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By eleven-thirty on Thursday night, Alex had successfully accomplished approximately none of the studying he had promised himself he was going to do. This he was certain was Henry's fault, or at least that was the argument Alex was prepared to make if anyone asked. Their apartment was quiet except for the low hum of the television and the occasional rattle of the ancient radiator beneath the window. Their textbooks were spread across the coffee table in what probably looked like the remnants of a study session. But now, one of Alex's notebooks had been shoved beneath a bowl of popcorn, Henry's laptop was open to a page neither of them had looked at in forty minutes, and someone—Alex suspected Henry but couldn’t be sure it hadn’t been him—had used a stack of flashcards as a coaster.
The television was playing The Breakfast Club. Again. Alex had seen it enough times that he could probably recite most the movie without looking at the screen, which was exactly why he had been able to notice that Henry was getting emotional. Not crying, of course, but there was definitely something happening around his eyes. Alex glanced at Henry who was sitting at the opposite end of the couch, one knee pulled up near his chest, with his attention fixed on the television. The light from the screen caught the edge of his face, softening it in a way Alex didn't want to think too hard about. So he focused on how his eyes were suspiciously shiny. Alex grinned. “Oh my God.”
Henry didn't look away from the television. “What?”
“Are you crying?”
“I am not crying.”
“You're absolutely crying.”
“I have allergies.”
“To The Breakfast Club?”
“It's a very dusty movie.” Alex laughed and Henry finally looked over at him, expression carefully arranged into dignity. “You're an arsehole.”
“And you're crying over teenage angst.”
“It's an emotional film.”
“It's a bunch of teenagers getting detention and learning that they're all secretly similar.”
Henry's eyebrows rose. “You say that like it isn't beautiful.”
“It's aggressively beautiful.”
“That's not a criticism.”
“It is when you're crying.”
“I am not crying.”
Alex pointed at him. “Your eyes are wet.”
Henry narrowed his eyes. “You cried during Ferris Bueller.”
“That was different.”
“How?”
“Because Ferris is a genius.”
“Ferris is a menace.”
“He's an icon.”
“He skips school.”
“He skips school with style.” Henry snorted and Alex leaned back against the couch, smugness settling comfortably over him. “See? You get it.”
“I understand that you have quoted that movie at least once a week since freshman year.”
“That's because it's a cultural masterpiece.”
“You told a professor that life moves pretty fast when they assigned a midterm.”
“They needed to hear it.”
“You told me it when I was trying to study more than once.”
“You needed to hear it, each of those times.”
“You told a cashier at the grocery store.”
“She was taking too long.” Henry stared at him and Alex smiled innocently. “You have no appreciation for art.”
“I am working on a master's degree in literature.”
“Exactly. You overthink everything.”
“And you apparently think shouting movie quotes constitutes analysis.”
“It does if you shout them confidently.” Henry shook his head, turning back toward the television. Alex should have let it go, but he absolutely did not. “Besides,” he said, “you only like John Hughes movies because you’re hoping they will break through your emotional repression.”
Henry's head snapped around. “I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me.”
“I am not emotionally repressed.”
“You nearly cried at The Breakfast Club.”
“I did not cry.”
“You're one saxophone solo away from sobbing into the popcorn.”
Henry reached for the bowl but Alex grabbed it first. “Hey.”
“Evidence.”
“Give me the popcorn.”
“Confess.”
“I will do not.”
Alex held the bowl out of reach as Henry leaned across the couch, and for one ridiculous second, they were both laughing, fighting over a plastic bowl of popcorn like children instead of two twenty-something college students with exams approaching and approximately a thousand pages of assigned reading between them.
Henry's hand closed around Alex's wrist and Alex froze, it was nothing, obviously, just Henry trying to get the bowl, but still, Alex became abruptly, stupidly aware of the warmth of Henry's fingers against his skin. Henry seemed to notice it too and for half a second, neither of them moved. Then Henry let go and Alex cleared his throat and shoved the popcorn toward him. “Fine.”
“Thank you.” Henry settled back into his corner.
Alex stared at the television but he could still feel the ghost of Henry's hand. He hated that his brain occasionally did things like that—took something completely ordinary and made it feel like it mattered. So he did what he always did when something became uncomfortable. He made a joke—or in this case a challenge. “You know,” Alex said, “I think we need to settle this.”
Henry looked over. “Settle what?”
“Who's the superior John Hughes expert.”
Henry's mouth twitched. “You?”
“Obviously.”
“That is an astonishingly confident assertion from someone who thinks Ferris Bueller is a documentary.”
“It basically is.”
“Alex.”
“Henry.”
“You couldn't name three John Hughes movies without saying Ferris Bueller.”
“That's because it's the best one.”
“It's not even the best one.”
Alex gasped when Henry smiled at him, and there it was Henry deciding to take Alex’s challenge even if he hadn’t said it yet. “You take that back.”
“No.”
“You have ten seconds.”
“Or what?”
“I'll revoke your movie privileges.”
Henry laughed. “You can't revoke my movie privileges this is my apartment too and the television we paid for together.”
“Then I'll hide the remote.”
“You wouldn't.” Alex smiled. Henry's smile faded slightly. “Oh, you would.”
“Absolutely.” They stared at each other for a beat, then Alex said, “Fine. John Hughes-off.”
Henry blinked. “A what?”
“A John Hughes-off.”
“That isn't a thing.”
“It is now.”
Alex sat forward, suddenly energized. “Here's how it works. We take turns recreating iconic John Hughes moments.”
Henry's eyes narrowed with interest despite himself. “Recreating them how?”
“However we want.”
“That sounds vague.”
“That's because I'm being generous.”
“You're being reckless.”
“Same difference.”
Henry considered him and Alex swore he could see the gears turning behind his eyes. This was the thing about Henry. People who didn't know him well tended to mistake the quiet, thoughtful exterior for a lack of competitiveness. Alex knew better though Henry was competitive about everything. Board games. Grades. Who could make the better cup of coffee (even though Henry rarely drank it and Alex got to reap the rewards of Henry’s coffee making). Who could go longer without checking their phone. Once, during freshman year, they'd spent nearly three hours trying to beat each other's score on a ridiculous arcade game. Henry had eventually won and Alex had not spoken to him for six minutes, it had been a difficult six minutes.
Henry reached for one of the flashcards on the table. “Rules.”
Alex grinned. “Fine.”
“One: it has to be recognizable.”
“Obviously.”
“Two: it has to involve the other person.”
Alex nodded. “Three: no explaining what movie we're recreating until after, if need be.”
Henry pointed at him. “That one's important.”
“Agreed.”
“Four: points for creativity.”
“Obviously.”
“And five—”
“No repeating movies.”
Henry smiled. “Exactly.” Alex held out his hand and Henry looked at it, then back at Alex. “What?”
“Deal. Shake my hand dammit.” Henry took his hand and Alex expected a quick shake but instead, Henry's fingers curled around his, warm and firm and made something flutter low in Alex's stomach. He ignored it, obviously—he’d gotten good at ignoring those things.
