and we danced

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/50659219.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: F/F, M/M
Fandom: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston, Red White & Royal Blue
(2023)
Relationship: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, June
Claremont-Diaz/Nora Holleran
Character: Alex Claremont-Diaz, Percy "Pez" Okonjo, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-
Windsor, June Claremont-Diaz, Nora Holleran
Additional Tags: Fluff, Flirting, Drinking, bartending, henry is not not a bartender,
Dancing, Romance, Pining, Oblivious, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, but not
entirely, but also yes, Dual POV
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2023-10-08 Words: 9,275 Chapters: 3/?

and we danced
by rizcriz

Summary

And we danced
Out there on that empty hardwood floor
The chairs up and the lights turned way down low
The music played, we held each other close
And we danced

--

or, Alex and Henry meet in a bar.

Notes

okay i know its a wip but i have two promises: it'll be less than 10 chapters (probably
between 3-5 provided the boys cooperate), and two; i'm definitely going to finish it.

also i know its a based on a country song (we danced by brad paisley) but its actually good
and boy oh boy when we get to the dancing it's gonna be beautiful
 Chapter One

Henry’s whole life changes on a random Thursday in July.

Perhaps he’s being dramatic. But a group of three storms into Pez’s bar, like a wild wild breeze,
and at the back of the group is a man so beautiful that Henry’s entire world shifts and readjusts to
make sense of his existence.

The Trio.

That’s what he’s calling them.

They’re enigmatic and beautiful and they light up the entire bar with their laughter, and Henry
thinks he might be in love. They've only been here twenty minutes, but Henry’s in love. He’s so in
love he might die. In fact, he’s pretty sure his heart stopped, only moments ago, when the man—
the beautiful fucking man with curly hair, brown eyes, and the arms of a Greek god—tilted his
head back and laughed the most boisterous, beautiful laugh he’s ever heard.

Nearly everyone in the room paused to look at him. He had the whole bar's attention with one
laugh — and he’d bashfully apologized to those nearest him, who he seemed to think were
somehow angry at his outburst as if it were anything other than the gift that it was. It was like a
song; the most beautiful melody Henry’s ever heard, and even now, it’s still singing through his
veins. He’s practically vibrating with it.

“You know,” Pez says, bumping their hips together as he looks over his shoulder at the love of
Henry’s life. “You could go talk to him.”

Henry’s eyes go wide. He snatches himself away from Pez, as if he’s been burned, pulling the bar
rag to his chest and giving him a scandalized look. “Firstly, I’ve no idea what you’re talking
about,” He says, but his eyes dart across the room to the most beautiful man he’s ever seen.
There’s another round of laughter at the table that shoots down Henry’s spine, and he darts his gaze
back over to Pez, relenting. “Secondly, one does not approach the most beautiful human being
they’ve ever seen. One must simply admire from a distance.”

Pez stares at him for a long time. “Sometimes I worry for you.”

“Worry not, my dear,” Henry says, turning away from him and heading for the store room where
he can hide from the looming beauty on the other side of the bar. “I am absolutely fine.”

He presses his back to the door when it closes behind him and takes a big, deep breath that very
nearly hurts, and holds it to a count of ten.

Right.

The most beautiful man on the entire planet has just walked into the bar. And Henry’s going to be
fine. He spins around and peeks through the window on the door. One of the women
accompanying the man has made her way to the bar and is talking to Pez. She’s honestly just as
beautiful as the man, though she exudes an intimidating air that quite frankly, scares him. She’s
smiling at Pez, though.

Henry's gaze trails from her to the other side of the room. The man is sitting with his back facing
the door, but he’s leaning over his drink towards the other woman, wildly gesticulating with his
hands. Henry’s heart beats wild and fast in his chest. His hands dance through the air, like he’s
telling the most interesting story, and Henry wishes he could simply go up to him and introduce
himself.

He looks down at himself; the ratty t shirt and old jeans he’d worn specifically to spend a day
helping Pez in the bar. He absolutely will not be introducing himself, thank you. He swallows and
peeks back through the window in time to see the woman walk away, three beers in her hands. His
gaze trails after her and he’s rewarded with a profile view of the man cheering her arrival; a big,
beautiful grin creasing the side of his face that Henry can see.

How is it possible for one man to be so beautiful?

Pez’s head blocks his view, and then the doors swinging outward. “I know you’re here as a favor,
dearest,” Pez says, “But do stop spying on Alex, and come help with the bar, yeah?”

Henry blinks at him.

“What have I said?”

“Alex?”

A slow smile appears. “Right. Handsome lads name is Alex, and he is single. Accompanying him
is his sister, June, and their best friend, Nora, who, I might add, is an actual delight.”

Alex.

Wait.

“How, precisely, do you know he’s single?” Henry asks, suspiciously.

Pez grins like the absolute nuisance he is. “Why, I asked.”

“Why would you ask a patron of your bar if they’re single? That’s beyond offensive.”

“My dear, the only thing beyond offensive is your lack of self confidence when you are as hot as
you are.” Pez rolls his eyes and turns to head back to the bar. “Come along, pet. We’ve much work
to do.”

Henry stares after him as he goes, before reluctantly following after him, grumbling the whole way
about respecting party lines.

There’s a line twelve people deep, so he’s thrown into the thick of it quick enough that he very
nearly forgets about the domineering presence across the room. He makes drink after drink after
drink, and gets lost in the pour, the shake, and the slide. He enjoys the hustle and tussle of
bartending. It’s so busy and active most nights that he can’t get lost in his thoughts; or worry too
much about his family back home. It’s why he doesn't mind when Pez calls and asks him to cover.

He’s practically an employee at this point, anyways. Unpaid, like an intern.

Sometimes, though, he does get a little too into the bustle of things; so much so that he manages to
get lost in the motions and his thoughts and he misses a customer or two. Usually Pez can pick
them up, but he’s busy out in the crowd bussing the tables. So, it’s no surprise that Henry hears an
annoyed, “Hello?” from the bar, called in his direction. It’s, perhaps, a little irritating that people
are so goddamned impatient, but—

He freezes as he turns around to address the annoyed patron.

