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As the Seasons Grey	By : christinecornell Category: Celebrities - Misc > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 261 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Started life as kinky Christmas-related short stories in 2022 and took on a life of its own shortly thereafter. 100 fiction, none of this is real, and I own nothing except for the character of Christine.

Chapter List
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The sandwich and fries that Nelly had whipped up for Christine hit the spot in such a way that she wanted to remain with the feeling forever. She huddled closer to Alex, who helped himself to a big slice of blackberry pie courtesy of Nelly as well as a lush, fresh cup of coffee. It was a cold day that day, and one that became colder with each passing minute: Christine knew that it was going to snow soon enough.
The aromas were almost intoxicating as she indulged in that hot sandwich and those fries straight out of the fryer, and Alex sipped on his coffee every so often. That nice rich black coffee that seemed to cradle her and hold her even closer to him.
She thought about the dream that she had: all bizarreness aside, she kept on thinking about him there on the loveseat, reclined back so she could lay on top of him. She thought about it even more as she lightly nibbled on the fries. The thought of laying next to him all the while, especially once he found himself so full of pie and coffee, and she could only find herself feeling warmer at the thought of it.
“I should invite you over for Hanukkah,” he suggested.
“My mom and I should have you over for Thanksgiving,” she quipped, and he smiled at that. “By the way, when is Hanukkah this year?”
“It’s coming up here,” he told her, “it’s on the seventh of December and goes to the fifteenth.” He took another sip of coffee and closed his eyes. “Part of me wants this coffee with a touch of Irish.”
“A touch of Irish?”
“A little kiss of Irish whiskey and some cream,” he clarified, and he showed her a little playful smirk. “Don’t tell me you never had Irish coffee before.”
“I think I tried it but I wasn’t crazy about it,” she told him. “Both of my parents are recovering alcoholics so I don’t really want to risk that.”
“Oh, that’s totally understandable,” he said with another sip. “I think of yesterday, when you hinted at the kinks in question that you want to throw out to me.”
“You could have a little booze to loosen things up a bit,” she suggested after she had taken another bite of Reuben sandwich. “I could play around with a dildo or a vibrator of some kind.”
“Phew, you’re actually gonna go there, aren’t you,” he teased her.
“What, with toys? Or getting off to your sexy voice or your little tummy?”
He raised his eyebrows so high that his glasses slid off the bridge of his nose down to that full tip.
“Would you like to tie me up while you’re at it?” he suggested.
“Maybe. Or we could do a little role play: I’m the student who needs teaching and you’re the only tutor for miles.”
“What if I am the only tutor for miles?” he quipped, and he hooded his eyes at her. Christine moved in closer to his face as if to kiss him, but then she remembered that they were still at school. She instead moved back and cuddled down next to him, and she picked up the second half of her sandwich.
“God, this is so good,” she remarked.
“And this is probably Nelly’s best pie by far,” he added as he picked up the last bite of flaky crust. “It could really use a scoop of ice cream on the side for an à la mode thing, it’s just that good. She’s like an artist with baking.”
“Speaking of, I’m thinking of taking an art class for the winter term,” she told him, and his face lit up at that.
“Oh, really! You totally should—after you made that little mug for me, I feel there’s something untapped inside of you. An artist waiting to emerge from the shadows and rage out like she means business.”
Christine reached into her coat pocket for her phone, only to find the screen in the caller ID dark. She sighed through her nose and returned it back in there. Not the first time she had received a phantom text.
“Would you like me to come along with you to see your dad?” he offered her.
“You can if you want to,” she replied with a shrug. “I mainly have to call my mom because I don’t know what’s happening. All I just know is he’s admitted to the hospital on a—” She cleared her throat.
“On a what?”
She leaned in closer to his face. “A relapse.”
He raised his eyebrows at that. “Oh, no.”
“Yeah.”
“I kind of feel bad about the Irish coffee remark, now,” he confessed as he picked up the mug for another sip.
“Don’t,” she assured him. “If anything, my dad makes jokes about it often. Part of his recovery involves making fun of himself, like he says you can laugh about it with the right kind of people.”
