Who: Christian Grey and Alyssa Hamilton, with various NPCs What: Going to a friend's wedding! When: Catalina Island Where: 3/6, Part 2 of 2 Rating/Warnings: PG-13 Status: Complete!
They’d had an enjoyable day yesterday; they’d eaten, sunned, swam, shagged, the lot. But today was the wedding, and Christian had woken up to an almost-angrily ringing phone. Not his phone.
He blinked owlishly, rubbing his eyes. Room phone. “H’lo?”
“Oh - oh, Christian, right? I’m so sorry, but your girlfriend Alyssa said to call her if I needed anything and it’s the morning of my wedding and I need something! Is she there?” The whole thing was delivered in a breathless American quiver, and Christian tried to wake up. It sounded like Annemarie was on the verge of a breakdown.
He shook Alyssa by the shoulder. “Phone.”
“Mrrph.” Alyssa sat up in bed, hair rumpled, taking the phone. “‘lo?” She was still sleepy and she sounded it, but she was rubbing her eyes to wake herself up. “Annemarie, is everything all right?”
“I’m so unbelievably sorry to even ask this, but Corinne missed the ferry, and now I only have six bridesmaids, which would normally be fine, but Martin has four brothers plus two cousins and a godfather, and to ask any of them to stand down would make them angry, and they barely know me.” Annemarie had to breathe, sounding like a sob. “I have her dress, and it’s a size eight, but you have to be only maybe a four, but if we baste it it might work - ”
Christian could hear half of it from where he was sitting, and he laid a hand on Alyssa’s shoulder as if to say If you plead being sick, I understand. This sounded like lunacy.
Alyssa sat up straighter, suddenly more awake. “Actually, I can pop out and get a hot glue gun. I’ll make the dress work, don’t you worry about a thing. Do you want me to get you anything to drink while I’m out?” She was moving, grabbing a pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt to hot glue in.
“A fifth of vodka?” Annemarie laughed, not entirely joking. “I don’t know what to say, I would never ask if I had any other options, I mean, you don’t even know me.” She sounded like she was en route to another monologue, but she managed to control it. “Just ... I’m in my sister Kaylee’s room, 616. We have everything there.”
“I’ll bring that too, I promise.” She hung up and then turned to kiss Christian. “Ta-dah, I’m a bridesmaid, long story, you should go drinking with Martin.”
“Oh?” Christian’s eyebrows shot up. “Whyever did you say yes?”
“She was about to cry, Christian, that’d just be mean. It’s not like it’ll be that bad, I’ll just help her for a few hours and change out of the horrid dress for the reception.” She smiled and put her hair up into a messy bun. “I’ll see you after the ceremony then? Ugh, I hope none of the groomsmen hit on me.”
“You’re a far nicer person than I am.” But they’d known that already, hadn’t they. “Godspeed.” Christian sketched a mock salute as she made ready to go.
She laughed and rolled her eyes as she created a portal on the door to the bathroom, disappearing in a flash of light. The afternoon passed in a haze of the promised vodka, glue gun burns, and giggling. It turned out that Alyssa and Annemarie may as well have been sisters anyway for all they had in common.
Christian just hoped that Annemarie wasn’t drunk for the ceremony. As the hour approached, he got ready, putting on a light grey suit and a navy blue pocket square. He got to the ceremony space on time, a sort of meeting hall lined with chairs. He found a seat near the front, saving an extra one as a matter of habit.
Eventually the music played, and the bridesmaids started to walk down the aisle, each on the arm of a groomsman. Alyssa’s was actually kind of gorgeous with a light brogue and a habit of making her giggle. She walked with him, smiling and holding her bouquet lightly, winking at Christian when she saw him near the front of the atrium.
Christian inclined his head as Alyssa passed, on the arm of a bloke he recognized as Martin’s poncy elder brother. She actually looked rather nice - the dress wasn’t hideous, though it did seem to hang oddly. The hair was a nightmare, but most wedding hair was. Annemarie looked beautiful, of course - a smoothly fitting dress with a simple veil and elegant dark blue flowers.
Smiling and blushing when the groomsman, Jack, winked at her as well, Alyssa took her place to stand by the rest of Annemarie’s bridesmaids, standing quietly in place and trying not to tear up. Stupid weddings.