“Deal,” Henry said. They shook hands and neither let go immediately. Alex was beginning to suspect that maybe Henry was doing that thing on purpose, except Henry's expression was completely innocent which somehow made it worse.
Alex pulled his hand away. “So,” he said, “who goes first?”
“You proposed it.”
“So?”
“So you go first.”
Alex leaned back. “That's fine.”
Henry's eyebrows rose. “You're confident.”
“I have reason to be.”
“You've planned this already?”
“No.”
“Then what are you smiling about?”
Alex smiled wider. “Because you're going to lose.”
Henry laughed softly. “That's what you think.”
“I know it.”
Henry reached for the popcorn. “You do realize I'm just as competitive as you, don't you?”
Alex grinned. “That's what makes this so fun, baby.” The word slipped out automatically. Baby. A stupid little nickname he'd been using for Henry for so long that Alex barely thought about it anymore.
Except Henry went still for the briefest second and when his eyes met Alex's something unreadable passed across his face. Then he smiled. “First round,” Henry said.
Alex's heart gave one strange, unnecessary beat. “Bring it.” And just like that, their study session was officially dead, but Alex didn't regret it for a second.
Henry woke to someone shaking his shoulder and made a noise that was somewhere between a groan and a threat and pulled the blanket over his head. “Go the fuck away.”
“Get up.”
“No.”
“Henry.”
“It's Saturday.”
“Exactly.”
That made no sense, but this was Alex and Henry was used to that with him, he cracked one eye open and saw Alex was standing beside his bed, already dressed. He wore jeans, even half-asleep Henry noticed how well they clung to his body, and the old sneakers Alex refused to get rid of, along with a jacket tossed over his shoulder and sunglasses perched on top of his head despite the fact that it was eight in the morning and they were indoors. Henry couldn’t help but stare at him. “What are you wearing?”
“Clothes.”
“Why?”
“Because we're going out.”
Henry blinked. “We have studying to do this weekend.”
“No, we don't.”
“We both have exams on Monday.”
“That is Monday Henry and Alex's problem.”
Henry slowly sat up and Alex smiled. It was the smile he wore whenever he had done something he was very pleased with and was waiting for Henry to discover it. “You're taking the day off.”
Henry stared at him. “From what?”
Alex spread his arms. “Everything.”
There was a beat of silence and then Henry laughed. “Oh, absolutely not.”
“Oh, absolutely yes.”
“Alex, I have three chapters to read for three different classes.”
“You'll read them tomorrow.”
“You said that yesterday.”
“Yesterday I was younger and less wise.”
“Yesterday you said you were going to start studying after dinner.”
“I did start.”
“You watched Ferris Bueller.”
“Research—hence studying.”
Henry rubbed both hands over his face. “This is your first challenge?”
Alex's grin widened. “Maybe.”
“You've planned something.”
“No.”
“Alex.”
“Fine. Maybe.”
Henry looked at him for another moment and the irritating thing was that he was already smiling, he couldn't help it. Alex looked unbearably pleased with himself. “Get dressed,” he said gesturing to Henry’s closet.
“I am dressed.”
“You're wearing pajama pants.”
“They're comfortable.”
“They have little ducks on them.”
Henry looked down and there were, in fact, little ducks on them. “They're tasteful little ducks.”
Alex snorted. “Ten minutes.”
“And if I say no?”
Alex leaned closer. “Then I'll tell everyone you lost the John Hughes-off before round one.”
Henry's eyes narrowed. “That is psychological warfare.”
“It's working.”
Though Henry wasn’t going to admit it, it was. Ten minutes later, Henry was in the kitchen with his hair still damp, holding a tea Alex had apparently made for him. He took one sip and unsurprisingly it was exactly the way he liked it. He looked at Alex. “You're frightening.”
“I know.”
The first stop was breakfast at a diner neither of them had ever visited because, according to Alex, Ferris would never eat somewhere sensible. Henry wasn't entirely sure what that meant, and he was even less sure why they were sitting in a booth both wearing sunglasses. “Are we hiding from someone?” he asked.
“No.”
“Then why the sunglasses?”
“Atmosphere.”
“You're ridiculous.”
“And yet you're still here.”
Henry looked at him, wishing he could say he didn’t know why that was the case, but well he very much did know. It was because Alex was sitting across from him, smiling like this was the most natural thing in the world. Because Alex had dragged Henry out of bed just to spend an entire Saturday doing absolutely nothing useful. Because Alex had somehow remembered Henry's favorite breakfast and ordered it before Henry could, and that lodged somewhere inconvenient. Henry ignored it and the fact that the key component to all those things was Alex.
Their food came remarkably quick and Henry was halfway through a waffle when he said, “This is not how the movie goes.”
“Details.”
“You've seen it at least twenty times you should know the details.”
“Twenty-three.”
Henry laughed. “Of course, you know the exact number.”
Alex pointed his fork at him. “That's why I'm winning this, the contest is about making it yours rather than just copying it and I know it well enough to do that perfectly.”
The museum came next with photos, so many photos, in the museum them outside as they walked around. Alex insisted on taking one of Henry beside a statue, one of Henry pretending to hold up a building, one of Henry making a ridiculous face beside a fountain. At one point, Alex convinced a passing stranger to take a picture of them together and Henry couldn’t help but think he should have objected, but, he found himself standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Alex, both of them grinning at the camera. Alex's arm was around his shoulder and Henry's hand rested against Alex's waist and it made his heart flutter ridiculously. He had to remind himself it was only for a photo and nothing else, but, when the stranger handed the phone back, Henry found himself reluctant to move. He almost convinced himself that Alex didn't seem in any hurry to stray from Henry’s side either.
“Cute,” the stranger said before they turned back to their group.
Alex laughed and Henry felt warmth crawl up his neck. “Thank you,” Alex said.
They walked away and Henry looked at Alex who was already looking at the photo. “You're keeping that?”
“Obviously, we look good. I’ll send ya it, so ya can have it too.”
Henry smiled, they did, of course, it was almost ridiculous how good they looked together, but he didn't say anything. Then Alex led him down an alley and through a side entrance into a small theater. Henry stopped and looked at him. “Alex.”
“What?”
“We're not supposed to be here.”
“I know.”
“We're going to get kicked out.”
“Probably.”
“You're enjoying this.”
“Very much.”
They lasted eleven minutes before someone found them and they escaped laughing so much that Henry's stomach hurt. He really couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed this much. Eventually they ended up in the middle of a crowded area where a street performer had started playing music and Alex looked at him. Henry immediately shook his head. “No.”
Alex held out a hand. “C’mon.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Henry.”
“No.”
“Live a little.”
“You've been saying that all day.”
“And has it been terrible?”
Henry looked around at the sunlight, and the city around them, and then his eyes landed back on Alex. “No.”