“You can laugh about so many things with the right kind of people,” he followed up with a nudge of his glasses up his nose. “Like a messed up relationship.”
“Like a messed up relationship or an eating disorder,” she added, and she offered him one of her fries.
“Oh, thank you—” He took a bite and then dropped it into his mouth in one fell swoop. “Delicious.”
Something out of the corner of her eye caught her attention; Christine glanced past him to see Sabrina’s black hair and big beaming smile on her face. She looked rather different without the rest of the Sundaes all around her.
“The dynamic Sabrina,” Christine declared with another fry into her mouth, and he turned his attention over to her.
“Oh, hey, Lady Bird,” he greeted her, and Christine chuckled at that.
“Marlene and I wanted to ask you if you’re going to be overseeing the final,” Sabrina told him.
“If Mr. Hansen plans on retiring between now and the middle of December, we shall see, my dear.” Alex flashed her a wink, and Sabrina wiggled her nose like that of a little rabbit before she stepped away from them.
“I think it’d be pretty cool if you administered the final,” Christine suggested.
“Don’t be getting any ideas now,” he quipped with a wag of his finger, and he took one final sip of his coffee and ran his fingers through his black hair to keep it off the side of his face. Christine finished off the rest of her fries, and she took out her phone once again. After a quick flip through her address book, she found the number and pushed the button. She held the phone to her ear and closed her eyes.
Alex sat there and watched her as the phone hit Wendy’s voicemail. The dial tone went off right then, and she cleared her throat.
“Mom, hi, it’s Chris—I’m just getting back to you about Dad. I’m at right school now and I don’t know if I’ll have a bunch of homework but I’ll try and visit when I get the chance. Love you and him both.”
She hung up and he nodded his head at that.
“You’re a good kid,” he told her in a low voice. The sound of the rain on the roof caught her attention, and she shivered. He then turned his attention to her. “Let me take you home later today.”
“You?” she asked him.
“Yeah. Let me take you and Eric home.”
“Eric? I think he drove here.”
“I want to drive you both home, though,” he insisted, and he peered behind them. “Is he here? I don’t think I even saw him earlier today—I didn’t have to substitute today, either.”
“Come to think of it, I don’t think he was here,” she confessed with a shake of her head. “I don’t really feel like riding the bus home, anyway.” She looked at the clock on her phone and patted the top of the table. “I gotta get going.”
“I think I do, too,” he said. “Gotta get those substitute teacher checks before anything else happens…”
She could hear it in his voice and see it in his face. She was so warm next to him right there, and when she thought about it, she knew that he felt the same way as her. Christine picked up her bag and slung it over her shoulder.
If nothing else, she could keep up that warm feeling when they rode home together.
It rained on and off throughout that final stretch of the school day, but she knew that the snow was upon them as she made her way to the edge of the wet grass and his car parked there under the trees. The chill lingered in the air, and she closed her coat. She hoped that his car was warm and dry once she spotted that head of rich black hair with the vein of gray at the crown. He nudged his glasses up his nose and unlocked the passenger side for her first.
She set her bag on the floor and climbed inside. Alex followed suit next to her, complete with a rub of his hands.
“I think it’s supposed to snow,” he declared.
“I think so, too,” she added. “The feeling is in the air.”
“The seductive feeling is in the air,” he quipped as he started up the car. No rain ensued on the ride back across the Brooklyn Bridge to her humble nook on the second floor, but she knew that she would be warm that night when she went off to bed.
But rather than drop her off at her place, he kept on going to his place.
“There are some things that I want to give you,” he explained as he pulled up to a wide open space by the curb three doors up from his front door.
When they climbed out, the wind had calmed down but the chill still remained. It could begin to snow when she wasn’t even thinking about it on that little stretch of sidewalk.
She shivered and stood by his comfy couch once they were in the safety of his apartment. Alex slithered back to his bedroom for the things in question. Christine stood there in the middle of the floor with her hands tucked in her pockets, and she sighed through her nose. Her worst fear was that Captain Howdy would burst in through that front door unannounced, but she trusted Alex even after everything.
He returned to the front part of the apartment with a handful of books in his arms.
