AN: i am momentarily emerging from hibernation! this is based off of a request, it’s full of fluff, but it’s rather long so it’s going under a read more. enjoy, lovelies!
disclaimer: a simple canadian gal whose never been to New York, fake it til ya make it, right?
New York City was loud.
She supposed that if she had given herself enough time to really feel the city out- anything longer than a couple of whirlwind days- she could have grown accustomed to the pervasive cacophony of it all. In fact, she could have easily imagined herself in it's blissfully chaotic setting; she could picture squeezing past throngs of people to get to the nearest subway station. She could imagine being able to tune out the noise until it became nothing but a low background hum, the every day soundtrack to life in a city as vibrant and breathtaking as the big apple. But then, and with a rather sharp pang, she remembered the second last text message on her phone, and her heart sank low in her chest. This trip, as with most other things in life, had failed spectacularly to live up to her expectations.
Can't wait to see you! Should be around to pick you up from the airport just before your plane lands xx
She had read the words over again with bated breath, sheer hope brimming the rim of her proverbial cup and threatening to spill over any second. And then she walked into a bustling John F. Kennedy airport, and she certainly wasn’t alone, but the one person that could be counted on for a familiar face was nowhere to be found.
Just arrived! Going for my luggage. Hope to see you soon!
And as she followed signs that led to baggage claim there was some sinking feeling inside of her that simply told her he would not be coming. She couldn’t put a finger on it except to say that there was a lingering unpleasantness that kept her company while she waited for him. Then an hour elapsed and when she still hadn’t heard anything, she slid into the cracked leather seats of a taxi bound for her Manhattan hotel.
The first night there was the hardest. To be in a city so rich and full of life, all she really felt was loneliness and anger- and not even so much at the man who let her down, but at herself for falling for it in the first place. They had met in Michigan a year prior at a black-tie work function that she had hardly even wanted to be at. He worked in pharmaceutical and told her all of the right things, and then they spent a blissful couple of Autumn weeks together and when she dropped him off at the airport on a sunny Sunday morning, he begged her to come visit him in New York sometime. She resigned herself to the weight of these feelings tonight; they certainly weren’t going anywhere but come tomorrow morning, she was determined to make the most of the time she had left in this wondrous city. In spite of her resolve, as she drifted from this world into dream, she couldn’t help but hear the gravelly voice of her dear departed grandmother somewhere in the darker reaches of her mind-
What a damn fool.
Birdsong and the blaring of car horns in the distance roused her from her fractured slumber and she stretched her arms high above her head to limber up. For a few moments before her sleep-induced fog dissipated, she forgot where she was. And then a copy of the New York Times on her bedside table reminded her, and she smiled softly to herself. Reaching for her phone, she glanced down at the text message there and swallowed back the lump of despair rising in the hollow of her throat.
I don’t know how else to say this, except that I’m not interested in pursuing whatever this is any longer. Wishing you all the best xx
She wondered briefly- and not for the first time, if she was simply too much for people. Too loud, too curvy, too… herself. And if that was true, when would she (if ever) just be enough?
Two options became glaringly obvious to her: she could let this man (see: child) ruin her entire trip- she could convince herself that because he didn’t want her, that meant the city wouldn't either. Or, she could take a deep breath and try to convince herself that she deserved to be here. That perhaps someone or something would be better for her having stayed. So she thumbed away the stray tear that had managed to escape from the corner of her eye and got out of bed with a renewed sense of hope.
This culmination of events led her to a worn-out wrought-iron bench in central park, a half-drunk latte in one hand, and a bagel from the nearby deli in the other. After a morning of window shopping and the occasional tourist trap, she was content to rest her feet for a little while and to watch people pass, but when a trendy young woman walked by with a Guggenheim tote bag slung over a shoulder, she got an idea. A friendly local informed her that the museum was about a ten minute walk from where she was so she finished her lunch and set off in that direction. To her relief, the museum hadn’t been hard to find at all and she peered up at the architectural wonder in awe as she waited for the light to change. Admittedly her knowledge of art and its vast love affair with history was limited, but she could appreciate the all-encompassing magnitude of a building solely dedicated to it. The interior of the museum was spectacular in its scale, with seemingly unending levels that spiraled to the top and eventually gave way to an ornate glass dome ceiling. An information pamphlet handed to her upon arrival told her that among other ongoing exhibits, a new one on Vasily Kandinsky was being shown around the circle and she headed there first. After a while of wondering around, she found herself stopped in front of a painting so breathtaking in its use of shape and colour, that she was rendered speechless for a moment. It was titled Dominant Curve and it was painted in April of 1936.
“Sofia! wait-”
The distinct twinkle of girlish laughter, followed by the booming voice of a man concerned caught her off guard and she turned just in time to see the child trip over her own two feet and land hard on her knees. It was deathly quiet as both her and the child’s presumable father waited with bated breath for the meltdown that might or might not ensue at any moment. The little girl, too stunned to speak at first, picked herself up and glanced at the ruby-red liquid that started to seep from a small scrape above her knee, and began to wail loudly. The man immediately knelt down to survey the damage, saying something to her that she couldn’t make out. Without a second thought, she reached into the front pocket of her purse and dug around for an alcohol swab and the pink Hello Kitty band-aid she knew was there. When she found it, she stepped forward tentatively and asked if she could help.
“Yes please, if you wouldn’t mind.” He murmured, his tone weary.
“Not at all,” She beamed down at the little girl, who couldn’t have been a day over five or six, and whose eyes were entirely too unsure. Ripping open the foil packet, she informed the girl that the alcohol would likely sting a little bit and the man then relayed this information to her in a foreign tongue, pressing his lips to the apple of her cheek as he did so. Under the tender touch of her protector, the child’s sobs were soon reduced to muffled hiccups, and she barely batted an eye when the swab was wiped over the shallow scrape. “Almost done, you’re doing great…” She reassured her, and was relieved to see the tears drying on her freckled cheeks. She then placed the band-aid over the scrape and stood from her position with a sure smile. “I hope that feels better honeybee.” The child peered shyly up at her, her glacial-blue eyes wide and still extremely uncertain.
The man stood from his position, gathering the girl into his arms as he did so, his smile grateful. “English isn’t really her strong suit yet. She’s uh… super Swedish.” He winked at her and leaned over to whisper something to the girl in their native tongue.
“Thank you,” Her tiny voice murmured, and then she offered her up a small, tentative smile.
“You are most welcome.” Turning her attention back to the man, she gestured to the child. “You’ve got a pretty brave little girl on your hands.”
He rolled his blue eyes playfully. “Oh she's a real riot until she decides not to listen to her uncle Alex. Isn't that right Sof?” Sofia burried her tiny face into the crook of his neck in answer. He chuckled heartily, patting a large hand against her small back and turned his gaze back to her. There was something undoubtedly familiar about him and yet she knew with a finite certainty that the likelihood of them ever having crossed paths was slim. “You’re good with kids,” He murmured after a beat.
Her cheeks grew warm under his observation and the soft, Swedish lilt he had. “I’d hope so. I'm a nurse back home.”
“I reckon that makes you a nurse everywhere.” His lips turned up into a grin and she had no choice in that moment but to smile back just as wide.
“Yes, I suppose it does.” She laughed easily.
“I’m Alex, by the way. And this is Sofia.”
She offered him a handshake which he obliged happily with an unmistakable strength; his impossibly warm hand dwarfed her own and caused her to swallow hard at the notion. “It’s been lovely to have met you both.” And she meant it.
They stood in thoughtful silence for a moment before he cocked his head to the side and narrowed his gaze at her, a knowing smile tugged the edges of his lips skyward. He had been about to ask her something when his phone rang, interrupting him, his expression apologetic as he answered the call. He spoke in perfect Swedish, the soft cadence of it immediately enchanting to her. Ending the call on a finite note, he dropped the phone into the back pocket of his dark jeans and glanced at Sophia. She leaned forward just then to cup a miniscule hand around his ear and he responded to her hushed whisper in muted Swedish and then set her back on her own two feet. Clearing his throat, he scratched self-consciously at the back of his head. “Please forgive her boldness, but Sofia here was wondering if you’d like to join us for ice cream at Serendipity 3.” He sensed her trepidation and rushed to fill the silence in his wake. “Please don’t feel obligated to say yes- I know you don’t know either of us from a hole in the wall. She could eat ice cream for breakfast, lunch and dinner and we’re actually about to meet her dad there now.”
