*Sections have been taken from the book for a bit of context. (Therefore not owned by me)

This is based on books (I kind of hate that I have to specify that now) so June is included (as she should have been in the movie)

Alex is given all of three hours to mourn the loss of the Christmas tree before the chaos starts.

Every year this happens and every year he's surprised by the transformation and the army of ant-workers that create the dance floor, marquee, bar, lights, music system, red carpet photoshoot location and gods know what else.

Well... Nora knows what else, considering she and his sister June planned most of this.

That being said, there is still the menu to finalise, Snapchat filter to approve, and Alex finds himself on boxing day holed up in the Social Secretary's office with June. They're going over an endless pile of waivers they've gotten for everyone to sign after last year's fiasco.

Not only had Alex thrown up on a boyband member but a daughter of a Real Housewife had fallen down the rotunda stairs last year; Alex remains impressed that she didn't spill her margarita.

It's time once more for the Legendary Balls-Out Bananas White House Trio New Year's Eve Party.

Technically, the title is the Young America New Year's Eve Gala, or as named by at least one late-night host, the Millennial Correspondents' Dinner. Every year, Alex, June and Nora fill up the East Room on the first floor with three hundred or so of their friends, vague celebrity acquaintances, former hookups, potential political connections, and otherwise notable twenty-something.

The party is, officially, a fundraiser. And it generates so much money for charity and so much good PR for the First Family that even his mom approves. Christ even Zahra begrudgingly accepts its presence.

Alex on the other hand wants to love the event.

Well, that's a bit of a lie, he does enjoy partying, the music and lights and dancing, especially when he's drunk enough not to panic at the flashing lights and loud noises. But there's always that god awful overwhelming fireworks display that he dreads every year since he first experienced it.

His moms first election year had been terrifying, their first Fourth of July party equally so. He had been on edge all night, flinching at cameras and music until finally it all bubbled over at the fireworks display.

Psychologically he latched onto that– according to his therapist that is – which is what makes it the worst and best night of the year. Alex is so fixated on panicking over the fireworks that he barely concentrates on the other details. Which had translated from the Fourth of July to the New Year's Eve Party.

He's gotten better over the years. Better enough that he can relax during the parties, act normal and pretend though he's never fully got to enjoy himself just yet. Maybe this will be the year he gets to forget about the panic.

Alex still remembers being infuriated by his therapist, down right pissed off at discovering anxiety over anxiety was a thing.

Anxiety over anxiety.

As in you start worrying about social events because you're worried you're going to have a panic attack at the event. Suffering twice for no apparent reason other than his brain said so. Which is just fabulous.

"Um, excuse me," Alex is saying from a first-floor conference table, one hand full of confetti samples – do they want a metallic colour palette or a more subdued navy or gold, or apparently anything other than Alex suggested Howl's moving Castle theme – while staring at a copy of the finalised guest list. June and Nora stuff their faces with cake samples he's not privy to. "Who put Henry on here?"

Nora says through a mouthful of chocolate cake, "Wasn't me."

"June?"

"Look, you should have invited him yourself!" June says by way of admission. "It's really nice you're making friends who aren't us. Sometimes you get too isolated, you start to go a little crazy. Remember last year when Nora and I were both out of the country for a week, and you almost got a tattoo?"

That and the actual mental breakdown he had. The one Cash and Amy were sworn to secrecy about.

When he said he was improving he hadn't meant a linear process, there were still bad days or rather bad weeks, as there most likely would always be.

"I still think we should have let him get a tramp stamp."

"It wasn't going to be a tramp stamp," Alex says hotly. "You were in on this, weren't you?"

"You know I love chaos." Nora tells him serenely.

"I have friends who aren't y'all," Alex says.

"Who, Alex?" June says. "Literally who?"

"People," He says defensively. "People from class! Liam!"

"Please. We all know you haven't talked to Liam in a year," June says. "You need friends. And I know you like Henry."

"Shut up," Alex says. He brushes a finger under his collar and finds his skin damp. Do they always have to crank the heat up this high when it's snowing outside?

"This is interesting." Nora observes.

"No it's not," Alex snaps but catches a look from June that immediately reminds him of their conversation last week.

