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Henry’s only been in New York a month when it happens.
It being the unexpected, out-of-this-world, absolutely crazy experience that he had been looking for when he moved to the city in the first place.
The woman, Tiff, is explaining how the show works and he’s agreeing to it before she’s even done speaking. He lets some crewmembers fix his hair and pin a microphone onto his scarf. Then he carefully sits down in the rickety folding chair that has been somewhat unceremoniously set up in the middle of the city sidewalk. He really only stops to wonder what he’s gotten himself into when he feels the blindfold being pulled over him.
As everything darkens around him, Henry tries to remember what the woman had cued him on. He’s to say his name, but surely there was more she said? All he can focus on, besides the cloth pressing into his eyes, are the sounds of the city around him, the smell of a hot dog cart nearby, and the feeling of someone settling into a chair across from him.
Tiff tells them that the cameras are starting to roll. She urges them to just be themselves before she asks for their names. As he listens to the other man say, “Alex,” Henry barely manages to lean into the microphone for his turn.
He thinks he hears Tiff clap her gloved hands together. “Welcome to Street Hearts, the show where we set up strangers on the streets of New York City. Today we have a special episode – Shot in the Dark! Today, we have Alex and Henry on a blind date. We’re going to be going through the five senses to see if Alex and Henry are compatible. Let’s start with hearing!”
Henry relaxes a bit as he recalls the five senses being the hook of the show.
“Do you think you can seduce someone with just your voice?” Tiff asks and Henry smiles.
“I fear I have an unfair advantage with this one,” he laughs, laying it on thick with his English accent.
“Now hang on,” Alex says from across the table. “Okay, yeah, your accent is sexy as fuck. But who doesn’t love a Texan drawl?” And he leans into his accent just as much and Henry is so very glad he is sitting down because he’s pretty sure his knees have turned into jelly.
“Okay!” Tiff calls out approvingly. “I hear you boys! I think we can safely say ya’ll both win on that one.” She lets them have a second to laugh and Henry is devastated to hear that Alex’s laugh – free, genuine – is just as attractive as his voice.
“Okay, let’s move on to scent. What is your signature scent?”
Henry senses the microphone swinging away from him towards the other side of the table. “If I’ve got someplace fancy to be,” Alex says, “then it’s definitely Santal 33.” And Christ, Henry couldn’t be more turned on. “But for every day? I’d say my signature scent is whatever I’m cooking with, so probably Mexican spices.”
And Henry was wrong. Now he couldn’t be more turned on. And it causes him to stumble a bit with Tiff shifts to him for his turn. “Um, Burberry,” is all he can manage.
If Alex has any sort of reaction to that, Henry can’t pay it any mind. Because now he’s feeling heat rise up all over his body, despite the November chill. He’s certain his cheeks are stained red and while he’s grateful Alex can’t see, everyone else walking by can, not to mention the countless viewers their video will garner once it’s posted.
He brings his attention back round to catch the tail end of Alex explaining to Tiff what kinds of dishes he makes, how he learned a lot of recipes from his abuela.
“Is taste the next one?” Henry lets himself ask. “Because I’d really like to taste one of those recipes. How fast can you whip up a tres leches cake?”
He’s sure he’s butchered the pronunciation but then Alex is laughing, sounding pleased.
Tiff laughs too, and Henry feels slightly better about his red cheeks. “Down, boy! Taste is last, obviously. Next up is sight. If you had to guess, what do you think each other looks like?”
And it’s not the fact that Henry has picked up on clues of Alex’s heritage, but something else entirely that makes him be able to picture the other man perfectly. He turns his head slightly forward, towards the where he knows the cameras are, just to prove he’s not cheating when he says, “You have dark curly hair. I’m going to guess you’re fairly tall, and you’re wearing…plaid. Blue plaid.”
There’s a beat that Henry interprets as stunned silence.
“What the hell?” Alex says, and Henry can even picture the surprised face he’s making. “Are you psychic?”