Seconds felt like years in that moment and when she could think of no solid reason to object, she simply nodded her head with a small smile. “I’d be delighted to join you two for ice cream.”
One hour and a frozen hot chocolate later, she found herself bidding goodbye to the charming young girl. A ring of melted chocolate decorated the space around her lips and the unabashed glee on her face spoke novels of just how happy a sweet treat and time with her uncle had made her. The pink hello kitty band-aid that peeked out from beneath the lace hem of her blue dress had all but been forgotten, and she supposed that ice cream had a marvelous way of doing that for someone of the tender age of five.
“She’s a sweet girl,” She marveled to Alex.
He smiled around the rim of his coffee cup. “She’s alright, old Sofia. We have fun.” They sat in comfortable silence for a moment before he said, “Are you familiar with Andy Warhol?”
She swallowed back the rest of her frozen drink and flipped through a mental rolodex of prolific artists. “Do you mean the silver-haired soup can man?”
Alex grinned at that. “That’s the one. Legend has it that this was one of his favourite haunts back in the day, and you just treated yourself to one of his favourite orders.”
“Do you know what I think?” She sighed, contentedly. Alex quirked an eyebrow in question. “I think that every single nook and cranny of this city is overflowing with a treasure trove of wondrous stories to tell.”
“Absolutely. It’s one of the endless reasons I love living here. I never get to stay as long or as often as I’d like to, but it’s always a wonderful time.” He scratched at the underside of his stubbled jaw in thought. “I think it’s the not knowing that makes this place magical. I feel like I’m always on the precipice of an adventure; of meeting new people.”
Her cheeks warmed as she pondered that. “I told you earlier what I did for a living, but I never got a chance to ask what it is that you do?”
A light somewhere in the depths of his glacial orbs dimmed, and his smile became marginally less blinding. “Among other more important things, I act for a living. I’d say it’s one of the least exciting things about me,” He finished with a self deprecating smile. When she didn’t immediately follow that statement up with, ‘Oh really? That is exciting! What have I seen you in?’ the boyish glitter returned to his eyes.
Glancing up at the clock above their heads, she realized with an inexplicable pang that they would probably part ways soon. She was in awe of how easy it was to talk with him, of how content she’d be to let this moment drag on for hours. And then she considered that this was one of her only chances to take a risk in this magical city- so she took a deep breath and hoped for the best. “I don't really have anywhere to be tonight and I was wondering if you’d like some more company?”
You are too loud, too curvy, too yourself.
Alex cocked his head to the side, that same knowing smile from a couple of hours ago that seemed to say so much but also nothing at all in equal measure. “I’d like nothing more.”
And she believed him.
They ventured on in comfortable silence for another twenty minutes before Alex faltered in front of a charming green stone building, the awning above the entrance was weather-worn with black and white stripes. A wooden sign next to the door read ‘GEMMA’ followed by bits and pieces of Italian. The all-enticing aroma of sautéed garlic and Italian spices hung heavy in the air before them and made her mouth water hungrily. Alex glanced at the watch on the underside of his wrist and turned to her, “Are you hungry at all?”
She nodded eagerly. “Very, actually.”
“This is one of my favourite spots in the city. Come on,”
She followed him into the restaurant, and was pleased to see that he was well-liked there; servers waved happily at him as they passed by. Finding a quiet booth at the back of the bar, she settled into her spot before him, gladly. After receiving their first round of drinks, she set her menu down and gazed at him, her expression curious. “What brought you to the Guggenheim today?” She finally asked.
Alex smiled around the rim of his pint glass, and shrugged. “Bill- my brother, needed someone to watch Sofia on short notice today. I was already going there anyway, and figured I’d bring her along. Never too late to start them early, I suppose.”
“She’ll remember these adventures with you fondly, I think.”
He smiled softly at that. “I hope so.” Clearing his throat, he cocked his head to the side, his expression curious. “And what of you? How is it that you’ve found yourself in this city’s clutches?”
She swallowed hard and took a long sip of her rosé, savouring the flavour of it on her tongue while she cast around for what to say. “I followed a hunch,” She admitted, finally.
They sat in silence for a moment before he simply murmured, "I reckon it's entirely his loss."
She smiled wryly. "Some would disagree."
"They'd be wrong." He shrugged, easily.
His honesty was a sharp knife she wouldn’t mind being cut to shreds with. “And while it didn't work out the way that I had anticipated, I’m certainly not upset at the current turn of events.”
He watched her with unabashed adoration and raised his pint to her in toast. “Neither am I.”
She couldn’t be sure how long they stayed tucked away in that booth for. She listened with rapt attention as he spoke of his second life in Sweden; of his siblings and his mother, that no matter how far away he strayed, his home would always be there. She told him of her life in Michigan, of how much she loved to take care of people; how she was certain that that specific gift had been passed down to her through a faraway haplogroup. She liked to imagine a distant line of her ancestors as healers, people good with their hands and open with their hearts.
They stepped out into the balmy September evening a little while later to an eruption of dazzling fireworks as they exploded overhead in the distance. She was struck absolutely silly at how breathtaking he looked just then, and she asked (rather tentatively) if she could take his picture.
Just in case that big old sky ever falls on our heads.
“I'll let you take mine if I can take yours.” He bargained.
“Deal,” She smiled.
She went home with Alex that night. Knew in her heart that even if it wasn’t going to go farther than a blissfully lovely day- followed by an equally lovely evening, that would be fine with her. Sometimes it was enough to know that perfection could exist in the finite space of twelve hours, between two perfect strangers.
When she awoke in the morning’s hush, she could just make out the outline of the rising sun as it shone through the part in his linen curtains. She swallowed hard and turned to the sleeping man next to her. His impossibly long blonde eyelashes seemed to fan out over subtle freckles, and delicate wrinkles, and he was utterly breathtaking in his simplicity. She watched the steady rise and fall of his chest, and his muscles as they stretched the fabric of a coffee-coloured cashmere sweater, still entirely sound asleep and she wondered for a moment if she should leave. She pulled the weighted duvet from her body and sat up to lean her legs over the side of the bed, shivering as her feet came in contact with the cool, hardwood flooring.
“Hey you,” Alex cleared his throat and she hesitated a beat before turning to view him in the growing morning light.
“Yeah?”
He propped his head up beneath the palm of his hand and beamed at her. “Good morning.”
“Good morning, Alex.” She smiled back. Though still fully clothed from the night before, she felt inexplicably naked under his penetrating gaze and the sudden urge to bolt was strong.
“This is going to sound crazy, and maybe we’ll never see each other again after today, but I-” His voice bore the weight of recent sleep as he trailed off in search of the right way to frame his thoughts. “I’m not sure how else to put this, except to say that I feel like I’m better this morning somehow… for having met you yesterday. I’m really glad that I did.” It was an honesty usually reserved for old friends, people who knew the fragile ins-and-outs of a weathered relationship. Except that he wasn’t an old friend at all, and somehow she felt as if she’d known him her entire life.
She crawled back into bed next to him, and laced her fingers with his beneath the sheets. “I am too, Alex.”
I've been losing my mind working at a mall on a stand type of thing all by myself and was wondering if you could write a nice piece of Alex coming over to help me spend the time after I text him something like "Please come save me, this is so boring." which leads to him flirting with me and maybe taking me to his place for some good time. 😏 All help to spend my shift entertained is so very welcomed. 😂 Also, love your writing to bits and you're my favourite writer in a long time. ❤
hello friend! thanks for requesting! changed this up a little bit, hope ya don’t mind. it is under a cut because it’s a little long and spicy. tw: oral sex
“I have something to tell you,”
Disappointment dripped from his tone even over the crackle of the telephone wire and she knew immediately what he was about to tell her.