"So what did Nora say?" June queries barely looking up from her book.

"What?"

"Nora." June looks up now, arching a brow at his confused depression before glancing at the phone in his hand. "I assumed you were texting her."

"Eh, no."

"Oh, I figured it was her, you never talk to anyone else about this crap."

This crap being the shit show of their 'family' christmas dinner. Every year without fail an argument starts, or a debate when Rafael Luna gets invited, or occasionally a family therapy session when someone wants to reminisce on Alex and June's trauma-filled teenage years.

Unfortunately for the two of them, Zahra and Rafael don't have kids and Leo, his step dad, was all too keen to take Alex and June on. Which means instead of the weird divorced situation in life which resulted in three parents they now have five.

Because even if Zahra and Rafael, or even Amy and Cash, claim to be less than Aunts and Uncles they're happy to relay foolish stories, part wisdom and slap out punishments.

"Oh," Alex says. He feels inexplicable, traitorous warmth flash up the back of his neck. "Oh, um, no. Actually, this is going to sound weird, but I was talking to Henry?"

June's eyebrows shoot up, and Alex instinctively scans the room for cover. "Really?"

"Listen, I know, but we kind of weirdly have stuff in common and, I guess, similar weird emotional baggage and neuroses, and for some reason I feel like he would get it."

"Oh." June sags a little and guilt tugs at his heart. He never talks about this kind of thing with June. "I thought y'all hated each other."

"We hated what we represented for each other, and we weren't exactly friendly at first either way." Alex feels the need to explain himself, to appease his older sister. "Besides, he's a removed party, ya know, separate from this place."

She nods to herself, looking at Alex as if she can see something he can't.

"So you told him about Christmas."

He clears his throat, "Yeah."

"You didn't tell me what happened." There's no accusation in her voice but he feels guilty either way.

"June–"

"You made a friend Alex." She interrupts with forced glee. "Oh I'm so excited for you!"

"Oh, fuck off June."

"Fine, he can come. But if he doesn't know anybody else, I'm not babysitting him all night."

"I gave him a plus-on," June says.

"Who is he bringing?" Alex asks immediately, reflexively. Involuntary. "Just wondering."

"Pez," She says. She's giving him a weird look he can't parse, and he decided to chalk it up to June being confusing and strange. She often works in mysterious ways, organises and orchestrates things he never sees coming until all the threads come together.

So, Henry is coming, he guesses. Which fine. Completely fine.

They hadn't seen each other in months but, well, they had certainly spoken enough to make up for it. Alex couldn't remember how it happened. One moment it was the odd meme and silly photo spread out across weeks. The next it was daily chats, arguments, debates and – bizarrely – late night calls.

Alex was always up late, burning the midnight oil which worked brilliantly for Henry's early morning meetings. He was five hours ahead of Alex, which made for some interesting phone call when Alex was sleep deprived delirious and Henry was full of bleary eyed morning brain fog.

But Henry was coming to America, so they would be in the same time zone for once. Together, at Alex's party. The one he loves to dread. Oddly, he doesn't panic at the thought of Henry being there. A potential witness to the shitshow of Alex's emotional state.

Maybe it's the snippets he's shared of himself, of June and Nora. Of the childhood he had and the one he was robbed of.

Alex doesn't talk about the shooting often. He had in his mother's first year at office. There was a stricter gun law bill going through, not a total ban but a step in the right direction. It was a tough pass but made easier by the fact they were targeting sub-machine guns, primarily any weapon that was military grade from being placed in the hands of every day citizens.

Richards had jumped at the chance to argue back. To claim they were stepping on American's rights. That they were taking away people's ability to defend themselves. And thus ensued months of fake, bullshit, scenarios that would never come to fruition but the fearful citizen believed, and therefore believed they needed to defend themselves from the potential terrorist attack that would hit a suburban neighbourhood and target the children.

Not like there were much more devastating targets they could hit a lot more easily. Except that wasn't a good point to argue in politics.

But with Henry. He still didn't talk about it but when he got the urge to bring it up, or when another shooting happened and he wanted to scream at the world, he stopped fighting the urge to stay quiet.

