London is crammed full of people, waving banners and shouting and calling over each other, Union Jacks draped over benches and flying from windows. Henry sticks close to Bea's side for the most part, pasting a rigid, robotic smile on his face, waving mechanically and answering questions curtly, with a small incline of his head.

The crowds all seem too bright, too loud, and he shrinks back into the shadows as soon as he's allowed to, herded inside one of the many cavernous ballrooms at Buckingham Palace. He picks at his food, attempting to listen politely to Phillip's mind-numbingly boring speech, but to his dismay, Henry's attention keeps sliding surreptitiously down the table, to where Alex slumps easily in his chair, throwing back his head and laughing handsomely at something his sister whispers in his ear. An icy wave of something hard and cold sweeps through him- jealousy? He shakes his head, dragging his eyes away, and instantly he feels someone watching him. His ears burn as he looks sharply up and his eyes lock directly onto Alex's; warm, hazel eyes staring directly back at him, flecked with flakes of gold and sending Henry's mind spinning back to thoughts of lazy mornings and cornflower skies and the infinite feeling of awe tugging at him like the one that seizes him each time he gazes at the room in the Victoria Albert Museum- a sort of tenderness mixed with some part of him that wants, that yearn for contact, longs to know more about this man.

Abruptly, he shoots to his feet, scrapes the chair back and waves over a royal attendant, watching from a safe distance, holding his breath, as the man scuttles over to Alex and his group of friends. This was a bad idea. Such a bad idea. He curses himself inwardly, as three pairs of eyes turn to stare incredulously at him. Alex's sister, June, stands uncertainly, walking up to meet him with a flicker of apprehension in her eyes. Of course, Henry isn't about to ask Alex to dance, but his sister is the next best thing. Or so he thought, only he can feel a pair of hazel eyes burning a hole in his back. He very pointedly forces himself not to turn, attempts to swallow down his nerves as he takes June's outstretched hand, whisking her onto the dance floor as another song starts playing, his mind somewhere else entirely and his eyes constantly flickering unbidden over June's shoulder, to Alex, who stares stonily back at him. This was definitely a bad idea.

***

After the dance, Henry makes his way over to the champagne fountain, half-gasping for air and taking a long sip from his glass, setting it down heavily as he makes out a familiar figure, weaving towards him through the crowd, lips pulled back in a wicked grin. Alex sidles up to Henry, stumbling over his own feet and catching himself against Henry's arm. Henry tenses up, glancing down at Alex, who's now swaying slightly, his breath reeking of alcohol.

"When you have one of these," He slurs, "you should really do two champagne fountains instead of one. Really embarrassing to be at a wedding with only one champagne fountain."

"Alex." Henry sighs, fixing him with what he hopes is an appraising look, panicking inside and twisting his signet ring nervously. "I wondered if I'd have the pleasure."

"Looks like it's your lucky day." Alex beams up at him, showing pearly white teeth, and Henry takes a deep breath, turning his head aside and fighting the urge to blush or swoon. Or do both. He hears himself speak, as if from a great distance.

"Truly a momentous moment." He gives a strained smile that fades completely as Alex probes him again, stepping closer so that Henry has to turn away again, flustered and feeling restless and hot.

"Don't you ever get tired of pretending you're above all this?" Henry stares at him in shock, mouth scrambling to form words. He settles for a clipped:

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

"I mean, you're out here, getting the photographers to chase you, swanning around like you hate the attention, which you clearly don't since you're dancing with my sister, of all people. You act like you're too important to be anywhere, ever. Doesn't that get exhausting?" Henry's brain is sent spinning into overdrive, and he eventually chokes out a reply.

"I'm...a bit more complicated than that."

"Ha." Alex throws his head back in a very fake peal of laughter, and Henry narrows his eyes, watching the place where Alex clings onto the sleeve of his suit for support.

"Oh. You're drunk."

"I'm just saying," Alex continues blandly, leaning heavily against Henry again and sending prickles of heat into his cheeks, "You could try to act like you're having fun. Occasionally."

Henry laughs hollowly, his thoughts deserting him.

"I believe perhaps you should consider switching to water, Alex."

"Should I?" He retorts, smirking at Henry's flustered expression. "Am I offending you? Sorry I'm not obsessed with you like everyone else. I know that must be confusing for you." So that's all Alex thinks of him? An arrogant, self-occupied idiot who thinks he's better than everyone else? He could not be more wrong.

"Do you know what?" Henry finally musters the wits to speak again,"I think you are." Alex's jaw drops limply, and he feels the corner of his mouth quirk up briefly, before his brain subsides into a flash of warning signals and every thought screams at him that that was such a bad idea. It was worth it though, to see some part of Alex's banter-filled mask slip, even just for a moment.

"Only a thought." He adds, hiding a secret, smug smile.

***