When Alex finally wakes up he doesn't immediately remember what they talked about. He has a blessed minute of peace as he wakes up and heads to the loo to have a slash when, mid-piss, it actually comes back to him and his eyes go from half-lidded and still barely coherent to I actually fucking decided to stay married to James.
He's hit by a wave of cold shock and shudders it off, washing his hands. He wonders if James is up and if James remembers the conversation at all.
Washing off his hands, he peers into James' room a minute later. James is still sound asleep, snoring.
Alex can't take it back. He regrets saying what he said last night in a way because it's way too much, it's something they shouldn't do, but now he can't take it back, he can't hurt James that way, and this is just a thing that's going to have to happen.
He's going to be married for a year.
He stares at James as he thinks about this. At least it's going to be to James, if he has to do a sham marriage, because it won't change much. They'll probably just go about things the way they always do and it'll be a little awkward for the year until they get it annulled or divorced.
Will it be divorce by then? They'll have to get all the forms for whatever it takes to get the marriage legalised in the UK as well filled out. Alex can't remember, suddenly, what would make it different between annulling the marriage and getting a divorce.
He's not sure whether or not he should be disappointed. He thinks about it for another minute. He never wanted to be a failure of a husband. He never wanted this, though, to be honest.
This is all asking for an mental breakdown to happen if he doesn't direct his train of thought away - is this meaningless, what in his life has true meaning, is he making James' life less meaningful by doing this.
So instead, he thinks about what a good husband would do. He imagines waking up to someone else, someone he loves, and what he'd want to do while they were asleep to make them happy.
He could make breakfast. So he resolves to do that. He's going to try his best to make this at least meaningful and full of as little regret as possible for James, for both of them.
James mentioned pancakes last night. He remembers that. Proper, fluffy pancakes. (had to put it in crepes or British pancakes are shit idc what you say)
Alex googles "fluffy pancake recipe", browses until he finds one he likes. Chocolate chip pancakes. That sounds good and James would probably like it. Although the recipe doesn't call for chocolate chips, all he has to do is throw them in there.
He sets about mixing ingredients that he somehow owns, in bowls, following the recipe until he's got a thick mess of batter. He preheats the pan and pours in the first few pancakes, trying to avoid little driblets of mess as he tilts the bowl back up, dropping in a sprinkling of chocolate chips in each one.
He waits until bubbles are forming in the pancakes and the edges are just curling up slightly and he slides the spatula underneath, tests them. They're almost ready to be flipped but not quite.
Alex hums to himself as he waits, feeling almost pleased with himself. He's doing something that will make James happy and right now. He flips the pancakes and looks at the golden-brown of them.
When he's made all of the pancakes, full of chocolate chips, he sets them aside and puts them in the microwave because James still isn't up.
"Making breakfast?" James asks.
Alex is slightly suprised for a moment wondering how James of all people had snuck up on him,"Made y' chocolate chip pancakes," Alex announces. James pauses blinks and smiles drowsily.
"You actually remembered last night and decided t'make me pancakes?" James asks.
"I actually remembered," Alex confirms. "Everyfing we talked about, it's still ok?" He asks. He turns the microwave on for thirty seconds to heat up the pancakes, getting out the golden syrup from the cupboard for them.
"Yeah. I think 'm still in." James says. He looks at Alex for a long, lingering moment and then walks across the kitchen, looking over the slightly deformed pancakes.
"Thanks for breakfast," Jmaes says. "I appreciate it." His voice still gruff from sleep.
"S'okay," The interaction feels so close to domestic. They're going to do this and he's terrified. He kind of needs James right at that second to steady himself.
The microwave beeps at him a few seconds later. "Pancakes are done," Alex says quietly. "Y'get first pick of them."
"So why'd you make pancakes for me?" James asks as he plucks the plate out of the microwave and selects several of the largest pancakes for himself, pouring golden syrup over them.
"I..." Alex starts out and hesitates. "I wanted t'be nice for you is all," he lies. Not a good husband for the year. Just 'nice'.
"Well, glad you wanted to be nice to me. Think it'll happen more often?" James jokes.
