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Alex is looking forward to Christmas.
His enthusiasm is a newer development. For a long time, Christmas felt like just another day at best and a nightmare at worst.
He can remember a few happy Christmases as a kid—bright lights, a real tree that left pine needles everywhere, piles of shredded wrapping paper scattered on the living room floor. They always watched How the Grinch Stole Christmas so that he and June could quote the entire movie at each other while their parents watched them and laughed. There were cinnamon apple candles burning in the kitchen and matching fuzzy socks for the whole family and big, happy smiles.
At least, they seemed happy enough to Alex.
After the divorce, Christmases were strained. At best, the smiles were faked. At worst, the room was filled with tense silence or venom-laced words.
They still put up a tree, but it was made of plastic. Most of their string lights and garland stayed in their boxes up in the attic. Ellen still bought matching socks every year, but only three pairs. There weren’t any candles to burn.
And watching the Grinch go through over an hour of character development didn’t feel the same anymore.
But a few years ago, something started to change.
It started with a Christmas Eve phone call, a friendly, murmured voice on the other side of the ocean that settled something in Alex’s soul. A fragment of something clicking into place that Alex didn’t have the ability to name yet. But it felt like peace. Like home.
Alex still thinks about that Christmas a lot, of how little he understood and how much his life was about to change.
Next was his first Christmas with a boyfriend, spending a few hours snuggled beneath a lavish quilt in London before flying back home to see his family on Christmas afternoon. Henry had kissed Alex goodbye at the door of the palace, beautiful and brave and his.
Somehow, inexplicably, his.
Henry whispered, “I love you,” against Alex’s mouth, and “Happy Christmas,” into the shell of Alex’s ear as they hugged, and “Text me when you arrive safely,” with his hands framing Alex’s jaw.
Alex could still feel the brush of Henry's lips against his skin when he landed hours later.
The first Christmas in the brownstone was hectic as they planned for their families’ visit. But there was an extravagant wreath on the door and string lights over the TV and a Christmas tree with no empty space beneath it. It was the most exhausting thing Alex has ever experienced—he and Henry slept for almost twelve hours after everyone finally left.
But it was Christmas in their home. The one that they made for themselves. So when they opened their eyes late the next morning, they both had wide, happy, real smiles on their faces.
“I can’t believe we fucking pulled that off,” Alex said, burrowing into the warmth of Henry’s chest.
“And without a single homicide,” Henry added, kissing Alex’s temple.
There have been a few Christmases since that one. Good ones, too.
Their personal collection of Christmas decorations now takes up nearly half of their spare room. There is an entire box dedicated to David’s Christmas sweaters.
They always find time to do their own little Christmas, something separate from the mayhem that comes from visiting with their families. Something that is only theirs. They exchange gifts, drink hot chocolate snuggled up on the couch, and watch a cheesy Christmas movie from the comfort of their home.
Last year, they traded the hot chocolate for ice cream that they ate in the middle of their living room floor, despite Henry complaining it was too cold for something frozen. Alex kissed the taste of mint and chocolate off Henry's lips while Elf played on their TV, and Henry seemed to forget most of his complaints.
It was perfect.
Alex has found himself looking forward to Christmases again.
Their Christmases, anyway.
But this Christmas will be Alex’s favorite. He’s manifesting it for himself and for Henry, hope and a bit of idealism like kindling for the fire in his chest.
He’s spent months thinking about Henry’s present, going back and forth as he pondered whether his idea was a good one. If it would turn out the way he wants.
His double-monitor setup at work, as it turns out, works really well for keeping his work email and Teams splitting one screen and online shopping on the entirety of his other screen. He still manages to get stuff done, for the most part, even if he misses a few emails and other stupid fucking things.
Like new case assignments and requests for discovery and deposition scheduling and notices of court orders.
He finds the time for them eventually. It’s fine.
Henry’s gift—ensuring that it is perfect, and on time—is more important.
Alex places the order a few weeks before Christmas, paying extra for premium shipping and making absolutely certain that it would be delivered before Christmas.
On the day it arrives, Alex feigns illness so that he can go home early and intercept the package before Henry lays eyes on the original box.
He really hopes that Henry likes it. It’ll mean a lot to Alex if he does.
🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄
Eight days before Christmas, Alex comes home from work to find Henry on the couch, computer in his lap and notepad on the coffee table in front of him. Alex stops and stares for a second, leaning against the doorframe as Henry squints at his screen.
He’s wearing one of Alex’s hoodies, the burnt orange longhorn on the front stretched tight across his broad chest and shoulders. It’s the only one that really fits him, and Alex is convinced Henry lets Alex wear it periodically just to make sure it always smells like him. Henry’s hair is mussed and falling over his forehead, longer than Alex has seen it in a while. His bottom lip is caught between his teeth, his brow furrowed.