“I won’t be home for Christmas this year, kid.”
She let the silence take shape around them, took a hearty sip of her wine while she counted the seconds in between and then simply said, “Okay, Alex.”
“I tried to figure out a way to get away from set for a few days and it’s just… it’s not in the cards this year. I’m sorry, my love.”
She had never once faulted him for this. How could she? Acting- working, was something that came as naturally to him as breathing and so it was something that she accepted when they decided to give this thing a proper go. She just wasn’t always happy about it. “Don’t apologize, Alex. I’ll see you in a few weeks. I’m sure there will be mountains of leftovers for you, so we can have our own dinner when you get here.”
An audible sigh of relief on the other end. “Have I told you yet today?”
Her face broke into a wide grin and she shook her head. “Nope.”
“I love you endlessly, kid.”
God, just hearing those five words never got old.
“I love you too, Alex.”
~
Old man Winter had taken her city by storm, and a healthy heaping of fresh snow covered nearly every surface in sight. As the coffee machine in the corner of the café spluttered to life- the familiar first sounds of a day on the verge of starting, she watched the world outside her small window rouse from its stillness. It never really went to sleep, but there were moments that the noise dwindled to a low hum and she found something satisfying in watching it resume its natural cacophony. Her eyes fell shut as she inhaled the tantalizing aroma of freshly ground coffee beans and the croissants baking in the oven and she turned the corner to the back room to marvel at her baker Cait, as she rolled out the second batch of bread dough for the day. An apprentice baker at the tender age of twenty-two, and already inexplicably talented, she had been a total godsend to her team, and she smiled at the thought of it.
“Good morning, Cait. Coffee’s ready when you are.”
Her baker glanced up from her ministrations, traces of flour dusted her forehead and the side of her cheek and she beamed happily. “Sounds good boss. I’m just about finished with this run.”
Nodding her head, she ducked out of the back room, returning to the front so that she could finish putting the last tray of fresh butter tarts into the front showcase. Dusting her hands on her apron, she surveyed the café one last time before heading to the front window to flip around the closed sign. She stood for a moment to watch fat snowflakes fall in droves from the steel-grey sky and wondered how busy the shop could possibly be with weather like that. The timer on the oven sounded the end of the croissants baking time, and she walked the short distance to the rational where she pulled on a pair of mitts and took them out, placing them on the silver rack next to her. Tossing the mitts on top of the rack, she took the liberty of making Cait’s coffee the way that she knew she liked it and brought it into the back room for her.
“Think it’s going to be busy today?” Cait asked, with a sigh.
She glanced up at the calendar above their heads and frowned. Sunday before Christmas. “Hard to tell. But I hope so,” She had been about to say something else, but the familiar tinkle of bells above the front door rang out signaling the arrival of a customer. Taking a healthy sip of the delicious amber liquid, she excused herself to attend to their first patron of the day. Rounding the corner into the café, her breath hitched in her throat when she caught sight of Alexander’s figure in the doorway; head down and brushing flakes of snow from the sleeves of his navy pea coat. When he was finished, he lifted his gaze to hers and smiled. “Hi, kid.”
She untied the apron around her stomach and threw it onto the hook next to her, closing the gap between them in seconds. Reaching up on tiptoes, she wrapped her arms around his neck, inhaling his familiar scent. “You’re here,” She murmured, breathlessly.
He rubbed reassuring circles into her back and nodded his head. “Surprise.”
They stayed embraced for a long while, each reveling in the feeling of being home in one another’s arms.
“Can I get you anything?” She asked, eventually.
“Yes, coffee please. It was an early morning.”
She reached up to press a kiss to his stubbled cheek and excused herself to make his coffee. “Anything else?” She called out.
He cocked his head to the side; a simpering look tugged the edges of his lips upward and she could not ignore the mischievous glint in his blue eyes, or the way that it caused goosebumps to bloom over her arms. “Yes, actually. I was wondering if you’d like to come home with me.”
Her eyes widened and she elicited a breathless laugh. “Come home with you? Right now?”
Alexander nodded his head finitely. “Yes, right this very minute.”
She had been about to protest, but Cait cleared her throat from behind her and stepped forward, her voice low. “Henry just pulled in out back. Go enjoy yourself.”
“What about the shop? What if it gets busy?”
Cait resisted the urge to roll her hazel eyes, and instead shrugged her shoulders. “We can handle it. Go on.”
Alexander lifted his coffee in cheers and tossed a wink her way. “Thanks, Cait.”
~
Their walk home had been silent save for the muted crunch of snow beneath their boots. There had been a lot of things that she wanted to ask him, a lot that she wanted to say to him, but she found she was content just to have him beside her, to have the warmth of his hand envelop her own. They had managed to make it home before the snow started getting really bad, and she was beyond grateful to have the rest of the day with him. Discarding their winter attire in the front hall closet, he led her by hand to their bedroom at the end of the hall where he entered and took a seat at the edge of the bed. “I’ve missed you kid,” He mused. She closed the gap between them to stand between his parted thighs and cradled his head in her hands. His arms encircled her waist, and he pressed a series of gentle kisses to her clothed chest.
“I’ve missed you too, Alex.”
He pulled away to gaze up at her, his glassy blue orbs alight with a fire she had come to recognize well. She could lose herself for hours in those eyes if she wanted to; flecks of gold in whirlpools of azure, they were her favourite physical feature of his.
Alexander pushed a stray whisp of hair behind her ear, sighing contedly. “What is that breathtaking mind of yours thinking of, hm?” He murmured.
She traced a featherlight fingertip from his temple down to the chiseled line of his jaw. “Nothing you haven’t heard before.”
Alexander brought her hand to his lips and kissed the palm of it, tenderly. “Undress for me?”
She stepped back against the wall to do as she was asked, toying with the hem of her t shirt as she did so. She lifted it up past her abdomen, over her neck, and dropped it to the hardwood floor beneath her. Unzipping her jeans, she shimmied out of the constricting denim and watched it pool around her feet. She noticed the erection growing steadily in the crotch of her lover’s own jeans and she sucked her bottom lip between her teeth at the mere thought of it. Reaching around her back for the clasp on her bra, she undid that too and let the flimsy fabric fall to the ground, gathering with the rest of the discarded clothing. Taking a steadying breath, she pulled the panties from her legs and kicked them to the side, now entirely naked before him. Alexander cleared his throat and rose from the bed, only to drop to his knees, fully clothed, before her. His arms circled her hips as he placed hot, open-mouthed kisses to her lower belly. Sucking two fingers into his mouth, he got them slick with his spit, and teased them at her wet entrance. Quivering with unbridled anticipation above him, the weight of what was about to happen, was not at all lost on her as he pressed fiery kisses to the tops of her thighs and hipbones. Wordlessly, he had her lift her leg over his shoulder as he bent forward to lick a long, wet stripe up her slit. Stopping at the sensitive bundle of nerves at the top, he pressed warm, wet circles into it and was rewarded with a long, low groan from the base of her throat.
“Just like that, Alex…” She gasped.
He nodded against her. “I’ve got you, kid.”
Pressing a kiss to her clit, he repeated the kitten-lick up her core, earning him another loud, breathy moan. Pulling away from her, he blew a steady stream of cool air over her heated center, grinning at how her body sang for him. “You’re not going to last long, baby girl.”
She tilted her back against the wall, fingers finding purchase in the locks of hair that had grown tenfold since she had last laid eyes on him. She began to massage his head methodically, which caused him to groan longingly against her, the vibrations sending shockwaves of white-hot pleasure straight to the center of her clit. Licking long, firm stripes up her core with the flat of his tongue he eventually began to fuck her with it, causing her to tremble violently above him.
