Archive of Our Own

“Odds that this year’s competition ends up with at least one hospital visit?”

Nora glances around the room in response to Alex’s question, and he thinks she might actually be doing math in her fucking head as she considers each person around the conference room table. She narrows her eyes at Hunter from accounting, Sarah from the social media team, and finally, at Alex.

“Don’t fucking look at me.”

“You’re included in the statistics. In fact, you're the primary reason the statistics exist.”

“Can you ever just answer a goddamn hypothetical without making me regret the day we met?”

“But what would our spirited and animated dynamic be without that mild animosity fueling our shippers?”

Alex sucks his teeth and solemnly says, “And what would we be without our shippers?”

“Probably less likely to piss me off,” Zahra spits as she walks by, glaring at them.

They both shut their mouths so fast that their teeth click.

Zahra takes her spot at the front of the room, tossing a red folder onto the table in front of her as she sits down. Behind her, a giant sign embellished in green and gold reads “Happy Holidays” and is illuminated by a string of lights, directly contrasting her black pencil dress and stern expression.

Morbidly, Alex wonders if cutting her open would be just as dark and colorless.

His watch buzzes, and he glances down to read the text from Nora: approx 68% but it drops to at most 23% if we take out you, Hunter, and the wannabe Tiktok influencer

Alex flicks his finger across the screen, sending back: fuck u xo

Nora elbows him in the ribs right as Zahra starts speaking, making Alex wince. As Zahra goes over profit margins and other boring work shit that he doesn’t care about, Alex’s eyes scan the room. He finds a wide, blue gaze looking at him that quickly flicks away, making irritation spike in Alex’s chest.

Henry looks pointedly down at the paper in his hand, which Alex thinks is just a blank sheet of notebook paper, as if he wasn’t fucking staring daggers at Alex. He was probably plotting ten different ways to kill him with Christmas decorations or imagining hanging Alex’s corpse from a strand of garland in the middle of the office.

“Stop glaring at your work crush,” Nora mutters out of the side of her mouth, smirking. “You’re making it hot in here.”

“I fucking hate you,” Alex spits back, which only makes Nora grin wider.

Alex could bite out that Henry isn't his crush, but there wouldn't be a point. Nora declared herself as Alex's future best man the second Henry was plopped into their office two years ago, a transfer from the London office who took one look at the tinsel hung in the halls and the giant tree in the lobby and scrunched his nose. Apparently allergic to holidays or decorations or fucking cheer, Henry decided that Alex, in his slightly cropped green sweater with Rudolph adorning the front while he hung lights, was too much from the moment they met.

Which was unfortunate, because Alex saw Henry and thought he was beautiful.

Henry saw Alex and thought he was a Christmas nuisance.

Alex overheard him half an hour later, whispering to Pez, “Is there any chance you can get me away from him?”

Unfortunately for both of them, away from Alex wasn’t in the cards. Instead, they now share an office space, with their immovable desks facing each other in perpetuity. Henry spends the majority of his time scowling at his computer, quipping back at almost anything that Alex sneers at him.

Which is fine.

Henry can wear his button-up shirts that stretch across his strong shoulders and chew on his stupidly plump lips and hate Alex all he wants.

Alex doesn't fucking care.

Zahra clears her throat. “Okay, the last thing for today is to assign teams for our annual…” She takes a deep, steadying breath as she glares up at the ceiling and then back toward her employees. “... Holiday Lights Showdown Extravaganza.”

Nora slaps Alex’s arm three times in rapid succession, her smile taking up her entire face. Alex leans forward, too, listening intently as Zahra details the rules of the competition that he could recite in his sleep.

It's pretty simple—the office gets split into four groups, each with a team leader, and they get assigned to a section of the front of the office to decorate. There are budgets and some restrictions—the one about fireworks in the displays exists because of Alex and Nora's antics from two years ago—but otherwise the teams get to go crazy and decorate however they want.

“I just sent the team assignments for this year to your email,” Zahra says, frown etched into her features. “Team leads are Alex, Henry, Nora, and Destiny.”

Nora leans over to whisper, “Who the fuck is Destiny?”

“I can't believe Henry is a team leader,” Alex mutters back, his eyes flicking to Henry. He's clearly combed a hand through his hair, some of the strands sticking out and flopped over his forehead. “Bet he does something pretentious and white and boring.”

Nora giggles to herself and her tongue is pressed into her cheek when she raises an eyebrow at Alex.

It makes his neck itch. “What, dude?”

Nora shakes her head. “You wanna fuck him so bad it makes you look stupid.”

Alex chokes on his next inhale. Everyone glances at him as he coughs, brows furrowed in concern. Alex does his best to muffle the sound in his sleeve, giving a small wave to communicate that he's okay. Zahra continues talking, but Alex's gaze is drawn back to Henry, who is already looking at him.

There's a moment when something in Henry's face softens, and Alex is caught in the snare of that attention. His heart pounds on the inside of his ribcage, as if it's trying to escape the confines of his body. Alex doesn't break eye contact until Henry finally does, seeming annoyed that he spent so much of his valuable time looking in Alex's direction.

When Alex glances over at Nora, she's grinning like a goddamn Cheshire cat.

“Fuck off,” Alex whispers, elbowing her in the shoulder.

Nora rolls her eyes. “I'm gonna get you laid before New Year’s Eve. You're fucking cranky.”

Alex looks around to see if anyone heard her, but everyone seems to be dutifully listening to Zahra.

Only, when Alex glances back across the table, Henry is watching him again.

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“And then I'm thinking, like, the fucking icicle lights hanging from the eaves?”

“What color lights?”

“All of them,” Alex tells Nadia, who looks up from her tablet to frown at him.

“All of them?”

Alex nods. “As many as can legally fit on a string of lights.”

Nadia scribbles for a second with her stylus, looking amused. “Okay, I'll go through the process of pricing these things out and getting them ordered.”

“Thank you for doing that,” Alex says, glancing down at his rough design on a piece of notebook paper. “Do y'all think it's missing something?”

Nadia and Gregory both lean forward to look at Alex's idea again. They tilt their heads, perfectly synchronized, and then Gregory hums.

“I like it, but I'm sure that if it's missing anything, you'll figure it out.”

“Marcus just responded on Teams,” Nadia comments, glancing at her phone. “He said what if you put the Baby Yoda nativity scene underneath Santa's flying sleigh?”

Alex blinks down at the drawing. “Holy shit. Marcus is a genius when he has the flu.”

“He claims that his brain fog has evolved to above the average human intelligence.” Nadia snickers, tapping a thumb to her phone screen. “And that he really wants to win.”

“Clearly,” Gregory says, rolling his eyes. “He's on Teams to offer feedback for the design while fighting off a stupidly high fever.”

