Christian Grey (heartsnflowers) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2014-04-08 22:14:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, alyssa hamilton, christian grey |
Who: Alyssa Hamilton and Christian Grey
What: Alyssa's dream comes true, and Christian finds a pair
When: 4/5
Where: Christian's flat
Rating/Warning: PG
Status: Complete
It had been almost a solid week of Christian owning a cat, and while it had been going mostly well, he hadn’t been able to look at little Lady without seeing that pretentious twat of a vet. And Alyssa sticking his number into her handbag.
It was his day off today, and he’d spent it so far setting up a playpen of sorts for the kitten. She had food and water in it, her litter pan, and a few toys he and Alyssa had bought. His flat still wasn’t cat-proof enough to let her have the run of the place, but she had most of the living room now, and she seemed to be managing. Alyssa hadn’t come over in a day or two, but he figured she was just busy with all the difficulties going on lately. He knew she’d known someone who’d died in the bombing. He’d thought about ringing her up, but didn’t want to look needy.
After packing a tote bag filled with the ingredients she’d need to cook them both supper, Alyssa teleported over to Christian’s. She knew it was his day off, but he often went for a jog around this time of day, so she thought he’d not be home. Even so, it was rude to just show up, so she called out to see if he was home. If he was, she’d ask if it was all right; if not, she’d simply go home.
“Christian?” Are you here?” Her voice rang out and she heard a mew in the living room. Grinning, she ran over, still barefoot (because why put on shoes when you were just going to teleport?) and scooped up the kitten. “Hello, my darling Lady!”
Oh, God. “In here.” He walked into the living room to see Alyssa pick up the cat and nuzzle its little stomach. “Good thing she doesn’t scare easy.” Indeed, the cat was purring, the little traitor.
“She likes everyone, she’s the opposite of her daddy.” Alyssa smiled brightly at Christian, and for a moment she knew that she looked as in love with him as she really was. But she also didn’t really know how to turn it off. Thank god Christian seemed sort of oblivious.
Christian made a face. “People don’t piss her off like they piss me off. How are you?” She looked happy. Maybe she’d rung up the bloody veterinarian. Maybe she’d shagged him the other night. Oh, fuck.
“I’m good! I brought some things over to make you dinner. Do you have plans tonight?” She hoped he didn’t. She always hoped he didn’t. “If not, I can make you supper and we can watch a film on Netflix.”
“No, no plans. That’d ... be very kind of you, really.” He was somehow more aware of the nice things she did for him now. She went out of her way, didn’t she?
Leaning over to kiss him on the cheek, she handed off the kitten before moving to her tote bags. “What kind of film are you in the mood for? I think we could use laughs tonight.” She sighed a little as she watched him cradling the kitten. Life was unfair; it had handed her this amazing man who was oblivious to her adoration. Great.
“That works for me.” Christian took Lady back, petting her ears before putting her down. “Thank you.” It felt stilted, but he managed to smile. He didn’t want to make it a big deal; she might just have had a coffee date with the bloke. Maybe she hadn’t even gone out with him yet, for all he knew.
He took a breath. “What did you bring? Is there anything I can help with?”
“You can hand me things, if you like. Thought I’d make Lancashire hotpot, something super easy.” She moved to put her hair up, twining it a bit before securing it into a low bun with an elastic. “You can keep me company, if you like?”
“Lancashire hotpot is easy?” Christian raised an eyebrow. The way she’d twisted her hair was even pretty. God, what was happening to him?
Grinning, she looked over at him. “It’s actually one of the first things I learned how to cook. Want me to show you?” She took out some lamb wrapped in butcher’s paper followed by the onions and potatoes, getting everything prepared and in place before actually starting any cooking. But she noticed he was staring at her. “What? Do I have something on my face?” She swiped at a cheek with the back of her hand.
“No, nothing. Sorry. Was thinking and zoned out.” It was at least half true. “I would’ve guessed that the first thing you learnt to cook was something like eggs or pasta.” Simple things. Lancashire hotpot had steps.