“I get you’re busy, but I’ve been standing here for like, ten minutes,” the Greek god of Henry’s
dirtiest and most romantic fantasies says.

Henry blinks.

The Greek god—Alex, he reminds himself—sounds righteously angry. As if he’s not standing in a
bar full of people who also want a drink or twelve. He may be hot enough to be called a god, but
nobody standing in a bar on a surprisingly busy Thursday gets to act indignant with Henry. He
doesn’t even technically work here.

Henry may be in love with him, but he doesn’t get to be a prick.

“I’m ever so sorry,” Henry bites, crossing his arms. “Does the bar full of other customers elude
your notice?”

Alex’s eyebrows go high on his forehead. “What?”

“I’m sorry if I’m not serving you fast enough, but you’ll note, you were not the only one in line.”

“Right,” Alex says, stepping into the bar so the bottom of his sternum is pressed up against it. “I’m
just the only one being actively ignored. Do we have a problem?”

“Not ignored,” Henry snaps. “I simply hadn’t noticed you were there.” Which isn’t a lie. He’d been
aware of Alex’s presence all night, but somewhere between one dirty margarita and fifteen shots of
tequila, he’d lost track of him.

Alex seems to take personal offense to that, though, as his jaw snaps open. “Wow,” he says.
“Where’s your manager? I want to speak to your—” A hand clamps over his mouth as the striking
woman from earlier, that Pez had dubbed as Nora, steps up to his side and grins a slow smile at
Henry.

“Ignore him,” She says, patting his chest with her free hand. “He’s just mad because nobody's
dancing.”

Alex shakes her hand free from his mouth; Henry watches her hand fall away, feeling vaguely
jealous of the appendage. “There is a dance floor!” Alex exclaims, turning and pointing at it.
“People generally use it for dancing.”

“Not on Thursdays,” Henry replies, gaze catching on his long, lithe fingers.

“That’s stupid.”

He blinks at Alex again, that little flame in his chest for him both diminishing and rising to the
occasion all at once. He can’t figure out if he wants to kick him out, or leave with him. “What?”
He asks. “You want to make a fool of yourself in a room full of strangers?”

Alex makes a face, and Henry finds himself oddly endeared to how damn animated he is. He’s hot
and a bit of a goof. Ridiculous. Unfair. The universe is ghastly and against him. He wants to die a
little bit. Or fall to his knees and thank it for whatever sacrifice that brought Alex into this bar on
this night.

“Who says I’d make a fool of myself?” Alex challenges. “Some people know how to dance.”

Nora makes a face next to him. “You’d think,” she says, raising her voice so he can hear her over
the crowd, “He’d know not to piss off the bartender.”
Henry smiles despite himself. “You’d think,” he murmurs, pushing away from the barback and
moving to stand in front of her. “What will you have?”

She grins, bright and beautiful, and if he liked women, she’d probably be his dream woman.
“Jameson, dry.” She glances over at Alex, who’s watching them both with disbelief, and an air of
irritation, and laughs, before turning back to Henry. “Three, if you don’t mind me giving him one.
Two, if you do.”

Henry pretends to think about it, the corner of his lips tilting upwards as Alex watches him pull out
one, then two glasses. He pauses there, turning to grab the bottle of Jameson. Hears a disgruntled,
“Are you ki—” before he grabs the third glass and sets it beside the others. He’s almost certain he
hears the clack of Alex’s teeth as he slams his mouth shut.

He ticks his gaze towards him, watching him from beneath his lashes. Alex is watching him, eagle
eyed. His chest rises and falls with a large breath, and Henry smirks as he looks back down at the
glasses and pours the drinks. Okay. Getting a rise out of him is just as fun as looking at him.

He sets the drinks on the counter and looks to Nora. “Name on the tab?” He asks.

Alex reaches around her to grab two of the drinks. “Alex,” He says, his voice like smooth butter.
His lashes flutter as he meets Henry’s gaze, and it takes everything in him not to react to the sheer
beauty now staring him head on. He lifts his chin as Alex continues on, “Claremont-Diaz.”

And just to be a shit, Henry says, “Has someone checked your ID yet?”

Beside him, Nora bursts out laughing.

The rest of the night goes by in a blur. He keeps a mental tab on where Alex is so he doesn’t
accidentally spill any drinks in a Greek God Jump Scare (aptly titled after a near incident outside
the bathroom; Henry had a tray full of drinks, Alex was just existing. It was a tumultuous moment
that very nearly ended with Henry owing Pez for a massive spill when he turned around to find
Alex standing there, waiting in line for the bathroom. His heart, and the tray, had quite the jump.)

By the time closing comes around, Pez is long gone, trusting Henry to close his bar like a dutiful
employee, which Henry has to remind himself he is not. But Pez has been there for him through the
darkest times, so the least Henry can do is help him run his bar during the slow season. He’s
already counted the till, dropped the deposit, and is currently cleaning the back tables, when he
comes across a phone in a clear case.

He shakes his head at it. “At least do something identifiable,” He murmurs to himself. He stares at
it for a beat, before taking it to the back and leaving it on Pez’s desk. Somebody’ll come looking
for it.

He heads back into the bar, and starts wiping down the tables. His mind travels back to The Trio.
More specifically, to Alex, and his voluminous curls, and those brown eyes that Henry swears were
made from melted chocolate and a vat of molten gold. He sighs. Nobody that hot would ever, in a
million years, look Henry’s way. Especially someone as fiery as Alex.

There’s a knock on the front window.

Henry frowns. He turns to look and—

Christ, speak of the devil. Alex is standing there, pointing at the front door. He raises his eyebrows
expectantly, pointing again when Henry doesn’t move. He mouths the words, “Open the door!”
and still, Henry just stares at him.

What the fuck .

Alex makes a face, then mimes making a call, and points into the bar, then shrugs. Raises his
eyebrows.