He’s beautiful. Sometimes, Alex still can’t believe he gets to love him.
“Alex, love? Is that you?” Henry calls, not looking up.
Alex clicks his tongue. “No, it’s an axe murderer.”
Henry turns his head then, quirking an eyebrow. “You’re very attractive for an axe murderer.”
“It’s for lulling you into a false sense of security before I attack.”
“Of course.” Henry smiles, all warmth and affection. “Consider me lulled. Attack away.”
Alex snorts, pushing off the doorframe and walking over. He flops down onto the couch once he gets there, nudging himself between the edge of Henry’s computer and his waist. Henry smiles down at him, looking a little confused, but Alex just nuzzles further into Henry’s lap until, finally, Henry sighs and moves his laptop to the side table. His hands slip into Alex’s curls and comb through them with a gentle touch, and Alex hums happily, brushing a lazy kiss against the inside of Henry’s wrist.
“This is an absolutely vicious attack strategy, I must say.”
“Mhmm,” Alex mumbles, enjoying the way Henry’s nails scratch against his scalp. “I have a one-hundred percent success rate. You should prepare your last words.”
“I love you.”
“Weird thing to say to an axe murderer, but okay.”
Henry laughs, his fingertips sliding over Alex’s shoulder and squeezing his arm. He keeps playing with Alex’s hair, seeming content to put his work to the side and let Alex snuggle him. Alex closes his eyes for a second and breathes, letting the perfect sense of contentedness that only Henry offers wash over him.
“Not that I’m complaining,” Henry says, his thumb gliding over Alex’s stubbled cheek. “But is there a reason for this particular cuddle?”
“Yes,” Alex replies, smiling. “First, I fucking love you and missed you while I was at work.”
“You must say that to all your victims.”
“Shhhh,” Alex reaches up blindly, searching for Henry’s lips and slotting his hand over them. He grins to himself when Henry huffs against his fingertips. “Second, I wanted to let you know that I have the best Christmas present ever for you this year.”
“Do you?” Henry says, his voice muffled by Alex’s palm.
“I do,” Alex says, removing his hand and turning so that he’s looking up at Henry from his lap. “It’s gonna knock your socks off, baby.”
Henry sweeps a curl off of Alex’s forehead. “What is it?”
Alex scoffs. “As if you can get it out of me that easy.”
“It was worth a shot,” Henry muses, moving his hand back into Alex’s curls. “I do have you practically purring in my lap.”
“I do not fucking purr.”
“It’s close enough, love.”
“We’re getting off-topic,” Alex says, peering up at Henry. “My Christmas present is going to bring you to your knees.”
“Alright, if you say so,” Henry allows, a strange spark in his eyes that Alex can’t quite decipher. “And for your information, my gift to you is also quite good.”
“Well.” Alex stretches, sitting up enough to touch a kiss to Henry’s mouth. “I think mine is better.”
“If you say so.”
“Oh my God.” Alex narrows his eyes, putting a dramatic hand to his chest. “You don’t believe me.”
“I believe that you believe it.”
“That is not the same thing,” Alex says, smirking as the challenge sends a spark of excitement up his spine. And he knows he probably shouldn’t oversell anything, just in case, but he still can’t help saying, “You’re on, then. It’s a fucking bet.”
“I did not agree to this in any way.”
“Too late, it’s a bet. Can’t take it back now.” Alex kisses Henry again, quick and sweet. “I love you, baby, but you’re going down.”
“I doubt it,” Henry replies, his glare sharp and playful and fucking adorable. “But we’ll see, I suppose.”
“Yes, we fucking will.”
Henry lets Alex settle back into his lap, his cheek smushed on the strong thigh underneath. One of Henry’s arms moves to rest on Alex’s waist while the other goes back to combing through Alex’s hair. It brings Alex back to that feeling of utter peace, reminding him that Henry loves him, that this is home, no matter what games they play.
“I love you,” Alex says again, soft and sleepy.
Henry makes a happy sound. “I love you, too.”
🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄
“I’ve checked us in for our flight tomorrow afternoon.”
Alex kisses Henry’s cheek as he passes by, tossing his clear bag of toiletries into his bag. “Thank you, baby.”
“Is June still picking us up from the airport?”
“She fucking better be,” Alex says, staring down at his bag and trying to figure out if there’s anything else he should pack. He turns in a full circle as he searches the room around him, brows furrowed, because he’s definitely forgetting something. “But I’ll text her later. Do you know—”
“Your glasses are still on the coffee table in the living room.”
