Prince Charming's Prince Charming

Alan's reply was cause for Henry to blush, his face turning hot rather quickly at the thought of what Alan was insinuating. He bit his lip and typed a reply quickly. "@Alanashby I'm sure you'd like that, yeah? Maybe if I can slip away from work, I'll come see you." He genuinely wanted to meet this man, and he had for a while. He'd never thought that it could become reality, though. Sure, he was the prince, but it wasn't all crowns handed to him on silver platters, and he still got excited about things that normal people got excited about. Just the thought of spending a few hours backstage with the other man made him grin with a giddy joy.

Henry read the response with a quiet laugh and said, "@Alanashby soon enough. As for now, I'm right knackered. I'll talk to you later." He sent the tweet without a second thought and pulled his blankets around him in a tight cocoon. The warmth seeped into his body and he let his eyelids flutter closed, ready to awaken to new morning, though part of his brain was waiting to see if Alan would reply again. He hoped so, but he refused to allow himself to get to excited over it. He did, after all, say goodbye. It left the conversation open ended so Alan could respond if he wanted to.

Henry was to far gone by the time that Alan tweeted back to even hear the phone vibrate against the night stand. It was a pleasant enough thing to wake up to in the morning, and it didn't fail to leave the prince with a wide, giddy smile. He stood and rifled through the clothes he brought. After a shower, he walked downstairs wearing a snug gray shirt and some black jeans. He yawned and grabbed an apple from the table, ignoring the cooks who asked what he wanted for breakfast. His feet carried him outside, to the pretty garden. A slender finger hit the on button of the stereo as he walked by, the radio suddenly breaking the early morning calamity. He weaves through the cobblestone paths of his mother's garden, though it could hardly be called that. She came out maybe once a month to see that nothing was wrong. Henry visited it the most, liking the solitarity that came with his brief rendezvous into the gated in acre.

Henry absently let the music hit him, but it was obvious that he was more focused on the daisies in front of him. Daisies were his favorite flower, always had been. In the beginning, when everyone was still processing the shock of his coming out, Henry's mum had ordered that the patch of daisies be taken out. It was a ludacris demand. She blamed the daisies for her son's sexuality, in a roundabout sort of way. When Henry and Elizabeth were young, he would craft crowns from the flexible willow branches and weave daisies into the braids of branches. The two would bound about the garden, pretending to be adventurers. He was a child then, so it didn't seem at all weird. Children do odd things that don't always fit the gender norm, and it was accepted because they were too young to know the difference. Since she had begun to accept her son, his mother had allowed them to re-plant his favorite flowers, upon his request.
"Morning, Henry," a sing song voice said. "You know, you haven't made flower crowns in a long time," she added, noticing the nostalgic way he was looking down at the flowers. "You should wear 'em again. They suited you, you know."
Henry let out a snort of laughter. His sister was absolutely mad. It was common knowledge to know that the Prince's parents obviously weren't comfortable with his sexuality, though they were speaking to their son again. He wasn't in the mood to do anything that could agitate them. "Maybe when mum and da decide that their okay with me being gay."
"They're gonna have to get used to it, the way you and Alan are shamelessly flirting on Twitter. It's not like they're blind to the media, Hen. They're gonna find out whether you want them to or not," she reprimanded. "Now make yourself a dammed crown!"

Henry held up his hands in defense, a gentle smile playing on the corners of his lips. He walked over to where his sister was as he said, "Only if I you'll wear one, too." she rolled her eyes and took one of his hands in both of her tiny ones, dragging him over to the big, graceful willow tree of which was perched over a stone bench.
Between the two of them, it only took a couple minutes to procure enough branches for Henry to start his work. Using one of his sister's earrings, he made small pinholes in both end of three branches. He managed to slide a smaller twig in to hold one end of the branches together. While Elizabeth held the end, he delicately braided the willow branches. At the end, he pulled a thread from the hem of his shirt and tied the two ends together. He repeated the process for the second crown. Then, his sister drug him through the garden, pointing at the flowers she wanted in hers. He laughed, plucking each one and weaving it into the braids. His was just daisies, innocent and clean.
Lizzy put her own crown on, but she ordered her brother to kneel, using a regal voice. She, exaggerating her accent, said, "I dub thee, Finnegan Wolfbane, Lord of these lands! I present thee with a crown woven by our master artisans, using only the country's purest materials." With her old speech, the one she had memorized at age five, she placed the crown on his quaffed hair. It sat in the bronze locks delicately, and he looked up at her from under her lashes. "Alan sure is a lucky man to hold your fancy," she said, complimenting her big brother.

Henry stood, his eyes twinkling with happiness in a child-like way, as he grabbed his sister's hands. The two waltzed around the garden, him twirling her expertly while his deft feet skipped over barriers. He had a natural fluidness when it came to dancing. Then, at the lowest point in the dip, he said, "Alan doesn't hold my fancy. He's just very fit, and if you don't stop teasing me, I'll pummel your face in."
"Then why'd you turn on the radio. I know you went to the concert last night, and Alan is supposed to be announcing what lucky fan gets to spend the whole day with him. I know you're just praying that you won, aren't you," she said in a dangerously calm voice.
Henry's cheeks flushed crimson and he pulled his sister up to her feet, dropping her hands quickly. He turned and weaves his way down pathways until he reached the stone bench. He couldn't deny the truth. He'd love to spend the day with Alan, and he was hoping he'd have the chance.