He looks obscenely ridiculous. It’s, Henry glances down at his watch, half past two in the morning
and he’s standing out on the street by himself like a madman. Henry sighs and moves across the
bar to the front door, he undoes the deadbolt, and opens the door a smidge. Alex runs to him.

“Hey,” he says breathlessly. “Can I come in?”

“No?” Henry replies. “We’re closed.”

“Right. But I forgot something. I think. It’s possible. I don’t know if I left it here or if I left it at
work, or if left it in the uber or if I—”

Henry waves a hand at him. “Stop. What do you think you left?”

“My phone.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Quite the thing to lose.”

Alex nods. “Right. Can I come in and look for it?”

“No need.” Henry moves to shut the door, but Alex, rather annoyingly, sticks his foot in the way.
“Do you mind?”

Alex stares at him. “I know the British have a bad rep, but you are seriously not helping your
cause, man.”

“Do you want your phone or don’t you?”

Alex blinks with those long, long lashes (Henry thinks he might feel a breeze come off them, if
he’s being particularly obnoxious). His brows furrow. “Well, yeah, but—”

“Then kindly move so that I can go grab it.”

“You found it?”

“Is that not what I just said?”

“. . . oh.”

“Quite.”

Alex moves his foot. Henry takes the moment to stare at him, openly. He’s definitely straight,
Henry thinks, looking him over. The leather jacket, skinny jeans, and general demeanor all scream
straight as straight comes. He sighs, and moves to close the door. “Not my bar, I can’t just bring
strange men inside,” He says, when Alex’s brow furrows. “Wait here.”

“How do I know you’re actually going to get it and not just lock me out?”
Henry blinks. “What do you take me for?”

“Well, I’m not a strange man, remember? We met earlier. ”

“Weren’t you also incredibly rude, when we met earlier?”

Alex makes a face like he thinks otherwise, and Henry sighs dramatically, before, despite his better
senses, opening the door and stepping aside so Alex can slip through. Henry gets the sweetest
reward in response; a big, bright smile directed right at him.

Christ, he’s blinded by it.

“So,” Alex says, spinning in a circle. “This place is actually kind of cute when there aren’t dozens
of people drunkenly milling about.” Henry hums, moving past him to head for Pez’s office. Alex
follows after him. “I like the hardwood floors. They’re kind of classy but old school. It gives the
place personality.”

“Great for dancing, too,” Henry says, turning around. “Stay there.”

Alex wiggles his eyebrows. “Sure thing. Do you dance?”

Henry rolls his eyes and heads into the office, plucking the phone off the table. He turns to head
back out, but pauses, moving to hold the phone behind his back. He emerges, and raises an
eyebrow at Alex. “What color is your case?”

Alex huffs. “Trick question. I couldn’t decide so I got clear.” He grins, a bit like he’s proud of
himself. “June says that just because I’m bi, doesn’t mean I get to make not choosing my
personality, but I think she’s lacking in creativity.”

Henry nearly chokes on his goddamned spit.

“Pardon?”

Alex ignores him. “You never answered my question.” Henry’s hands drop to his sides, and he’s
once again rewarded with a grin. “My phone!” He rushes forward, and Henry’s heart slams against
his ribcage as the movement sends a rush of Alex’s cologne over him; woodsy; delectable. Henry
wants. He swallows as Alex holds out his hand, and numbly reaches out to set the phone in his
palm.

“What question didn’t I answer?” Henry asks, if a bit breathlessly.

Alex’s relieved smile falls on him. “Oh, do you dance?”

“Never.”

He rolls his eyes, stuffing his phone in his pocket. “You work at a bar that has dancing most nights,
and you don’t dance?”

“Firstly, I don't work here.”

“You were literally bartending an hour ago.”

Henry takes a step in. Alex mirrors the motion. “I was helping a friend.”

“And what about now?”

“Now, I’m helping a ne'er-do-well find his lost cell phone before I go home to my loving David.”

Alex’s eyes widen a fraction before he takes a step back. “Ah,” He says, clearing his throat with a
nod. “Well, this ne'er-do-well appreciates you letting him in to get the aforementioned cell phone.”

Henry smiles at him, fondness bubbling up in his stomach. A fresh swarm of butterflies.

And for a moment, they just stand there. Smiling at each other.

Until Alex shakes his head, blinking rapidly, and says, “I’d better go.”

“Right,” Henry agrees.

Henry walks him out, locks the door, and watches him walk down the street. A car comes to pick
him up a few minutes later, and only when he’s gone does he collapse against a table, and allow
himself to take a big, deep breath.
 Chapter Two

When Alex suggests, the following week, that they go to The Majesty instead of their usual haunt,
Nora and June give each other a look. He knows why he’s getting the look, he’s not subtle, okay?
But, it’s not exactly fair, because this time—

“He’s into guys!”

“True,” June says.

“Didn’t you say he has a boyfriend?” Nora asks, plummeting Alex’s mood.

“He has a David, ” Alex supplies, grumpily climbing over the couch and sitting next to her. “That
could be anything. A boyfriend, sure, maybe. But he’s British, David is a British name. It could be
a father, or a brother, or, hell, a fucking cat.”

“Is David a British name?” June asks Nora.

“Would you let me admire the beautiful British bartender, who may or may not actually be a
bartender in peace?” Alex says, pouting. “If I’m going to be freshly out and bisexual, I’d like to
actually enjoy it.”

Juna pats him on the knee. “We’re all very proud of you embracing your sexual identity. But,
maybe don’t fall for the first Prince Charming to give you a second of his time? Before literally
kicking you out of the bar?”

“Technically, I kicked myself out.” Alex replies. “He didn’t tell me to leave.”

“That doesn’t mean there’s hope, Alex.”

Alex makes a face. “I disagree.”

“Regardless, maybe we should go to a different bar.”

He turns away from June and looks at Nora. Nora looks between them, making a face when Alex
sticks his lower lip out. “The other bartender was cool, too,” She says eventually. “Percy, I think?”

Alex glances back at Juna triumphantly.

“You do realize you’re supposed to be on my side, right?” June asks Nora.