“That's exactly why he's the perfect person to be on Team Claremont-Diaz.” Alex grins at them. “Anyway, I think that’s a good start for our first day. We can fine-tune the design details while we wait on supplies.”

Gregory stands, shooting Alex finger guns. “Cool. See ya, ACD.”

Nadia waves on her way out, and Alex starts to work on adjusting the design based on Marcus’s suggestion. He's so focused on the glide of the pencil across the page that he nearly jumps out of his skin when someone speaks.

“You have a Grogu nativity scene in your design?”

Shit.

Alex nearly forgot that Henry was here.

“I appreciate the Star Wars cinematic universe,” Alex explains, feeling a little defensive. “And I think it’s funny.”

“That it is,” Henry replies, eyes moving from his screen to Alex’s face. “It certainly seems as though you have a unique theme for your team's decorations.”

“The theme is Christmas fucking spirit,” Alex mutters, taking out his phone to photograph the new design. “You know, the thing you wouldn't know if it bit you in the ass?”

Henry's brow furrows. “What makes you think I lack Christmas spirit?”

“Please,” Alex scoffs, sending off the picture to his team. “Tell me you're not doing something clean and boring for your decorations.”

Henry looks back at his computer screen, lips pursed. “I do think that simplicity in Christmas decor is classy and a lovely choice.”

“Exactly.”

“That choice says nothing about my Christmas spirit.”

“Well, you also hated my Rudolph shirt.”

Henry turns back to him, head tilted. “The one you were wearing the day we met?”

“Yeah,” Alex says, fiddling with his pencil as his stomach twists. “You looked fucking insulted when you saw me in my obnoxious shirt hanging Christmas lights, so much so that you asked to be kept away from me.”

“To be k—” Henry's face shifts suddenly, morphing into something mildly horrified. “You heard me ask Pez to—Christ, is that why you dislike me so much?”

“Why I dislike you? You decided that you were above me and my festiveness the day that we met, Henry.” Alex leans back in his chair, the springs squeaking as his weight shifts. “Which is… me, you know? I’m always gonna be that guy. So if that’s not your cup of tea—which it clearly isn’t, based on the way you treat me—then I’m not going to change that just to make you like me.”

“I do like you,” Henry says in a rush, his mouth moving silently for a moment as his eyes fall to his desk. “I think we… I was having a spectacularly awful day when we met, and you… surprised me. By the time I interacted with you again, you were… already unhappy with me, and I just thought that you—what I mean to say is, I’m sorry that I gave you the impression that I disliked you. It wasn’t that, I promise.”

Alex swallows around the sudden knot in his throat, tapping his pencil against the surface of his desk. “You mean that?”

Henry smiles, his voice taking on a soft, genuine quality when he says, “While I certainly think that your approach to Christmas is colorful and animated, I do not think it’s a bad thing.”

For a moment, Alex isn’t sure what to do with that information, plopped into his lap like a wild raccoon. It could be fine—the raccoon could go on about its day or even wind up being nice and non-threatening. The raccoon could also bite him and transmit some awful disease that leaves Alex hospitalized and begging for the sweet release of death.

He sits up straighter in his chair. “I could have sworn that you just… hated me.”

“I didn’t,” Henry tells him, meeting his eyes. “I don’t. I had no idea that’s why you were so antagonistic toward me. I’m sorry, Alex.”

“Oh.” Alex blinks, trying to move pieces around in his mind without giving himself a brain aneurysm. “I’m… yeah. It’s okay. I’m sorry, too.”

Henry grins, the expression so wide and authentic that Alex can’t breathe. He was so reliant on Henry hating him to fuel the rivalry and keep the attraction Alex feels for him at bay. If Henry doesn’t hate him, then—

“Wait, I see what you’re doing,” Alex teases, a factory default for him when his heart is threatened. “You’re just trying to soften me up so you can win the competition.”

There’s a moment where Henry’s face falls, like he’s taken Alex’s words at face value, but then that smile reappears in slow increments.

“Well, that depends,” Henry replies, raising his eyebrows. “Is it working?”

Alex shakes his head, narrowing his eyes playfully. “Not a fucking chance, Fox.”

“Well, in that case—”

“What up, bitches?”

Nora walks in and hops onto the corner of Alex’s desk, completely unaware of the atmosphere that she’s cut through in the process.

Which is probably a good thing. Alex needed to breathe.

“Good morning, Nora,” Henry says, kind and friendly.

“Get the hell out,” Alex tells her to counteract Henry’s pleasantries, pushing on her waist and nearly getting her to fall off of his desk. “You're not stealing my designs.”

Nora snorts. “As if I would ever need to steal your design.”

“There's a Baby Yoda nativity scene,” Henry says from across the room, quirking an eyebrow at Nora when she looks at him.

Alex shakes his head, fighting a smile against his will. “You fucking traitor. You're trying to sabotage me.”

“Just still in awe of your… ingenuity,” Henry says in a dry tone, his grin crooked. “Sabotage of any kind is merely a happy accident.”

“You’re a goddamn liar, and you know it.”

“And do you have evidence of this?” Henry asks, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his desk. “Or are you simply throwing baseless accusations of treachery?”

“I may not have evidence yet, but I have eyes everywhere. Watch your back, Doctor Who.”

“You know that his name isn’t Doctor Who, right?” Henry’s smile is tucked into his cheek, his eyes sparkling. “It’s important to me that you know that.”

“Get a fucking room, oh my God,” Nora interrupts, looking at Alex with a vexed, confused expression.

“We have one,” Alex retorts. “It’s this office. You’re the one intruding.”

“Mhmm.” Nora rolls her eyes and plops a catalogue down on Alex’s desk. “Well, I have important things to discuss. Have you seen the catering options for the Christmas party this year?”

“Oh, no. I hadn’t looked,” Alex says, opening the cover and flipping through. He can feel the moment that Henry’s eyes move away from him, the sound of a clacking keyboard and mouse clicks confirming the shift.

It makes Alex feel like his lungs aren’t burning anymore at the same time that it makes disappointment weigh heavy in his chest.

“I personally might vote for the roast duck,” Nora says, hopping off of Alex’s desk to stand over his shoulder. “It’s on page seven.”

Alex glances at the roast duck, and then turns to the next page.

He groans at the image there, the sound rumbling in his throat. “Fuck me, look at this beef wellington.”

Across the room, Henry clears his throat. For the sake of his sanity, Alex ignores him as Nora leans closer to inspect the spread.

She hums. “Yeah, for the absolutely criminal price of two hundred fucking dollars per person.”

“We don’t pay for it.”

“I know,” Nora says with a grin. “Can you imagine if we did?”