Alex's expression softened, but then he smiled again. “Dance with me, please.”
Henry knew he should have refused again but instead, he took his hand. They danced badly, Alex was somehow both enthusiastic and completely without rhythm, even though Henry had seen him dance like he belonged on a dance floor many nights at bars or clubs. Henry laughed until he couldn't breathe when Alex spun him and he nearly stumbled. They ended up closer and Alex's hand was still holding his. Their faces were inches apart and for a second, the entire noisy space around them seemed to fade. Henry could see the flecks of gold in Alex's eyes and felt Alex's fingers tightening around his.
Then someone cheered and Alex jumped back. “Eight points.”
Henry blinked. “What?”
“My Ferris score.”
Henry laughed. “You're unbelievable.”
“And?”
Henry sighed dramatically. “Okay, eight.”
Alex punched the air. “Yes! I knew I was right to start with the most famous day off in history.”
Henry shook his head. “You're going to regret this.”
“Why?”
“Because I'm going to destroy you, dear.”
Alex's smile softened into something almost fond. “Can't wait, baby.” Henry looked away before Alex could see how much the word affected him.
The Breakfast Club — Alex
The following Saturday, Alex came home expecting to find Henry buried beneath textbooks, instead, he found himself in a detention room with breakfast themed snacks spilled across the coffee table. He stopped in the doorway. “What the hell?”
Henry stepped out of the kitchen. “Welcome.”
Alex looked around the room and saw that the coffee table had been moved against the wall and the couch had been repositioned. A ridiculous handwritten sign reading SATURDAY DETENTION hung crookedly above the television. There were five different snacks arranged across the table with handwritten sheets of paper beside them. Alex slowly turned to Henry with a grin he couldn’t hold back. “You've lost your mind.”
“Possibly.”
“You've been planning this.”
“Possibly.”
Alex picked up one of the papers. DETENTION QUESTION ONE: WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE MOVIE? He looked up. “You're such a fucking nerd.”
Henry smiled. “You can give me my eight points now.”
“You sound like you’re giving yourself ten.”
“I'm anticipating excellence.”
Alex dropped onto the couch. “Fine. Let's see what you've got.”
The first questions were easy. Favorite movie. Worst professor. Most embarrassing undergrad college moment. They laughed through most of them. Henry's answers were somehow simultaneously thoughtful and ridiculous, something Alex had long ago learned to expect from the man. Alex admitted that his worst professor was Professor Ramos, who he was convinced wanted to do something not completely approved for a student-professor relationship, and honestly by the end of the semester gave him a bit of the creeps.
Henry admitted that his most embarrassing moment was falling asleep during a lecture and waking up to discover he'd been taking notes in his sleep. “You wrote the word 'potato' twelve times,” Alex said, remembering the class as one of the few they had shared over the years.
“I was tired.”
“We weren't even studying potatoes in any way.”
“Apparently my subconscious disagreed.”
Alex laughed. The questions got progressively stranger to answer. Favorite childhood memory. First concert. Worst date. Celebrity crush. Alex answered most of them without thinking and paid close attention when Henry answered more carefully. He always noticed Henry and nearly everything about him and this was part of a problem he’s had for quite a while now.
Then Henry picked up the next card and his expression changed, Alex felt the change in the air.
“What?”
Henry looked at the card then at him and said, “Who's the person you'd call if everything went wrong?”
Alex laughed. “Oh, easy. You.”
Henry didn't laugh as Alex thought he might, he just watched him, and something shifted in a way Alex hadn’t expected, his smile faltered. “What?”
“You're avoiding the question, by trying to distract me with ridiculous and not actually thinking about it.”
“No, I'm not.”
“You are.”
“I'm not.”
Henry set the card down. “Alex.” There was something quiet in his voice that made Alex suddenly wish they were arguing about movies again. He looked away. “Fine.” He rubbed his thumb against his palm.
“My sister, June, first,” he said. “Obviously.”
Henry nodded. “And then?”
Alex swallowed. “Probably you.”
The apartment suddenly felt very quiet and Henry's expression softened. “Probably?”
Alex forced a grin. “Don't let it go to your head, but I assumed you might already be with me, and I’d be leaning on you already.” Alex laughed weakly. “Your turn.”
Henry looked down at the card then back at him. “You.”
Alex's heart stumbled. “What?”
“If everything went wrong,” Henry said quietly, “I'd call you, if like you said you weren’t already there with me.”
Alex didn't know what to do with that so he made a joke. “Well, obviously. I'm very comforting, and you would need my comfort.”
“You are.”
“I have excellent crisis-management skills, I suppose.”
“You once called me at two in the morning because you couldn't find your phone.”
“I was under emotional distress.”
“It was in your hand.” Henry smiled.
They were sitting closer now and Alex wasn't sure when it happened. At some point during the questions, Henry had moved from the opposite end of the couch to the middle and Alex had shifted closer too. Their knees touched and neither of them moved. Henry looked at him and all Alex could do was look back. There was something there, but neither of them seemed willing to name. So Alex reached for another snack. “Well,” he said, forcing his voice into something lighter, “this is definitely worth points.”
Henry blinked. “What?”
“Ten.”
“You're giving me ten?”
“Fine. Nine.”
Henry smiled. “Biased judging.”
“Absolutely.”
“I think I won.”
Alex rolled his eyes. “You're unbearable.”
“And yet you keep spending your days with me.”
Alex opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Henry's smile turned softer. Alex looked down at the stack of cards. “Next question.”
The John Hughes-off was supposed to be a competition after all. It was supposed to be about their love of them movies and winning. Alex was beginning to suspect neither of them was playing for the points anymore, and it was still so early in the game.
Alex was not losing, that was the first and most important fact he reminded himself. The second was that Henry had become entirely too smug about his ten points. He had started doing things like tapping the scorecard Alex had hung on the fridge whenever Alex walked into the kitchen. He had begun referring to himself as “the reigning champion.” He'd even told Alex that perhaps the next round should be “a little more challenging.”
Alex had taken this as a personal insult, of course, which was why, on Thursday afternoon, he made sure Henry found a note tucked beneath his laptop.
Wear something you wouldn't normally wear.
Meet me Friday at eight.
Don't ask questions.
There was no signature but there didn't need to be, he’d recognize Alex’s handwriting anywhere. Henry found Alex in the kitchen ten minutes later. “You're insane.”
Alex looked up from the sandwich he was making. “I have no idea what you're talking about.”
Henry waved the note. “This.”
Alex shrugged. “Looks like a note.”
“You wrote it.”
“Prove it.” Alex said with a smirk.
Henry stared at him. “You're enjoying this.”
“Very much.”
Henry folded the note carefully and put it in his pocket. “Fine.”
Alex smiled and Henry didn't think much more about it, until Friday. At exactly eight o'clock, Henry walked into the apartment wearing a pink tie. Alex couldn’t help but stare, it was a terrible tie the bright pink and tiny blue stripes put together the way they were made his eyes ache. This tie was a thing that should have been illegal on principle but Henry stood there with an expression of complete dignity and Alex lost the battle with his laughter almost immediately. “Oh my God.”