Nora shrugs a shoulder. “I want to see how he plays this.”

“You really think he actually goes for it?”

“Oh, no shot. But it’ll be entertaining watching him try.”

Alex looks between the two of them. “I’m sitting right here,” he says.

They ignore him.

But they do, eventually, agree that they’re going to Majesty tonight. So, a win’s a win.
Hot bartender is nowhere to be seen. Alex also realizes that he never even got his name upon
realizing he’s not there, and sulks over to their table. “This is bullshit,” he says, plopping down
next to Nora. There’s barely anyone here, either, which he blames on it being a Wednesday.

“He did tell you he doesn’t work here.”

“Yeah, well—” Alex cuts himself off as the door slams open, and his very hot bartender comes
barrelling into the bar, loaded up with what appears to be very heavy boxes. “Oh, that looks
precarious,” He says, mostly to himself.

June snorts. “Go offer to help him.”

He’s already getting up and out of his seat before she’s even finished the sentence. Hot bartender
moves to go around him, but Alex only steps in his way.

“Do you mind?” He asks in his incredibly posh accent. His incredibly posh, hot accent that sends a
thrill down Alex’s spine. He should call him Hot British Bartender, it feels impersonal and a bit
rude to leave out the British bit.

“Let me help.”

“I’m quite alright.”

“Really, I don’t mind—” Alex says, reaching for the box at the top.

Hot British Bartender opens his mouth to tell him something, but it’s too late, because Alex has
already lifted the box off the top of the stack. “Oh dear god,” HBB, for short, says as the bottom of
the box tears open and a million napkins come tumbling to the ground.

This isnt terrible, Alex thinks, most of them haven’t even touched the ground. They can save the
napkin supply. That is, until some careless idiot who decides now is the moment they absolutely
must leave, opens the door, and a swift mid-July breeze sends the napkins careening around the
floor of the bar. Alex hunches over as if he can catch them with the bottomless box, and HBB sighs
this long suffering sigh.

“I am not cleaning that up,” the other handsome bartender calls from across the room. He thinks
Nora said his name was Peter. Or . . . or something with a P. He wasn’t paying attention, he was
too busy trying to figure out what a David was at the time.

HBB sets the other boxes down, and reaches up with one hand to rub at his eyes.

He’s so British. It’s a goddamned delight. Alex wants to kiss his British mouth.

He wonders if he has a British name. Like George or Harry or, honestly he can’t think of any other
British names because there’s a curious little furl between his brows as he looks over the mess of
napkins. Like he thinks he’s going to have to clean up this mess all by himself.

This is Alex’s fault. And the floor might be sticky, and he might be wearing his favorite pair of
jeans that hug his ass just right, but don’t let anyone say he doesn’t do what’s right in the moment.
He drops to his knees, grimacing at the feel of something wet immediately sinking into the fabric
of his jeans. He looks up at HBB. “We did this together,” he says. “Chop chop, Euro Star.”
He doesn't actually expect HBB to join him on the floor. But he falls to his knees on the opposite
side of the napkin mess and looks over at him as he starts picking up napkins. Alex folds the
bottom of the box back up, tucking one end under the other so the weave is tight. As HBB tosses
napkins into the box, he looks up at Alex from beneath his lashes. “You don’t have to do this,” he
says. “You don’t work here.”

Alex shrugs. “Didn’t you say you don’t work here? Despite all the evidence to the contrary?”

HBB looks thoughtful for a moment, before he ducks his chin. “Fair enough.”

They move through the stack of clean napkins easily enough. HBB passes him to get to a pile that
flew under a table that looks to have soaked up their fair share of sticky substances. He grins, wide
and bright as HBB pulls back with a grimace. “So,” he says, throwing his own handful of sopping
napkins into the box. “Come here often?”

HBB turns away from him, but Alex doesn’t miss the hint of pink on his cheeks before he does.
Point. He turns to June and Nora, giving them a big thumbs up. June nods her head slowly, Nora
just laughs at him and points to a napkin on the ground.

“Feels like every day,” HBB answers from behind him.

Alex turns back around, delighted to have got a response, though mildly disappointed because from
the blush, he’d expected some kind of flirtatious response. But, that’s okay. He can work with what
he’s got. He clears his throat and crawls over to another pile of napkins close to HBB. “So,” he
says, “Since we’re on our knees together, why don’t we get to know one another?”

He hears HBB choke. There’s a long pause, and then HBB turns to him, very slowly. He blinks at
Alex. “I . . . regret every decision that lead to my hearing you say that,” He says. His gaze darts
over Alex’s shoulder, and Alex follows it to see him looking at the other bartender. “I’m going
back to England, Pez. He’s done it. He’s ruined America.”

Pez scoffs, “Haz, you absolute drama queen, you’re not going anywhere.”

Haz, Alex thinks.

“Your name is Haz?” He asks.

HBB, maybe Haz, turns his attention back on him. “Did you hear none of what I just said?”

Alex nods emphatically. “I did. I ruined America, whatever. Your name? Haz? Please confirm or
deny.”

Haz? HBB? Alex is having an identity crisis—blinks at him owlishly.

And Alex can’t help himself. “Is it short for Hazardously Hot?”

He hears his sister groan.

Haz, for his part, stares at Alex, long and painfully, like he’s not quite sure what to make of him.
Finally, he asks, “Are you quite,” he pauses, making a face. “Alright?” He looks across the bar.
“How many drinks have you served him?”

Alex blinks. “Is that a no?”

Haz’s bright eyes flick back over to him, and he rolls them. “For gods sake,” he says. “My name is
Henry.”

Henry.

Alex lets the name roll around in his head for a moment, before very quietly letting it roll off his
tongue, a soft little whisper just for himself to taste. “Henry.”

He likes the feel of it on his tongue.

Henry swallows, and looks down between them, his brow furrowing.

“Yeah,” Alex murmurs, smiling. “I could get used to saying that. Henry. It fits you.”

Alex throws his handful of napkins into the box.

“What do you mean you could get used to saying that?” Henry asks.