Christian was watching Alyssa more than the wedding, even though the ceremony was rather nice. It was short and sweet, and Martin actually managed to not sound like a posh twat during his wedding vows. Alyssa was sniffling, and Christian had to smile. She was such a hard case - except, apparently, at weddings.
Thank god for waterproof eye makeup. Soon enough the bride and groom were kissing, and Alyssa was clapping giddily along with everyone else. She watched as Martin and Annemarie walked off toward the reception area. There was a cocktail hour while the area got set up, as well as a breather for everyone. Alyssa was going to use that time to get changed.
Walking over to Christian, she twirled. “Not bad for a half hour’s glueing, yeah? I’m going to head upstairs, shower my hair normal, and get dressed. You want to come with or you want to booze with your friends?” She smiled as Jack tried to get her attention, and she waved back at him which made him pretend to faint.
Christian glared at Martin’s brother, but only for a second. Then he turned back toward Alyssa. “I’ll come along,” he said. “Someone will have to zip you up, after all.”
“My hero,” she beamed, squeezing his hand. “Don’t worry, I think Jack’s just having a laugh.”
“He’s Martin’s youngest brother. He was always a bit of a joker,” Christian said. “Come on, luv, this way.” He led her out toward the elevator. “Let’s get your hair out of the nineteen-eighties.”
“God bless you, Mister Grey,” Alyssa quipped. “I have forty bobby pins holding this up. Forty. I think my scalp’s bleeding.” She laughed and leaned against Christian, not noticing Jack watching them for a moment before moving to congratulate his brother.
Eventually, Alyssa emerged from the bathroom showered, makeup’d, and her hair blowdryed. She had on her dress and borrowed Louboutins, and held her hair up for Christian to zip her. “Zip me, please?”
Christian was, if he was honest, stunned by her looking that way. He looked her up and down, sighing before moving closer. “You look lovely,” he said, almost hushed, almost quiet. He rested one hand on the back of her neck for a feathery moment, imprinting the feel into his hand, before running his hand down to zip her up.
She felt goosebumps break out upon her neck, and she bit her lip to keep from giggling. “Thank you. I thought the dress went nicely with Annemarie’s colours.” She turned around and looked up at him. “Shall we go get pissed with your mates, then?”
“I think we should.” Not too pissed. It might get painfully awkward. He offered her his arm as they went back downstairs.
The cocktail hour was still in full swing when they arrived, and Christian saw a friend that Alyssa might enjoy meeting. “Andy.” He waved, and he saw the man come over, two others trailing in his wake.
Andy turned out to be a tall, genial-faced man, with sandy hair and a basset hound smile. “Grey! Hello. And hello, miss. I’m Andy Spillane, Christian and I were suitemates at university.”
“Is this the famous John?” Christian shook the other man’s hand. To Alyssa he explained, “Andy and John have been dating since first year.”
Smiling broadly, Alyssa reached out to shake Andy and John’s hands both in turn. “And yet Christian is so pessimistic about relationships, and here’s a perfectly lovely one right in front of him. I’m Alyssa Hamilton, Christian’s friend.” She shifted her gold clutch to her dominant hand once more, admiring John’s tie. “That tie is gorgeous, where did you get it?”
“I keep waiting for the bomb to drop. That’s not a dig against either Andy or John,” Christian added, “it’s just that eventually, all things must pass.”
“Oh, quiet. He’s a grump.” Andy smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, Alyssa.”
“Likewise,” John said, a bit more quiet. “And the tie is Hermes, actually. It was a gift from my mum - she lives in Paris.”
“It’s really very stunning with your eyes,” Alyssa beamed. But then she punched Christian lightly in the arm. “You’re supposed to root for your friends, you prat!” But she was laughing as she said it, obviously fond of him.
“Ow.” Christian had to laugh. “It’s not personal, I just said. Ow. She hurts me.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.” Andy snickered.
“Oh, no, she can injure me if she sets her mind to it.” Christian laughed. Hopefully his mates would tease her and not him.
Beaming with pride, the tiny redhead smiled. “I can do a full split both ways and roundhouse kick people in the head. It’s why he keeps me around. I’m violent and limber.”
“And suddenly it all becomes clear.” Andy smirked, pausing a passing waiter and letting everyone grab glasses of wine or champagne. “He’s into that sort.”