“Don’t stop…” Her voice wavered warningly, as she ground herself against his face. Alexander listened to her words and to the exact way in which her body responded to his care and kept up the rhythm in which he was eating her out. Her orgasm began to build like a fire in the pit of her belly, the familiar coil of nerves wound unbearably tight and ready to unravel at a moment’s notice. “Oh, god…” Alexander gripped her hips in his hands, his fingernails leaving miniscule crescent-shaped indentations in the soft skin there. He alternated between fucking her with his tongue, and suckling at her clit, grazing his teeth along the sensitive bundle of nerves as he did so. She arched her back against his mouth, reveling in the extra sensation of his stubbled jaw against the velvety skin of her inner thighs. “Oh god, Alex- He groaned and nodded against her tight, wet core, coaxing the looming release from her. She stilled against his face, arching her back high against the wall as her orgasm ripped through her like a blaze out of control. She shivered against him as he continued to lap up every ounce of honey she had to offer him and when she had recovered for the most part, he placed open-mouthed kisses to her clit and rose off his knees, to tower above her. His eyes- though still the same hue of blue they were before he had gifted her with her orgasm, were now nearly black, his pupils dilated and blown over with lust. “I want you to come for me now,” She murmured, voice entirely wrecked for the time being. She peeled Alexander’s shirt from his body, throwing it next to the pile of her own discarded clothing. Unzipping his jeans, she pulled the useless material from his toned legs and tossed them off to the side. Glancing up, she noticed the head of his erect cock straining hard against the fabric of his sky-blue boxer briefs, had begun to leak pre-come, leaving a small, wet circle in the thin fabric. Her mouth watered hungrily at the memory of how it tasted, as she hooked two fingertips into the waistband of his underwear and smirked up at him. She teased the boxers down his thighs, his hard cock springing free from the all-consuming material. She watched a bead of pre-come glisten at the head- the urge to lap it up was almost unbearable.
“Go on, baby…” Alexander murmured. She took him into her hands, grasping him firmly, and licked a long stripe up from the base of his cock to the head, reveling in salty brininess of the fluid gathered at the head of his cock. She couldn’t resist taking more of him into her mouth, and she did until she felt him at the base of her throat. He groaned loudly and pushed a little farther in, causing tears to spring up in the depths of her eyes. “Fuck,” He groaned loudly. “Always taking this cock so fucking well, baby girl… every inch I have to give you,” He pulled out of the hot wetness of her mouth and jutted his chin out toward the bed. “On the bed, babe…” She passed the back of her hand over her mouth and rose from her feet to do as she was told. Falling back against the down pillows breathlessly, she watched with a hooded gaze as Alexander clambered onto the bed before her. He crawled up over her body so that he was straddling her chest and took his cock into his hand. “I know how much you love watching me touch myself.” He began to move a tight fist up and down the length of himself, tossing his head back each time he passed over a particularly sensitive spot. “Fuck,” He breathed out.
She watched a bead of pre-come roll down the underside of his shaft, and swallowed hard. “I want another taste,”
Alexander swiped a fingertip beneath his head to collect some of the moisture there and held it out for her to lick off, which she did happily. Sucking his fingertip into her mouth, he let her keep it there while he worked his fist harder down the length of his cock. “Jesus,” He gasped under his breath. “I’m close, baby…”
“Come for me, Alex… make a mess.”
Her pleas seemed to spur his orgasm on, and he dropped his head back as a low, desperate groan ripped from the base of his throat. His fist stilled against his sensitive head as he tumbled over the edge in violent waves, coating her breasts in his warm, opaque fluid. “Fuck,” He sighed after a few moments of trying to regulate his breathing. He lifted himself from her and off the bed, disappearing into their on-suite bathroom in search of a towel to clean her off. Approaching her, he wiped the towel gently over her chest and cleaned her off as best as he could. Sidling down into bed beside her, he gathered her hand in his and brought it to his lips.
“Thanks for surprising me and rescuing me from work today, Alex.” She yawned, softly.
He kissed her tenderly. “Any damn day, kid. Merry Christmas.”
oh my GOD i cannot stop thinking about going out for the night to hang out w friends and getting so drunk that when alex comes to pick u up u forget he’s ur boyfriend 🥺 and when he reminds you you’re like “!!!!!!! me !!!!! how did i get so lucky !!!!!!!!!” n ur looking at him like he hung the moon and he falls in love with you all over again bye this image lives in my head rent free i swear
what a soft, lovely thought!!!
*
As all messy night-outs usually begin, she had gone into it with the intention of keeping every single one of her wits about her. She had actually heeded her boyfriend’s advice for once- “one glass of water per each alcoholic beverage”, she had viewed his full figure leant against the threshold of their front door before she left, large hands placed in the pockets of his denim jeans. His worn t-shirt stretched across his broad chest and she was glad that tonight- unlike most nights, she would have him to sidle into bed next to when the evening ended.
“Come here kid,” He murmured. “Let me kiss you once more before you go, hm?” Her lips turned up into a wide smile as she closed the distance between them wordlessly. He had an innate way of holding her like she was the most precious thing in the entire universe. Like if he let her go, she might shatter into a million little magnificent pieces. He held her face in his impossibly warm hands as he kissed her like it was the last time he would ever do it again. When he pulled away from her, he was out of breath and he gestured to her purse on the glass coffee table in the front entrance, “Can’t forget that.”
She reached for it, slung it across her body, and smiled at him. “What would I do without you?”
A car horn blared in the distance and Alexander shrugged his shoulders, a smirk tugged at the edges of his lips. “Let’s hope we never have to find out, hm? Your chariot awaits, kid.” His blue eyes sparkled merrily in the low light of the glowing hallway lamp, and the delicate creases next to them spoke volumes of the happiness that he exuded on a near-constant basis.
She swallowed hard; her hand poised on the doorknob. “I love you, Alex- just in case that big old sky ever falls on our heads.”
“I love you too, kid. Please be safe. Call me when you’re ready to come home.”
*
“One more babe! It’s my birthday!” Her best friend tried on her best Vana White impersonation and waved her hand tantalizingly down a row of pink coloured shots.
She eyed them suspiciously; her world had started to spin on its axis a few moments ago, and she swallowed hard. “I’m feeling a little ill.”
Her friend giggled and picked up a shot, waving it beneath her nose. She watched the liquid slosh out over the sides, and land on her friend’s white dress, causing her to erupt in a fit of giggles. Her friend shook her head, oblivious to the stain blooming steadily in the gauzy material and hiccupped. “Nonsense. One of these and you’ll be back to tip-top shape.”
“You spilled broken down golfcart on your dress.” She hiccupped and pointed to the stain.
“You’re not getting out of this.”
She took a deep breath and accepted the shot from the birthday girl, tilting her head back and pouring the liquid down her throat. She shook her head and winced as the alcohol singed the lining of it like smoke. “Alright. That was the last one. I’m calling Alex now.”
Her friend’s pout turned into a devilish grin, and she shrugged nonchalantly. “Let’s see how many we can get in you before he gets here…”
In hindsight she could not definitively say why she had agreed to play that game but come morning she would regret it. She was seated at the bar with some of her other girlfriends when he arrived, and even though her ringer was on and loud, she had missed the three previous phone calls announcing his arrival. She was clutching a glass of water in her hand when she spotted him, and her mouth went dry. She leaned over to her friend, a bold move considering she nearly fell off the wooden stool. “Don’t look now,” She whispered a little too loudly. “But that may be the sexiest man I’ve ever seen in my life.”
Her friend’s eyes widened in excitement and she craned around to see who she was referring to. When she caught site of Alexander, her face dropped, and she let out a loud giggle. “Girl, that’s your man.”
She watched him approach them in horror. “My man?”
Her friend stared at her in astonishment. “Did your drink get spiked?” She leaned back and tapped the girl next to her on the shoulder. “Were you watching her drink?”
“My man?” She repeated in unconcealed awe.
Her friend gaped at her. “Yes! You guys live in a beautiful home together!”
Her eyes narrowed as she mulled this over. “Do we have dogs?”
Her friend rolled her eyes. “Yes, two horribly cute ones.”
“Good evening, ladies.” Alexander appeared behind them; his opposing figure cast a long shadow over the bar as he bent down to press a kiss to the apple of her cheek. “Hi, kid. Is there a reason you did not answer any of the phone calls I sent you?”