"Maybe," Alex agrees. Already, he's planning on what to make them for dinner. He's thinking spaghetti seeing as it's one of the few things that are actually in his flat that he can make.
God, he really doesn't know why this is so important to him but it is and he's going full-out with it.
They take their breakfasts into the lounge, Alex bringing kitchen roll with them so they can dab at their mouths when they get syrup-y, and they turn on the TV.
Eventually, Alex winds up gathering up their plates and going into the kitchen and washing everything up and when he comes back, James is busy playing Plague, Inc, having recently bought it and gotten addicted to it, as he does half the games he buys for his phone.
Smiling a little as James mutters to himself about "C'mon, infect Russia," Alex starts a load of laundry and then calls as he's pouring detergent into the little area where you pull it out to pour, "James, have any laundry? I'm already doing mine s' I'll do yours if you'd like."
"Uh, yeah. If you really want. It's in my closet." James calls back. He sounds confused and Alex can't really blame him. Alex doesn't exactly offer to do his laundry for him, well, ever.
But Alex dutifully goes into James' room and gathers the hamper of clothing and brings it out to where the washer and dryer are and sets it down as a reminder to himself when he changes out his load before returning to where James is, though now he grabs his laptop and turns it on.
James normally sits right next to Alex as they do their thing throughout the day but today, he actually keeps the space between them on the couch. It's a silent reminder that things are a little weird no matter what they do.
An hour rolls by and Alex hears the washer beep, gets up and switches out the load, throwing his in the dryer and James' in the washer, going back and picking up his laptop where he left off.
He's on Twitter and people are clamouring to post information or video from Vegas, and with a sigh, he goes to post. I'm cursed i tried to upload the footage and its corrupted he posts, a blatant lie.
James frowns a few minutes later. "Why am I getting all these people askin' me what happened in Vegas and if I have any footage if yours is corrupted?"
"Jus' ... I deleted everyfing off my phone an' camera," Alex says. "'m not uploading it. It'd jus' be a reminder of our mistake."
James frowns more sharply. "I have a bit of footage. I can upload it if you don't mind. Y'don't want any memory of what happened?"
"You do?" Alex asks, a bit more sharply than he intends.
"I mean, aside from the last night, it was pretty good. Y'didn't want to show even part of it and say just part of the footage got corrupted so there's nothing from the last night?" James asks.
"I don't want anyfing on the internet from Vegas. I don't wanna remember any of it it's jus' a fucking mess, an' if any word whatsoever gets out, we're fucked. So no, I'd prefer if you deleted it all."
"That's just going to look suspicious if word does somehow get out," James protests. Alex shoots him a very definite look of anger. "Fine, fine, I'll delete fucking all of it"
"Thanks. I know we're not endin' this for a year but still, I don't think either of us want any memory of what happened. I'm almost glad I drank so much that I don't remember shit." Alex says in frustration.
He ignores the strange look on James' face. He ignores the twist in his own stomach because he doesn't trust it to be true or not because even though he regrets getting married, he wishes he knew what it was like in a way. Just a little. He doesn't know which urge is stronger, the urge to remember or the urge to be glad he can't.
Later, he puts James' clothes in the dryer and puts away his own. He's starting to get just slightly hungry and makes a bag of popcorn, pouring half in a bowl and handing it over to Phil.
"Popcorn!" Alex says with delight. "Thanks, mate." James just nods at him and throws back a handful into his mouth, crunching down on it loudly. There's more silence between them and it's strange.
But even though this strange silence has fallen over them, he's still focused on being a good "husband". It's why he's doing James' laundry and brought him popcorn, is making him foods that James likes.
Every now and then he can see, out of the corner of his eye, James looking at him and Alex resolutely does not look up and match his gaze. He's afraid of what James might look like if he does.
Instead, he waits until the dryer goes off again and he actually folds James' clothes although he doesn't put it away - James can do that - and goes back, collects the empty bowls, washes them out despite James' protest of "I would've done that, Alex."
He wonders how much of this is sheer guilt. He feels so guilty that James has been forced into this situation. He hasn't kept a journal in years but right now, he's itching to write down all his thoughts and spill them out so they're not buzzing around in his head.