“I admit it.” Christian shrugged. “I’ll leave the boring women to Patrick, thank you.” Andy almost choked on his wine, and Christian explained to Alyssa, pointing out a short man across the room. “That’s our mate Patrick. He married his uni sweetheart, and at first she was delightfully sweet but dull. Now she’s mad and paranoid.”
“That’s likely not entirely her fault, you know. It takes two people to tango, as well as drive people slowly mad.” Alyssa took a glass of champagne as well, glad nobody asked her for her ID. “But I’m not a therapist yet, I’m only in my first year of uni, thanks.” She waited for the mockery about Christian robbing the cradle.
Andy didn’t mock, but he did raise an eyebrow. “Does that make you ... eighteen? Cutting it close, Grey. No offense, dear,” he said to Alyssa. “Just, you must be special; normally he doesn’t even shag eighteen year olds. Thinks they’re mental.”
“She’s not mental,” Christian supplied, figuring Alyssa could speak for herself for the rest of it.
“Oh, it took a while to convince him, but I managed.” Alyssa smiled sweetly. “I think the fact I didn’t moon over him and show up every day at his doorstep like a puppy helped. I have my life, he has his, and I enjoy the moments where they intersect.” She shrugged. “I’ll be nineteen May tenth.” She didn’t mind that Christian was older, and she kind of felt her cheeks going pink because of all the flattery.
“Don’t get used to this,” Christian told her, laughing. “You’ll give her a big head, mate.”
“Maybe she deserves one, if she puts up with you,” Andy said, genially rude.
“I don’t really think there’s room for two big heads in this friendship, Christian.” Alyssa smiled sweetly up at him before tiptoeing up to kiss him on the cheek.
That got hoots from Andy and John, and Christian flushed, laughing. “No need to be a bitch, luv.”
“That’s what she said,” Andy supplied.
“Christian’s been wonderful,” she smiled. “Really. My appendix ruptured recently, and he came to see me even though he was under the weather himself.” Her smile up at him was nothing short of adoring to anyone watching.
“It was nothing.” He took a pull of the champagne, wondering when dinner might start. This was getting ... awkward.
“Did you?” Andy looked over at him. “That was good of you, Grey. He does have a heart,” he said to Alyssa, smiling. “Just buries it.”
“That’s so,” she smiled. Alyssa was drinking her own champagne when she felt a tap on her shoulder from behind. “Oh, hi, Jack!” She smiled and turned around to wave at him, amused that he wanted in on the chat fest. She wondered if he knew Christian well.
“Hello, gentlemen. Grey.” Jack winked at Alyssa before wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
“Hello.” Christian instantly knew he’d need more champagne. “Can I top you up, Alyssa? Lads?”
“No, thanks.” Andy declined, and his boyfriend shook his head. Christian went off, ostensibly in search of a waiter, but mostly to run over some pungent scenarios for telling Martin’s brother off without fisticuffs.
Andy, however, had noticed something. “Luv, are you sure you know how things are with him?” he said, looking after Christian.
Alyssa blinked, looking up at Jack. But she spoke to Andy. “I know how I’d like them to be. But I know that he has to come to things on his own. I adore Christian Grey, but if I tell him that, he’ll run away like a rabbit on fire.” Hopefully public declaration of her fondness for someone else would send Jack away.
And like a decent person, Jack cleared his throat and wandered off to find something or someone else to do.
Christian came back after a few minutes, a bit calmer, with another glass of champagne. “Sorry to indulge so much,” he said, smiling a little easier. “Parched; I’m not used to the warm air here.”
“Not to worry.” Andy inclined his head. “Good timing, though; I think things are about to start. Shall we go into the dinner hall?”
Nodding, Alyssa smiled up at Christian and straightened his tie. She took his arm and smiled at Andy. “Yeah, I could probably eat for five people. I don’t think I’ve had anything since I woke up.”
“Well, let’s get that taken care of then.” Christian might’ve taken Alyssa’s arm a little forcefully. Though he wasn’t entirely sure why.
The dinner was taking place in the same area as the reception, and even he had to appreciate how they’d decorated. The entire place was done up in greens and blues - the place looked like Ireland in summer.
Her eyes lit up and she leaned against Christian a bit more since he seemed to actually want her closer. “This is stunning,” she murmured. “After dinner, I really do want to tell Annemarie how lovely she looks. She’s really insecure about her dress, you know.”