“You said something I wouldn't normally wear.”
“I did.”
“You didn't specify tasteful.”
Alex was laughing so hard he had to put a hand against the wall and lean onto it to hold him up. “You look ridiculous.”
Henry's mouth twitched and Alex quickly looked away from the perfect image of Henry’s lips. “You're also wearing pink.”
Alex looked down at his jacket that was, in fact, pink. “That's different I look good and that tie … yeah.”
Henry considered him. “You do.”
Laughter caught in Alex's throat at how Henry said it so casually like it was nothing. Alex suddenly became aware of exactly how he looked in the jacket, how Henry was looking at him, how close they were standing. All of it was A LOT. Alex cleared his throat. “C’mon.”
The place Alex had chosen was a tiny diner that doubled as a dance bar on Friday nights. It had checkered floors, neon signs, cheap drinks, and a jukebox that looked like it had been there since before either of them had been born. It was perfect, even if it Alex said so himself. Henry looked around and turned to Alex with a grin that did something funny to his stomach that he wasn’t going to admit. “This is impressively tacky.”
“Thank you.” He grinned back.
“That wasn't a compliment.”
“It is from you.” Alex had arranged for the table in the corner, he'd even convinced the bartender to play a particular song at eight-thirty. Of course, Henry noticed.
“You've been planning this all week.”
“Maybe.”
Henry smiled and something warm moved through Alex that he ignored, well aware of how much he’d been ignoring lately. They ate terrible, but somehow still great, food and argued over which fries were better. They stole bites from each other's plates and at some point, Henry reached across the table and wiped a smear of something from the corner of Alex's mouth. Alex went still when Henry seemed to realize what he'd done. His fingers lingered for half a second and then he pulled away. “Sorry.”
“It's fine.” Neither looked at the other for a moment. Then the music changed and Alex glanced toward the dance floor.
Henry followed his gaze. “No.”
“Yes.”
“Absolutely not.”
“You know the rules.”
Henry sighed. “You're abusing the rules.”
“That's what rules are for, you should know this about me.”
Henry laughed and Alex held out his hand. After a moment, Henry took it. At first, they made a joke of it and danced badly. Alex spun Henry too fast and Henry nearly knocked into another couple. Alex laughed until he couldn't breathe. “You're terrible at this.”
“You're worse.”
“I have rhythm.”
“You have enthusiasm.”
“That counts.”
“It really doesn't.”
Then the song changed to something slower. Alex felt the shift before either of them acknowledged it. Henry's hand settled at Alex's waist, and no one was joking now, it wasn’t dramatic or anything but it was just there. Alex's hand found Henry's shoulder and their bodies moved closer as the laughter faded around them. For a moment, neither of them seemed to remember the competition. Alex could feel Henry's breath against his cheek and when he glanced up Henry was already looking at him.
There was something in his eyes Alex couldn't quite read, or maybe he could and that was the problem. Henry's gaze dropped briefly to Alex's mouth and Alex's heart kicked hard against his ribs. He stopped breathing as Henry leaned in close enough that Alex could feel the warmth of him. They were close enough that if either of them moved—
None of that mattered when someone crashed into Alex's shoulder and shattered the moment. “Oh, shit—sorry!” Alex stumbled sideways and Henry caught him, as he should have figured would happen, Henry always was there for him. They both immediately stepped back.
“Eight points,” Alex blurted.
Henry blinked. “What?”
“The round.”
“Obviously, but I’m saying nine.”
They stared at each other and Alex laughed too loudly “So. Pink.”
“Pink.”
“Pretty in Pink.”
Henry nodded. “That's definitely the reference.” Henry's mouth twitched and Alex smiled. Neither of them mentioned how close they'd come to kissing or that both of them were still thinking about it.
Henry decided the next round needed to be ridiculous, it was the only sensible response. He couldn’t allow Alex another opportunity to turn their competition into something that felt suspiciously like a date, Henry wasn't entirely sure he'd survive it with his dignity intact. But he was at a loss for what to pick next so he took the decision making to Alex and they chose Weird Science. Or rather, Alex chose it for him. Henry had doubts about whether the film could reasonably be considered a source of romantic inspiration, but Alex insisted. “It's science.”
“It's not science.” Henry couldn’t help but roll his eyes.
“It's extremely scientific.” When Alex winked at him Henry tried to control the weird flutters in his stomach.
Henry decided to go all in on the theme and by seven the next evening, their apartment looked like a laboratory designed by two men who had never passed chemistry. Henry had put candles everywhere and rolled his eyes when Alex asked, “Why are there candles?”
“Atmosphere, if science is going to be romantic it needs atmosphere.”
Henry had also put music on and since Alex got a hold of the remote was playing far too loudly. Henry was attempting to cook, which was probably the first true sign of danger. Alex watched him from the kitchen doorway as he stirred something in a pan. “What is that?”
“Dinner.”
“That doesn't answer the question.”
Henry looked into the pan. “Chicken?”
Alex walked closer. “That is not chicken.”
“It was.”
“Before what happened to it?”
Henry frowned. “I think I may have overcooked it.”
“You have murdered it, but maybe it died bravely.”
Alex laughed and Henry pointed the wooden spoon at him. “Don't criticize until you've tried it.”
“I don't need to try it.”
Henry watched as Alex took a bite of his concoction and regretted it immediately. “Well?”
Alex swallowed. “It has personality.”
“That's not a compliment.”
“No.” Alex laughed as he got up to throw a frozen pizza from the freezer in the oven for them. Then they tried some science-themed cocktail recipes Henry had found and that somehow went worse, even with the pizza.
When it was time for the dressing up stage of the night Henry wasn’t holding out high hopes but somehow that went better. Alex emerged from his bedroom wearing a button-down shirt and a tie that was crooked. Henry adjusted it automatically and tried not to notice that when his fingers brushed Alex's throat they both went quiet. Henry could feel Alex's pulse beneath his fingertips and when he looked up Alex was watching him. For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then Alex cleared his throat. “Is it straight?”
Henry realized he was still touching him and pulled his hand away. “Yes, all good.”
They moved on with the candles, music, and more bad food and questionable drinks somehow all seemed to just work. An attempt to bake something, with Alex attempting to get Henry to join him in dancing around the kitchen, ended with smoke pouring from the oven as the smoke alarm screamed. Alex grabbed the dish towel from by the sink and Henry grabbed another from the drawer and they waved the towels beneath the alarm while laughing helplessly.
“This is your fault!” Henry shouted.
“How is this my fault?”
“You're the one who insisted the kitchen was made for dancing!”
“I don't think that's how being at fault works.”
The alarm finally stopped and they stood in the middle of the kitchen, breathless and still laughing. Alex's hair was a mess and there was flour on his cheek that Henry reached out without thinking and brushed away. Alex went still and Henry was certain his hand remained against his cheek for one second too long. Then he dropped it and the laughter faded again.