“I figured if I learned something more complex than pasta, it’d serve me in actually learning to cook pasta. Besides, I had pasta constantly at school, I wanted something that had flavors.” She took out a pan and drizzled olive oil into it, getting ready to fry off the lamb.
“Fair, I suppose.” Christian watched as she put lamb into the pan. “It smells brilliant.” He heard a yowl from the living room and had to laugh. “Not for you, luv. At least not right away.” Bless that cat. He’d never felt awkward in front of her before. It was starting to bother him, but how to make it go away? Have an even more awkward conversation?
“That’s just the lamb,” Alyssa laughed. She’d breaded it a bit with flour before frying it, and was mincing onion with steady hands. “Maybe she can have a wee bit when it’s cooked. I’m sure raw lamb is hard on little tummies.”
“Well, the lamb smells brilliant, then.” Christian said, inwardly sighing at himself. “I’m sure cooked lamb would be fine. She does like meat - the wet cat food I’ve been feeding her is almost all chicken.”
“That’s so,” she replied, focusing on chopping carrots. She smiled back at him, wondering what he was thinking about. He seemed pensive somehow, and she wished she could help. “Everything all right? You just look preoccupied.” Her assumption was work problems.
“I’m fine.” Christian smiled a little more. She did worry about him, and for once, it wasn’t irritating. She didn’t want to mother him; she just worried. Simple as that.
He forced himself to focus. “What’ve you been up to lately?”
“Nothing special. I’ve been reading this really brilliant biography about Edward the seventh.” She dumped the carrots and onions into the pan, stirring a little. “God, I’m the most boring person known to man.”
“I wouldn’t say that.” Maybe she’d gone out with the pretentious twat the day before. Who knew. She wasn’t boring. Anyone with a brain could see that. And at least the veterinarian had a brain, so he knew she was lovely and intelligent. And maybe they’d enjoyed themselves. And maybe shagged.
Christian couldn’t take it anymore. It just slipped out. “You didn’t bin his number.”
“Hmm?” She was still stirring, and the question had come out of left field. She didn’t know if she’d heard it correctly anyway. What number?
“That fucking vet’s number.” Christian closed his eyes. “That twat who gave Lady her shots. You didn’t bin his number, you kept it in your handbag.” He looked up at her. “I’ve been fucking tortured by it for three days. Thinking about you dating him, about you shagging him - you’ve got the right, we’re not together or something, but he was so stuck up and so stupid, and you deserve better, and the idea of you being with anyone that isn’t me makes me want to vomit.”
There was a moment where she felt almost sick, like she was going to vomit herself. It was replaced by a dizzying warmth that started in her stomach and went to her head and toes. She lost track of what she was doing. Only a bit of grease biting into the skin of her hand startled her out of her delighted reverie. Instead of being alarmed, she simply rubbed at her hand to make the pain ebb.
“I ...” She wanted to speak, but her voice trailed off. What was there to say? Instead she moved closer to him, reaching out to stroke his cheek.
There was a fucking lot to say, thank you. Christian felt the panic in his throat, not sure what to do, though she did touch him softly. Hopefully she wasn’t going to slap him?
It was surreal, finally hearing what she’d waited for months to come out of his mouth. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to summon up the courage to tell him what she owed him. “I don’t want to sleep with anyone but you, Christian. I haven’t since the New Year. I... Christian, I’ve fancied you for ages.”
That froze him. “I - shit. Really?” He felt awkward, looking away. It was as if he ought to have known - all the signs he should have seen retroactively. “I’m sorry.”
Turning his head back toward her, she smiled. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I chose to stick around.” Instead of saying anything else, she just tiptoed up to kiss him. Not a peck, or a passive friendly kiss - one of those deep, wrap her arms around him kisses she’d always wanted.
This was going better than he’d anticipated - better than his fears. He did wrap his arms around her, pulling her against him and kissing her back. He felt like he had something to prove, and did his best - he wanted her breathing hard, he wanted her shivering. Let her be sure she’d backed the right horse.