“Oh, right.”
Alex’s cheeks warm at the memory of yanking them off his face when Henry was straddling him on the couch. They kept getting knocked askew while Henry rode him, noses and foreheads and exploring hands making it impossible to keep them perched on Alex’s nose.
“And the case for them is…”
Henry chuckles. “Middle drawer below the bathroom sink.”
Alex walks back over and kisses Henry’s cheek again, being more obnoxious about it this time. “Love of my entire goddamn life. What in the world would I do without you?”
“I would certainly wind up with less saliva on my face,” Henry replies as he rubs his cheek against his shoulder, but he’s smiling. “Now go get your glasses, before you forget again.”
“Yes, sir.”
Henry is still smiling when Alex comes back with his glasses and case in hand. They move around each other in comfortable silence as they continue packing, the kind of ease in their movements that only comes with years of being in each other’s space.
Eventually, Henry zips up the compartment on one side of his suitcase and glances up, his grin shifting into something more amused. “There’s still time to take back your wager, you know.”
Alex snorts. “Scared you’ll lose?”
“On the contrary,” Henry says, reaching for the pants folded on the bed and carefully placing them into the empty side of his bag. “I’m trying to save you from the embarrassment of losing because I love you so dearly.”
“Sweet, but completely unnecessary. I’m not losing.”
“You’re very cocky about this.”
“Not cocky,” Alex corrects, wrapping an arm around Henry’s waist and pulling him close. “Confident.”
Henry tries to look aggrieved, but an affectionate smile spreads across his face. “We’ll see in the morning, I suppose.”
“Or we could see right now,” Alex says, his heart jumping into his throat when the words fall from his mouth without his fucking permission.
“Christmas is tomorrow,” Henry reminds him, canting his head to one side.
“Yeah, but we’ll be in travel mode tomorrow,” Alex tells him, committing to his spur-of-the-moment decision even as his blood rushes too fast through his body. “Might as well do our Christmas tonight and have that be separate from tomorrow’s chaos.”
Henry looks a little nervous all of a sudden, his hand moving absentmindedly over Alex’s hip as he considers the proposition. Then his features smooth out and he nods, leaning forward to kiss the tip of Alex’s nose.
“Okay. Sure. Let’s get most of our packing finished and we can do it tonight.”
Half an hour later, they’re sitting next to each other on their sofa, mugs of hot chocolate in their hands and The Santa Clause playing quietly on the TV in front of them. Alex leans his cheek on Henry’s shoulder and breathes in the scent of his soap and sugar and the pine-scented candle that they left burning in the kitchen.
Part of him is still anxious about his gift for Henry. He doesn’t know if it’s the right choice or the right time, or if Henry will think it’s weird or too much. But he feels Henry’s mouth brush against his forehead in a gentle caress and fills his lungs with that sense of home surrounding him and knows he’s going to be fine.
Probably.
“You wanna do gifts now?” Alex asks, turning to rest his chin on Henry’s arm.
“Sure,” Henry says, taking both of their mugs and setting them on the coffee table. “I’ll allow you to go first, since you’re so confident.”
Alex raises an eyebrow. “I was going to say the same thing.”
Henry shakes his head. “I insist. Show me what you’ve got.”
“Okay.” Alex holds up his hands, trying to hold on to the confidence he felt an hour ago. “But when you have to follow my showstopping gift, you only have yourself to blame.”
“I promise I’ll take full responsibility.”
Alex grabs his box from under the tree and hands it to Henry with shaky hands, waiting patiently while Henry opens the box to reveal a second, smaller box.
Three times in succession.
Henry fixes Alex with an exasperated look. “Is your present to me… several boxes of various sizes?”
Alex shrugs one shoulder. “Had to make it interesting. I never do anything halfway.”
Henry rolls his eyes, but he's smiling. “I’m very aware.”
“Keep going,” Alex requests, gesturing with his hand. “Boxes aren't gonna open themselves, baby.”
There are only a few more after that, and then Henry is opening the last box. It’s small enough to fit in the palm of one hand, and as Henry lifts the lid to reveal the ring box nestled inside, Alex slides off the couch and drops to one knee. His heart is beating in his ears as he puts a hand on Henry's thigh, steadying himself. Realization dawns on Henry’s features the second before Alex speaks.
“I know this is like, so fucking cheesy, and I thought about waiting til Valentine’s Day or your birthday, but I just… didn’t want to wait anymore, I guess.” Alex swallows, moisture burning in the corner of his eyes. “I mean, I don’t know. I thought maybe it was sweet and romantic, and so you might like it. So, uh, yeah. Henry, will you marry me?”
Henry blinks. “You’re… you’re joking.”
