

Henry gently shakes his head and lets go of Alex's hand so he can wrap his free arm around his shoulder. "It's nothing, really. I was just getting a bit sentimental. About how nice this is, you know? Taking David for a walk, meeting up for lunch with friends, and doing whatever we want, just because we can. It's a nice change."

Alex's arm snakes around Henry's waist and squeezes. "You deserve it."

Henry smiles. "I know. It's just sometimes a little hard to wrap my head around. But I do know."

He looks to Alex and meets his gaze. Alex's brown eyes are all soft again, and filled with pride.

"Freedom looks good on you, baby."

The raw, honest emotion in his voice gets Henry a little emotional too, so instead of replying, he leans down and presses a soft kiss to Alex's lips. And Alex is right – there is something to be said about having the liberty to kiss his own boyfriend on a sunny day in a public park, just because he wants to. Especially when said boyfriend runs one hand through his hair and uses the other one to pull him closer, and they can let their kiss become slightly more involved than Henry initially intended.

It's only when David pulls at his leash and barks that Henry pulls away to see what's going on, half alarmed that it might be something bad.

It is, actually, quite the opposite. A few steps down the path, David is approaching a puppy that looks heartwarmingly like David when Henry first met him. David barks once more, twice, then starts playing with the puppy as though they have been friends forever.

From the opposite end of the pathway, a young woman comes running, looking alarmed and slightly panicky. When she spots the puppy playing with David, she slows down.

"Sorry," she says towards Alex and Henry as she approaches, panting and face bright red. "I'm still trying to get him to get used to staying by my side, but it's a bit of a struggle."

"It's fine," Henry replies. "David here doesn't mind meeting new dogs."

"I'm glad," the girl says. She's now caught up to them and stands next to them, watching the two dogs play. "You named him David? That's adorable."

"After Bowie," Alex chimes in. "My boyfriend here is a huge fan."

The girl laughs. "That's adorable. Mine's called Abby. Not after anyone. I wish I had a story as fun as yours, though," she says. "He's a beagle too, isn't he?"

Henry nods. "He is. I got him a few years ago when I was…not having the best of times. But he's been my best mate ever since."

His heart sinks a bit at the reminder of why and when he got David. As though he'd sensed it, Alex's hand sneaks into his, squeezing lightly. Henry squeezes back and clears his throat.

"How long have you had yours?" he asks.

The girl laughs. "Oh, just a few weeks actually. I just moved to the city and didn't know anyone, and I was feeling a bit down and all, so I went to the shelter one day and there she was. And what can I say, that little rascal has been with me ever since. She's a piece of work sometimes, but she's a sweetheart. And she keeps me company through everything."

Henry hums and nods. "They are great company, aren't they?"

His gaze wanders over to David, who is still busy playing with his new friend. His tail is wagging, his little ears are flopping around and he's barking and yapping as if he's having the time of his life. Just like every time he's having a good time – whether it's out at the dog park, meeting new dogs on a walk, or just hanging out with Henry and being there for him whenever he needs him.

Henry's thoughts travel back to a moment from years ago in a park far, far way. A cold winter morning, fog hanging in the air, pebbles crunching under his shoes – so different from the current warm, airy summer day. A warm, familiar voice that he still misses, but whose memory doesn't hurt as much as it did years ago.

They make great friends. Especially when you're lonely.

Turns out his dad was right. David is, without a doubt, just about the greatest friend Henry has ever had. From an outsider's perspective, he may be just a dog – but Henry knows that it's to a considerable part thanks to his (most of the time) unwavering support that he was able to turn into the person he is today: an Oxford grad, a Star Wars Nerd, a part-time prince, a full-time Austen fan, a still relatively new New Yorker. A brother, a son, a boyfriend.

But certainly no longer lonely.

#rwrb #red white and royal blue #firstprince #firstprince fic #henry x alex #alex x henry #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #katwriting

2 notes · View notes