“It might still be worth it.” Alex's mouth is watering as he reads the description off of the page. “Succulent beef tenderloin, cremini mushrooms, herbs, and shallots baked in a decadent puff pastry. Best accompanied with Madeira wine. Jesus fucking Christ, that sounds heavenly.”

Nora wrinkles her nose. “Do you wanna eat it or fuck it?”

Alex snorts. “All I'm saying is if someone served me this tenderloin with all the fixings, I would absolutely give them the five-star rimjob they deserve.”

“Have you ever considered that a rimjob may not be the preferred method of thanks for the chef in question?”

Surprised, Alex's gaze snaps up to Henry, who is staring at his computer screen as though he didn't say a word. Alex would almost think that he hadn't spoken at all, if not for the smirk twisting up one corner of his mouth and leaving a dimple in the middle of his rosied cheek.

Oh.

Okay, then.

“I'm open to alternatives,” Alex drawls, his heart inexplicably increasing its tempo. “I'm told I give a pretty good blow job, too. Plus, no one's ever complained about my… what's the word, Nora?”

“Cunnilingus,” she enunciates, her smile wide and wicked. “And I refuse to stoke your ego for whatever game this is.”

Alex turns his attention back to Henry, who is peering at him out of the corner of his eye. “And obviously, there's the tried and true course of action. Happy to fuck—”

“—or be fucked—”

“—by any consenting adult.”

Henry clicks a few times with his mouse, his throat moving as he swallows. “Interesting.”

“Oh yeah,” Alex says, watching the way Henry’s gaze is darting back and forth between Alex and his computer. “I have many talents, sweetheart.”

“Right, well,” Henry mutters, scratching at the side of his neck.

There’s something there that Alex wants to poke, a weird shift in their dynamic evolving as they speak. It’s not different in any stark, groundbreaking ways, but they’re talking about sex in the middle of their office, with Henry blushing and Alex trying not to picture Henry bent over his own desk.

And failing miserably.

So, he props his chin on his fist and takes a stab. “You getting shy on me now? You started this, you know.”

“I'm not—” Henry flushes darker, the color spreading down his neck.

Alex's mouth feels dry as he lets his eyes trace over the blush. It's fucking pretty, and Alex kind of wants to sink his teeth into the warmed skin.

“Not what?” Alex prompts, on the edge of his seat as he watches Henry squirm.

Henry opens his mouth and closes it twice before running a hand over his face and murmuring, “I think I'll go make myself a tea.”

He’s gone before Alex can say anything, and Alex leans his head back against the top of his chair to look at Nora.

“Oh, my God,” she says, smacking him on the chest hard enough to sting. “What the fuck was that?”

Alex grimaces, rubbing a hand over the afflicted area. “I… don’t know.”

“If you two flirted any harder, we would be filing an HR complaint. Or maybe a police report.” Nora puts a hand on her hip, leaning her weight against Alex’s chair. “Or hiring a witch for whatever sorcery needs to be undone. Because what the fuck?”

“Uh, yeah. Well.” Alex blows out a breath, fighting off a sense of whiplash. “He… apologized. Apparently, he doesn’t hate me.”

Nora blinks. “Huh.”

“Yep,” Alex pops, running a hand through his hair. “All a big misunderstanding, according to him.”

“Oh,” Nora says, and then her eyes widen. “Oh, shit. You’re fucked, dude.”

Alex laughs, dry and stunted. “Yeah. Yeah, I think you’re probably right.”

By the time Henry comes back, Nora is gone. She’s texting Alex every three minutes, combinations of emojis and capitalized expletives and unsolicited relationship advice that Alex will not be taking.

But it’s just them when Henry sits a cup of coffee on Alex’s desk.

“A… peace offering, of sorts,” Henry tells him. “I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot last year.”

Alex takes a tentative sip of the drink, the taste of cinnamon blooming on his tongue. He’s not sure how Henry knew his preference for coffee, and he’s still not entirely convinced that this isn’t some sort of weird hallucination or a game being played that he doesn’t know the rules for.

This is uncharted territory, the hottest man Alex has ever seen being nice to him and Alex trying to figure out what it means for their dynamic. It’s making him feel a little lightheaded, like his blood is racing too fast and in all of the wrong directions.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, putting the coffee back down on his desk only to realize that it’s sitting directly on his design. “Hey!”

Henry looks way too fucking innocent when he glances at Alex, sitting down at his desk. “What is it?”

“You put the coffee on my drawing and it left a mark.”

“Did I?”

“Oh you fucking asshole,” Alex accuses, trying to fight down the rush of adrenaline and delight that races up his spine. “This is my only drawing, and you knew exactly where you were putting the cup.”

Henry clicks his tongue, lifting his own mug to his mouth before replying, “I will neither confirm nor deny that.”

“Oh my God,” Alex says with a laugh, something warm and strange bubbling beneath his sternum. “You’re actually sabotaging me.”

Henry smiles, and that heat burns hotter in Alex's chest. “Just some friendly competition between coworkers.”

Alex stands and walks over to Henry's desk, thrilled at the way that Henry’s eyes follow him with every step. He plants his palms on the dark wood and leans in until his face is only an inch from Henry's. Henry’s lips part on a soft gasp, and Alex can’t help it—his gaze dips down to Henry’s mouth before darting back up to his eyes.

He can’t get distracted by his attraction here.

There are bigger games at play.

He'll just file the view of soft lips away for later, when he's alone in his apartment and can think about the way Henry’s mouth would look on his skin in peace.

For now, he only smirks. “You're fucking on, Fox.”

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“He fucking did it again.”

“Who?”

“You know who.”

Nora snickers, putting her phone down on her desk as she turns to him. “Santa?”

“Fuck off.”

“You are the one who just sat down in front of my desk. If anyone should fuck off, it’s you.”

Alex huffs. “Henry did it again.”

“Ah,” Nora says, feigning recognition as if she didn’t already fucking know. “What did he do?”

“He hid my Baby Yoda nativity scene from me for like, four hours.” Alex shakes his head. “I had to put placeholders up to try to lay out our design.”

“What were the placeholders?”

“The tiny trash cans that people keep under their desks.”

“Clever,” Nora replies, looking impressed. “So what did you do this time?”

Alex’s jaw drops in faux indignation. “I am appalled that you would even ask what—”

“Alex.”

“I drew a mustache on his Santa figurine.”

“There it is.”

“In washable Crayola marker! It’s easy to fucking clean.”

“And it was easy for Henry to give you back your nativity scene unharmed.” Nora shakes her head, propping her knee up on the arm of her office chair as she glares at him. “You’re enjoying this back and forth too much.”

Alex bites down on the corner of his lip, fighting a smile. “I think I’m enjoying it a normal amount.”