Henry was removed from the situation, like he told June. He was burdening his family with his problems, he was trusting Henry to listen and keep quiet about what he says. And the Prince had.

He had let him ramble about gun bills and never pointed out why Alex was so passionate about it. When Alex heard about another shooting in his home town and got smashed drunk Henry let him drunkenly sob over the phone – and managed to get Shaan, to get Amy, to get him his favourite coffee and donut for breakfast. And when Henry wanted to scream at how infuriatingly privileged his family was Alex let, he didn't contradict the Prince or point out that Alex knew first hand what it was like to not be white and rich, he let the prince rant at how naive they were about basic things. Alex let Henry vent, in vague terms, about his grandmother being a racist old bat or, in his words, 'of a generation' that is nearly long past.

When June gets brought up in conversation Henry is happy to bring up his own sister, Beatrice. Henry barely gets out a Bea always says–' and Alex is agreeing with a 'god, June never shuts up about that–'

Friends isn't how he would have described them but, well, June did have a point– didn't she?

They were technically doing all things friends do, best friends do, he could still hear Nora's mocking voice. He couldn't decide if she was poking fun at Alex's naivety regarding his friendship or the media's portrayal of them as best friends long before they ever were.

But, Henry isn't Alex's best friend– that's Nora– and Alex isn't Henry's best friend – that would be Pez– as confirmed by the Instagram post the day of the party.

It's a post from Pex of him and Henry on a private jet. Pez's hair has been dyed a pastel pink for the occasion, and besides him, Henry is smiling in a soft looking grey sweatshirt, his socked feet up on the windowsill.

He actually looked well rested for once.

USA bound! #YoungAmericaGala2019 Pez's caption reads.

Alex smiles despite himself and texts Henry.

ATTN: will be wearing a burgundy velvet suit tonight. Please do not attempt to steal my shine. You will fail and i will be embarrassed for you.

Henry texts back seconds later.

Wouldn't dream of it.

God, why did he always seem to sound just a little smug and haughty.

From there everything seems to speed, almost at an overwhelming pace as a hairstylist is wrangling him in the Cosmetology Room, and he gets to watch the girls transform into their camera-ready selves. It's always a marvelous site.

A long experience but well worth the wait.

It's always fascinated him, the way June and Nora could put on a layer of makeup and become different people. They'd pinned him down once and forced him to try it out but he hadn't liked it as much as he thought he would. Granted it would have been an odd thing to like but–

It was the protective layer it offered. A mask for two of the most important people in life to wear. He liked it because then the three of them could just be them in private. With no makeup or Nora's short curls swept to one side with a silver pin. No June dressed in a plunging Zac Posen gown in a shade of midnight blue that perfectly compliments the navy-and-gold colour palette they chose.

Just them, the three kids who eat ice cream in bed, dressed in ratty old pyjamas as they watch parks & recreations for the hundredth time.

But through it all, as Nor and June are pinned down and Alex is left to his own devices he finds himself texting Henry.

HRH Prince Dickhead 💩

Are you and Pez nearly here?????

So eager to see me?

Alex rolls his eyes.

Stuck with June and Nora as the fairy godmother work their magic.

Send pics.

Sorry, Pez wants to see.

No.

He wouldn't be sharing them when they're not... press ready, not to strangers. But No sounded a little harsh so–

They'd kill me.

Coward

A pause, long enough that Alex almost fears they've stopped talking so soon. But then a typing bubble pops up, and then disappears before reappearing again.

What type of party is this, exactly? I've not been sentenced with an invite before.

It's certainly not one of your ballroom monstrosities.

I saw the way you were making mooncalf eyes at the Downton Abbey events.

Think of it as more of a disco, loud music all night, no speeches or formal dancing. Lots of tables spread out with snacks, various couches and dance floors.

*sofas

Plus some famous DJ guy that I didn't get to pick.

And an open bar.

Which is our main selling point.

Wonderful, glad to know that I will need to be considerably drunk for this to be enjoyable.

Alex huffs loud enough that both of his girls turn to look at him, eyebrows raised and questions in their eyes. He mouth a silent sorry, shrugging a little before sinking further down in the sofa he had commandeered.