Alex stands up, grinning. “Oh,” he says, gaze sweeping over the floor. Most of the napkins are all
picked up. “I intend to become a very pleasant thorn in your side.”

“By definition,” Henry says, rising to his feet as well. “Thorns are distinctly unpleasant.”

Alex waves a hand. “The dictionary hasn’t met Alexander Gabriel Claremont-Diaz, is all.”

Henry looks back at the table where Nora and June are sitting, and Alex follows their gaze.
They’re looking between the two of them like they’ve figured out something that Alex hasn’t quite
caught yet. “Guess we’re gonna be your new favorite regulars,” Nora says, shrugging.

Henry groans, and Alex turns back around to see him bend over to carefully pick up the box of
garbage napkins, and disappear into the back room with it. Pez, comes from around the bar and
picks up the stack of boxes and follows after him.

Alex watches after the two of them, before returning to his table. “Well?” he asks.

June sighs, long suffering. “You were right,” she says. “This is going to be fun.”

Things pick up later in the night; a crowd forms. People start dancing. Alex excitedly joins a
random woman wearing a green dress on the dance floor and dances with her for nearly an hour.
There’s just something freeing about getting lost in a crowd and disappearing into the music that
Alex really enjoys. He keeps an eye on the bar for most of the night, too; watches Henry shake, stir,
and pour drinks left and right.

It’s kind of like watching an artist. He’s so clearly lost in the skill of the job that he doesn’t even
have to think about it. It’s like he’s doing it for fun.

When he’s shaking a cocktail, he closes his eyes, tilts his chin up towards the ceiling.

He’s so fucking beautiful that Alex nearly trips over his dance partner he’s so distracted. But his
hair falls over his brow, and he doesn’t seem to notice or care, until he pours the drink and reaches
up to brush his hair out of his face.

His eyes meet Alex’s from across the room; like fucking magic; like destiny; like fate; like maybe
Alex was meant to find this bar, and by extension him.

He watches Henry’s Adam’s apple bob, and then his attention is torn away from Alex as someone
calls to him from the other end of the bar. Alex watches him rub his hands over the front of his
jeans and go. Watches the interaction with intrigue.

And then he goes back to dancing.

Every now and again, though, he checks in on Henry.

He thinks that might be his new favorite hobby.

Alex puts Nora and June in the uber. He reaches into his back pocket to pull out his wallet, and
groans.

“What’s wrong?”

“I think i forgot my wallet.”

Nora rolls her eyes, wrapping an arm around June’s shoulders and leaning around her. “You forgot
your wallet, or you purposefully left it behind?”

June frowns, she’s a little past tipsy, but it doesn’t stop her from glaring at him. “He better not have
risked his wallet to flirt with Henry.”

“Jesus, it wasn’t on purpose,” At least, not consciously. Maybe subconsciously, his mind made
him forget to pick it up after clearing the tab with Pez, also Percy, he learned while paying the tab.
Pez is a childhood nickname, alongside Haz. It’s wonderfully, impeccably British. He glances at
the uber driver, who looks mildly annoyed, and sighs. “You two go on. I’ll get my wallet then snag
another ride.”

He walks the block back to the Majesty, and is relieved to find Henry still standing at the center of
the bar, picking up glasses from last call. Sheepishly, Alex knocks on the window, and points to the
door when Henry looks up at him. Henry raises his eyebrows, but dutifully makes his way to the
door, undoes the lock, and peeks out at him.

“Making a habit of this, I see?”

Alex makes a face. “I swear I didn’t do it on purpose.”

Henry chuckles softly, pulling the door open wider so Alex can slip in. “Wait here,” he murmurs
quietly, before shuffling to the backroom.

Alex looks around, and thinks he might as well help since he’s taking Henry’s time. He heads to
one of the tables, and lifts a chair to set it atop the table like he’d seen them the last time he’d come
to the bar after hours.

“You don’t need to do that,” Henry says as he reappears from the back room. He sounds vaguely
tired; his voice is scratchier now than it had been earlier in the night. Alex wonders if his voice
gets like this after every long night.

Finds himself wondering, then, what he sounds like very early in the morning.
“I'm inconveniencing you,” Alex answers him, shaking the thought away. “The least I can do is
help.”

“I’d hardly call grabbing your wallet for you an—” He breaks off as Alex lifts another chair onto
the table. “Very well,” he says, turning around quickly, his voice higher. “If you insist.” He grabs a
chair and thrusts it onto the table; it cracks against the table top, and Alex raises an eyebrow and
sets down his own chair. He tugs at the bottom of his shirt; it had ridden up as he lifted the chair.

Either he’s getting longer, or his clothes are getting shorter.

“Seriously, though,” Alex says, moving to the next table. “Tell me something about you.”

“I . . . am from London,” Henry says as he lifts a chair and flips it over the table.

Alex pauses with a chair midway to the table top. “Seriously? That’s your fun Henry fact? That
you’re British?”

Henry makes a noise at the back of his throat. “Not everyone from the United Kingdom is from
London, Alex.”

It’s the first time he’s said his name tonight. All the hairs on the back of Alex’s neck rise on
impact.

“I know that,” He says, “I just meant . . . tell me something interesting.”

He watches Henry; waits for the reply. Henry’s eyes dart to the piano in the corner of the bar, and
then back to the chair in his hands. “I used to play piano,” he admits, quietly.

“Used to?” Alex asks. “What, did you break your hands?”

Henry’s quiet for a long moment. “Not my hands.” He sets the chair down and turns around,
crossing his arms over his chest, almost protectively, and smiling a soft, tired smile. “Your turn,”
he says. “Tell me something about you.”

Alex promptly forgets every interesting fact about himself.

“I . . . am in law school to become a human rights attorney?” He offers.

He half expects Henry to brush it off, but instead he looks impressed. “Valiant,” he murmurs,
before turning to the last remaining table and picking up a chair. “Someday you’ll have to tell me
what lead you down that path.”

Alex feels himself smile. “Is that an implication that we’ll talk more after today?”