“She looks fine. Why would she be insecure?” Christian raised an eyebrow. It was one thing to worry about one’s looks on a date, but why would she be worried at her own wedding? It wasn’t as if Martin was going to change his mind.
“Because she’s a woman, I suppose.” Alyssa smiled and squeezed Christian’s hand as they sat down.
“Silly.” Christian sat next to Alyssa, watching the lights dim. Hopefully they wouldn’t drag out all the introductions, just do the bride and groom and then they could eat.
Fortunately for Alyssa and Christian, the introductions were swift as the bride and groom were hungry as well. She smiled and applauded the new couple, beaming at how happy they seemed.
The dinner was nice, surprisingly - the food was good, and Christian enjoyed catching up with Andy and John. They had several jokes and stories that had Alyssa laughing, which made Christian more comfortable. He even gave up one bit of information that he wanted to use to make Alyssa laugh more. “So,” he said to Andy, “You’ll be pleased to hear that I’ve not been singing any folk songs lately.”
“Oh!” Andy laughed, finishing off his own champagne. “Good! No ‘Black is the color of my true love’s hair’ for Alyssa yet?”
“No.” Christian laughed. “I’ve not been that drunk since ... oh, Patrick’s wedding, I think?”
Cheerfully, Alyssa toasted Christian. “To not breaking my eardrums.” She actually sort of wanted to hear him sing terribly; she was sure it was cute.
“He’s horrid,” Andy said, grinning. “Starts caterwauling when he’s really pissed - like, falling-down pissed. Glad he’s never been that drunk in your presence, or you would have chucked him ages ago.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t chuck someone just for that. I dance terribly when I’m super pissed. Ten years of dance classes, out the window,” Alyssa laughed. “You’d think I had four left feet.”
“Is that true?” Christian looked over at her, with something even he knew was approaching fondness.
She laughed and looked down a little, cheeks hot. “Yeah, it is. Jazz and ballet. I had to do something on weekends when all my mates at school went home.”
“I just didn’t know that. Now I’ve got to put you on the spot.” Christian teased. “I’ll dance with you later, after the first dance.”
“Can you dance?” Alyssa grinned, leaning back and staring at him. She knew how pleased she looked, but didn’t really care about turning it off. If he didn’t know she adored him, he was more oblivious than she gave him credit for.
He wasn’t thinking about how she felt. He was thinking about how it was high time he admitted that he cared about her quite a lot - she was easily his closest friend, and it mattered how he looked in front of her. “I can sway.” Christian shrugged. “I suppose that isn’t jazz or ballet, but I can do that.”
“That’s about all you have to know, really,” Alyssa grinned. She took his hand and kissed a knuckle. The first dance was starting, and she really wanted to watch it. ... was that Celine Dion?
Christian turned to watch the happy couple, amused at Martin’s befuddled look. “He’s mad about her,” he said. “It’s almost nauseating.”
“His wife or Celine Dion?” Alyssa couldn’t help but snort as she laughed.
Christian rolled his eyes. “Don’t be obtuse. Martin looks as though he’s about to have some kind of attack.”
“Oh, so not Celine. That’s good.” She smiled and let her chin rest on Christian’s shoulder. “They’re meant to look that way, Christian. They’ve just been married.”
“My incredulity comes from the fact that this is Martin Rayburn, and nothing makes him happier than watching Rovers footy down the pub.” Christian said, still watching the couple, but feeling Alyssa’s presence. “Except, apparently, Annemarie.”
“I’m sure they’re tied for first place,” Alyssa smiled to herself. “He’s not completely changed.” She hoped Christian wasn’t too sad or wistful.
“Well, I hope he’s bloody well changed a bit.” Christian shot back amiably. “He’s a posh prat.” Not unlike himself. It was why they got along, he figured.
The song changed, and the mawkish pop music merged into the opening of “Embraceable You.” Christian could feel his stomach turning, roiling in his gut, but he turned to Alyssa. “Shall we?”
Smiling, Alyssa nodded and took his hand. “I always figured you’d be more of a Dean Martin fan.” It was cute, they both wished they lived in Rat Pack era LA. “Don’t worry, we can just sway.”