They kept finding themselves in these moments, where one or both of them was too close, too aware, or even too quiet. Henry looked at the candles at the remnants of the terrible food, and at the old phone playing the music. When he looked at Alex, once again, suddenly the whole evening looked different less like a movie challenge and more like a date.
Before he could stop himself, he said, “This isn't a date.”
Alex froze and the words seemed to hang between them. Henry immediately wished he'd swallowed them until he saw Alex's expression change. It wasn’t a lot but Henry liked to think he was particularly in tune to him so Henry saw it. “No,” Alex said. His voice was quieter. “It's not.”
Henry nodded. “Right.”
“Yeah.”
Neither moved and Henry couldn't explain why those words felt like disappointment or why he suddenly wished Alex had argued, as if some stupid, irrational part of him wanted Alex to say, Yes, it is, instead, Alex picked up the dish towel and fiddled with it.
“So,” he said lightly, “how many points?” Henry looked at him and smiled because it was easier than admitting anything else.
“Seven.”
“Only seven?”
“You nearly killed us with your cooking.”
“You ate it.”
“That's just being generous like I was taught.” Alex laughed and the sound was familiar, comforting and somehow, tonight, Henry thought it was not enough.
Henry looked away. “Okay I guess I’ll take your seven points.” Henry thought that neither of them seemed particularly interested in the score anymore, though.
By the time the next round came Alex had stopped keeping track of the score, he told himself this was because Henry was going to be impossible to beat. Of course that was a lie, after all currently had the lead even if it was only be one point, the truth was that the competition had gotten strange. It had started with jokes and movie quotes and stupid challenges, then there had been the dancing and almost-kiss. For Alex the night with the candles and the smoke alarm and Henry saying, This isn't a date in a voice that had somehow made Alex wish it were, was probably the most confusing of it all.
Since then, things between them had settled into something that looked normal from a distance. After all, they still studied together, stole food from each other's plates, and argued over whose turn it was to buy groceries. They could still be found on opposite ends of the couch most nights. Except now Alex was aware of things he hadn't been aware of before, like Henry smiled when he thought Alex wasn't looking, or the way Henry remembered everything. He was now thinking about the times their knees sometimes touched beneath the coffee table and neither of them immediately moved in a way he never had before. Alex had started noticing when Henry walked into a room, and it was becoming annoying, but really only because Alex couldn't figure out what to do with it any of it.
So when Henry walked into the apartment one Tuesday evening and said, “I've got the idea for the next round for you,” Alex was relieved.
“Excellent,” he said. “I'm ready to crush you.”
Henry smiled. “You're very confident for someone who's going to lose.”
“I am not gonna lose.”
“You are.”
“According to who?”
“Me.” Henry sat beside him and Alex grinned. Then Henry handed him a small envelope.
Alex looked at it. “What is this?”
“Your challenge.” Alex turned it over, and looked at it, there was no joke or ridiculous clue written on it, not even an obscure movie quote. Just his name. Alex. His stomach did something strange, he didn’t care to think about and he looked up to see Henry watching him. “Open it.”
Alex pulled out a small card and on it was a handwritten note. Put your headphones on. Alex stared. “That's it?”
Henry nodded. “That's it.”
“You're being mysterious.”
“I know.”
“I don't like it.”
“You'll survive.”
Alex narrowed his eyes. “You're definitely plotting something.”
“Maybe.”
Alex smiled, then he put his headphones on as Henry plugged them into his phone. The first song started and Alex recognized it immediately. He looked at Henry, but Henry just nodded toward the headphones, so Alex continued to listened. Slowly, inexplicably, the apartment disappeared, the first song was one they'd listened to the night they met. Alex remembered that night freshman year when two strangers were assigned to the same dorm. Alex had been carrying three boxes at once because he refused to make too many trips.
Henry had watched him nearly fall down the stairs, then, without laughing, he'd taken two boxes from him. “You're going to hurt yourself.”
“I've got it.”
“I can see that.”
Alex had laughed and Henry had smiled and they'd stayed up until three in the morning talking, of course then neither had known then that they were going to become this. Whatever this was. The next song Henry played belonged to their first semester and Alex remembered sitting in the kitchen on their floor because they had needed clean utensils and neither of them had bothered to move to the chairs. They'd eaten takeout straight from the containers and Henry had complained about their terrible dorm and looking forward to getting off-campus next year hopefully. Alex had said the dorm was kind of charming, Henry had said it was haunted, and they'd laughed until they had tears in their eyes. Alex smiled at the memory as the song ended,
The next song somehow hit even harder, it was from the night Henry had gotten a bad phone call. Alex remembered that one too, the first time Henry had gone quiet Alex had found him sat on the floor beside the couch out in the shared space, staring at nothing. Alex hadn't known what to say, so he'd stayed there with him for a while before luring him back to their room, and got Henry to drink water. Then he’d wrapped him in a blanket and made him a cup of tea. Eventually, Henry had leaned his head against Alex's shoulder, and they'd stayed that way for hours. Alex had thought nothing of it at the time, but now he remembered the weight of Henry against him. The trust Henry showed there in the quiet when he had fallen asleep there.
The next song was from the week of Alex's worst exam, he'd been so convinced he was going to fail and Henry had stayed up with him until three in the morning, quizzing him with flashcards. Every time Alex got something wrong, Henry had patiently explained it again when Alex would say he couldn't do it, Henry had said, “You can.” Over and over, the cycle repeated until Alex believed him.
Alex sat very still as the music continued. Song after song and memory after memory thiw was their lives, somehow, arranged into sound. It wasn’t the grand or dramatic moments, but all the little things. Thing like the grocery store trip when they'd gotten caught in the rain and ended up tumbling through the door of their first apartment, just off campus, soaked to the bone. The afternoon they'd spent assembling furniture and joked that if they had been married it would have led to them getting divorced.
The playlist flipped through the song playing when they got their first grades of their last years of undergrad, and it all started feeling so real. The night they danced barefoot in the kitchen to “Mr. Roboto” by Styx on repeat because they'd both had too much caffeine. It was a dozen ordinary moments Alex hadn't realized Henry had kept, with him, as much as Alex had until now. Alex pulled off the headphones and looked at Henry sitting next to him on the couch. He was quiet, with no teasing or smug grin Alex might have expected. Alex looked down at Henry’s phone where the playlist was still showing on the screen. “You made this?”
Henry nodded. “Yeah.”
Alex swallowed. “Why?”
Henry shrugged. “I got lost in remembering and the next thing I knew it was done.”
Alex looked at him, and could tell that wasn't the answer, not really, he was sur Henry knew that Alex knew that too. The silence stretched and Alex looked back at the playlist. He had spent years thinking he knew Henry, and of course he did, Henry was his roommate all through undergrad and now while they were both conquering further education. He was one of his best friend and the person who knew exactly how Alex took his coffee and which foods he hated and when to leave him alone and when to make him talk. But this was different, because this meant Henry had been paying attention and not just lately, but for years. Alex's chest felt tight at the thought. “There's a song from the night we met.”