Surely Pez knows what I'm talking about.

Oh he does, I just started tuning him after the 20 minute mark.

He's pining after your sister.

Absolutely not.

I don't think that's your choice.

I invited him... to MY party.

You actually invited me and then I brought Pez for emotional support.

??????

Why would you need emotional support?????

Americans.

Fuck off.

You were the one who texted me dear.

Something traitorous flutters in delight at the teasing and pet names. One that Alex ignores and decides to put the phone down in defiance of his nerves. Stupid Henry getting him all riled up when he was supposed to be supportive.

Alex winces, he hadn't exactly done a good job of pointedly saying 'I'm stressed, distract me' but Henry seemed to do that anyway and before he knew it, it was eight and guests were arriving.

The liquor starts flowing and Alex orders a middle-shelf whiskey to get things going. There's live music starting up, a pop act that owes June a personal favour, and they're covering "American Girl" right now, so Alex grabs June's hand and spins her onto the dance floor.

First arrivals are always the first-time political types: a small gaggle of White House interns and most notably to Alex, the daughter of a first-term senator with a punk rock-looking girlfriend who Alex makes a mental note to introduce himself to later on. Then, the press team's political invites, and lastly, the fashionably late– minor to mid-range pop stars, teen soap actors, children of major celebrities.

Alex is just starting to wonder when Henry's going to make his appearance, when June appears at his side and yells, "Incoming!"

For a second Alex finds himself reeling back, bewildered by the large explosion of colour that turns out to be Pez's bomber jacket. Alex swallows down his nerves, shaking off the flicker of panic.

Instead a new feeling takes over. Alex all but gets hit with a sledge hammer as he truly realises it's the first time he's seen Henry in person since the weekend in London and the hundreds of texts and weird in jokes and late-night phone calls that came after, and it almost feels like meeting a new person.

They know more about each other now. He knows more about Henry, understands him better, and he can appreciate the rarity of a genuine smile on the same famously beautiful face.

It's a weird cognitive distance, Henry present and Henry past. That must be why something feels so restless and hot somewhere beneath his sternum. That and the whiskey.

Henry's wearing a simple dark blue suit, but he's opted for a bright coppery-mustard tie in a narrow cut. He spots Alex, and his smile broadens, giving Pez's arm a tug.

Alex finds himself grinning. Delighted in having the prince's full attention, at having him smile brighter for him and only him. It's exhilarating, knowing that there's now another person in life who searches for him in a crowded room.

He liked it.

"Nice tie," Alex says as soon as Henry is close enough to hear over the crowd.

Thank god you're here, is what he had wanted to say as something eases in his chest and relaxes at having someone in 'the know' around him. There was less pressure to not panic now. Henry had listened to his rambles and had even been an unknowing conversationalist by his side during a panic attack.

He wouldn't need to worry about Henry's reaction, though he knew he would.

"Thought I might be escorted off the premises for anything less exciting," His voice is somehow different than Alex remembers. Deeper and like very expensive velvet, something moneyed and lush and fluid all at once.

Distantly he remembers listening to Henry ramble. Letting him talk for hours and hours about whatever book had caught his fancy during their late night talks. Late night for Alex at least, early morning for Henry. But it had always soothed Alex enough to calm down and eventually fall asleep.

Even Zahra had picked up on the occasional lack of eye bags gracing his face.

"And who is this?" June asks from Alex's side.

"Ah, my apologies." Alex rolls his eyes at Henry formalities but still a grin fights it's way onto his face. "June, I would like you to meet my best mate, Percy Okonjo."

Henry punctuates the statement with one of those bro-slaps on Pez's back. The man in question grins, eye flicking up and down June in a way that has Alex bristling.

"Call me Pez," He holds out a hand in greeting, completely ignoring Alex for June. "Like the sweet."

His sister grins, a sultry thing that Alex has the disgusting ability to recognise as one of her tried and true flirting techniques. That's all the warning he gets before June is taking Pez's hand and the pair are twirling off onto the dance floor.

"Well-" Alex trails off, arching an eyebrow after the pair before glancing to Henry. "He could have at least asked permission."