Her friend cleared her throat. “She’s uh… she’s in rough shape.”
Alexander nodded slowly. “Alright, let’s get you home, hm?” He helped her up from her chair and held on to her hand as she bid goodbye to the rest of her friends. “It’s a bit cool out tonight so I brought you a sweater,” He murmured and draped it around her shoulders as they took their leave from the bar. “We’re parked right outside, my love.” He held onto her elbow as they stepped out into the October evening, and opened her side of the door for her to get in. Once safely buckled up, he made his way around to his side of the car and climbed in. She still found it a little hard to believe that this specimen of a man was really her person. That somehow, possibly by the grace of god, she had managed to reel this one in. Stopped at a red light, he turned to her and frowned. “You alright, kid? You’ve barely said a word…”
She opened her mouth to say something, and instead of any actual words, she hiccupped loudly. “I had a lot to drink tonight.”
Alexander closed his eyes and dropped his head to laugh quietly. “Yep. I know.”
She hiccupped again. “We’re together?” She had meant it to come out as more of a statement than a question, and Alexander blanched.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean…” She swallowed hard and squinted her eyes. “How on earth are you this attractive? Like are you even real? This could be one of those dreams…”
Alexander’s blue eyes widened, and he let out a breathless chuckle. “Let me stop you there, kid- you and I are together. We have been for over three years now. We have gone home to Sweden multiple times- my family adores you. We have a home, and in that home, we have tons of artwork and we make meals together, and we have Max and Sitka- and they are the best dogs in the entire world.”
She nodded her head slowly. “Okay then answer me this, you giant Nordic Adonis. How on earth did I get so lucky?”
Alexander was quiet as he pulled into the driveway in front of their home. “I ask myself that question constantly.”
He helped her from the passenger seat, and up the cobblestone pathway to their front door. Upon entry, the dogs in which he had just told her about wagged their tails happily at the return of their beloved owners. “Hi puppies.” She murmured breathlessly.
“They’re happy to have you home, kid.” Alexander whispered. “And I am too.” He helped her up the stairs to their bedroom and got her changed into her favourite pair of pajamas. He left her momentarily for the washroom and when he returned, he was laden with a glass of water and two Tylenols. “Open up,” He murmured, and she did as he was told. They fell into bed together, and she cuddled up immediately on his chest, her head tucked safely under his chin. Alexander hummed quietly to himself and kissed the top of her head gently. “I love you kid- just in case that big old sky ever falls on our heads.”
Can u give us some romantic headcanons w alex and younger reader!
I am interpreting ‘younger reader’ to be anything from the ages of 21-43. Do with that info what you will, y’all.
When they’re watching a movie with explicit scenes in it (sexual or violent) his shtick is to cover her eyes with his large, warm hands and say- “Sorry kid, you’re just too young.” It drives her nuts every single time.
Bruises. She gets them constantly, and one of his favourite things that he likes to do before the lights go at night, is to ask her how she got them and then to kiss them all better.
Their age gap often lends itself to conversations that start with, “kid- how have you never seen this movie/heard this album/discovered this band yet?”
Her response is always something like, “because as it turns out Alex, and this may come as shock to you so brace yourself... but I happen to be *blank number* of years younger than you.”
He takes pride in showing her the correct way to do things: throwing a pasta together from herbs and vegetables planted in the garden, assembling a fishing line, building a fire from scratch in the wild. He knows she’s not dumb- quite the contrary really. But he enjoys showing her things she might not have been familiar with before she met him.
If he’s been gone longer than two weeks on a shoot, he is always, always the first one to call home. She can set her watch by it. “Hi kid. How are you? How’s home? I miss you so much.”
The only place he doesn’t seem to get flack about their age gap is Sweden.
When she forgot to buy a first aid kit for her new car, and told him that she wasn’t sure it was necessary, he “broke into” it in the middle of the night and left one in her glove compartment and one in the trunk.
Don’t get him started on tiktok. He swears she brings it up now just to make him feel old on purpose.
She’ll often throw around words like, ‘deadass?’ and ‘simp’ just for the look of confusion and then full annoyance that colours his features.
She has a taste for older music and movies that she hasn’t tapped all the way into yet, and it surprises him from time to time. “Let’s watch The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly tonight, Alex.” Or, “I brought home this Robert Johnson record I found at the flea market this morning. Let’s listen to it tonight while we sip craft bourbon and play cards.”
She grows unsure of herself sometimes. And usually instead of actually communicating with him about it, she withdraws into herself for a few days. Just kind of becomes a shell of the person he’s used to having around. So he’ll broach the subject the same way he always does hoping that one of these days it’ll actually stick. “Kid- when you’re upset with me about something, we need to talk about it. No use in letting it fester and become something bigger than it was ever supposed to be, hm?” He’ll literally place a fingertip under her chin to get her to meet his gaze. “We need to be as honest and open with each other as possible, or this is never going to work.”
As much as she would say that he has taught her things, he has lost count of how many invaluable things he’s learned from her since she walked into his life, and he could never express in words how grateful he is to her for that.
He is genuinely protective of her. Sometimes to a fault. He just hopes that when he’s around, she always feels safe. That she always has someone she can talk to, to vent to, and to love.
If it’s not a bother, could you write like a comfort piece or something with Alex? I’ve just been really into my feelings today. The “waste of space” and “nobody cares” feelings you know? If not that’s okay though. Still love reading your posts.
You disappear without warning sometimes.
On some occasions it was a physical thing, you would extricate yourself from a conversation to seek solace in another room. Other times, you remained physically present, but your eyes glazed over, and your mind drifted to nothing of consequence. Alexander tried long ago to convince you that this was just your brain’s way of playing cruel tricks on you. He must have tried everything in the books those first few years. And with each passing year, with each new anxiety attack you had half expected him to run for the hills. To his credit he never did.
Autumn rain drops rolled down your bedroom window in steady streams, the sky outside a similar colour to your current disposition. Alexander’s side of the bed still bore the indent of where his sleeping body normally laid, though his spot was cool to the touch now. Though you had slept longer than you were accustomed to, your eyelids felt heavy and you strained in the distance for any signs of life. Wordlessly, Alexander appeared at the threshold of your bedroom door, a blue mug of steaming coffee resting in his hands. The scent of the luxe beans alone, were usually enough to rouse you, but the invisible cloud that hung above your head this morning hindered you from even that. “Rough morning, kid?” He asked quietly.
“I’m just tired.”
He pushed himself from the wooden frame and padded over to your side of the bed, setting his mug down on your side table as he does so. He did not reach to touch you immediately, just sort of surveyed your still figure sadly. “Would you like to talk about it?”
You rolled into the fetal position, as a lump rose in your throat and the familiar prickle tears threatened in your eyes. “I just feel… sad today. I can’t quite put my finger on it.”
He rubbed reassuring circles into the small of your back. “You don’t have to put a finger on it kid. Can I do anything for you? I had a skype meeting this morning, but the rest of my day is free.”
Sleep was the only thing you wanted more of, currently.
“How about I run you a bath, hm? And then after that you can return to the safety of the bed. I’ll bring your meals to you today.”
Though the thought was lovely, the idea of eating anything in your current state made your stomach flop. “I’d start with a bath.”
Alexander leaned towards you to place a soft kiss to the base of your neck. “Meet me in the washroom in five.”
Gathering up the motivation to leave the comfort of your weighted blanket was a stretch, but you could already smell the lavender bath milk Alexander had poured into the water, and the scent beckoned you forth. When you entered the washroom, Alexander was leant over the white claw tub, the sleeves of his red plaid button-up, rolled up high as he tested the temperature of the water. “Hi,” You murmured.
Alexander glanced up from the foamy water to smile at you. “Water’s perfect, kid.”
You undid the string to your pajama pants, watching them fall to the floor and pool at your feet. Next you tugged at the hem of your tank top and pulled it over your head, discarding it somewhere behind you. He would never understand how much you detested being naked in front of him when you felt like this. You tiptoed over to the tub and slid in, reveling in the feeling of the blissfully warm water against your skin. “Would you like me to leave?” Alexander asked, quietly.