Henry nodded. “I remember.”
“You remembered that?”
“I remember a lot about that night.”
Alex looked at him but Henry's eyes were fixed on the floor so he couldn’t try to read anything in them. Something in Alex shifted and suddenly the competition seemed ridiculous. Eight points, ten points, the pink jacket, the boombox Alex had a plan for but not used yet, and the detention questions were all because they'd built a language of movie references because apparently neither of them had been brave enough to say what was actually happening.
Alex stared at Henry and, for the first time, allowed himself to ask the question he'd been carefully avoiding. What if this isn't about winning? His heart beat harder as questions cycled through his head. What if Henry hadn't planned these things because he wanted to beat Alex? What if he'd done them because he wanted to make Alex happy? What if the reason every round had felt slightly different was because Henry wasn't recreating movies? What if he was trying to tell Alex something?
Alex looked at the playlist again and then back at Henry. “What movie is this one?”
Henry glanced up. “Some Kind of Wonderful.”
Alex gave a small laugh. “Of course it is, a Hughes classic, but not one that he actually directed, just wrote the screenplay for and produced.”
Henry smiled. “It's a good one, regardless of what some people think of it.”
“Yeah.” Alex looked at him. “It is. Most people forget it was a book first, hell I didn’t even know that until you.”
Neither of them moved and Alex suddenly became more aware of the space between them. It wasn't much, it never was, just enough to keep things as they were, it had always been there. Now Alex wasn't sure he wanted it. He could still remember Henry's hand at his waist, fingers against his cheek, Henry looking at his mouth, and the one that hurt the way Henry had said This isn't a date like he needed to convince himself.
Alex's stomach twisted, as he had the realization that maybe he'd been doing the same thing. Maybe the John Hughes-off had never really been about movies, and they'd just needed an excuse to keep choosing each other and show it over and over. Alex looked down at the playlist again then back at Henry. “You're really good at this.”
Henry's smile was small. “At John Hughes?”
Alex hesitated. “At paying attention.” Something flickered across Henry's face and for one neither of them made a joke, and that scared him more than any competition ever had. Alex was beginning to think he knew what Henry had been trying to say and maybe that he might have been trying to say the same thing. Alex was so distracted with his thoughts he forgot all about the fact this was supposed to be his turn and Henry hadn’t so much had a challenge for Henry, well other than the thoughts he was now needing to process. As he fell asleep later that night couldn’t help but wonder if that was the challenge Henry had wanted to present for him all along.
Henry had spent the better part of the evening trying to convince himself that the John Hughes-off was still a game even though he knew it wasn't anymore. He'd known it the moment Alex had taken off his headphones and looked at him with that expression—soft and startled and far too perceptive. He'd known it when Alex had said, You're really good at this, and not meant it about the movies but paying attention.
Henry had gone to bed that night with the playlist still open on his phone, staring at the songs he'd chosen and wondering how he'd managed to convince himself that this was a clever way to win a competition. It hadn't been, as he'd obviously been telling Alex things he was too afraid to say. That he remembered their first night and so many other little things, but more importantly he knew and remembered Alex—all of him. Now Henry had run out of ways to pretend. Which was why, when Alex announced the next morning that he had “one final round, since Henry had taken his round,” Henry simply stared at him.
“Final?”
Alex nodded solemnly. “Final.”
Henry folded his arms. “And what exactly does that mean?”
“It means I'm ending this.”
Henry's stomach tightened. “Ending the competition?”
Alex's expression flickered. “Obviously.”
Henry smiled. “Of course, obviously.” But neither of them sounded all that convinced that was all that was ending.
The final round happened on a Wednesday night. Henry was studying and there were books open across the coffee table, notes spread around him, and a mug of tea slowly going cold beside his elbow. Alex had gone out and Henry hadn't asked where and now he was trying very hard not to think about the playlist that still took up so much of his thoughts, or Alex. He was avoiding the fact that every time he looked at the empty space on the couch beside him, he imagined Alex sitting there in an attempt to get some of the things he needed to complete done.
At eleven forty-seven, music started playing outside. Henry frowned, he assumed it was someone's car, but then the music got louder. He stood and walked to the window. when he looked down, he nearly dropped his tea when he saw Alex was standing on the sidewalk holding a boombox over his head. Henry stared, wondering how he got there. The music changed and then he heard Alex's voice. He was singing along to the song, kind of badly almost painfully bad, if Henry was being honest, but he was doing it with complete and absolute confidence.
Henry covered his mouth, but a laugh escaped anyway. Alex looked up and Henry got a better look at the jacket he was wearing and could see he had clearly made an effort with his hair. He was singing directly into the night like he'd been waiting his entire life for this exact moment. Henry laughed harder and Alex pointed up at him. “Don't you dare!” That only made it worse and soon Henry was laughing so hard his eyes watered. Alex lowered the boombox long enough to shout, “I'm being romantic here!”
“You're being terrible!”
“I know!”
Henry shook his head, still laughing as he turned around and grabbed his shoes. When he reached the sidewalk, Alex lowered the boombox, and stood there cheeks pink and hair was slightly windblown. He looked slightly embarrassed and somehow more beautiful than Henry could handle.
“I think,” Alex said, breathless, “this means I win.”
Henry looked at him. “You can't win with a gesture from a movie you've spent most of the last year mocking.”
Alex's mouth curved into that grin that nearly did Henry in. “Why not?”
“Because you've misunderstood the point.”
Alex's smile faded. “What?”
Henry stepped closer the street around them was quiet, their apartment building rose behind them familiar and warm, and everything suddenly felt strangely still. “You don't recreate the moment,” Henry said as Alex watched him. He swallowed and continued. “You make your own.” For a moment, neither of them moved, then Henry closed the distance and kissed Alex. It wasn't dramatic, there was no music swelling at exactly the right moment or perfectly timed camera angle as there was in the movies, just Alex's startled breath against his mouth and Henry's hand finding the side of his neck.
Alex went still but then his fingers curled into the front of Henry's sweater and when he kissed him back Henry felt something inside him loosen that he'd been carrying for years. The thing he'd been disguising as friendship and competition and movie references and jokes was now becoming what he’d wanted it to be. Alex pulled back just far enough to breathe and his eyes were wide. “Oh.”
Henry laughed softly. “Yeah.”
“So …” Alex looked at the boombox and then at Henry. He smiled and asked, “Did I win?”
Henry smiled. “No.”
Alex's eyebrows rose. “No?”
Henry shook his head. “You lost.”
Alex looked genuinely offended. “I literally serenaded you.”
“You sang.”
“I sang beautifully.”
“You sang terribly that was already acknowledged.”
“I was expressing myself.”
“You were assaulting the neighborhood.”