“Well, if you keep forgetting things in this bar,” Henry answers, turning to smirk at him. “What
choice will I have but to talk to you?”

And Alex knows it’s not an invite to purposefully forget things in the bar. But suddenly he has a
crystal clear idea on how to get some alone time with his new favorite bartender.
 Chapter Three

Henry doesn’t go back to the bar for nearly three weeks. In that time, he’s received no less than
thirty texts from Pez updating him on Alex’s antics. Including two pictures of Alex smiling directly
into the camera, pointing at it as if to say this one’s for you . Which is effortlessly distracting when
one is trying to keep up with deadlines. Henry finds himself clicking open the text thread at least
three times an hour to gaze at the photos. Or to read Pez’s texts about how Alex keeps asking
where he is.

I have half a mind to hire you just to make him happy , Pez texted yesterday.

Henry feels himself smile. Looks to his reply.

To make him happy or to make June and Nora happy? He’d asked.

Pez had simply replied with his favorite Walt Whitman quote; I am large. I contain multitudes .

Below that message is a text from this morning that Henry has yet to reply to:

Any chance you can stop by the bar after your gala tonight?

He sighs, types out a reply; Just to close or do you need me for longer? Because i do not mind
leaving early.

The reply is instant. Please. Have fun being praised for being an incredible author; i just need you
around midnight? Angie has to leave early, and I can’t get back early enough to close up.

You do realize this is just a fundraiser so that my imprint doesn’t go under? I can be there by
twelve.

And yet, they’ll all be praising you. Are you going to come in your tux?

Won’t have time to change before i arrive, so odds imply yes. I’ll change when i arrive

Sublime , Pez replies to Henry’s unending confusion. But he sets his phone down and turns back to
his computer. He will get through a chapter before he has to leave for the gala, if it bloody kills
him.

The gala is boring. He hates this part of his work. The shmoozing, and the smiling at rich people
who just want to seem giving because it cuts them a break on their taxes. He’s a writer. He’s not
meant to be out and about discussing the weather with people who haven’t read a book since they
were in school. But his imprint needs the money, so here he is. Smiling. Laughing.

He hates every goddamned minute of it.

He finds himself checking his phone frequently.

Only around 10 does he get a text from Pez.

Angie says your boy sends his regards. Attached is a picture of The Trio, standing at the center of
the dance floor, mid movement. While most people would look ridiculous in an action shot, the
three of them look posed; perfectly poised. At the center of the photo is Alex, his hair wild, his
eyes gleaming.

His smile lights up Henry’s chest from the inside out.

He misses him. Which is a weird feeling to have about someone one barely knows, but there it is.

So, Henry does what’s natural.

He slips out the back and heads to the bar.

Alex sees him through the window, walking up the street towards the door. He’s pretty sure his
heart jumps out of his chest at the first sight of him. It’s been nearly three weeks, and they come to
this bar at least three times a week now, and he hasn’t seen him, despite desperately seeking him
out. Alex isn’t afraid to admit he’s desperate; he’s got pins and needles in his skin he’s so desperate
to see him. So, when he does?

“Holy fuck.”

June and Nora look at him, follow his gaze.

“Oh,” Nora says poignantly.

“Oh, this is going to be interesting,” June says, shuffling beside Alex.

His gaze doesn’t waiver, though. He follows Henry’s movements. Watches him right up until he
pulls open the door and steps through. There’s a gentle breeze that brushes his hair; a golden halo
from the streetlight behind him paints him beautifully and the bastard pauses in the doorway to
adjust his cufflink.

Alex might die. He looks like fucking James Bond in his tuxedo, and Alex is fully prepared to play
the role of his Bond girl.

Henry’s gaze skates over the whole of the bar, before finally, deliciously, settling on Alex. Their
eyes meet across the room, and Alex feels his entire world tilt on its axis, as Henry inhales long and
slow. His chest rises and falls so dramatically that Alex can see it in his peripheral; entirely
unwilling to break their locked gazes.

Henry gives him a small smile.

And Alex finally remembers to breathe.

He grins. Tosses a hand up to casually wave at him.

Henry’s gaze rakes over him, and Alex finds himself ever so grateful that he wore his nicest black
jeans and the black v neck that everyone always says makes his arms look great and accentuates
his collarbones perfectly. He swallows as Henry breaks their gaze, watches him walk across the bar
to greet Angie.

Alex can’t bear to look away from him.

He doesn’t think anyone has ever, in the history of forever, looked as good in anything as Henry
looks in a tuxedo.

He wants the image burned into his fucking retinas.

Henry waves at Angie, and then heads to the back room, and mournfully, out of Alex’s view. Alex
flips around and turns his wide eyed stare on June. Points at the sweater she’s still wearing. “Give
it to me,” He says.

She blinks. “What?”

“The sweater. Give me.”

“What the fuck for?”

Nora leans back in her chair, grinning. “He’s going to pretend you left it behind.”

“That’s stupid, Angie’s closing.”

As if on cue, Angie comes around the bar, grabs her purse, and exits the front door with a wave in
their general direction. Alex’s breath hitches and he turns back to June with more gravitas. “Give
me your sweater or I will never forgive you and hate you for the rest of my life.”

“Have you lost your fucking mind?”

Alex glances back at the back room door, turns back to June, and very seriously says, “Yes.”

She gives him a look of disappointment before she sighs and shucks the sweater off. “You’re lucky
I love you and am surprisingly invested in seeing how this all plays out.”

Nora leans forward as Alex tosses the sweater between the two tables as nonchalantly as possible.
A man at the table next to them leans over as if to pick it up, and Alex practically growls at him.
He raises his hands and turns back to his friends, mumbling something about people being “so
fucking weird.”

Alex doesn’t care if people think he’s weird.

He wants a moment alone with Henry. It’s been three weeks since they last spoke. He wants his
phone number. He wants to kiss him. He needs to find out who fucking David is, and why on god’s
green earth Henry is walking around looking like that all by himself.

“The tux is gone,” Nora says randomly, and Alex looks up at her with a frown. She motions to the
bar with her eyebrows, and he spins around to find Henry’s wearing a plaid button down and light
blue jeans. He still looks incredible. Fucking delectable.

