Work Text:
He’d warned him. Alex had absolutely told Henry he’d need layers , and a down jacket if possible, or at least something significant . Yet there he stands, jaw set stubbornly against the grey D.C. sky, fingers in knitted mittens and a scarf resolutely tied around his neck. His grey peacoat is laughable, though, especially considering the state of dress the rest of the first family is in.
It’s Henry’s first Christmas stateside, and in New York they’ve been pretty lucky to have milder weather this december. When Alex had checked the D.C. forecast, however, and saw that they were in for a treat – a massive winter storm blowing down from the northwest. Henry had been resolute that his handy winter coat from London would be just fine, and Alex likes when he hears the words ‘ you were right ’ leave Henry’s petal-pink lips, so he hadn’t pushed the issue. But now with the wind chill in the low tens and the sky threatening to unleash snowy white precipitation upon the world, he’s thinking he was kind of an ass for that.
As the sun dips lower into the sky, tucking in her last rays of light and causing the creamy clouds to turn dark and foreboding, Ellen turns towards the boys and gives Henry a once over, to Alex’s chagrin, and quirks an eyebrow at the very obvious shivering happening beneath the peacoat. It’s the annual Christmas Tree lighting, and they’ve been waiting outside for 45 minutes for the sky to darken enough that the lights will be at their fullest brightness, and poor Henry’s whole frame has started shaking with chill.
“Couldn’t you have found him a decent coat, Alex?” Ellen asks as she looks around, as if a down parka may appear from the scraggly brush that surrounds the pathway they’re standing on.
Alex scoffs back at his mom, and wraps his arm around Henry whose mouth is open with protests ready on his tongue. “I tried, he insisted,” Alex pointed out. “He’s stubborn that way.”
“And h-he’s standing right here,” Henry chatters the reminder out through clenched teeth as he breathes onto his mittens, trying to find heat wherever he can. “I’m r-really okay, but thank you. I just didn’t know winter could b-be so bitter,” he admits. Alex presses a kiss to Henry’s cool cheek, and sighs as he turns to stand facing Henry. He cups Henry’s rosy cheeks in his broad, gloved hands, and rubs soothing circles across his cold skin to try and bring some warmth back into his boyfriend. Henry, for what it’s worth, looks up at him resolutely. “I’m fine, Alex, r-r-really,” he promises.
“I have hand warmers,” Leo supplements, because of course he does, and Alex takes two, tucks them into Henry’s mittens and presses a small, innocent kiss to the frosty prince’s nose.
“Y’all ready?” Ellen asks. Someone is gesturing for them to step up to the tree, and Alex links his hand in Henry’s mittened one, tugs him up and closer to the tree, and watches as a timid looking man announces it’s time, and that they’re so thankful for the amazing turn out despite the threat of weather. Ellen steps up to the mic then, her presidential facade taking over as she starts on the speech he’d heard her rehearsing into the late hours of last night.
“You were right, Alex,” Henry huffs, his breath a puff of white in the dark night.
Triumphant, Alex turns to him slightly. “We’re going to buy you a new coat tomorrow.”
“Fine, yes, alright,” Henry agrees with an eye roll. He’s eyeballing Alex’s jacket now, and tucks himself in closer to his boyfriend’s side. “Are you wearing a lot of layers under there?” Henry asks mildly, as if he’s inquiring about the weather.
“Err, just my grey sweater…”
Ellen’s speech has wrapped up now, and she and Leo are being ushered over to a gigantic switch on a podium. Together they pull the lever, and the tree lights up, a blast of glowing white brilliance against the stormy night, And Alex and Henry and June all shield their eyes against it’s luminosity. Someone comes around with hot chocolates, and the crowd disperses to mill about and look at the wares of the small Christmas Market surrounding the tree. Ellen and Leo are chatting with Mr. Holleran and June, and Henry sidles closer to him, tugs suspiciously at the zipper of his jacket, and before Alex can protest – because fuck is it cold! – Henry’s tucked himself right up against his chest. His arms are around Alex’s waist and shielded by the parka, and his nose is buried in the soft faux fur lining of his hood, and his breath is so warm against Alex’s neck that his mind turns to far from innocent thoughts.
But then Henry’s shifting, and his frigid nose presses into the crook of Alex’s neck, and he’s running his hands up and down Alex’s back as he absorbs his heat, and in the vibrant light of the tree, this all feels a little too close to perfect.
“Your nose is like an ice cube,” Alex grouses, as if he’s not absolutely enamoured by the sweet innocent of Henry pressing closer into him, like he can crawl right under his sweater and take all of Alex’s warmth as his own.
“Well, someone refused to buy me a proper coat.”
A noise of annoyances leaves Alex’s lips, and his arms wrap around Henry’s shoulders as he presses an affectionate kiss against the top of his head. “Right. You’re such an ass,” he chuckles.
It’s all a ruse, of course. Alex is never going to buy Henry a damn coat if it means he can hold him like this, be his source of cozy heat, forever. As Alex cuddles in even closer, the clouds unleash their burden and the first flakes of puffy, dancing snow starts to fall.