“When you drew a Rudolph nose on his elf drawing yesterday, you giggled to yourself for twenty fucking minutes.”

“It was funny.”

“He put Earl Grey tea in your instant snow, and you were blushing and grinning while you cleaned it up.”

“It was a good move. Game respects game.”

“Jesus Christ.” Nora glances skyward, fondly exasperated. “If you were any more down bad, you would be in hell.”

“Don’t worry, I have my spot reserved right next to yours. We’ll be able to torment each other for all eternity.”

Nora scrunches her nose at him. “Intimate.”

A knock on Nora’s doorframe makes them look up, and Henry is there, wearing a soft green sweater and a warm smile. Alex’s stomach does an acrobatic flip at the sight, one that would make the Olympic gymnastics team proud.

“I think our lights have arrived, Alex.”

“Did you throw mine out the window?”

“No chance yet.” Henry smirks, the dimple in his cheek making an appearance. “It would appear they shipped them together.”

“How environmentally conscious of them,” Nora comments, kicking Alex in the knee. “Go get your shit, loverboy. Do something I would do.”

“Isn’t the saying ‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do’?” Henry asks, looking amused.

“She actually roots for me to cause chaos,” Alex explains, stopping in Nora’s doorway and placing what he hopes is a casual hand on Henry’s shoulder. “It not only makes her look better by comparison, but it keeps her entertained.”

“At the expense of the rest of our sanities?”

Nora taps her nose. “Bingo.”

Alex rolls his eyes, his hand falling back to his side as he walks out. “Come on, let’s go get our lights so that you can break my bulbs and scatter the remnants in Grogu’s manger.”

“That is actually an excellent idea,” Henry says, following him toward the unoccupied corner office where all of their decoration activities are centralized. “Thank you for the suggestion.”

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

Their lights are both in the same box, but it seems like there was an accident during shipment and they’re all shoved into a package that is much too small. Even worse, they’re not individually wrapped, so there’s a giant mess of tangled lights in the box when they open it up.

Henry mutters a quiet fuck under his breath as they assess the situation, and Alex settles his hands on his hips.

“I’m sure we can get them untangled,” Henry says, pulling out the wad of multi-colored and white lights, interwoven together as if they’ve been playing an elite game of Twister during their transit.

Alex reaches out, wrapping his fingers around a segment of his multi-colored lights and tugging gently. They come out a bit but then stop, and Alex dives back into the tangle to see where they’re caught, only for his fingers to brush the back of Henry’s knuckles.

He snatches his hand back, and Henry’s attention snaps to Alex’s face. “Are you alright?”

“Uh, yeah. I think one of them just…” Alex blanks, stammering. “Like, stabbed me weird.”

Henry seems to accept his explanation, refocusing on the lights. Alex is more careful when he gets to work this time, trying to avoid touching Henry’s hand.

Because here’s the thing: they’re in direct competition with each other for bragging rights that will last until next year. Alex knows that, in the grand scheme of things, it’s just an office decorating contest. The stakes just feel higher because it’s him and Henry. They’re leading two vastly different teams with different approaches, trying to outdo each other with their contrasting visions for their designs, and sabotaging each other’s displays to mess with each other and gain an upper hand.

Alex is also having fun, though.

His own design is coming together really well, and he’s excited about the way the team is working to make it come to life. But something about the harmless pranks and extra time in close proximity to Henry is making it even more enjoyable. He hasn’t admitted that to anyone, even though he knows that Nora suspects.

It’s this little thing—a secret that feels sweet and sacred and just for him. And maybe for Henry, too. Alex is convinced that Henry is enjoying their little war as much as he is. The way that Henry smiles at him has changed, almost as if there’s some private joke that only they share.

They’ve settled into something new, something different.

Antagonistic, yet playful. Competitive, yet exhilarating.

And maybe, just a little bit flirtatious, even though they’ve kept it professional.

It’s strange to think that less than a week ago, Alex was sure that Henry despised him. Alex is still trying to navigate the shift between them as it happens, each twist and turn threatening to knock him on his ass. All the while, the crush that he kept sealed up tight for over a year is slipping free from its vault, filling his chest with heat that is impossible to ignore.

Henry is fucking hot, and Alex is.

Well, Alex is bi, and he has a thing for broad shoulders and narrow waists, for sharp jawlines and face-splitting smiles. Not to mention long fingers and strong thighs, the gentle slope of soft lips…

It’s everything, really.

Everything Henry is and everything Henry does. Everything that Alex spent a year pretending wasn’t attractive is now overwhelming, flooding into his veins and affecting the way he handles Henry.

Even now, with a chore for them to work on, it makes him feel hot and itchy underneath his turtleneck. Alex has to wrack his brain to find something to say.

“So, white lights, huh?”

Henry purses his lips, fiddling with two of the strands in his hands. “Of course. And you got every color known to man.”

“And even some colors that haven’t been discovered yet, I think.”

“Right,” Henry says, chuckling. “Well, at least you’re easy to predict.”

“I like colorful things,” Alex tells him, freeing a decent section of his own string and letting it fall toward his feet as he keeps working. “They brighten everything up.”

“Well.” Henry glances at him for a moment before returning to the task. “There’s something to be said about the simplicity and sophistication of a single neutral color in a strand. It’s flexible for decor purposes and clearly the superior option.”

Alex snorts. “Next you’ll say something like… Jedi is the superior Star Wars film.”

“It is my favorite.”

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

Henry hums, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth and shaking his head. Alex scoffs, shifting his weight and knocking his toe against the heel of Henry’s shoe.

“I can’t believe this,” Alex says, sighing dramatically. “Empire can’t be beat, you know. What other wrong opinions do you have?”

“How can an opinion be incorrect?”

“You make it look pretty easy, sweetheart.”

Henry flushes, tugging on a string. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and Alex has to look away, focusing intently on a single green light in the middle of their tangled web.

“Ask me questions, if you’d like,” Henry suggests after a pause. “We’ll see if I say anything else that appalls you.”

“Okay, uh…” Alex thinks for a moment, his stomach fluttering at the prospect of learning more about what goes on in Henry’s head. “Favorite snack?”

“Jaffa Cakes,” Henry says quickly. At Alex’s confused look, he continues, “They’re very popular in the UK and incredibly difficult to get here.”

“Oh, dang.” Alex frowns as he rolls his neck, fiddling with a new segment of lights. “Mine is Flamin’ Hot Cheetos.”

Henry makes a low, vaguely approving sound. “I think if I ate more than two of those, it would put me in the hospital.”

Alex giggles, and the sound is echoed by Henry as they continue to untangle the strings of lights. There’s an easy rhythm to their movements, a back-and-forth that makes the task feel less burdensome. As their conversation flows, Alex finds himself hanging onto every word that Henry says. It’s a remarkable realization—after a whole year of knowing him, there’s still so much that Alex never knew, so many layers to Henry that he was never able to uncover.