Fuck. Fuck this and fuck in general.
He closes his eyes tightly, he needs to try to make this up to James somehow as best he can.
He stays in his room, reading. He kind of wants a break from his laptop and needs space from James. Literal physical space. For the first time in three years, he doesn't miss James after not seeing him for several hours.
It's almost embarrassing that they've had days where after ten or twelve hours without seeing each other, they're actually like, "Hey, tell me what happened with you all day", and it's earnest and they genuinely missed each other, but right now, he can't be more grateful for the time apart because being near James just feels like a reminder of his mistake.
All he can think about is his mistake.
Eventually, when it's late enough that he can start dinner but early enough that James won't have ordered takeaway for them, Alex wanders into the kitchen and boils the spaghetti rummaging around in the cupboards and fridge for pasta sauce deciding on some 'meatballs with read sauce' that have not gone off yet.
James doesn't wander into the kitchen at the smell of cooking food this time and instead, Alex plates up two bowls of spaghetti and meatballs toped with a heap of cheddar, bringing them to James, who has not moved save for using the loo in the last seven hours.
"Dinner," Alex announces. It's earlier than they usually eat but his nerves are shaken and he had to do something, make sure he cooked before James ordered them takeaway
James takes it, giving him a strange look. Alex ignores it. He's going to just eat in silence and wait until James is done and then he's going to go back in the kitchen and wash up the huge amount of mess that has somehow accumulated in the process of boiling spaghetti and microwaving meatballs, take out the trash, come back in, and let the rest of the night seep by in a tired haze of frustration.
He waits until James is done, yes, and takes the plate, and he's washing up everything when Jamss comes in the kitchen, saying softly, "Alex?" and Alex ignores him, holds up a soapy hand and waves him away, intentionally spattering water towards James that's meant to make him sod off for now.
James takes the hint, as usual, and while he lingers for a moment, eventually he disappears out of the corner of Alex's vision. Alex scrubs at pans longer than necessary, until his fingers cramp around the scrubber-thing, whatever they're called, scour brushes, his brain supplies helpfully, and he squeezes it tighter as they cramp, digging into grease on the pan.
When he finally finishes cleaning up, his head has cleared and his fingers hurt.
He walks back into the lounge and James is waiting for him, on his phone, not actually paying attention, listening to Alex's steps and looking up the second Alex enters.
"What's up with you?" James asks. "You made me pancakes, you did my laundry, you made me popcorn, and you made dinner. I mean, individually, that wouldn't be a big deal, but you never do my laundry and you never make me basically everythin' I eat in a day."
Alex shrugs. "Jus' wanted to." He wants to change the topic as fast as possible.
Of course, it's never that easy. James presses on. "Alex?" His single word holds the question of "why?" and endless other words that Alex can read as easily as anything else for having lived with James this long.
"cause." Alex says, long-sufferingly, a sigh heavy on his lips. James watches him and tilts his head, purses his lips, and it's not enough for James and Alex wants to let out a tiny, strangled noise of frustration.
He chokes it back, lets out only another sigh, even longer than the first. James presses on, presses him with a single hand to Alex's thigh, lifting an eyebrow in a clear statement of what are you thinking, befuddlement on his face.
"If we're gonna do this," Alex stammers out. "I guessed it'd be nicer if I was a decent husband," and he stares at the floor and pretends like his words aren't some pathetic, shameful thing that he can barely get out.
He can tell he's bushingushing. He can feel it in his cheeks.
James shifts closer to him. It's the closest they've been all day and Alex stares at James' knee numbly. "I just figured y'might want somefing nice," Alex mumbles.
James leans into him, body warm, taking Alex in his large arms. "Y'don't have to. I mean-," and here Dan interrupts him.
"I fucked up. I got us drunk. You're married 'cause I was stupid, so the least I can do is be a decent husband for a year." Alex says.
"Alex," James says, his voice that of tired, hushed kindness, and Alex hates him a little for it. Just be angry with me, just be frustrated. Stop being unfailingly kind and supportive. Show your actual goddamn feelings, stop hiding away, his thoughts all sharp and frustrated.