Alex wishes he’d gotten a photo of him in the tux.

Alex jumps up from the table, “Another round?” He asks, while he’s already walking away, not
bothering to take their orders, or notice of the full drinks sitting in front of them. He crashes against
the bar, and Henry doesn’t even look up, but his cheeks rise, hinting at a smile, as he cleans the
bartop. “You, my friend, have some explaining to do.”

Henry tosses the rag on the counter, and pushes forward, pressing his hip into the counter and
crossing his arms over his chest. “Is that so?” He asks.

God, he’s hot.

He’s so fucking hot.

Alex is staring directly into the sun and if going blind is what that means, then it is so fucking
worth it.
“You are the single most intriguing person I’ve ever met.”

Henry’s cheeks pinken. “How so?”

“You come in here looking like you did. Who are you, really? James Bond?”

Henry’s smile softens, and he looks down. “Those were my dad’s favorite movies.”

“Paying homage?” Alex asks.

Henry shakes his head, looking back up at him. His cheekbones, jesus no one should have
cheekbones like that. “I had a Gala.”

“Fancy.” Alex whistles. “Who are you, really?”

“It’s nothing too extravagant,” Henry insists, his arms falling to his sides, hands resting atop the
counter. “Did you want to order?”

Alex grins. “And I don’t even have to wait this time.”

Henry rolls his eyes. “What’ll it be, then?”

Alex pretends to think about it. “How about your number?” He asks. Then backtracks, “Not to be
the creepy customer that asks you for your number.”

“You’re not creepy.”

“Oh. Great.” He raises his eyebrows, and reaches into his pocket to pull out his phone. “You can
type it in, if that’s easier,” He says, unlocking it and pulling up the phone app.

Henry stares at him for a moment, before taking a very deep breath and reaching out for the phone.
“I’m giving this to you on one condition,” He says.

“I’m listening.”

“You stop terrorizing poor Angie.”

Alex laughs, loud, straight from the belly. “Angie loves me,” he says, though he knows that’s not
entirely true. She’s nice enough, but she doesn’t fall as seamlessly into his life as Henry and Percy
do. Like they belong there. They’ve met only a handful times, and Alex already knows that this is
lasting. Forever, maybe.

Definitely once he figures out who the fuck David is.

Actually.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sorry,” A woman says, “Are you ordering?”

Henry hands Alex his phone back. “No, he’s not. How can I help you?”

Alex stares after him for a beat as he gets to making a cocktail for the woman, and then looks
down at his phone just as the screen dims.

He blinks down at the contact page for one Henry Fox.

He grins to himself and returns to his table. He smirks at his sister and holds the phone out,
wiggling it excitedly. “Guess who got Henry’s number.”

She gives him a look. “Don’t forget there’s a David to contend with, Alex.”

He huffs and turns his attention to Nora. “Guess who got Henry’s number!” He repeats.

Nora places her chin on her hands and gives him a look, softer than June’s. “Good for you. What’re
you gonna do with it?”

“Dunno yet.” He stuffs the phone in his pocket. “Care to dance? Help me make Henry forget he
has a David?”

June makes a noise. “Alex, you are not a homewrecker—”

“We don’t know that there’s a home to wreck,” Alex interrupts. “So, I am doing nothing wrong.”
He holds his hand out for Nora. “We’re just dancing. Sexily. Like the sexy people we are. And if
Henry happens to see and happens to decide to jump over the bartop and have his dirty, filthy,
English way with me, then that’s a risk I am just willing to take.”

Nora sighs, standing from the table and looking at June apologetically. “Look,” she says. “He’s not
wrong. I’m still banking on a gerbil.”

“And if it’s a man, that Henry happens to be desperately in love with, where do we go when Alex
gets his heart broken?”

Alex frowns. “I’m standing right here—”

“He’s just having fun, junebug,” Nora says, leaning over and pressing a chaste kiss to her lips.
“Nobodies going to get their heartbroken.”

“Yet.”

Nora pats her on the arm and lets Alex pull her onto the dancefloor.

“Out of curiosity,” She asks as Alex twirls her around another patron dancing. “What will you do if
David is a David?”

He pulls her into him, and pretends to think about it as he glances across the bar to find Henry
already watching them, his head tilted. When he realizes he’s been caught, he rolls his eyes and
busies himself with cleaning the countertop. Alex smiles to himself and looks back down at Nora,
shrugging. “I’m not such a lost cause that I’m going to be heartbroken over a man I’ve met a total
of three times, Nora.”

She gives him a skeptical look, then spins him around. “Jelly bean,” she says, “And I say this with
love but you are physically incapable of being casual about anything, let alone a man as hot as
that.”

“I can be casual.”

“We literally changed our entire routine so you could get a glimpse of him. And didn’t change it
back despite him not showing up for three weeks.”

“What’s not casual about that? This is a good bar.”

She blinks at him. “You are a lost cause.”

He grins. “Someone’s looking,” he says brightly, nodding to where Henry’s watching them from
the bar. “I won’t be lost forever.”

After last call, Alex, June, and Nora are the last people standing in the bar. Henry looks at them
expectantly from behind the bartop. “Most people generally leave when everyone else does,” he
says pointedly.

“We wanted to say goodbye,” Alex replies, sidling up to the bar and resting his elbows on it. He
drops his chin into his hands and looks up at Henry from beneath his lashes. “Don’t lie. You
would’ve been wondering where we wandered off to if we’d left without a goodbye.”

Henry backs up against the counter and crosses his arms. He looks thoughtful for a moment, before
replying, with a subtle little smirk, “I think I would’ve been thankful for the moment of peace.”

“Oh, you are so full of shit, Fox,” Alex replies with a laugh. He stands back up. “When are you
going to be here again?”

Henry shrugs. “It’s never really planned. I just come when Percy asks.”

“How?” June asks, appearing at Alex’s side. “Don’t you have an actual job?”