Henry leans back in his chair, smug. “No,” he says, smirking, “I was simply describing what I hoped you looked like. Am I close?”
Alex lets out a low whistle. “Any closer and I’d call you out for cheating.” He feels the table shake a bit as he pictures Alex straightening up in his chair. It feels like it’s just the two of them at the table now, like Tiff and the cameras and even the whole of New York City has fallen away. “Damn, now I gotta go and I got nothing. Um…you’re…also tall? And you’re wearing…a peacoat?”
“Correct on both accounts,” Henry replies, “but I feel like you’re just basing those off the Britishness.”
Alex laughs again and it’s actually rude when Tiff interrupts them to get back to the five senses bit. Henry feels the nerves come rushing back when he calculates what’s left – touch and taste. Both could be utterly disastrous.
For touch Tiff tells them they’re going to arm wrestle. Alex lets out a whoop and Henry feels both disappointed and relieved. He places his elbow on the small shaky table and feels Tiff guide Alex’s hand towards his. When Alex’s hand grasps his own, it’s warm and strong. Henry hopes to God his palms aren’t sweating.
Tiff counts them down and part of Henry doesn’t even want to put up a fight – wants to feel Alex’s strength completely engulf him, take him down. But then he considers that actually holding his own would drag the whole affair out so he could feel Alex for longer…
But God, he’s pathetic. Arm wrestling just to feel the touch of a man? He hadn’t thought he was lonely this short time he’s been in the city, or maybe that’s just the effect of Alex.
Henry’s overthinking is, as usual, to his detriment because as soon as Tiff has said “one!” Alex’s hand is pushing his own, down to the table with a solid thump.
There’s clapping and cheering but Henry is surprised to hear that none of it comes from Alex. Instead, he’s saying, “Wait, wait, rematch, I don’t think Henry was ready –” but then Tiff is cutting him off and moving them along.
“And finally, on to taste! So, you can either have a taste of each other with a smooch, or we can…”
And Henry doesn’t hear anything after that because, fuck. His mind may be short-circuiting but his body is already leaning across the table. He forces himself to freeze and listen to Alex’s response.
“Can we do both?” Alex is saying. “Let’s do both!”
Henry’s fairly sure he’s trembling where he’s still leaning over the table but soon he feels soft hair tickling his forehead and a nose bumping into his. “Ooops, ah,” Alex says but this time his voice is so close, Henry can feel the breath of his words on his cheek. They both turn their heads a fraction to the right and then oh.
Their lips meet and Alex’s mouth on his is soft, searching, focused. Henry can feel himself start to smile into the kiss but then Alex is pulling back and it’s over.
It’s hard to hear Tiff ask if they’d like to kiss again when Henry’s heart is pounding in his ears. But he doesn’t miss Alex’s voice when he answers, “Oh, yeah. For sure.”
Everything around Henry feels still, like he’s caught in a bubble and if he so much as breathes it’ll shatter. What’s actually happening, he gets the sense, is that there is a small crowd of pedestrians gathering around them and cheering them on. He hears Tiff talking louder into her microphone, trying to get what she needs so they can wrap this up.
Wrap this up. Because it has to end. It may have been a magical experience, one Henry is sure to never forget, but it’s not real life. Henry doesn’t do this in real life. He keeps his head down, reads his books, and tries to remember to let himself be happy once in a while. But this? This kind of fun, this kind of excitement…he would never let himself dare to dream of having this.
“Okay, before we remove your blindfolds, please write down if you’d be interested in a second date.”
Before he can second-guess himself, Henry writes yes on the little whiteboard, trying to make sure his handwriting is as clear as it can be. He draws a heart next to the word and hopes he isn’t being foolish.
“On the count of three, turn your boards over,” Tiff says, “one, two…three!”
Henry has to stop himself from ripping off the blindfold so he can see what Alex wrote. But Tiff, the sweet angel she is, continues quickly: “Yes and…yes! We have a Street Hearts match!”