Normally when girls said their knees went weak during a kiss, they were exercising romantic hyperbole, or so Alyssa had always thought. But he took her breath away and made her wobble, pitching against him a bit. “Thank you,” she murmured. She still wasn’t sure what his admission - and her own - meant in the grand scheme of things, but he didn’t seem upset?
Christian raised an eyebrow. “So ... what now? I hate the word girlfriend, but it’s ... I don’t know. I don’t want us to see other people. Either of us.” Fuck.
She kissed him lightly again. “I only have one rule if we’re going to be exclusive with each other. Stay honest with me, Christian. If you want to fuck off with your mates, tell me, then do it. I trust you, but the honest thing’s important to me.” She smiled wryly. “I doubt it’ll be hard for you, Mister Grey, but I thought I’d say so anyway.” She hadn’t squealed or flailed yet, and Alyssa reckoned it was just because she was still in shock.
“I don’t think I’ve bullshit you yet, why would I start?” Christian didn’t let go of her.
“Some people go a bit mental when they’re in a relationship.” It started to hit her suddenly, and she grinned giddily. “Like ... we are.”
It sounded so unusual to hear, but after a minute, he nodded slowly, a mix of fear and relief and excitement. “I’m not mental. Not any more than usual.”
“You’re not mental at all, Christian Trevelyan Grey, and yes. I’m your girlfriend, you’re my boyfriend, but don’t worry, I won’t call you that ad nauseam in front of other people.” She rolled her eyes, glad that his arms were still around her.
Then Alyssa giggled. “And I did bin that man’s phone number. What a bell end. My handbag’s where small bits of paper go to die. I think it’s that way for most girls nowadays.”
“You didn’t bin it. I saw you put it in your bag. Or did you mean you binned it later?” Christian cocked his head to one side.
“Christian, go get my bag and dump it out on the table.” He never used his kitchen table, so this would be a good experiment.
He obediently went to go get her handbag from the chair where she’d dropped it, bringing it over. “Dump it?” he echoed, not sure he’d heard correctly, but she nodded, so he shrugged, upending it onto the table. The amount of trash that came out made him laugh and shake his head. “Suddenly it seems clearer.”
“I think lots of girls are like me and just carry around mobile rubbish bins,” she laughed. “I should clean it out anyway.” But then she realized that she was probably going to burn lamb and cursed under her breath before adding stock to the pan and chopping potatoes. “I promise, I’ll clean the mess.”
“It’s all right.” Christian watched her run back to the pan. “Don’t take on, I’ll help.” He started putting the things she obviously would want to keep back in the bag. “You’ve taught me about the mysteries of women.”
“I’m sure there’s a few other ones, but that’s one of them.” She smiled at him, then set the knife down for a moment. “I ... we’re really doing this, aren’t we?” She’d wanted it for so long, it felt a bit like a dream to actually be dating him.
At first, he didn’t know what ‘this’ meant, but then it made sense. “I ... think so.” Christian had to laugh. “Unless I’ve been hallucinating the last few moments.” It was still frightening, he had to admit. But it could have been worse.
“I hope you haven’t, that’s probably a sign you’re ill.” She grinned, putting the potatoes in the pan and finishing up. “Well, that’s just got to bake for a few hours. I expect we’ll have to find something to keep ourselves occupied.”
“Something?” Christian looked at her with an expression even he knew was nauseatingly happy. “Can’t imagine what that might be.”
“Could pick up parcheesi,” Alyssa teased. She managed to do so while keeping a straight face. “I’ve no idea how to play, though.”
“I think you need to fucking ring your friends and tell them you’ll be gone all bloody week-end.” Christian laughed, picking her up before she could protest.
Squawking as she was picked up, Alyssa wrapped her arms around Christian. “I’ll do that as soon as I can,” she beamed. She hoped he’d pinch her sometime soon; she still couldn’t believe what was happening.