Alex laughed, but then his expression softened. “So, what happens now?”
Henry looked at him, he didn't have a clever answer, but he didn't need one. “I think,” he said quietly, “we stop pretending this is just about a competition.”
Alex smiled. “Probably.”
Henry leaned closer. “Probably?”
Alex's hands settled at his waist. “I'm just saying,” he murmured, “I might want a rematch.”
Henry laughed. “Of course you do.”
Alex kissed him again and this time, Henry smiled against his mouth. There were no points to be had, no movie references, or rules, just Alex and Henry—exactly as they were meant to be.
When they finally stopped kissing, Henry pulled him back inside and walked them past the living room and straight to Henry’s room. He stopped them just through the doorway, he turned to Alex a bit nervously and whispered, “Alex if you want to slow this down, I need you to speak up now.”
Alex stared at him, and then laughed disbelievingly. “Fuck slowing down, we’ve already gone slower than any slow-burn romance, this has been years of waiting.”
Henry giggled as Alex pressed his lips to Henry’s. “I’ve always liked a slow-burn, personally, but I would agree we’ve definitely gone slower than most.” Henry moved with Alex as he moved them across Henry’s room, their lips still pressing together in kisses that made Henry wonder both why they’d not been doing this before and how they stopped kissing long enough to get to his room. Alex backed Henry against his bed and pressed him down onto it, their lips finally parting with crooked grins and laughter that was breathless. The way Alex looked standing between Henry’s legs made Henry’s stomach flip, the teasing of the last few weeks was gone from his expression and it was just Alex, the man who gave Henry butterflies. Henry sat on the edge and Alex pulled his sweater and t-shirt off him, slow and almost reverent. Henry sighed when Alex ran his hands down his sides, over his skin with nothing in the way, until Alex hit his ticklish spots along his ribs and Henry giggled and jerked.
“You’re ticklish?” Alex asked staring at him with something like glee on his face.
“No, of course not.”
“You jumped and giggled, and it was fucking adorable, but I don’t understand how I didn’t know this until now.” Alex grinned as his fingers ran along Henry’s side.
“Don’t you dare.” Henry warned him. Alex did it again, finding one of the spots that made Henry squirm and giggle. Henry laughed and shoved at his shoulders. “Alex!”
“Sorry.” But the grin on his face said he wasn’t sorry at all, Henry pulled him closer with a loop on his jeans.
“I’ve wanted to touch you like this for so fucking long,” Alex panted into Henry’s mouth as he kissed him through the giggles. Henry understood the sentiment as his hands had slid under Alex’s hoodie and t-shirt and he didn’t think he’d ever get enough of the feel of Alex’s skin beneath his hands, he’d also imagined this for so long, more times than he would ever admit. Alex’s skin was warm beneath his palms and felt amazing but all thoughts he had been forming slipped from his mind as they continued to kiss their hands moving with gentle care as they explored. There was soft laughter as they discovered new things about each other.
Henry moaned into the kiss as Alex’s hands found his belt and in a move that had Henry wondering just how nimble his fingers actually were, had his belt and fly undone in a moment of seconds. Alex looked ridiculously accomplished when he pulled back and slipped his hoodie and t-shirt over his head in one swift movement, that gave Henry full view of the body he’d seen but never this close. It was impossible not to have seen each other in some degree of undress as long as they’d lived together but this was Alex stripped of clothing and standing between Henry’s legs, wanting him to look. Henry’s fingers seemed to have a mind of their own as they moved up and down Alex’s torso, but he wouldn’t have argued with their intentions.
Henry pulled Alex closer into the space between his spread legs and licked across his collarbone to the hollow of his throat where he lingered and licked and sucked just a bit. The moan pulled from Alex made him smile, Henry was going to savor every moment of finally having this. Henry moved up to bring his lips to Alex’s and Alex moved at the same time dropping his chin at the wrong moment and into Henry’s nose. “Ow.” Henry couldn’t help the exclamation from slipping out.
“Oh, baby, I’m so sorry,” Alex whispered, pulling back horrified. He placed soft, apologetic kisses to the tip of his nose and Henry wondered if his heat might give out from the utter sweetness. “Are you okay?”
Henry couldn’t help but giggle again. “Yes, I’m fine.”
“Every time I’ve imagined this, I never imagined taking your nose out with my chin.” Alex’s cheeks pinked at the admission.
Henry laughed but was weak at Alex’s admission that he’d also imagined them together. “I’ve imagined so many things, but even with a little bump of my nose, the reality is still already better.”
Henry leaned back onto the bed, meaning to gracefully pull Alex with him, but apparently grace had left him as all he managed was to flop back and for Alex to slip and fall into his chest. “How did you know I wanted to get my lips here?” Alex asked with a giggle. Henry started to laugh, until Alex’s tongue slid across his chest to his nipple, where Alex’s lips closed around it. This time it was Alex pulling moans from Henry, and Henry couldn’t find it in him to care how loud he was being, or that his move hadn’t gone quite like he had hoped.
Alex settled above Henry as he kissed his way up the side of Henry’s neck and to his lips, urging Henry to slide further back onto the bed as he slid back to stand. Henry had had visions, and more than one dream, of moments like this. Alex slid Henry’s trousers down his legs and he lifted his hips to help assist, only for the trousers and his pants to all of a sudden come loose and send Alex sailing to the floor on his arse. Henry sat up as quickly as he could. “Alex!” Alex was sitting on the floor with Henry’s trousers in his hands and laughing.
“Baby, if I hadn’t wanted this so long, I’d say the universe is trying to tell us something,” Alex said through his laughter. Henry watched as he stood back up, afraid that Alex was right and they should maybe just settle for cuddling, not that he wouldn’t be completely happy with cuddles, but he’d been wanting more for so damn long, he was willing to risk it, as long as Alex was. “You sure you don’t want to stop?” He asked with a giggle, but was cut off by Alex’s lips on his.
Alex whispered “I’ve wanted this for so long that even if it means a few bumps and bruises as retribution for waiting this long, I’m willing to risk it, baby.”
They moved slow, Alex dropped his jeans and pants to Henry’s floor, before he carefully climbed onto the bed next to Henry. They kissed, luxuriating in the feeling of lips on lips and hands that seemed to move of their own accord and found every spot that made the other sigh. Eventually Henry pushed Alex onto his back and kissed and nipped his way down his chest, over his stomach, he stopped to nip at the spot on Alex’s ribs that made him laugh, then licked and sucked at the spot near his belly button that made him moan. He kissed and licked and nipped from one hip to the other, not yet giving in to the spot where they both wanted his mouth. He’d dreamed of Alex’s cock in his mouth for so long, he didn’t want to rush it.
Henry laughed and pulled back to look Alex in the eyes when he bucked his hips. Henry caught them with his hands and held them to the bed. “I think to be safe tonight I’m going to keep these in place.”