The crowd around them cheers. They’re finally allowed to take off their blindfolds and as Henry pulls the fabric away from his eyes the first thing he notices his Alex’s smile: wide, bright, happy. He’s also pleased to note that Alex’s cheeks are slightly red, too. Just as he’s cataloguing the rest of Alex at a greedy pace – he was right about the dark hair, and those curls – Alex speaks.
“Oh wow, you’re beautiful,” he breathes, and Henry’s mind suddenly can’t think anything at all.
He manages to say back, “You’re very handsome,” because it’s true, he doesn’t need to think to be able to see that.
“Aw, y’all are blushing!” Tiff interrupts their moment once again. “Okay, now that you’ve seen each other, do you want to change your answers or keep them the same?”
“I’ll keep mine the same,” Henry says quickly, because he isn’t sure he’ll be able to speak once he hears Alex’s answer, no matter what it is.
“I’m gonna add fuck yes to mine,” Alex says, grinning. “Can I do that? Can I swear?”
“No,” Tiff laughs.
There’s a weird few more minutes where they have to go back and reshoot certain bits where the microphones didn’t catch. Henry feels much more comfortable about it all now that he knows how Alex feels. He keeps shooting him grins over the table, and Henry can see them even when the blindfold is back on.
After they’ve officially wrapped up and the cameras are packed away, Tiff comes over to them. “Okay, you guys were amazing. Like, I really don’t say this to every couple, but I hope y’all actually see where this goes.”
“Oh we are. A hundred percent,” Alex says, dead serious. He rocks back and forth on his feet a bit and Henry can’t tell if it’s from the cold or excitement. “In fact, Henry, what are you doing right now?”
Tiff gives them a sly smile and walks away to check something with the camera crew. Henry has half a mind to follow her and watch the footage back to make sure this is all real and not some insane dream.
Alex is still looking at him.
“I was going to head to the bookstore,” he answers, hoping that doesn’t make him sound incredibly lame.
But Alex bumps his shoulder against Henry’s. “Awesome. Let’s go.”
As they walk, falling easily into conversations about everything from big sisters to movies to their fears of moving to the city, Alex’s shoulders hitch up to his ears and he shivers.
“Not very prepared for the winter weather, are you?” Henry teases.
Alex gestures to himself and says, “Texas.”
Henry laughs and doesn’t give himself a second to think before he’s taking off his scarf and wrapping it around Alex’s neck. Alex’s expression of surprise quickly softens into a smile, and then he’s burying his nose into Henry’s scarf and he’s so adorable Henry might faint.
“Mmm, is this that Burberry cologne you were talking about? It’s nice. You might never get this scarf back.”
Henry bites down a too-wide grin as he holds the door of the bookstore open for Alex. He doesn’t think he would mind that.
“Can I show you something?” he asks, letting himself finally take hold of Alex’s hand.
Alex squeezes his hand back, and Henry leads them around the small shop to a corner of the fiction section. He drags his fingers over the books there until he finds what he’s looking for.
“This is the first book I ever worked on,” he says, showing the small paperback to Alex. “I only did some proofreading, but it was so exciting, getting to be part of the process. Getting to help make the author’s dream come true. I’ll never forget seeing it on the shelf for the first time back in London.”
Alex wraps his hand around Henry’s where it’s holding the book. “I can’t wait to read it,” he says.
“Oh, Christ, no, you don’t have to,” Henry laughs. “I’m afraid you’d find it dreadfully boring.”
Alex scoffs. “Are you kidding? I’ve always been interested in –” he pauses to flip the book over, “the history of the three-piece suit.” He wrinkles his nose. “Huh. Okay, maybe not always been interested in that, but if I’m gonna be a kick-ass lawyer soon, I will probably need a decent suit.” When he looks up at Henry, his eyes are twinkling. “Right?”