“No, stay please.”
Alexander found a seat next to the tub, his presence immediately comforting. “You know I’m always here for you kid,” You hugged your knees up tight under your chin, wrapped your arms around them and fixed your gaze on the tap ahead of you. “But I need you to know that people do care about you. And if it ever gets bad enough, that you’ll ask for help…”
“It’s difficult, Alex.” You whispered. Up until he became part of your life, suffering in silence had been so much easier. Now, there was a living, breathing person who genuinely cared about every aspect of you, a best friend in every conceivable way. “But right now, the good days still outweigh the bad.”
“I just want you to know that I’m never going to give up on you. Good days or bad. Rainy days or sunny ones.”
It was not much, but it was exactly what you needed to hear.
When the bubbles had dissipated and the water had started to grow cool, Alexander grabbed a jug from under the bathroom cupboard and filled it with your bath water. “Close your eyes, please.” You did as you were told and keened into the feeling of the water cascading down your back. He squirted a few handfuls of shampoo into the palm of his hand and began to work into a lather on your head. He massaged your scalp with blissfully skillful hands, the pressure seeming to melt any tension away like butter. He refilled the jug and rinsed out the shampoo, moving onto the conditioner next, which he lathered evenly over your hair. While that was sitting, he squeezed a healthy dollop of body wash onto a loofa and had you stand while he cleaned nearly every inch of your body. Sex with him was one thing, but there was a specific intimacy which lent itself to you both when he took his care with you like this. Relinquishing control to him- whether it was in the throes of passion, or in the throes of a depressive episode, was one of the greater joys in your life. When he was satisfied that you were properly rinsed off, he poured one more jug of water over you to rid your hair of the conditioner. You pulled the plug from the tub and watched the water swirl down the drain in mini tornadoes. He procured a freshly washed towel from the cupboard under the sink and wrapped it around your body tightly. “Feels a little bit better,” You murmured tiredly.
“That makes me happy.”
Alexander followed you back to the bedroom, wordlessly. He watched intently as you slipped into a new pair of pajamas and climbed back into your side of the bed. “Going to have a nap?” He asked.
You nodded your head wordlessly.
He kneeled towards you, his lips mere inches from your temple. “Sweet dreams kid, I’ll be here when you wake up.”
AN: This is something I’ve been working on for quite a while now, and it is a little different than my usual pieces. It will probably be about three or four installments. If you enjoy it (or even if you don’t) (I don’t do too many chaptered pieces... like, ever) please feel free to send feedback. Warnings include: mentions of suicidal tendencies, depression, anxiety, past mentions of domestic physical and mental abuse. Loosely inspired by the music video for ‘High Hopes’ by Kodaline.
Synopsis: Depressed, suicidal and recently single Alexander Skarsgård is at the end of his rope. But he is about to find out that no matter where you come from, what your pain looks like, or what your truth is... The universe will always fight for souls to be together.
part 2, part 3
“I mean… Maybe, somehow, something good will come of all this change.”
Those words had chimed through the confines of his brain like a clear bell, multiple times since he had last laid eyes on her. He sighed heavily and drew an arm back to cast his fishing line out into the great blue abyss before him. Though he had loved his wife with every fiber of his being, he had grown to detest her incessant need to find the positives in every single situation, towards the dissolution of their ten-year marriage.
“Oh, Alexander.” She caressed a warm palm against the curve of his stubbled cheek. “I just think it wasn’t in the cards for us, my love.”
A single day had not passed that he did not wish his relationship with her had ended differently. Past arguments, miniscule or gargantuan in scale often played on a loop in his mind like a scratched record. Was there anything within his power that he could have done to make her stay? He had concluded a while ago that that question would likely torment him for the rest of his life if he let it. And as the burnt orange sun sank low over the Baltic Sea, he took solace in the fact that he would not have to wonder long at all.
Three hundred and sixty-five days had elapsed since his wife had left him, and daily routines had been mostly kept the same. He still managed to get up every morning, still went for walks around the park. Every now and then he would strap on his hip-waders and fish for hours, and when he was finished, he would go home and shower and then head to the pub for the evening. He found early on that there was not enough alcohol in the world that he could consume to drown out the dreams of her. Frustratingly, days took longer to get through. And it was not that he minded the sudden aloneness… As the eldest brother of seven siblings he had come to enjoy solitude. Quiet mornings out on the water, even quieter evenings at home with a warm fire and a book. It was the fact that this loneliness had been thrust upon him like an extremely unwanted gift. He had no idea what to do with it. So, after careful consideration he made up his mind one morning over a cup of scalding, black coffee that just simply disappearing would probably be the easiest solution to his problems. She had clearly moved on, and it was only fitting that he try and do the same as well… just on a more permanent level. So, he allowed himself a week to set his affairs in order, left a letter for each of his siblings, and on a Friday morning in mid-May took the car to a field a few blocks away from his house. He fixed one end of the hose to the exhaust pipe with an old sock, and the other he fed back into the car from the front window. He could not begin to guess how long this whole ordeal would take, and he wondered briefly if it would be as insignificant as simply falling asleep. Just as he was about to turn the ignition over, he heard in the distance the sound of muffled yelling. He glanced towards the rearview mirror but could make out nothing of consequence, so he sat back a moment and listened. The yelling grew louder, and another glance to the rearview mirror offered something he could not quite make sense of. A woman was running full tilt towards his car, the edges of her white wedding dress clutched tightly in both fists. As she approached the car faster, he noticed a mob of angry men crest the hilltop behind her and she stopped at his door, her chest heaving under the duress of the journey she had just completed. Mascara cascaded down her face like raindrops down a windowsill and she cocked her head to the side in unabashed astonishment. “Alexander?” She inquired, breathlessly.
In a state of shock, he opened his door to get out and stocked around to the back of the car, yanking the hose and sock from the exhaust pipe. He then wandered to the passenger side and held the door open for her which she had obliged gratefully. He paid no more attention to the fast-approaching group of men as he tossed the hose and sock into the backseat and shoved the car into drive. An eerie silence befell the vehicle while his passenger tried to catch her breath. Alexander found the questions he wanted to ask her were suddenly boundless; What on earth could Thea McHugh be doing in this field, in a wedding dress of all things? Where was she going? And most importantly, what had happened to her? He scratched a hand uncomfortably along the strip of stubble beneath his chin, formulating how best to broach the first subject. “Thea… my god. What- where can I bring you?”
She took a steadying breath and turned to him, gaze downcast. “I have nowhere to go.”
He allowed himself a second to take his focus from the road to glance at her. “You don’t reside around here?”
She shook her head. “I lived with my fiancé.”
Alexander was not entirely sure when he had made the decision to bring her back to his home, but if he had to guess, it was probably around the time she had pulled the discarded sock over her fist and used it as a macabre hand puppet. Halfway through the drive he noticed the tip of his silver flask peeking out from beneath the leather interior of his side door and he offered her some of its contents, which she accepted graciously. Neither of them said much as he drove up the lane to the house in which he had bid goodbye not less than two hours earlier. He shifted the car into park and sat unmoving, sparing himself a few moments to try and figure out what the fuck he was going to do now. “Is there anyone I can call for you?” He asked after a while.
She shook her head wordlessly.
Alexander elicited a small sigh and glanced toward the stone structure a few yards away, hardly believing the words that had begun to take shape in his mind. “Listen… I’ve got plenty of space here, if you need a few days to get your feet back on solid ground.”
Her eyes widened and she shook her head no, her pink lips parting in protest. “I couldn’t intrude on you like that… we’re strangers now.”
“Yeah, well… we weren’t always.” He shrugged slowly and took a steadying breath. “Look- there is a motel a few miles down the road that I would be happy to take you to… but I wouldn’t suggest it to my worst enemy. And by the sounds of it, you don’t have any close kin around anymore,” Again, he scratched a hand through the stubble on the underside of his chin. “And your business is entirely your own Thea, but if you need a place to stay, and if you’re not too weary of strangers,” He was not sure how much he liked the sound of that word. “Then I think I could be of some assistance to you.”