He has older siblings and a dog named David—something that Alex gives him grief for, teasing him about the absurdity of giving a dog such a boring human name, even if Bowie was the inspiration. Henry misses his dad and loves writing in his free time. He’s passionate about classic literature and volunteers at Pez’s youth shelter on the weekends. He envies people who can give presentations at work without sweating through their clothes and makes resolutions every New Year. He wishes on shooting stars and wants to leave the world a little better than he found it.

At some point, the teasing nature fades. The conversation shifts and becomes softer, more personal. Henry asks Alex questions about June and if he misses Texas and all of his favorite things, never letting their discussion fall silent. After a while of pulling and tugging at the stubborn strings of lights, Alex realizes that they’re almost done. The task, which seemed endless just twenty minutes ago, is nearing its end.

Which means that the reason for their conversation is ending, too.

Alex’s heart drops in disappointment, a solid lump beneath his sternum.

“Oh, speaking of favorite movies,” Alex begins, frowning at a particularly difficult knot and desperate to keep them talking. “Do you think Die Hard is a Christmas movie?”

“Well, I’ve never seen it.” Henry fixes him with a dubious look. “But it certainly doesn’t sound festive.”

“It’s a Christmas movie, trust me,” Alex tells him, tugging on a strand as he smiles. “But also, you should definitely watch it.”

Henry hums, noncommittal, and then smacks at Alex’s hand. “Stop that, you’re going to wind up undoing our work.”

“What?” Alex furrows his brow. “No, this part here is twisted around that one, so I need to pull it through here and—”

“No, it goes underneath the white strand here, do you see?”

Alex doesn’t, and he’s pretty sure he’s right, so he dives back in with his fingers and tries to disentangle the cord he was just messing with. Henry snatches the small ball of lights away, moving them to his other shoulder and further away from Alex’s reach.

“No, Alex. I am telling you—just let me—”

“Wait, I almost had it, I swear. It’s just—”

“You’re going to make it worse if you don’t—”

“Henry, I swear to God if you don’t let me see it—”

“Stop that, for Christ’s sake.”

Henry moves the lights again, twisting his arm until they’re behind him and above his head. Alex moves around, one of his hands finding Henry’s hip so that he can brace himself as he stretches upward to try and grab the tangled strands. Henry’s breath is hot against Alex’s ear as he continues trying to keep the lights where Alex can’t get them.

“Henry, c’mon. Let me see them.”

Alex slips his foot between Henry’s on the ground, his arm nearly wrapped around Henry’s entire waist as he reaches again for the lights. Henry inhales sharply as their chests brush, and Alex freezes, suddenly aware of how close they actually are.

The entire length of Henry’s body is pressed against Alex, with Henry’s mouth less than an inch from touching Alex’s cheek. One of Alex’s arms is braced on Henry’s shoulder as he tries to grab the tangled mess, and his other is looped around Henry’s hips, with his fingertips pressed into the ridges of Henry’s spine.

Alex swallows, turning his head toward Henry and holding his breath. A palm slides over Alex’s elbow as they stare, the world seeming to funnel down to the points of contact between them.

Alex lets his gaze flick down to Henry’s lips, parted and looking as soft as Alex has ever seen them. He could kiss Henry—there’s barely any space to bridge. The tiniest movement forward would push their mouths together.

Henry murmurs his name, and Alex sways forward almost on instinct. He can feel Henry breathing in soft pants, his chest pushing against Alex’s with each inhale. The fingers on Alex’s arm tighten as Henry’s tongue flicks out to wet his lips, as if he’s thinking about kissing Alex, too.

It’s too much all at once.

Alex has spent the last thirty minutes learning more about Henry, each new factoid swirling around in his mind and crowding out everything else. His heart squeezes painfully beneath his ribcage, the knots in his stomach twisting and making him feel a little sick as he stares into Henry’s impossibly blue eyes.

If Alex kissed him right now, he might pass out.

It might be worth it.

But before Alex can make up his mind, Henry pulls away, yanking the string of lights with him. He moves quickly, fingers fumbling as he untangles the strands in under a minute.

Alex knows, because he was counting the seconds.

It gives him just enough time to shake himself out of whatever trance he was in, trying to piece together how all of the information he’s gathered and a bit of proximity is making him feel thoroughly scrambled. He’s not used to being so off-kilter, as if he’s one wrong move away from doing something embarrassing, like falling up the stairs or setting the communal microwave on fire with a frozen TV dinner.

Part of him hates how exposed it makes him feel, but a thrill still races up his space at the heady mix of desire and uncertainty crawling under his skin.

“There,” Henry says in a raspy tone, clearing his throat. He hands the multi-colored set to Alex. “All separated.”

Henry is clinging tightly to his own lights, the pale white cords tangled around his wrists as he tries to gather them all up.

“Thanks,” Alex croaks, his throat dry. “I’ll go get these monstrous things put up, I guess.”

Henry hesitates, his eyes tracing over Alex’s face and lingering on his lips before he shakes his head. “Right. I’ll certainly look forward to seeing what chaos the rest of your design will bring.”

“Yeah,” Alex says, cringing at himself. “Cool. I’ll, uh, see you around, then.”

He finds Nora five minutes later, abandoning the lights at his desk to go sit down next to her at the breakroom table. An overplayed Christmas song floats out of the speaker above their heads, contrasting the turmoil in Alex’s head. When he doesn’t say anything after a long moment, Nora puts down her fork to give him her attention.

“You sort of look like you need an exorcist,” she says, squinting at him. “Or a priest.”

“You were right.”

“You’re gonna have to be more specific, babe.”

Alex groans, putting his head in his hands. “I want to fuck him so bad it makes me look stupid.”

“Ah.” Nora pats him on the shoulder. “So a priest, then.”

“Shut up,” Alex mutters into his palm, rubbing aggressively at his forehead. “Is it weird that I sort of hate that I want it?”

“Eh.” Nora shrugs, shoving a cracker in her mouth and chewing. “You also used to hate chocolate covered pretzels. Give it time.”

“Those don’t feel synonymous.”

“No, no. I’m pretty sure they are,” Nora teases, but then she’s looking at him and frowning. “There’s something else wrong with you.”

“What?” Alex feels a prickling sensation creep up the back of his neck. “No there’s not.”

Nora scrutinizes him for a long moment, looking like she’s trying to solve arithmetic in her head. Finally, she gasps.

“Oh my fucking God.” She smacks her hand on the table and points an accusing finger at him. “You have a goddamn heart boner.”

“I do not,” Alex says immediately, but his cheeks are hot and he knows Nora can fucking tell. “Don’t make it weird.”