Alex turns to glare at her, but Henry laughs. “My job is . . . more flexible. I work from home most
days.”

“What do you do?” Alex finds himself asking.

“If I told you that, then you’d have nothing left to pester me about.”

Alex grins triumphantly, and points at him, “See? You like my pestering.”

“I don’t hate it.”

Nora steps up to the bar. “I have a question.”

Henry nods at her. “That seems to be the trend tonight. Do, go on.”

“Do you have any pets?”

Alex freezes, and he feels June tense up next to him, as they all, very pointedly, watch Henry’s
brow furrow, and a small, kind little smile flits across his lips. “I do,” he says. “Light of my life.”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, tapping the screen to light up the background.
A cute beagle stares back at them when he turns it to face them. “His name is David.”

Alex blinks once, twice, three times. June nods next to him, and he senses her turning to look at
him, and he can practically feel Nora’s smug satisfaction on his other side.

David isn’t a David. David is a beautiful little beagle.

Game. Fucking. On.

To keep from going absolutely off his rocker, Alex forces a tight smile. “David?” He asks. “That’s
quite the name for a dog.”

Henry shrugs. “He’s named after Bowie.”

He’s hot, looks great in a tux, isn’t dating anybody, and he has great taste.

Alex wants to devour him.

He turns to look at his sister, and then at Nora. “Well,” he says. “We best be going.”

Henry blinks. “And here I thought I’d have to force you from the premises.”

He might. Alex is just getting rid of the people he loves most in the world so that he can have some
alone time with him. He grins brightly. “What do you take us for?” He asks, before quickly
herding the girls from the bar and across the street.

He makes sure they get in their uber. It takes for-fucking-ever because the uber driver gets lost
three times on the way, but eventually, once the lights in the bar are turned low, and the chairs are
all stacked on top of the tables, Alex finally moves back over to the bar. Through the window, he
can see Henry standing beside the bar with the sweater in hand, folding it, of all things.

Alex knocks on the window.

Henry jumps as if he’s been startled, and turns around. His face goes from a little scared and
confused to mostly surprised, a confused little smile curling his lips to match the furrow in his
brow. He exaggerates a roll of his eyes and heads to the door. Alex meets him there, smiling wide.

“Thought I’d managed to rid myself of you,” Henry murmurs when he pulls the door open.

“My sister forgot something,” he says as way of explanation.

Henry raises an eyebrow. “Did she now?”

Alex nods very seriously. “I’ve been told it’s her favorite sweater and she can’t possibly get
through tomorrow without it.”

“Well.” Henry says on a long exhale, pulling the door open wider. “You’d better come in and look
for it, then. If it’s her very favorite, I mean.”

“I think she likes it more than she likes me,” Alex says, passing by Henry. Unlike the last two
times, Henry doesn’t step aside for him to pass, he stays where he’s standing, and Alex can smell
his cologne as he slips into the bar. His shoulder grazes against Henry’s chest; so warm, so firm
with just the right amount of give. He kind of wants to push him into the door and have his way
with him.

Instead, he moves into the bar.

Henry stands up straighter, sticking his chin out and licking his lower lip.

“So,” Alex says, turning around and wringing his hands in front of him.

“So,” Henry echoes.

“How come you never dance with the crowd? Angie and Percy both get a little wild.”

Henry shrugs, walking around him. “I don’t dance.”

“Ever?”

“Ever.”
“You should dance with me,” Alex murmurs, tilting his head.

Henry walks to the bar and turns around, pressing his elbows into the wood and leaning back
against it. “You do like to dance,” He replies instead of answering.

“I do.” Alex tilts his head and steps in towards him. “Were you watching?”

“What if I were?”

He takes another step towards him. “What did you think?” Alex asks instead of answering. He
takes another slow step forward, and is rewarded with the very subtle movement of Henry
swallowing almost nervously.

“You . . .” Henry starts, his lips downturning in a small close lipped smile as he nods a couple
times. “Are a very good dancer.”

“Yeah?” Alex asks, closing the distance ever further. He’s only a couple steps away now.

Henry’s ears are pink. He nods again. “Yes. Mesmerizing, I’d even say. I didn’t know a persons
hips could move in such a manner.” Alex laughs, continuing to close the distance between them.
“You and Nora appear to get along swimmingly.”

“Best friends usually do.”

He stops, barely a foot between them.

“Pez and I would never.”

Alex hums thoughtfully, imagining Henry and Pez as close as he and Nora had been dancing. A
little flare of jealousy flashes through his gut and he moves in that final step until, when he
breathes, his chest brushes against Henry’s. His feet sleep between Henry’s.

Henry shifts to stand up straighter.

“Good,” Alex murmurs, his breath caught in his chest.

“Oh?” Henry breathes. “Why is that good?”

Alex leans in. “I really . . . think if you’re going to dance with anyone, it should be me.”

Henry mirrors him. “Oh?”

Alex feels himself smile.

This is happening.

Henry tilts his head to the right; Alex feels his breath ghost along his cheek. “I don’t dance, Alex,
so I won’t be dancing with anyone.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“Mmm,” Henry hums, shifting closer. “Is that so?”

“Oh my god, shut up and—”

There’s a loud ringing, and they jump apart. Alex very nearly trips over Henry’s feet as he backs
away from him, frantically patting his pockets. But its not his phone ringing, it’s Henry’s. Henry
pulls it out of his pocket, blinks down at it, looks at Alex, back to the phone, and then back to
Alex, before sighing. “Bloody hell,” He curses, answering the phone. “Bea, now’s not a great
time.”

Alex objects. He’d been having an excellent time.

“Pips done what?” His eyes slip shut, and he looks up at Alex apologetically, before turning to the
bar and grabbing the sweater. He turns back around and holds it out to him, pressing the phone
between his ear and shoulder.

Deftly, Alex takes the sweater, and the hint, and leaves the bar.

He stops outside, peeks through the window, watching as Henry runs a hand through his hair and
turns back to the bar.

Whoever Bea is, whatever they’re saying is stressing him the fuck out.

Alex doesn’t like it.

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