Work Text:
Alex takes a deep breath; it sounds loud in the quiet classroom. He wonders why he feels like shit, but then remembers he’s running on an iced coffee, approximately five sips of water, and two snack-sized bags of Cheez-Its. He glances back down at the exam paper, blinking to clear his vision as he finishes reading the fact pattern and moves on to the questions.
1. Assuming that Jennifer’s recollection is correct in regards to what Louis said and did at their meeting on January 11, would a court consider evidence supporting Jennifer’s claim that Louis has breached their contract? Explain.
He hates his Contracts class, mostly because it’s boring, but also because the only section he could get into was Thursday nights from 7 to 9, which means he has hours to kill between classes (usually spent eating overpriced takeout and studying in the library), then doesn’t get home until close to 10 o’clock, at which point he’s mentally exhausted and just wants to collapse into bed while Henry reads aloud to him and strokes a hand through Alex’s curls.
He shakes his head, forcing himself to focus again. His head is starting to hurt, and he fights back a yawn. He can hear pencils scratching against paper and the buzzing of the classroom’s fluorescent lights.
The only positive is that this is his last exam of the semester. He’s been studying day and night (obsessively, Henry would say) for weeks; his sleep schedule is absolutely wrecked and his diet has been less than healthy. Needless to say, he’s more than ready for a break.
He wants to take Henry on vacation somewhere warm, wants to take his time fucking Henry like he hasn’t been able to do recently, wants to see the sun illuminate Henry’s skin.
He blinks, telling himself he absolutely does not want to get hard in the middle of this classroom; then again, he’s so exhausted he thinks he probably can’t even get it up anyway.
He hands in the exam at 8:45 and forces himself to walk to the train despite just wanting to lie down on a bench in the hallway for a week, or maybe a month.
He gets on at 8th Street, letting the rumble of the car be white noise in his ears as he slumps in his seat. The ride takes less than 30 minutes, especially without the delay of commuters getting on and off, and he exits the car, stumbling through the turnstile towards the station exit.
He drags his feet up the stairs, and then he’s finally outside, walking past the rack of Citi Bikes and the 24-hour deli and grocery. The air is clean and slightly chilly, but it feels good to Alex. His headache is easing a bit, but he can’t stop yawning and his shoulders slump; his backpack feels 10 pounds heavier than normal.
Fifteen minutes later, he’s putting his key in the lock of his and Henry’s brownstone. David greets him as he toes off his shoes and shrugs off his backpack and jacket. “Hey, buddy,” Alex says quietly, reaching down to rub David’s head even though just that alone feels like a tremendous effort.
And then there’s Henry, and Alex practically falls into his embrace, letting Henry support his weight. One of Henry’s hands is on the back of Alex’s head, and the other is rubbing soothing circles on his back, and Alex thinks he could fall asleep standing up, the smell of tea and their laundry detergent combining to lull him into drowsiness.
“I am so proud of you,” Henry murmurs.
Alex adjusts his head on Henry’s shoulder. “Don’t even know if I passed,” he mumbles. He can feel Henry’s eyeroll. “There was a promissory estoppel scenario that I thought was pretty clear cut, but now I’m not sure.”
Henry turns his head and kisses Alex’s temple. “I’m sure you did wonderfully, love. Are you hungry? I can heat you up some meatloaf.”
Alex shakes his head. His headache has started up again, and he squeezes his eyes shut. “Thank you, baby.” Without Henry cooking and making sure he eats, Alex probably would have starved to death by now. “Just tired.”
“Okay,” Henry says.
Alex lets Henry lead him to the bedroom. He sighs in relief as Henry undoes the button and fly on his jeans and helps him step out of them, then lifts Alex’s shirt over his head. His clothes are soon replaced by pajama pants and a soft t-shirt, and he gives his teeth a quick brush before he curls up next to Henry. Tomorrow they can celebrate, and Alex can finally think about something other than torts and contracts and civil procedure. He closes his eyes and almost immediately falls asleep.
Alex reluctantly opens his eyes. The clock says it’s 3:53 in the morning, and Alex buries his face in the pillow, hoping he’ll fall back asleep, but he can’t ignore the twisting in his stomach for more than a handful of seconds before he’s yanking the covers off and heading to the bathroom.
He crouches in front of the toilet and gags; for a blissful moment he thinks it’s a false alarm and he can go back to sleep, but then his stomach lurches and he’s vomiting. His throat burns and there’s a sour taste sticking to the insides of his cheeks and the top of his tongue.
When he’s finally done, his mind starts racing, anxiety building in his chest and making his hands shake. Something must be wrong, he must be sick, actually by this time tomorrow he might be dead—.