Nora ignores him. “I’m going to renew my campaign to become your best man. Please let me do it. I'll be chill, I swear.”

Alex is definitely going to throw up. “And now you’ve made it fucking weird.”

“I’m thinking late spring or early summer.”

“I hate you.”

“That’s no way to talk to your best man.”

“You’re the bane of my existence.”

“Much better, thank you.”

Nora is humming the wedding march underneath her breath, and Alex puts his head down on the table as that tune echoes in his head. He closes his eyes and thinks about the way Henry had looked at him, the heat in his gaze as they stood there, more wrapped up in each other than the lights that were tangled around them.

Inside of his chest, his heart hammers in a weird and jumpy rhythm.

But he is not telling Nora that she was right again.

🎄✨️🎄✨️🎄✨️🎄✨️

“Why is Grogu wearing false eyelashes?”

Henry glances up at Alex, mischief dancing in his eyes. “Who is wearing what now?”

Alex leans against the wall of their office, thumbs hooked in his pockets. “The judges start their assessment in less than an hour, and I went outside to check on the display one last time. Baby Yoda has these thick ass fake eyelashes that definitely weren’t there this morning.”

“Perhaps you should have kept a better eye on your decor,” Henry says, clicking send on an email before logging off his computer. “With everyone bustling about for the Christmas party this evening, something was bound to happen.”

“Mhmm.” Alex smirks, watching Henry bend down to unplug the space heater under his desk. The angle gives him a full view of Henry’s ass, the curves looking even more delicious in the jeans he’s wearing. “Well, you should probably check yours again, too, sweetheart.”

Henry straightens, his expression sharp and playful. “What did you do?”

“Guess you’ll have to look and find out.”

Henry pushes past him, heading toward the exterior of the building. Alex follows him and lets his eyes trace over the four sections put together for the competition, lingering on Henry’s space. It’s simple and clean—a more traditionally Christmas-esque look than Alex’s. There are subdued colors and classic themes.

Next to Alex’s section, with bright colors and a small inflatable Santa in the corner, it makes an interesting contrast.

However, Henry’s display now has a dusting of biodegradable glitter scattered across the scene in various shades of green, red, and gold. Alex actually thinks it improves the overall vibes of the design and was a really nice way for him to get the final word.

Henry chuckles as he studies his space, swaying a little closer to Alex in the cold. Their shoulders brush, and Alex tries not to make it obvious that he’s leaning into the touch.

“It’s not so bad, actually,” Henry says, jabbing a lighthearted elbow into Alex’s ribs. “May the best man win, yeah?”

Alex grins, nudging Henry back. “Exactly.”

🎄✨️🎄✨️🎄✨️🎄✨️

“Did you draw a dick on Henry’s nametag?”

Alex snickers as Nora plops down next to him on the couch, a glass of sparkling wine in her hand.

“Okay, yes,” he says through his giggles. “But to be fair, he put a glitter bomb in my desk drawer first.”

“What did you do to deserve that?”

“Why do you always assume I did something?”

Nora raises an eyebrow at him, the glitter in her green eyeshadow shimmering in the light. “Because you’re you.”

“Fair point.”

“I can’t wait to be your kids’ godmother.”

“I have a sister, you know.”

“And she’ll make an incredible aunt.”

Alex rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”

“Well, have fun with the love of your life and all your weird, kinky foreplay.” Nora pats his knee and stands. “I’m gonna go flirt with the IT department.”

“Chloe or Holden?”

“Yes,” Nora says with a flourish, and then she disappears around a corner.

Alex stands and goes off in search of Henry, finding him standing by the three-tiered dessert stand that is filled with red and green cupcakes.

“How’s it going?” Alex asks, sliding up to him and grabbing a cupcake. “Where’s your nametag?”

Henry looks genuinely disappointed when he says, “Zahra made me take it off. Said something about you being an HR nightmare, I believe.”

“That tracks,” Alex tells him, shrugging it off. “So should we call a truce then?”

“Perhaps.” Henry holds up his cupcake. “In the spirit of Christmas and all.”

“Yeah,” Alex says with a laugh, raising his own cupcake as if to toast them. “In the spirit of Christmas.”

And then he shoves his cupcake into the corner of Henry’s mouth.

It crumbles and then falls to the floor, and Henry’s eyes are wide and as animated as Alex has ever seen them when he looks at Alex.

“You little—” Henry pushes his own cupcake into Alex’s cheek, and Alex moves to grab another one at the same time that Henry does.

Their arms bump together, and Alex’s hip catches the edge of the table. It wobbles with an almost violent shake, and Alex watches horror flicker across Henry’s face as the entire cupcake tower begins to teeter.

It feels like it tilts in slow motion, and despite Alex’s desperate reach to catch it, he’s too late. The cupcakes cascade off the table, dozens of them crashing to the carpet below. There’s frosting on Alex’s shirt sleeve and on both of their faces as the entire office gasps.

Alex turns, already bracing himself, and finds Zahra standing behind him, hands on her hips and eyes narrowed in disapproval.

Fuck.

“Claremont-Diaz,” Zahra seethes, her glare hot enough to burn through Alex’s skin. “Can you not be a goddamn disaster for five fucking minutes? Or is that too much to ask of you?”

“I’m—” Everyone is gaping at him, the disappointment etched into their features feeling like a thousand needles piercing Alex’s skin. Nora is nowhere to be seen, and Henry is still frozen in shock next to him. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t bring back our cupcakes,” Hunter says, pouting.

“I didn’t—” Alex’s heart stutters and plummets into his stomach. “I’m s-sorry.”

The weight of their gazes presses down on him, and he can’t take it. His throat is tight and restricting his airway, and his eyes are burning with the threat of tears that he refuses to shed in front of his coworkers. His breath is coming too quickly, dread and embarrassment churning together into a nauseating concoction within his gut.

Alex runs.

He’s not entirely sure where he’s going other than away, and that’s enough for him as his legs move. He finds the stairwell and crashes through that door, collapsing on the first step. He presses his warm cheek against the cool metal of the railing, trying to slow his racing heart. He gulps in air as best he can, running his fingers over the soft fabric of his jeans and counting off breaths in his head.

“I didn’t mean to,” he whispers to himself, tangling his hand into his hair and pulling until he feels the sting. “I’m sorry.”

The door behind him creaks open, the sound reverberating around the space. All of Alex’s muscles tense as he waits to be berated, expecting something that will tear him apart. He can feel it coming, the sting of the reprimand that he probably deserves.

Still, he holds his breath as he waits for whatever they say to hurt him.

Instead, someone sits down next to him. There’s no scolding or harsh words. A gentle hand finds Alex’s in his hair and pries his clenched fingers free with quiet care. A warm, damp cloth touches his cheek, wiping the remnants of cupcake frosting from his skin.