Alex blinks back.
“I’m... No? I’m not?”
Henry laughs suddenly, shaking his head. “Your gift to me is a ring and a proposal? Truly?”
“I mean, yeah. I…”
Alex moves to stand, feeling a little off-balance, but Henry’s hand shoots out to land on his shoulder, keeping him on the floor. He gives Alex a sheepish smile, squeezing Alex’s arm in a way that feels reassuring.
“No, I apologize, darling. I didn’t mean to—” He laughs again, incredulous, and for the first time, Alex notices the slight sheen in his eyes. “Stay here, please.”
Henry gets up and walks to their tree in the corner, grabbing a small box from under it and returning to Alex. Instead of sitting back down on the couch, he drops to his knees in front of where Alex is still knelt, presenting the box to him. He’s still holding Alex’s ring box in his other hand, grip tight.
“Here. Open this for me.”
Alex obeys with his brow furrowed, taking the small box and opening it to find—
“Oh my fucking God.”
Henry’s laugh is a little wet this time, and Alex looks up to see him beaming, eyes crinkled around the corners. “Hopefully this clarifies my earlier reaction.”
“You got me a fucking ring, too,” Alex says, glancing back down at the tiny box in his hand.
“As you said, it is very sweet and romantic. I thought it would be a nice surprise.”
Alex sniffles, feeling a little drunk as he meets Henry’s eyes. “I can’t believe you were going to out-cheese me, Henry George Edward James Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor.”
“I should have known you would never let me get away with that.” Henry reaches up to cradle Alex’s jaw. “So will you marry me, then?”
Alex leans into his touch, smiling. “So, technically—and please remember that this is actually because of your choices—I asked you first.”
Henry shifts closer until their foreheads touch, and the look on his face is so soft and affectionate that Alex’s breath gets caught in his lungs.
“Yes,” Henry whispers.
“Yes,” Alex says back.
Alex puts Henry’s ring on, and Henry does the same. They kiss on their knees in their living room floor, both giggling at the absurdity of it all. And then they break apart and Henry nearly doubles over in laughter, his cheeks turning pink before he presses his face into Alex’s shoulder.
“Christ,” Henry mumbles into Alex’s shirt. “No wonder you were so bloody confident. I can’t believe I didn’t figure that out.”
“Good present, right?”
Henry straightens back up, pinching Alex’s waist before standing and offering Alex a hand. “I feel like I shouldn’t encourage your chaos.”
“You did the same thing!” Alex accuses, getting up and poking Henry in the stomach.
“I’ve been terribly influenced.”
“You love my chaos,” Alex challenges, narrowing his eyes. “Speaking of which, what does this mean for our bet?”
Henry frowns. “What?”
“I mean, which one of us had the better gift if we basically got each other the same thing?”
Henry rolls his eyes and pulls Alex down onto the couch with him. “Does it really matter?”
“No,” Alex says, leaning into Henry’s chest. “Well. Maybe.”
“I adore you endlessly, my love,” Henry says, kissing Alex’s temple. “And I’m going to love you forever. That’s all that matters to me.”
Alex melts into Henry’s arms, sighing as those words sink into his brain. “Fine. I’m going to let the records show you winning this one. By default or whatever. And don’t think you’ll be able to sweet-talk me into any future victories. This surrender is a one-time thing.”
“We’ll see,” Henry tells him, wrapping his arm around Alex’s shoulders.
“I mean it,” Alex warns, trying to fight a smile as he looks up at Henry. “And anyway, for your birthday, I will definitely—”
Henry kisses him, cutting off his ramble before repeating, “I love you.”
“I love you more,” Alex replies, raising his eyebrows.
“Right. Of course,” Henry says, the corners of his mouth twitching. “Of course you do.”
Alex narrows his eyes. “You don’t believe me.”
Henry smiles fully, bright and beautiful, pressing his thumb into the dimple of Alex’s chin. “I believe you, darling.”
Alex knows he’s being placated. And that’s fine.
He lets himself be pushed backward on their couch and straddled, kissed into the cushions as Henry’s weight settles over him. He’ll let Henry win this one, even if it feels like a win for him, too.
But Alex is already plotting in his mind. He’s thinking of flowers and edible arrangements and homemade cards, matching Halloween costumes and pajama sets, words whispered against the shell of Henry’s ear and promises of from now until forever.
It’s less than two months until Valentine’s Day, three months until their birthdays. Hell, Alex isn’t above using fucking Arbor Day if it’ll help him make a point. There’s an infinite world of opportunities ahead for Alex to keep showing Henry how much he loves him, to feel how much Henry loves him, too.
Alex is looking forward to everything.