Christ, Henry fancies him. He listens with admiration as Alex talks about the kind of law he wants to practice, how he wants to help immigrant families have the kind of opportunities he’s been lucky enough to have. Then, as Alex leads him to the Spanish language section, he listens less with admiration and more with wanton desire as Alex reads him poetry in Spanish.
And if Alex buys the first book Henry edited, and if Henry buys the book of Spanish poems, well, that’s nobody’s business but theirs.
They exit the bookstore, the sharp winter wind whipping their hair around. Henry isn’t really sure what happens next; though, to be fair, he had no idea any of this would happen when he left his apartment this morning.
He decides being honest is the best bet.
“I’d like to see you again. Soon. Just to…remind myself that this really happened.”
Alex shrugs. “I mean…I’m free the rest of tonight. Would that be,” he trails off, uncertain, “would that be too much? Sorry. I can be a bit too much.”
If Alex is too much, Henry wants to suffocate in it. He shows him just how much by leaning in and wrapping his hand around the back of Alex’s neck, pressing their lips together. He keeps it brief, just like their kiss earlier, but he can hear Alex’s breath hitch and Henry has to bite back a moan.
“I live just around the block,” he whispers against Alex’s lips.
Alex nods, eyes shining, and tucks himself into Henry’s side as they walk.
All Henry wants to do is bask in the warmth of Alex next to him, in the memory of their kisses still soft on his lips, but it’s harder to ignore the worry with each step up to his apartment. Today had been magical, but that was just it, wasn’t it? Magic. Not real life. Henry in real life doesn’t do these sorts of things, doesn’t get to keep hold of any happiness that comes his way. And Alex is pure happiness. Henry’s barely gotten a taste of it, of him, and he knows that. He hopes Alex’s bright light will be enough to overshadow his doubts, his dark days – he selfishly wants that. Wants all of Alex. This isn’t going to be a one-day thing, a one-night thing, not for Henry.
As they reach Henry’s door, he sighs and turns to Alex.
“I have to confess,” Henry says, letting his hands fall away from Alex’s, “I don’t do this sort of thing. Um, any of it – the spontaneous blind date, the bringing a guy home after just meeting…” He takes a deep breath, pushes the fear out with the exhale. “I just don’t want you to think I’m this wild and fun guy when I’m afraid I’m really not.”
Alex nods gamely. He doesn’t seem deterred, or disappointed. “Okay. For the record, I do think you’re fun. And wildly charming. And whatever else you are, I want to know those parts, too.”
Before Henry can have a sputtering reaction to Alex’s words, he continues. “And I have to confess something too,” he says, and Henry’s breath catches in his throat. “I… may have cheated. I saw them setting up for the show and I recognized it. And then I saw them talking to you, and I was like, that is the most attractive man I’ve ever seen, I need to be on that show.”
A laugh bubbles out of Henry and he finds Alex’s hands again. “Really? So you saw me before we took our blindfolds off?”
Alex bites his lip. “Yeah. Sorry.”
Henry pulls him against his chest. “I’m not.”
And then he’s fumbling with the doorknob while Alex kisses him against the door, a kiss that is deep and all-consuming. It’s nothing like the kiss they shared across the table in the middle of the sidewalk or in front of the bookstore; this time, Alex bites his bottom lip and then swipes his tongue over it, this time, Alex moans into Henry’s mouth as the door opens behind them; this time, Henry feels like the whole world is spinning and Alex is the only thing keeping him in place.
It’s almost a relief when Alex pulls back so Henry can get his breathing out of the deep end. He watches as Alex takes in Henry’s apartment: the overstuffed armchair by the window, the slightly wilted monstera plant in the dining room. He stops in front of one of the many bookshelves, running his fingers down the spine of a well-loved Austen. Henry shivers.
He drops his bag of books on the coffee table and strides over to Alex, pulling him into a desperate kiss. He has a vision of Alex taking him against the bookshelves, those long fingers wrapped tight around his legs, holding him up and slamming into him. Henry feels dizzy with want.