“Are you alright?”

It’s Henry, who is now holding Alex’s hand and rubbing small circles into his knuckles as he puts the cloth to the side.

“Uh, yeah. For sure.” Alex nods, feeling wobbly. “Just another standard Alex fuckup, you know? It’s what everyone expects, and it’s what they get.”

Henry doesn’t respond immediately, but he scoots closer to Alex until their legs are pressed together.

“I think you’re too hard on yourself,” Henry says, squeezing Alex’s fingers. “No one should be berated for knocking over a tower of cheaply made cupcakes.”

Alex laughs a little. “Cheap but still wanted. No one is going to vote for my display now.”

“I did.”

“Don’t patronize me.”

“I’m not,” Henry tells him, nudging their arms together. “Grogu’s eyelashes earned my vote fair and square.”

“Shut up,” Alex says, but he’s laughing now, big and loud and echoing through the stairwell. “Well, I still doubt it’ll be enough for me to win, especially now.”

“Is winning that important to you?”

“I—” Alex stops to consider his words. “Kind of, I guess.”

“May I ask why?”

Alex huffs. “If I say that my parents fucked me up, is that a cop out?”

“A bit,” Henry responds, chuckling softly. “We never quite outgrow their expectations, do we?”

“Spoken like someone who fucking gets it.” Alex sighs, leaning his head onto Henry’s shoulder. “Is that why you’re such a Scrooge?”

“That feels like an extreme comparison.”

“You gave my Baby Yoda Jesus fake eyelashes and made a colorless display for a fucking holiday light competition.”

“Touché,” Henry says, his voice soft and wistful. “I never really got to experience Christmas in the same way that other kids did growing up, especially after my dad died. My grandmother always said that the holiday was too boisterous and devilish and… probably a host of other negative words that I can’t remember right now.”

“Damn,” Alex mumbles, picking up his head. “No wonder you’re so grumpy.”

Henry smiles, narrowing his eyes just enough to look both irritated and charmed, as if he’s caught between offense and affection. It makes Alex feel warm, a soft glow spreading through his chest, like the flickering lights of a Christmas tree by a crackling fireplace. Henry reaches up, his fingers gentle as they brush a curl from Alex’s forehead and trail down the side of his face with a slow, lingering touch.

“Don’t worry about all of them, darling,” Henry tells him, tilting his head toward the door. “They don’t deserve for you to brighten up their dumb party.”

God, Alex wants to kiss him. It’s becoming harder to ignore the desire, especially when he’s sitting here and being sweet to Alex like this. For a moment, he thinks about doing it, but there’s probably mold in this stairwell.

Alex can certainly think of more romantic spots.

“Yeah, I’m over it, honestly,” Alex says, standing and brushing off his jeans with his hands. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Henry looks up at him, cautious and curious. “Where are we going?”

Alex holds out a hand. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” Henry says without hesitation, his palm sliding into Alex’s.

“Probably a bad choice, sweetheart,” Alex tells him with a grin, tugging on their joined hands. “But come on. I want to show you something.”

🎄✨️🎄✨️🎄✨️🎄✨️

There’s a neighborhood in Brooklyn that Alex loves to walk through every year.

The houses are always lavishly decorated, with thousands of brilliant lights twinkling, oversized lawn ornaments standing proud, motorized displays whirring to life, and everything else in-between. The streets are lined with festive cheer, so much so that there are tours dedicated to the area, with people flocking from all over just to admire the holiday displays.

As soon as Henry steps out of the taxi, his eyes are wide and awed, perfectly mirroring the magic of the street.

Alex takes Henry’s hand as they walk around the neighborhood, pointing out the moving snowmen and Santa Claus figurines, the lit up trees and enormous wreaths hanging from gates and front doors.

They slow down outside one of the grander houses on the block, where an entire army of snowmen has claimed the lawn, each one in its own festive pose. One snowman wears a red scarf, another is sheltered under a giant red umbrella, and then there’s Alex’s favorite: an animated snowman with a top hat and a mustache, rocking back and forth with exaggerated motions as he waves his arms.

“This is wonderful,” Henry says, eyes darting everywhere like he isn’t sure where to look first. “Thank you for showing me all of this.”

“See? Extravagant is nice.”

Henry glances at him, his smile brighter than any of the festivity around them. The glow from the flashing lights casts a warm radiance on Henry’s features, making the sparkle in his eyes more pronounced. Alex is struck by how beautiful he looks like this, carefree and happy, his face illuminated by the surrounding gleam.

A softness passes over Henry’s expression, and he steps closer to Alex, his fingers tightening around Alex's knuckles.

“I am starting to see the appeal of the colorful lights,” Henry says, a little breathless.

Alex grins, his heart stuttering. “Yeah?”

Henry reaches up with his free hand, his fingers brushing gently against Alex’s cheek. His gaze follows the motion of his hand, and Alex realizes that Henry is watching him the same way that Alex was just observing him—absorbed in the way the light dances across his skin.

“They are… extraordinarily beautiful,” Henry whispers, his thumb settling at the corner of Alex’s mouth.

Alex's breath hitches at the look in Henry's eyes, warm and enamored. Henry’s gaze flickers down to his lips, and Alex feels the weight of the moment as it stretches between them.

“I mean, I'm not gonna say I told you so,” Alex whispers, afraid to shatter the moment as he sways closer to Henry. “But I totally told you so.”

Henry laughs, big and bright and beautiful, his joy radiating into the space between them. Without warning, he cups Alex’s chin and leans down to kiss him.

Everything else fades away as Alex’s eyes drift shut and he meets the press of Henry’s mouth. All that remains is the butterflies that flutter in Alex’s stomach as Henry pulls him close, the way his heart skips as their lips slide together and open, the breath being stolen from his lungs as Henry’s tongue sweeps into Alex’s mouth.

Alex thought he understood Christmas magic.

He grew up in a house where the holiday was an elaborate affair—lights twinkling from every corner, food piled high, stockings hanging expectantly over the fireplace. Even after his parents divorced, and he had to split Christmases, they always made an effort to make the season feel special, no matter where he and June were.

He’s experienced the awe of waking up to presents and empty plates where cookies used to be, the joy of tearing into a box to find exactly what he asked for, the warmth of being surrounded by loved ones in a room filled with the scent of pine and the glow of a thousand sparkling lights.

But none of that compares to the magic of Henry’s kiss, shared outside the most grandiose light display in the neighborhood. And when Henry smiles against his lips, sliding his fingers into Alex’s curls, Alex realizes that this—this moment, this feeling—is the greatest Christmas gift he’s ever received.

It’s brighter than any light, warmer than any fire. It’s consuming and comforting, sweet and sultry.