“Exactly. And no, Sinatra.” He was no singer, but Sinatra had the best feel to his songs. It was hard to qualify.
Christian hadn’t been on a dance floor since Patrick’s aforementioned wedding, but swaying wasn’t hard. It felt natural to be so close to Alyssa, and it was confusing. His hands rested on her tiny waist, feeling her breath intermittently against his shoulder, hands splayed on his back. It was so intimate that he felt exposed and exhibitionistic and afraid, but more than a bit proud of himself for being so bold. He wanted her nearby, and he was going to have her nearby if he could help it.
“Good taste,” she smiled. Her heels made it where she could comfortably rest her head against his shoulder, her arms up, fingers laced behind his neck. It was nice, and she closed her eyes. Just being near him, feeling his warm blood surging upward every few seconds through his chest - she just wanted this. Even if he never wanted to see her again, this moment was perfect.
He felt her relax, and while it made him want to freeze up and run, he somehow fought the impulse. Alyssa wasn’t going to start making impossible demands on him. That wasn’t the sort of person she was. Christian tried to will his hands not to sweat, feeling a flood of irritation at the complications he was now experiencing. Too many things overloading the brain. He needed to get through this, and then go grab her to have sex in a closet.
She could feel him tense up, and looked up at him. “Want to make fun of people’s haircuts?” Grinning impishly, she stroked his cheek. “Don’t worry, it won’t be as serious as this all night. Eventually everyone will be too drunk to moon over anything.”
“I do hope that includes us.” He tried to sound dry and witty, but he found himself reaching up to hold her hand. “Go shag in a closet, and then get thoroughly sloshed?”
“Sounds good to me, Christian.” She blinked when suddenly all of the women left the floor as a voice announced the garter toss. “Hopefully sooner, rather than later.”
“Well, perhaps finding a closet is in order.” Christian laughed. Alyssa stepped away from him, and he called after her, “Maybe one that’s a bit out of the way?”
As he spoke, things began to happen very fast; he heard a lot of shouting and laughing, and then something small and blue was launched at his face. Without thinking, he reacted, snapping a hand up and catching it before it hit him. What was - oh, shit, was that the garter?
She turned around and felt her jaw drop. “That doesn’t count, it was flying at your face!” She put her hands onto her hips and glared at Martin. “MARTIN THAT DOESN’T COUNT YOU TOSSER.”
Christian blinked, still a bit confused as his friend protested, laughing, saying his back had been turned and he’d tossed it over his head. “What’s it even mean, anyway?”
“It’s the male equivalent of catching the bouquet,” she winced. But then Annemarie gleefully yelled that it was her turn, and she was turning around and women were pushing into Christian and her. “Oi, harpies, watch it!”
That had to be a new record for going beet red. “But I didn’t - ”
A woman pushed him out of the way before he could finish, and Annemarie was now standing near the front of the room with her bouquet in hand. Christian could only watch the feeding frenzy in something approaching shock.
Something blue and cream coloured started to hurtle its way toward her and Christian. “Duck!” On reflex, she jumped up into the air so it wouldn’t brain the man she loved, managing to snag the bouquet and land without breaking an ankle.
Then she reacted. First, she blushed. Second, she muttered every prayer she remembered that she hadn’t broken a leg after landing in five inch Louboutins. Then she yelled.
“YOU AIMED FOR ME, ANNEMARIE, THIS MEANS NOTHING.”
Annemarie shouted back that she hadn’t, that she’d tossed it over her head, but she was still laughing.
Christian was still surprised. “Are you all right?” was his first thought, looking at Alyssa. She’d jumped bloody high in bloody high heels.
“I’m honestly shocked my ankles still work. How about you? She didn’t brain you with her floral arrangement, did she?” Alyssa gently ran her fingers over the back of Christian’s head.
“Oh, I’m fine.” Christian looked down at her. “So you caught the bouquet.” And he’d caught the garter. Definitely, they needed to go find somewhere to shag.
“Eh, I’m not superstitious,” Alyssa grinned. “All it means is that we aren’t drunk enough to have impaired reflexes.” She eyed the garter. “Think that’ll fit around my wrists a few times?”
“You’re perfect,” Christian said, with an amount of feeling that surprised even him. He took her arm and started her toward the kitchen area, feeling both confused and somehow as happy as he’d ever been.