"What is this? The 1800s?"

"Pretty sure they still needed permission in the 1900s." Alex states randomly and for a second panics that he's said the wrong weird history thing to a history nerd but Henry is waving him off with an amused huff.

"World Wars tend to change things, not enough men around to bother asking... and by the time they were back women were sick of not being equals when they had proven themselves capable."

"Huh. Makes a lot of sense." Alex says unintelligently and Henry eyes him curiously and then eyes the drink in his hand.

"How much have you had to drink already?"

"Excuse me?" Alex straightens up, bewildered and more than a little offended.

Henry's expression stiffens imperceptibly, smoothing out into that perfect press ready face.

"You're a little out of sorts."

Alex pauses, ready to start an argument and regretting thinking that Henry would be anything other than pompous and judgemental until he pauses. Pauses and actually thinks about Henry's words. At the underlying concern they held.

Alex sighs, shoulders sagging a fraction as he stops bullshitting. It's Henry for god's sake, the man is so fucking caring that it's irritating.

"Just on edge." He rolls his eyes at Henry's now openly curious face. The press mask is nowhere to be seen now that Henry knows he doesn't have to emotionally defend himself from another... well Alex supposes another Bea situation, which roughly translates into a friend with bad coping mechanisms. "I'll settle down soon but I'm always a wreck at this stupid event."

Henry frowns, "I thought you were excited for this party."

"I was excited for you to get here," Alex counters, not thinking through the words or the way Henry's mouth parts in surprise. "It was nice seeing this event through your eyes, someone else's eyes, rather than mine. Reminded me it could be fun."

"Why wouldn't it be fun?" Henry queries, focus completely on Alex despite the many clingers trying desperately to get closer to the pair and hear their conversation.

Alex shrugs, "I don't like fireworks."

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･

"10!"

"9!"

The crowd roars.

"8!"

Henry links arms with him, all soft eyed and drunken smiles.

"7!"

The noise builds to a deafening crescendo. A strong glow emanates from the lights behind them. Each light beam darting around inside the gazebo, while the guests take up residence outside.

"6!"

Alex sways side to side, Henry moving with him as they chant along with the rest of the crowd. Distantly he can hear someone calling his name. Alex dismisses it, waving it off as an excited party goer wanting his attention.

Spoiler– it was June. A very worried June.

"5!"

What the hell are you doing?

The words reach him muffled, as if through a fog. Alex smiles, confused by his sister's worried expression. He pitches forward, only saved by Henry stabilising him as Alex looms over his older sister.

Are you okay!

June calls over the noise, anger laying way to concern.

"4!"

Obviously he's fine.

It's a party, everyone is having fun and he has Henry by his side. Of course he's doing good. Except the more he tries to focus on June the dizzier his head gets. Which makes little sense because Alex limited himself to a few drinks.

He knows Henry did the same.

Then it's not the alcohol in his system, well it probably is a contributor, but the lights and the noise and the counting. All of it has begun to overwhelm him.

He's fine! A voice calls, giggling at his side. We've been having a great time.

Good for you. June all but snaps at the prince before turning that glare on Alex. Alex!

"3!"

He doesn't feel so good. The world starts spinning a little, the light blurring into one mess. The crowd jostles, shoving him against Henry who grips him tighter, almost curling Alex into his side.

Alex? He thinks it's June, reaching out for him. Let's go somewhere else.

That's probably a good idea. He can feel himself trembling, a build up of emotions. He's been on edge all night, it was only a matter of time before it blew up in his face.

Alex, listen to your sister. We should go somewhere quieter.

God he must look a bit of a mess if even Henry is stepping in. He's being led somewhere, most likely back into the White House. Surprisingly Henry is still with him but June is nowhere in sight.

"2!"

Alex turns back towards the sound, ignoring Henry's gentle protests. The prince tries to turn him around, stopping him from looking at the impending fireworks

"1!"

The sky explodes into colour.

A/N: Okay... so I got a little distracted with the background information rather than the actual plot but the hurt/comfort panic attack scene will be in the next chapter. Please feel free to comment any suggestions or ideas you would like to see.