Red, White, And Royal TWO

Chapter 1

[From Alex's POV] It's 8:00 AM, Wednesday morning. Last night was Election Night 2020, AKA the reelection of President Ellen Claremont. Alex awakens with a mild headache -courtesy of those "Blue Texas Mojitos," no doubt- and with a beautiful blonde boy resting his head in the crook of his neck, still lightly snoring. Alex decides that he should let Henry sleep a little longer, so he takes a pillow that fell to the ground during last night's -ahem- "festivities" in his childhood bed with Henry and quickly slides the pillow under Henry's head in his shoulder's stead. Once the pillow is in place, he throws on a pair of ill-fitting sweatpants. Good enough, he thinks. He creeps slowly toward the bedroom door, stepping in all the right places, still able to remember where the floorboards creaked and where they didn't. He continues out of his old bedroom and down the hall passed June's old room to the staircase that leads downstairs right into the foyer. Still being extra careful about creaky floorboards even though Henry is well out of earshot, Alex tiptoes into the kitchen, until he finally turns on the TV in the kitchen to CNN, at a low volume. He turns and opens the pantry and finds a box of pancake mix, but no milk or eggs to make the batter with. Shit. Damn overly confident neighbors. Alex throws on a sweatshirt, which thankfully fits better than the pants, remembers where the nearest convenience store is, and heads out on his quest for milk and eggs.

He jogs out of the foyer, through the front door, and out onto the lawn before he sees the monstrous black Chevy Tahoe he's spent so many hours traveling in the back seat of. Did Cash really sleep in the car last night? No sooner does the question pop into his head does Cash come strolling out of the car, hair looking disheveled and suit looking slightly rumpled, but nonetheless ready to kick ass and take names. "Good morning, Alex," Cash starts, "Going somewhere?" "Just over to the deli to pick up some milk and eggs. Making some pancakes for Henry and I. Care to join?" As if he has a choice, he thinks. Alex insists on walking over to the store, leaving the behemoth that is the black Chevy Tahoe behind in the driveway. It's only 8:20 when they get there, so the place is empty. They walk through the store, find the eggs and milk, and pay all within three minutes.

Upon their return from the convenience store, Cash goes back to the eye sore of a car, and Alex walks into the house through the backdoor off from the kitchen. And there, sitting at the counter expectantly and without a shirt, is the Prince of Wales. Either from the brisk wind of the November air or the beauty in a beheaded and slightly hungover Henry, a wave of goosebumps makes its way up Alex's spine. "Good morning, my love," Henry says with a yawn. "Good morning babe," Alex says, "You in the mood for some pancakes?" "Always." With that, Alex shuts the door behind him and makes his way over to the pantry, pulling out the materials needed to make pancakes. While Alex makes pancakes, Henry makes coffee for Alex just the way he likes it: black, with a drop of creamer, and a dash of cinnamon. Alex is reminded of their first morning alone together in Paris, and the feeling of wanting Henry's mornings forever, and smiles at the thought of peaceful mornings like this forever.

"You're up earlier than I thought you would be, considering all the back-breaking work from last night," Henry says with a sly wink.

"That and the sheer quantity of hard liquor I pounded down." Alex turns away from the stove to flash a cheeky smile Henry's way.

"I love you."

"I love you too, sweetheart."

Since the campaign is over after the big win last night, Alex's Mom gave everyone on the campaign staff the day off, "for a job well done," which only a select few understands is code for, "I'm too hungover to attend a campaign staff party and run the country all at the same time." With this once-in-a-blue-moon day off away from Washington alone with Henry, they make the most if it by cozying up next to each other and balancing a laptop between Alex's right leg and Henry's left, and binge watch the original Star Wars trilogy, only leaving bed to refill bloody marys and pee. They argue over which movie is the best, whether Han shot first, and if Luke is annoying. They cuddle. They stare wistfully into each others' eyes. Alex, for the first time in a long time, feels at peace. Based on what happens next, this moment could be summed up best by the wise words of Admiral Ackbar in Return of the Jedi: "IT'S A TRAP!"