He looks at James with wide, desperate eyes, as James says, "Y'don't have to do this," and Alex protests,
"I know, but yes, I do," and James sighs, reaches over and touches Alex, actually touches him, fingers through Alex's hair, pushing it up into a fluffy half-quiff, more interaction than they've had in days.
"Y'don't have to," James repeats. "We're not... I mean, we are, but it's not... it's not that big a deal." It really is, though.
Alex thinks about how important this probably is to James. He thinks about wanting to have done it right and fucking it all up. "Yeah, it is. You don't get it. But maybe you will, in time," he answers, pushing James' hand away from his hair.
It flops in his face and he peers at James under his fringe, daring him to push. Phil only offers a sigh and shoves his own fringe away, propping his face up by his forehead in his hand.
"Alex, please don't make y'self someone you're not," James says softly. "We can... it's okay, we can just ignore it," and Alex glares at him.
"Not making myself anything. Just being a good husband. Half the shit I do, I'd do anyways. So jus' let me." Alex argues. "I mean, we live together, if we filmed one of those week in the life of us, at least seventy percent of our interactions would be domestic enough. So just stop arguing, okay? Jus' let me be a decent husband."
James laughs here. It's almost bitter and simultaneously it's a James laugh, sunshine and earnest. "Alex," he answers. Biting it off at the corner of his response. "you sure?"
Alex thinks about a camera on him. He thinks of his vulnerability and everything that the future holds for the next year. He pastes a smile on his face as he pretends not to be overthinking things and finally forces out, "Yeah, I feel like I should, anyways." He holds the grin, pretending like everything is okay.
James tears at the walls, like he should have expected. "Alex, y'don't have to." His voice is soft, too careful, and it destroys Alex.
"I know, but I, I feel like I should," Alex repeats.
James sighs. "Then I will too. We can both be husbands, right?"
"Y'shouldn't have to" Dan protests. "You shouldn't have to try and be a good husband because y'didn't ask for this."
James tosses his head back and sighs wearily. "Alex," he mutters at him. "Stop feeling so guilty. This was a mistake, but guilt isn't going to fix it - it's both of our faults. What you're saying is true, but It'll just make you bitter if you're the only one putting in the effort down the road. Don't tell me it won't, I know it will."
That's probably true, Alex thinks. Most people would get bitter if they were the only person putting in effort. So he concedes to James.
"It'll just be nice," James comments. "Y'know, having someone take care of you a little, having y'take care of me more than normal. It won't change anything."
"Yea," Alex agrees. He thinks about how much effort he put into James today and when he pushes the guilt away, how nice it was to make him happy with all those things, "It was nice to know you were happy with me."
This is the stupidest-sounding conversation they've had in a long time. He's squirming away from it and James is watching him with a gentle expression on his face. It was nice to know you were happy with me, how fucking shit is that, Alex?
"Well, I appreciated it, a lot," James tells him, Alex is surprised at the flush of happiness that runs through him. Stop it, stop it, stop it, he tells himself. Stop assigning actual meaning to this, it's just for show, it's a sham marriage. Stop it.
"S'from now on, we just go about things like we would if we were actually married, save for the whole kissin' and stuff. Just how you'd take care of a spouse," James says. "It'll make things a little easier and we'll be happy an' I mean, it's nice having someone care about you. I know you care about me. And I care about you."
"Ugh, I'm done talkin' about my feelings, James. It's gross," Alex complains and James laughs all deep and relaxed and for the first time since it
"'okay," James says, letting the topic drop. "Don't feel too guilty though, We screwed up but we can fix it."
Alex makes no promises, though. He does feel guilty. He can't stop it. This doesn't change anything about that. He keeps that silent and instead he tugs his laptop over to him. "d'you wanna finish the series now?"
"Yeah," James says brightly, a smile touching his face. "okay."
So that's where they start, and that's where they end up again for the better part of the night, side by side, watching the show, and Alex can distract his mind from the fact that they're now apparently in this together as partners.
Words 3555
Think I might give up on the inconsistent dialogue thing idk just kinda hate it