Alex’s laugh turned into a moan when Henry licked from the base of Alex’s cock to the tip. His tongue pressed, ever so gently, everything was being done with the utmost care so as not to tempt fate anymore, and licked the precome gathered at his slit. Alex was salty on his tongue, but also an element of earthiness and sweet that Henry attributed to all the coffee he drank and all the pineapple the two of them had been eating lately. He took the tip between his lips and sucked gently, as he took more of Alex’s cock into his mouth. Alex moaned from where he was on Henry’s bed, clutching at the sheets and keeping himself from moving.
The weight of Alex on his tongue was everything he’d always wanted and more, he slid it along the underside of Alex’s cock as he took more of him into his mouth. He moved down Alex’s cock until his mouth was full and his nose was pressing into the hairs at the base. He paused for a moment, breathed in the smell of Alex and thought about how he could bottle that smell so he had it when Alex wasn’t right there with him. Henry moved again, sliding up almost off and running his tongue around the tip again before he took him back in all the way. He moved slow and if how Alex was cursing him between moans was anything to go by, a bit torturously, bobbing his head with not just skill but care.
He moved faster once Alex was practically begging for him to. Alex’s moans filled the air around them and Henry couldn’t seem to get enough of them. Alex’s hand ran through Henry’s hair and Henry couldn’t get enough of the feeling, right up until the bracelet Alex always wore snagged his hair.
“Aw fuck, I’m sorry baby,” Alex apologized as Henry pulled off, his hand around Alex’s wrist to avoid too much yanking on his hair.
“It’s okay, let’s just get this untangled so we can get back to more pleasurable things,” Henry said with a chuckle.
Alex laughed as he nodded. “Yes, let me get this untangled.” Alex slipped the bracelet off his wrist and untangled it from Henry’s hair, then he tossed it onto Henry’s bedside table. Alex pulled Henry up to him and kissed him. When he pulled back, he whispered, “I have a plan to maybe make this a little safer.”
Alex rolled to his side and Henry did the same, moving closer as Alex tugged him in and wrapped their legs together. Alex leaned back and grabbed the lube from Henry’s bedside table and squirted some in his hand, after warming it he wrapped his hand around them both. Henry sighed into Alex’s lips as he kissed him and worked the two of them slowly. Alex’s lips and hands drove Henry closer to the edge and Alex’s moans told him he wasn’t the only one. Henry kissed back with everything he had, his hips rocked into Alex’s fist, and he felt the heat pooling in his spine as his balls tightened. “Alex, I’m close.”
“Me too, baby. Come for me, I need this.” Alex sighed between kisses.
They kissed and Alex stroked them to completion; Henry came and Alex followed moments after. It was not often that Henry was so in sync with a sex-partner that they almost simultaneously came, but with Alex it just felt right, especially after the snafus they had encountered. Making it to orgasm with neither of them actually being injured made Henry ridiculously happy, everything with Alex made him ridiculously happy though. “I love you.” The words slipped from Henry’s lips, and Alex went still where he was wrapped in Henry’s arms. Henry’s heart stopped, but then Alex pulled back enough to see him with a soft smile on his lips.
“I love you, too, baby.” Alex leaned in and the they kissed slow as if neither of them had anywhere else they needed to be. They pulled back breathless and lay panting into the space between their lips and Henry couldn’t help but lean in for another kiss. They finally had this thing that they’d been circling around for years and he wanted to kiss this man forever.
By Sunday afternoon, Alex had decided there was a serious flaw in the John Hughes-off, in that, they had never established what the winner actually won, which was, in retrospect, an oversight. They were sitting, but really more lying, on the couch, Henry tucked comfortably against Alex's side, while Pez occupied the armchair and looked increasingly offended by their existence.
“So,” Alex said, “I've been thinking.”
Henry immediately laughed. “That sentence never ends well.”
“I think technically I won.”
Pez groaned. “Please don't start.”
“I didn't start anything.” Alex argued.
“You were arguing about this for too long already at brunch earlier.”
“Because I'm right.”
Henry looked at him. “You're not.”
“I am.”
“You lost.”
“I absolutely did not.”
Henry's smile was maddeningly fond. “You lost the moment you showed up outside with a boombox.”
“That was a winning move.”
“That was a public nuisance.”
“It was romantic.”
“It was terrible singing.”
“You kissed me.”
Henry's expression softened. “Yes.”
Alex pointed triumphantly. “Exactly. You kissed me. Therefore, you forfeited.”
Henry laughed. “That isn't how competitions work.”
“It is now.”
“You were the one standing outside the apartment holding the boombox.”
“Because I was trying to win.”
“You were trying to get me to kiss you.” Henry laughed and paused a small kiss to Alex’s cheek.
Alex paused and tried not to laugh at the strangled noise that Pez made. Henry's eyebrows lifted and Alex looked at him, smiling. “Both can be true.”
Henry's smile widened. “They can.”
Something warm settled in Alex's chest, it still felt a little strange, not a bad strange, just new. They'd spent so long circling whatever this was, hiding behind jokes and movies and challenges and pretending every moment meant less than it did, and now there was no reason to hide. Alex liked that, he liked being able to look at Henry and let himself think mine without immediately telling himself that was ridiculous. He liked being able to reach for Henry's hand just because he wanted to or kissing him because he was nearby. Mostly, he liked that Henry kissed him back without hesitation.
“So,” Henry said, “if you didn't win, and I didn't win …”
“Then we tied?”
Henry considered that. “Seems fair.”
Pez looked between them. “You two are exhausting.”
Alex ignored him. “What do joint-winners get?”
Henry smiled. “It was never established what would happen in the event of a tie.”
Alex thought about it then grinned at Henry. “I have an idea.”
Henry's eyebrows rose. “Oh?”
Alex leaned in and kissed him slowly and deliberately, not because it was part of a movie or it earned points, or because they were trying to prove anything, but just because Henry was there and Alex was admitting he loved him. The realization landed quietly and so naturally it felt like it had always been that way. Alex smiled against Henry's mouth when Henry kissed him again.
When they finally separated, Pez threw a pillow at them. “CAN YOU TWO NOW PLEASE STOP TURNING EVERY MOVIE INTO TORTUROUS WILL THEY FINALLY FIGURE IT OUT FOREPLAY?”
Alex caught the pillow and Henry laughed. “We're not even watching a movie.”
“That somehow makes it worse!”
Alex grinned as he tucked himself closer against Henry. “I think we should watch Sixteen Candles next.”
Henry glanced at him. “Why?”
Alex lowered his voice conspiratorially. “To see if Jake is still as hot as last time we watched.”
Henry's grin appeared slowly. “Absolutely.”
Pez stared at them. “No.”
Alex reached for the remote and Henry caught his hand, intertwining their fingers. Alex looked down at their hands then at Henry who was already looking at him. Alex smiled as he leaned over and kissed him once more, just because he could. As far as Alex was concerned, being able to kiss Henry whenever he wanted was a much better prize than anything John Hughes had ever written.