She offered up a small smile. “If it really wouldn’t be too much of an imposition- I would be very appreciative, thank you.”
Clambering out of the vehicle, he made his way over to her side of the door and opened it so that she could exit. She followed him up the narrow, cobbled path to the front door and stood a few feet behind him while he fumbled around in his pocket for the keys. He took a deep breath, fit the key into the lock and pushed the door open. He leant against the frame for support as she quietly stepped past him into the darkened entrance. “It's not much…” He found himself murmuring as he watched her take in her current surroundings.
She turned to him, eyes glimmering vibrantly in the waning dusk light. “It's more than enough. Thank you, Alexander.”
He cleared his throat and offered her a curt nod in response, pushing himself back from the wooden doorframe. “I'll be right back with some clothing… for you.” He fished around at the back of his wardrobe for a pair of tattered sweatpants, a t shirt and sweater. When he returned moments later, she had found herself a seat at the kitchen table, her gaze fixed out the garden window at something unseen. She smiled graciously and accepted the clothing with a quiet thank you. “The washroom is down the hall on the left.” He watched her disappear and turned to brace himself against the kitchen sink. Five minutes had elapsed before he heard the familiar creak of the opening bathroom door. He waited for any other indication that she was coming back but when he missed it, he followed the sound of the silence. He found her perched inside the threshold of another room in which he made a conscious habit of completely forgetting was there. He cleared his throat to make his presence known and she turned to him, eyes wide.
“May I go in?”
Alexander shifted uneasily on the spot. Finally, he shrugged his shoulders and conceded. “Sure.”
He had accidentally picked up painting a year and half after he had gotten married. His studio had never really meant to be one for art, but rather a nursery for the baby girl who never quite made the journey into the world. He had returned home after a fishing weekend away with his brothers to find that his wife had done away with everything in the room except that she had left behind an easel, a tin of brushes, and numerous tubes of oil paint.
Thea wandered slowly around the room, absorbing the canvases adorning almost every square inch of space. He marveled at how bizarre it was to feel so naked in front of someone he never thought he would see again. He watched her trace a feather-light touch over an angry mass of scarlet paint on one of the last canvases he had ever worked on. She let her hand drop to her side and turned to him, eyebrow cocked in question. “When did you get into painting?”
He scratched absentmindedly at a spot on the back of his neck. “About twelve years ago, now.”
“These are gorgeous.”
Alexander chewed anxiously at the hollow of his cheek. “They used to help pass the time.” He allowed himself a moment to regard her in the dim evening light of the room. His clothing fit loose on her, and he tried in vain to ignore the questions creeping back into his mind. There still existed something entirely alluring about her; perhaps it was the way that she still seemed so much like the eighteen-year old girl he had fallen for so many years before- time had been kind to her. Or maybe it was the simple fact that she had known him long before his life cracked open and fell apart. Not caring much for where this train of thought was taking him, he cleared his throat and gestured to the kitchen. “I'm going to get something together for dinner.”
Eating together had been a quiet affair. He had found that the questions he had been burning to ask earlier felt inappropriate at this point, so he simply kept to himself. It also did not help that he was entirely unaccustomed to having another living, breathing person in the house with him. When she was finished eating, Thea excused herself from the table to rinse her dishes and gestured with her chin to his empty plate. “Are you finished?”
“All done,” Alexander confirmed and rose from his chair to join her at the sink. “You don’t need to do that…” He murmured as he watched her turn the tap to full hot and pump three gobs of green dish soap into the water beneath her.
Thea shrugged indifferently. “It’s the least I can do. Dinner was delicious, by the way.”
He glanced over at the fried cod in the cast-iron pan, and at the garden-picked green beans in the yellow flowered dish next to it on the stove. He had never been much of a cook, so he suspected that she had merely said that to be polite, but he accepted the compliment with another curt nod regardless. When the dishes were done, he cleared his throat and swayed from side to side, hands buried deep in his denim pockets. “I can give you a quick tour of the place if you’d like.” Thea smiled softly and nodded her head in agreeance. He stocked down the hardwood floored hallway, intending to show her to her room first. The door had been closed and he hesitated a second before opening it to reveal a quaint guest room. He flicked on the light and stood back as she wandered into the room, taking every inch of it in. The walls had been washed in a robin’s-egg blue, and a wicker chair stood in the corner of the room next to a white pain-chipped wardrobe. White floor-length linen curtains hung from the windowsill beneath a cream-coloured wire bedframe. “If there’s anything you need…” He offered awkwardly. “Extra blankets, or anything of the like… please let me know.”
Thea turned to him; her arms wrapped protectively around her frame and offered up a small smile. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
He turned on his heel and left without saying anything, assuming she would follow which she did. “The bathroom is here, the handle on the toilet can be a bit dodgy so just watch out for that when you can.” He wracked his brain for any other useful information that he could offer up. “Uh and the bathtub…” He gestured with his chin to the white claw-foot tub beneath the cracked window. “The water tends to get extremely hot incredibly fast so you may need to run the cold water a little bit beforehand.” He nodded his head in finality, took one last look around the washroom and left her be.
Sleep had continued to evade him that night as it had almost every night for the past two years. The questions had been ceaseless; each time he had just nearly drifted off, another one swam into his mind’s eye and he found himself obsessing over it. What was he thinking bringing her into his house? Why had he even entertained the idea in the first place? What was it about her? He lay awake until the clock next to his bed read ‘3:47 A’, and the birdsong floating in on the half-open window helped to lull his body into a fitful slumber. He jolted awake a few hours later to the sound of a crash in the direction of the kitchen. A cold sweat had broken out over the expanse of his naked upper body, and he fought to keep his breathing slow and steady while he came to the realization that he was not alone anymore. He fumbled around in the dawn light for the beige cable-knit sweater next to his bed, which he threw over himself with a shiver. The scent of sizzling butter in a hot pan greeted him first, followed by freshly brewed coffee. It made his mouth water and it struck him that he could not remember the last time he had been genuinely hungry for food. He was not entirely sure what he would find when he rounded the corner to the kitchen, so when he saw Thea’s form bent over the stove he was taken aback. He stood staring longer than he cared to admit, while she scrambled what looked like eggs, a furrowed expression heavy on her face. She pulled back from the stove to glance around the area, searching for something unknown. “Are you looking for the salt?” He had startled her because she pulled back from the stove as if she had been burned, her eyes wide and alarmed.
She shook her head slowly. “The pepper…”
Alexander jutted his chin towards the hanging shelf above her head. It was adorned with bottles of olive oil, a dish of salt and sugar, and a pepper grinder. She smiled gratefully at him and reached for it. “I think I woke you up…” She murmured as she twisted the black grinder above the eggs cooking in the pan. “I’m sorry.”
Alexander shook his head wordlessly and pulled out the chair at the kitchen table. “I’m not uh… exactly used to having someone else around so there isn’t really much I don’t miss.”
“I took the liberty of cooking some breakfast. I couldn’t remember how you took your eggs, so I decided to play it safe and scramble them.” She turned to face him; her expression unreadable. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind.” He watched her fumble around for the cupboard with the plates and almost gave in when she elicited a triumphant ‘a-ha!’ And pulled two ceramic yellow plates from the cupboard in the far corner. “Mugs are in the cupboard next to it,” He offered easily. She threw him back a thumbs up in response.
“Do you still take your coffee black?” She asked.
Alexander scrubbed a palm down the side of his stubbled cheek. “Yes please.”
She joined him at the table a moment later, setting down his plate of steaming eggs, fresh buttered toast and a sliced apple. She poured him a cup of coffee which he thanked her for and watched her spoon two heaping spoonsful of sugar into her own mug. They were silent as they went to work on their breakfasts, both basking in the warm sunny glow from the open kitchen window. “How did you end up out here, if I may ask?” She asked once she had taken her last bite of egg.
Alexander swallowed back a mouthful of the deliciously warm liquid and shook his head. “I moved out here when I met my wife.”