“Oh, sweetheart,” Henry says, starting to rub Alex’s back. “It’s okay.”
Alex is still hunched over the bowl, but his back is starting to cramp, so he sits back. His face is hot, and he realizes there are tears on his cheeks. He rips off a piece of toilet paper to blow his nose, then flushes the toilet. His chest heaves as he catches his breath.
Eventually, the horrible taste in his mouth becomes too much to ignore, and he stands, rinsing his mouth at the sink. “Sorry I woke you,” he says, his voice gravelly.
“No apologies,” Henry says gently. He cups Alex’s cheek. “Are you ready to go back to bed?”
Alex nods, and he takes Henry’s hand as they go back into the bedroom.
Henry tucks the covers back around their legs and takes Alex’s hand as they both partially sit up against the headboard.
Alex reminds himself to breathe as he wills his stomach to settle. He unintentionally lets out a quiet moan as he shifts against the pillows.
“It’s all right,” Henry soothes. “I’m here, darling. Try to relax.”
“Can’t,” Alex says. He’s still so fucking tired, but he’s also still trembling, anxious thoughts spinning, and he works desperately to keep them under control.
Henry squeezes Alex’s hand. “Is it okay if I get something from the kitchen?”
Alex nods, focusing on counting his inhales and exhales until Henry comes back.
Henry is carrying a glass of ginger ale, and he hands it to Alex. “Slowly at first,” he says as Alex takes a tentative sip. “Everything’s okay. I’m here,” he says again.
Alex keeps taking deep breaths between sips of ginger ale.
“Did you eat from that food truck again?” Henry asks, and Alex manages to laugh. He’d gone to a food truck near campus last semester and had spent the night lying on the bathroom floor and lifting his head to be sick into the toilet.
“No,” Alex says quietly. “Barely ate anything today.”
Henry makes a humming noise. “I think you might have overworked yourself, love. You’re exhausted and now your body is rebelling and forcing you to rest.” Henry continues to rub Alex’s back. “Would it make you feel better if I took your temperature?”
Alex shakes his head. He’s pretty certain he doesn’t have a fever, which means he likely doesn’t have the flu or a burst appendix or whatever else his anxious mind is capable of conjuring up; plus, Henry’s explanation sounds more plausible than Alex being on the brink of death. He feels his stomach loosen some and his shoulders relax as his anxiety starts to dissipate the tiniest bit.
“I should have taken better care of you.”
Alex startles, looking at Henry. “What? Hen, what are you talking about? You’ve been amazing. You’ve done more than I deserve,” he adds quietly.
“Alex,” Henry says, and Alex is surprised by the bite in his tone. “Don’t ever say that again.”
Alex swallows, unsure why Henry is upset. “It’s true. I’ve been basically ignoring you.”
“It’s not, and you haven’t,” Henry insists. “Alex, darling, look at me.”
Alex looks up at Henry’s earnest face.
“You are in law school, if you recall. It’s one of the most demanding things anyone can do. And yet you still make us breakfast and take David for walks and sleep in our bed every night. Whatever free time you have, you give it to me. To us. And I know you always want to be the one who gives more, who takes care of everyone. And you do that so well. But did you ever think that I want to take care of you too?”
Admittedly, Alex feels kind of dumb when he hears this. Henry is the strongest, most capable, most amazing person he’s ever known, but that doesn’t stop Alex from wanting to care for him, to cook for him and make Henry’s tea the way he likes and let Henry pick the movie and even, once, cart a 25-pound bag of dog food onto the R train because David’s food was running low and he was going to be home before Henry that day.
“I…” he starts, picking at a loose thread on the duvet. “I just feel like I should be able to handle everything.”
Henry touches his forehead to Alex’s. “I know you do.” He gives Alex a chaste kiss. “But it’s okay to need help.”
Alex rests his head on Henry’s shoulder. He still feels embarrassed and a little bit guilty for waking Henry up; Henry needs his sleep, especially since he doesn’t always get much, and Alex finds it hard not to feel ashamed in the aftermath of his anxiety. “Thank you,” he whispers into the space between Henry’s neck and shoulder.
Henry kisses the top of Alex’s head. “I love you so much, Alex.”
Alex’s breath hitches on a silent sob. “I love you too.”
“How are you feeling?”
“A bit better,” Alex answers. His eyelids are starting to get heavy.
“Try to get some sleep, love.”
Alex lies down and feels Henry shift so that Alex is tucked into his body, his face pressed against Henry’s chest. Henry is warm and soft and Alex feels so safe, so loved and cared for, and he listens to Henry’s heartbeat until he falls asleep.