Alex might not ever get over it.

“I’m telling everyone I converted you, by the way,” Alex says when they pull apart, his smile lingering on his lips.

“I’ll deny it,” Henry replies, his fingertips tracing up Alex’s spine. “Only you get to know the truth.”

“But if only I know the truth, how do I take credit for changing your mind?”

Henry’s lips twitch, his expression fond. “I suppose you’ll have to hold that secret joy in your heart, all while suffering the injustice of being unable to share it with the world.”

“I’m devastated by this,” Alex says, his tone dry even as the corners of his mouth curl upward. “I think I’m going to need a few more kisses to recover from this crushing blow.”

Henry rolls his eyes. “If I must, I suppose.”

But he’s smiling when he kisses Alex again.

🎄✨️🎄✨️🎄✨️🎄✨️

Nora’s team wins the competition.

Alex congratulates her with as much humility as he can muster, and she grins and smacks a kiss to his cheek.

“I know you hate this, bud.”

“Merry Christmas, you thorn in my side.”

The office seems to have forgotten about the whole cupcake debacle, and everyone is only buzzing with excitement as the day before Christmas Eve passes uneventfully. There’s not a lot to do that can’t wait until after Christmas, and even Zahra seems content to sit in her office and not hover around, demanding that they work harder.

“You know, all that time sabotaging each other, and we should have just combined forces against our true enemy.”

Alex grins as Henry walks up to him. “Someone will take her down next year, don’t worry.”

“I look forward to it,” Henry says, and he’s smiling, too.

Suddenly, Nora bounds around the corner, hand tucked behind her back, stopping at Alex’s side.

“Hey, hold your hand above your head.”

Alex frowns. “Why the fuck would I do that?”

“Do it or I’ll put everything in your office in sugar-free Jello.”

Confused but terrified of Nora’s wrath, Alex lifts one hand above his head.

“Perfect.” Nora puts whatever was behind her back into Alex’s hand. It feels rough, like plastic. “Here you go.”

She scurries away, tossing a casual “You’re welcome!” over her shoulder before she’s gone.

Alex moves his hand to see what she handed him and freezes.

Henry makes a soft sound. “Oh, it’s mistletoe.”

“Nora, I swear to—” Alex closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before reopening them. Henry watches him, expression hovering between amused and curious. “She means well. I’m sorry. I know we haven’t, uh, talked about what happened yet, the other night. It’s not—we don’t have to—”

“Alex, love. Breathe.”

Alex’s teeth click together, and he inhales deeply through his nose. Henry smiles at him, taking a step closer, glancing at the plastic plant still held in Alex’s hand. A gentle fingertip brushes underneath Alex’s chin, coaxing his gaze upward.

“Put the mistletoe back above our heads,” Henry requests.

Alex does, and as soon as the mistletoe is in place, Henry moves his hand to the back of Alex’s neck to haul him into a kiss. It’s brief and tame, a soft kiss that is more about reassurance than anything else. Their surrounding atmosphere keeps it from getting too heated.

Someone wolf whistles anyway, loud and obnoxious. Alex is pretty sure it’s Nora.

But he’s kissing Henry, so he doesn’t really care.

🎄✨️🎄✨️🎄✨️🎄✨️

They spend Christmas together.

Henry shows up in the early afternoon with a bouquet of red roses and lips that taste like chocolate and Earl Grey. It’s not a combination Alex expected to love, but when it’s on Henry’s tongue, he thinks almost anything would taste absolutely delectable.

They watch movies and drink wine until they’re tipsy, until they haven’t looked at the screen in forever because they’re too busy making out, until their hands get lost exploring the planes and curves of each other’s bodies.

By the time they go back into the office on the morning of the 26th, Alex has added dozens of items to the list of things he knows about Henry, like that he laughs when he comes and cries over Hallmark movies.

“You fucking dog,” Nora calls as soon as she sees him, punching him in the abs. “I told you I would get you laid before the new year.”

“Get off of me,” Alex complains, trying to fight his smile. “I can’t stand you.”

“Love you, too,” Nora says with a cheeky grin, and Alex shoves her as they walk into the conference room.

Henry is already there, freshly showered and dressed in new clothes—definitely different from the ones he left Alex’s apartment in.

“You must have been very efficient once you left,” Alex teases.

“Well, I was excited to get to work and see my boyfriend again.”

Alex leans down to press a sweet kiss to Henry’s mouth before sitting down next to him. Nora claims the chair on the other side of Alex, striking up a conversation with someone across the table.

“I'm starving already,” Alex says, pulling out his phone while they wait on Zahra. “Didn’t have time for breakfast after someone couldn’t keep their mouth off of me this morning.”

“You poor thing,” Henry deadpans, his palm finding the curve of Alex’s knee beneath the table.

“Yeah, yeah,” Alex says, scrolling on the Doordash app. “Anything sound good for lunch?”

Henry hums. “Perhaps a beef wellington.”

“A beef wellin—oh.” Alex looks up, and Henry is watching him with a dark, almost lazy gaze. “Baby, if you want a rimjob, you can just ask.”

“That easy, huh?”

“For you?” Alex traces his gaze over Henry’s chest and back up to his face. “You can have whatever you want.”

“I can’t believe this is my life now,” Nora groans abruptly, placing a hand over her heart. “What have I done?”

“You didn’t do shit,” Alex tells her, glancing back over at Henry, who is flushed and staring at Alex with unabashed adoration. “We got there on our own.”

“If you say so,” Nora grumbles, but Alex feels her knock her knee into his under the table, an unspoken approval.

“Alright, listen up,” Zahra says as she enters the room, looking as peeved as ever. “The Holiday light display competition was such a success, for team building and morale and shit, that the board is considering having it be a more year-round series. They’re looking at Valentine’s Day for our next one, so keep an eye out for updates on that.”

Alex smirks at Henry, reaching over to tangle their fingers together. “Ready to lose another one, sweetheart?”

“You lost, too, you know.”

“Semantics,” Alex says, pressing a quick kiss to Henry’s mouth. It buzzes in his lips and makes him feel warm, and Alex doesn’t think anything could get better than this.

“They’re going to be this obnoxious forever, aren’t they?” Someone grumbles from across the room, sounding absolutely miserable.

“Shut the fuck up, Destiny,” Nora bites back, voice sharp. “Or I’ll shove biodegradable glitter into your computer’s CD drive.”

God, Alex is lucky to have her on his side.

Most of the time, anyway.

He shifts his attention back to Henry, smile softening. “What do you say, babe? Ready for round two?”

Henry bites his lip, trying—and failing—to tamp down a grin. At Alex’s raised brow, Henry rolls his eyes.

“You’re on, love.”