The only indication that Thea had been surprised at this revelation was by the way her expressive gaze widened the slightest bit. She too stole herself a sip of coffee before she asked her next question. “And you live here… alone now?”
“I do.” He tipped the last of the liquid into his mouth and removed himself from the chair, taking her empty plate as he did so. “Thank you for the breakfast.”
“It was my pleasure.”
After the morning wash-up, Alexander excused himself to tend to some things that needed done around the house. They were menial tasks; a broken hinge to a door in the basement, a couple of the chairs in the kitchen were loose and falling apart and were in dire need of some good, old fashioned hammer and nails. They were simple undertakings that he had never intended to make good on- Because as far as he was concerned, and it was all written down in his will, his house would go to his brother Bill and their growing family. None of this would have been any of his problem if he had just followed through with his original plan yesterday. But as usual, and he was beginning to think that this was simply his lot in life, there was always something else just around the corner for him.
Dinner had been less of a quiet affair that evening. Alexander had come up earlier in the day to thaw a chicken he had found in the freezer that morning and had left it to roast in its own seasonings. Thea prepared roasted potatoes to go with it, and instead of making any semblance of a salad, (he very badly needed to grocery shop) he threw together a bowl of chopped cherry tomatoes, a few handfuls of garden-grown basil, fresh sliced red onions and balsamic vinegar. “You like cooking now?” Thea asked as she stood leant against the stove watching Alexander chop the cherry tomatoes.
Alexander offered up a gruff laugh in response. “Does anyone enjoy cooking, Thea?”
“Mhm, as a matter of fact lots of people do.”
He tossed the rest of the tomatoes into the glass bowl and reached for the onion. “I suppose you’re right… but I wouldn’t say it’s my favourite thing in the world.” He glanced over at her. “I think it’s one of those things that if you’re only doing it for yourself, it becomes more of a chore than a hobby.” Which was true for him at the very least. He had enjoyed cooking when he and his wife lived together but after she left, the passion for it had dissipated almost as suddenly as she had.
“Alexander, the chicken…” Thea’s voice, or rather the sound of his name from her mouth caught him off guard and shook him from his reverie. The timer on the oven had begun to elicit a high pitch whistling sound which he turned off and reached for a ripped dish towel on the counter below him. “Smells delicious,” She simpered as he pulled the scalding dish from the oven and set it on a hot plate at the set table.
“Yes well… hopefully it’s edible.”
Alexander had a hard time remembering a dinner in recent memory that was as satisfying as the one he had just consumed. He sat back in his chair; one arm slung around the top of the wooden frame. “What do you do for a living now, Thea?”
She swallowed the sip of wine she had just taken and set the glass against the wooden tabletop with a soft thud. “I owned a bakery and café downtown.” There was something familiar in the way her eyes twinkled in whatever light she happened to be in that made Alexander want to spend the next fifty years staring at her. He watched her trace a fingertip around the rim of her almost empty glass. “The business... went under two and half months before my wedding.” A silence had befallen them that was not necessarily uncomfortable. “How about you?” She asked after a while, meeting his gaze across the table.
Alexander shook his head. “I don’t work at the moment.”
If she was surprised by this, she never let it show. “I’m sorry to hear that,” She offered softly. Alexander could hear the earnestness in her tone and believed her. “What did you do?”
He cleared his throat and deposited the rest of the white wine into his open mouth. “I owned an art gallery in town,” He glanced at the empty wine bottle and suddenly wished that there had been more. “I sold the business about a year and a half ago now. Just after my divorce was finalized.”
As the silence took shape around them, Alexander knew there existed something unspoken between the pair of them; some sort of invisible barrier which hindered either of them from asking what they so desperately wanted to know, which was: What on earth were you doing in that field yesterday afternoon?
alex being a sucker for holding hands. you know that tender grasp, sometimes just fingertips lightly against each other, pinky fingers entwined, thumb softly stroking the back of you hand... man is just weak for some tlc
whoever keeps sending me these soft as heck asks please- continue because they are getting me through and making me feel all of the feelings.
Touch is an incredibly important sense to him. He likes to reach for her hand in the middle of the night, when it feels like an ocean separates them. It's enough just to feel the warmth of it, to wrap his hand around her much smaller one just to know that she's there and that she isn't going anywhere.
His likes to reach for them in the middle of winter, when she's trembling and chilled to the bone. He'll frown down at her and ask, "You forgot mittens didn't you?" He won't wait for an answer. He'll just bring them up to his mouth, blow chestfulls of warm breath over them, and rub his own hands around them to create warmth. "Silly girl," He'll whisper as he places a kiss to the tip of her chilled nose.
Sometimes he just likes to study them. After dinner one evening and under the cover of the many candlelit votives that scatter the kitchen, he'll reach for her palm. He'll lose himself in the many intersecting lines and creases- all of different lengths and depths. "Have you taken to palm reading now?" Her voice bears a teasing lilt. He'll gaze up at her, shake his head once and kiss the warmth of the palm of her hand.
He likes to reach for her hand when they're in the midst of a crowded room. Or on a red carpet. When everything is loud and blurred and hectic. He'll reach an arm out behind him and she'll already have been waiting. He'll squeeze it thrice softly, grateful for the tangible reminder that she is there, and that she isn't going anywhere.
The one where Alexander can't assemble Ikea furniture to save his life:
"Fucking hell!" You huff and yank the allen key from the slot in which you’d thought it was supposed to go, chucking it angrily at the nearest wall. You frantically peer down at the crumpled piece of paper in your hands, willing the diagrams and arrows on the page to reveal literally any of their many secrets.
You are so entirely enraptured with what you're doing that you don't notice Alexander in the doorway until he whistles lowly. "What on earth are you doing, kid?"
You clutch the paper in your fist and wave it around dramatically. "You've got to help me out here, Alex. This is the kind of confusion I would imagine archeologists grappled with upon discovery of ancient hieroglyphics."
Alexander scoffs and pushes himself from the frame of the guestroom door. "Nonsense, kid," He strolls over to where you’re splayed out on the hardwood floor, random Ikea bedframe parts litter the space around you like a warzone. “How tough can it be?”
An hour edges by and all Alexander has accomplished is the formation of the bottom frame. For some reason, the long metal bar that goes down the middle of the frame isn’t fitting in to any of the holes and he looks about ready to tear his hair out at the root. “Remind me again as to why we are setting up Ikea furniture for our guest room?” He sighs heavily and settles up against the far wall in defeat.
You take a long swig from the beer bottle in your hand before deciding how best to answer this. “One of us... can’t recall who, decided it would be fun to change things up and have deliciously rough drunk sex in the guest bed.”
Alexander squints up at you, lips quirked up in a half smirk. “And?”
“And,” You murmur. “We fucked the bed into literal disrepair.”
Alexander elicits a hearty laugh, and it’s everything you can do not to start laughing along with him. “Oh that’s right. Thought we ordered an unreasonably expensive new one?”
“We did,” You confirm. “But it won’t be here for another week at least, and company’s coming in,” You glance down at the text message from your best friend and sigh. “In two days. So I dug out this bedframe that I forgot I had and here we are.”
“Here we are.” Alexander repeats resolutely.
Another half an hour passes before he realizes he's had the metal bar going the wrong way the entire time.
“Oh my god,” He curses under his breath and tosses the instructions to the floor in exasperation. “Why do they feel the need to make this so fucking difficult?”
"I just..." You shake your head in utter disbelief. "I- how can you be so effortlessly awful at this?"
Alexander scowls at you, his mouth slightly agape. "You weren't much better off on your own!"
Midnight rolls around and the frame is built and is (so far) capable of withstanding the weight of the mattress and blankets atop of it. Alexander stands proudly at the foot of the bed, a beer wedged in his hand as he surveys his handiwork. “What do you think, kid?”
You stand next to him, lacing your fingers with his much larger ones and drop your head to rest against his bicep. “I think that you did a wonderful job Alex,” A beat passes between the pair of you before you add, “And also that you should be stripped of your passport and Swedish citizenship immediately.”
And the elder Swede just drops his head back and belly laughs, and you can't help but laugh right along with him.