As their breaths become ragged, Alex pulls away to mouth along Henry’s neck. Henry’s eyes slide close, his head tilts back, and he’d surely lose his balance if Alex wasn’t gripping his hips.
“Want you,” Alex says against his jaw.
“Please,” is all Henry can say, and he lets Alex push his coat off. He watches, mouth dropped open, as Alex slowly, carefully unwinds Henry’s scarf from around his neck. He places it on the back of a chair and folds it like something sacred.
The rest of their clothes come off in a manner that is no way slow or careful. When Alex pulls Henry’s sweater off and looks at him like he is something worth looking at, it’s all Henry can do to pull him over to his bed and kiss him deep.
“God, you’re gorgeous,” he says as he trails his fingers down Alex’s golden skin, over his collarbone, around his biceps, down his taut stomach. Alex hums under his touch, his body buzzing with a frenetic energy that Henry is already addicted to. He kisses all the places his fingers touched, feels Alex hard in his jeans. When he pulls them and Alex’s briefs off, he stops just above where Alex wants him most.
Alex is squirming underneath him, his cock twitching between their bodies. But Henry has a plan. He leans in, noses along Alex’s thigh, and breathes. “Scent,” he says, nosing and kissing the sensitive skin, “spicy, musky, rich.”
Alex’s moan comes out loud above him from where he’s lying on Henry’s sheets. Henry knows Alex has caught on to what he’s doing and he’s pretty sure Alex is into it. “Sound,” Henry says, kissing Alex’s hipbone wetly and making Alex moan his name, “warm, deep, sexy.”
“Touch,” Henry says as he finally wraps his hand around Alex’s cock, thumbing at the glistening head, “smooth, silky, heavenly.”
He licks his palm as Alex watches, eyes dark, and keeps working Alex in his hand. Alex’s chest is heaving, his curls in glorious disarray, his mouth wet and red. “Sight,” Henry says, “a bloody wet dream.”
Alex pulls him up for a kiss then, his teeth nipping at Henry’s bottom lip and Henry is momentarily distracted. He could do this for hours, he thinks, kissing Alex and making him fall apart. But he’s got to finish what he started.
He drags his lips back down the length of Alex’s body, stopping to dip his tongue into the crook of his hips, and Alex whines, “Henry please,” so prettily that Henry takes him fully in his mouth. He runs his tongue along the underside before pulling back to suck on the tip of Alex’s cock.
“Taste,” he rasps, and takes Alex into his mouth once more, all the way until Alex’s cock hits the back of his throat. He hollows out his cheeks and bobs his head and Alex’s whole body is writhing beneath him, clutching at the bedsheets. He keeps at it like that for maybe minutes, maybe days, until he’s memorized the feel of Alex, heavy on his tongue, the taste of him, sweet and salty and spicy and absolutely everything in between.
“Fuck, baby, I’m –” Alex starts, so Henry sucks harder, laves his tongue over the head, and lets Alex come down his throat.
He crawls back up Alex’s body, reveling in the way Alex’s chest stutters as he tries to catch his breath. He rubs his thumb along Alex’s perfect cheekbones.
“Taste,” he repeats, “mine.”
Alex’s eyes flash open and he positively whimpers before crashing his lips into Henry’s. “Fuck yes,” he breathes as brushes the soft hair at Henry’s nape.
After Alex has sent Henry into his own sensory overload so much that Henry sees fucking stars, they lie there together and listen to the distant sounds of the city outside the window. It’s wild to think the city outside hasn’t changed since this morning, when Henry feels like a completely new person. He vaguely wonders what they’ll wake up to in the morning once their video is posted and though he doesn’t care for the attention, he loves that he’ll have some sort of souvenir of their first date.
Alex breaks Henry out of his wonderings by rubbing his leg up and down Henry’s. “Next time,” he says, kissing up Henry’s neck, “we’ll have to bring back the blindfolds.”