Henry doesn’t fall asleep until a couple of hours after Alex does. He rubs Alex’s back and listens to his breathing, making sure he stays asleep. Henry had done his best to support Alex during the past few weeks, making sure he ate and slept and regularly went outside to do something other than walk to and from the subway station.
He used to think it should scare him, how much he wants to make Alex happy, how much he wants to give Alex everything. Now he knows that it’s a privilege to love Alex, and he tries to show Alex every day how important he is.
Somewhere in his mind, he still holds on to the thought that he could have done more, could have made Alex go to bed earlier and eat more regular meals and done more things that weren’t studying. But he knows that no one can really make Alex do anything. Alex is confident and stubborn and once he gets an idea in his head, he won’t give up until he sees it through, and Henry loves him so fucking much. He’s been in awe of Alex since they met, and knowing Alex as well as he does hasn’t lessened his admiration: in fact, it’s grown stronger as sees how hard Alex works and the thousand ways he shows his love.
Henry dips his chin until his nose is pressed against Alex’s curls. He can smell Alex’s shampoo, eucalyptus and orange, and he nuzzles closer. Eventually, he feels himself drifting off, hanging for a moment in the space between asleep and awake, then slipping into dreams.
Henry wakes slowly, a welcome change from the jolt of an alarm. The clock reads 9:42, and Alex is still asleep against him, face still pressed to Henry’s chest, one arm draped over Henry’s waist. He’s glad; he wants Alex to sleep for as long as possible. He would be content to stay like this, feeling Alex’s chest rise and fall against his own, but he’s hungry and David needs a walk and breakfast. Plus, Alex will probably be absolutely starving when he wakes up.
Henry carefully peels away from Alex, relieved when Alex doesn’t move or wake, and makes his way towards the front door, where he grabs David’s leash. It’s a cool morning, but sunny, and David seems happy to trot along the sidewalk and enjoy the fresh air.
They make their usual morning loop, and then Henry refreshes David’s water and puts food in his bowl, which David munches with all of the enthusiasm of a dog who enjoys far too many treats but believes himself to be starving.
Henry makes himself some tea and a slice of toast, and when he’s finished, he opens a cabinet and pulls down the waffle maker that June had gotten them as a housewarming present. They don’t get to use it much, but Alex loves waffles on the occasional lazy morning or breakfast out. He grabs the waffle mix from the pantry and the necessary ingredients from the fridge, including some blueberries, and sets to work making the batter. When that’s done, he ladles the batter into the waffle maker, tossing some left over blueberries to David.
He’s almost finished when he hears the bedroom door open, and he turns on the coffee maker and pours two glasses of orange juice. He plates some waffles for Alex and brings them to the kitchen table, along with the juice and some butter and syrup.
“Morning,” Alex mumbles, still clearly groggy.
Henry kisses his forehead. “Good morning, darling. How do you feel?”
“Mmm, okay. Just kind of foggy, I think. My body feels, like, heavy or something.” Alex pulls a mug down from one of the cabinets and pours some coffee into it.
“Sit down,” Henry says, steering Alex towards the table.
Alex seems to notice the waffles for the first time. “You made waffles?” he asks.
“Yes.”
Alex doesn’t sit, just stares at the table like he’s confused.
“Is something wrong?” Henry asks, worried now. Is Alex’s stomach still upset? In the midst of his worry, he almost doesn’t see Alex moving towards him, and then his boyfriend is in his arms. “Alex?”
“You are so good to me, and I love you so fucking much.”
Henry holds Alex tighter. “I love you too. My darling Alex,” he murmurs.
They stay like that, only pulling apart when one of the waffles burns, and they both laugh.
Alex eats hungrily, and Henry slides more waffles onto his plate, happy to see that Alex’s stomach has settled and his appetite has returned.
Alex is still tired though, and they take the opportunity to do almost nothing all day besides taking David for a walk around the park. They order dinner and watch a movie, and then Alex lays his head in Henry’s lap while Henry reads to him.
After a while, Henry feels Alex getting heavier against his thighs, and he puts his book to the side. “Still with me?” he teases.
“Hng. Yes,” Alex slurs.
Henry chuckles. “I think it’s time for bed.”
“No,” Alex mumbles into the fabric of Henry’s pants. “Can you keep reading? Just a little longer.”
Henry pets a hand through Alex’s hair. “Of course, sweetheart.” He picks up his book, and a few minutes later, he feels Alex totally relax against him. He pulls the blanket from over the back of the couch and lays it over Alex, making sure it covers his shoulders, and keeps reading.