As the song pulled to a close, the DJ's eyes drifted up to where Alan was standing. The baby blues lit up in recognition, and he held up a finger as if to signal for one second. When the final chord of the song ended, he pulled the mic up to his slightly chapped lips. A clear voice said, "That was Madness by Muse. I just looked up, and it looks our special guest, Alan Ashby, has just arrived. Once they get him set up with a mic, we can do a quick talk about last nights gig and then announce the winner."
A young lady ushered Alan to the seat next to the DJ, whispering where he was to sit down. She then ran off to turn on his mic.
"So, Alan, I'm sure it's getting annoying to hear this, bu I promised my wife I'd ask. You and the Prince have been talking an awful lot about each other, but you've never talked to each other since last night. Henry snuck into your gig in Manchester to see you guys play. Did you know beforehand, or was it a surprise to you?" he asked.

"Well, I'm sure he would've loved that!" the DJ responded cheekily. "And my wife also showed me the tweets from last night. That was a pretty interesting conversation that the pair of you had." He glanced at the clock, knowing that they were short on time since Alan had shown up a bit late. "Well, I'd love to chat some more with you, but we're pressed for time this morning, so we'll just get straight to the drawing."
He pulled out the box full of papers. The band's manager had dropped it off after the concert so that Alan didn't have to lug it to the studio with him when he went in for the radio interview. The DJ then said, "this is it... The moment all of you fans have been waiting for. Go ahead and draw someone, Alan, so they can pick a band member to steal away for the day."
***
Henry was listening to the radio intently now, completely enthralled in Alan's voice. He even blushed at the comment that the singer had made, slightly flattered that he knew Henry's favorite song. He was nearly bursting with anticipation as he waited for Alan to pick a name. The possibility of a day with the other man was killing him.

"Well, we all know which band member the prince will be picking," the DJ winked. "But you should call him up just in case he isn't listening. He'd be shattered to find out he won after the day was up, yeah?"
Rigged or not, the DJ thought it to be the darnedest thing. Though amusement was the emotion most outwardly present on Alan's face, the other man could take not of the undertone of anticipation that flitted freely over his features. You'd have to be blind not to know that the two were crushing on each other, and you'd have to be heartless not to find it adorable that they'd have a chance to spend the day together.
***
"Henry, you won..." Elizabeth said in utter disbelief. After a second, she repeated, "You won, Henry!"
He just sat there, staring at the radio with a blank look on his face. Nerves fluttered through his system like a rave of butterflies, and his mind was racing. He didn't know how to act. He wouldn't have any idea what to say. He was terrified that he would make a fool out of himself as soon as he saw Alan. He'd always been good around famous people, but Alan was quite a different story.
Lizzy grumbled something under her breath before dragging her brother inside and upstairs. She sat him on his perfectly made, white, king sized bed. Then, she moved to his closet, pulling out hanger after hanger and tossing them on the ground. She threw a handful of things at Henry.

Henry felt his phone vibrating against his thigh, causing another jump start of nerves to shake through his bones. He fumbled around in his pocket before managing to pull the fancy phone to his ear and press answer. "Uhmm... Hello?" he said in his slightly raspy voice, the welsh accent rolling off his tongue naturally. He nearly cringed at the sound of his own voice, finding it completely unattractive.
His sister was replacing the clothes in his closet, straghtening the clothes on the hangers and placing them in their proper spot. She rolled her eyes at his obvious nervousness and mouthed that he had to finish getting dressed before he could even think about leaving.

"Really? That's... Uhmm, great," he mumbled. This earned a smck on the back of his head from his sister. Sure, she understood that he was kind of a shy person, but this was ridiculous. He didn't even sound excited even though she knew he was. He just didn't know how to talk when he got nervous. It would be cute to watch him stumble over his words, but it was too painful. Elizabeth prompted him (in a rather violent manner) to add, "When are you going to pick me up?" There was confidence in that statement, an edge of flirtiness. The anxious nerves weren't completely hidden, though. It was clear enough who he had chosen for his day out.

Henry chewed on his bottom lip, mulling over the other man's words before finally replying, "Eight sounds good. I'll see you soon, then." His face was slightly red with embarrassment at the comment, and he was glad that Alan couldn't see him at that moment. After he hung up, he sttempted to dress himself quickly. He didn't have all that much time to get ready. He pulled on his weather-beaten gray Docs and tied them in a neat bow. He then wrapped a scarf loosely around his neck, aware of the cold weather, and pulled on his old, black, leather coat. the collar was lined with some sort of faux fur. When he looked in the mirror, he sighed, pulling the crown off his hair and replacing it with a dark gray fedora. It was older, one that his grandpa bought him at a second hand store.