“Here, Christine—” he grunted out. She reached out to catch them before they fell onto the floor. She counted six of them, three of which looked like old textbooks from the Cold War era: she balanced them on one hand.
“These books will do wonders on the next step of your journey,” he advised her, slightly out of breath. “Those textbooks you got in your hand there are all for fine art if you wanna take an art class of some sort. They’re old but they’re competent and they can show you some things from fifty years ago that can be even more relevant now.”
“And what about these three?” Christine nodded down to the three against her chest. He ran his fingers through his hair and fixed his glasses.
“The two on your breasts are both poetry books—from Dylan Thomas and Emily Dickinson,” he explained. “And that third one…” He nudged it out of her hand for her to have a look.
“I read this when I was about your age,” he added.
“‘The Brothers Karamazov’,” she read the gilded cover aloud, and then she lightly tapped her finger on the cover. “It’s one of those books that I’ve always heard about but never got around to actually reading it.”
“Oh, you should definitely read it,” he advised her. “I read it once and I was in love with it from the get-go.”
She clutched the books to her chest, and she promised herself that she wouldn’t drop them on the ground.
“I should probably tell you that my trio has another couple of shows coming up here,” he told her with a nudge of his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “One next weekend, and one the week before Christmas, both at the Iridium. We always play the week before Christmas, whether or not Hanukkah coincides with it.”
He then rubbed his hands together, and he turned for the guitar case next to the arm of the couch, and he slung it over his shoulder.
“Come on—it’s not very far, I’ll walk you home.”
And all the while, the wind kept at a level, but the feeling of snow remained around them all the way back to her apartment. Alex offered to carry a couple of her books, especially once her arms quivered from holding them so tightly to her chest.
And then she realized the real reason he walked her home as they near her apartment building there in the middle of the block: Eric’s car remained there at the curb up ahead. He never went to school that day.
“I had a feeling there was somewhere that you have to be,” she admitted, and she could feel her heart sinking at the mere thought of it all. He handed the books back to her, but then he reached into his pocket for something.
“I have a date with her,” he confessed, and he fetched up a sigh. “Yes, I’m aware. It’s just one of those things where it’s nearly impossible to pass up, especially when she and I are still technically together.”
“We have our relationship at school, though,” she pointed out.
“Indeed, we do,” he noted with a slight twinkle to his eye. He took out his phone and flipped it open. Nothing could deny the slightly irritated look on his face.
“Christine.”
“Alex.”
“Shoot my ears off.”
His face fell as he folded and tucked his phone back into his pocket with his free hand.
“Wondering where you are?” she asked him, slightly crestfallen.
“I guess you could say that,” he answered with a sigh. She glanced up at him as she adjusted her grip on the books.
“Are those too much for you?” he asked her.
“Nah, I’ve carried way worse than this,” she assured him. “One time, when I was in high school, I carried six textbooks back to my parents’ place. They were way heavier than this. My key is in my pocket, though.” He reached into her coat pocket for it and handed it to her, to which she held onto it with her index finger and her thumb.
“I’m eager to go to the Smithsonian, though,” she said. “And I would actually love to see you at NYU should that ever happen.”
“And if I ever do, know that I’m always only a couple of miles away over in Greenwich Village,” he assured her. “If anything, you should at least mosey on over there and check it all out. It’s like a cultural hub.”
“A cultural hub for the uncultured,” she noted, to which he shook his head.
“Nah, you’re not uncultured—you had a raw deal in life and you couldn’t really see what resided in you until you found it.” He showed her a thoughtful smile and then leaned in to kiss her on the forehead. Her heart pounded in her chest at the feeling of his lips there; he looked into her eyes, those bright blues up against the incoming field of white and gray coming their way. His black hair fluttered against the cold wind as it flooded in right then, but he was a beacon of warmth in the whole grand scheme of the gray world around them.
He sighed through his nose and turned away, complete with a slight adjustment of his guitar case over his shoulder. He walked about three feet away when Christine turned and started in the opposite direction back to her place. She then stopped and turned back around, and the first flurries of the autumn drifted down and upon her head.
“Alex!” she called after him.
He stopped dead in his tracks, but he never turned around. He instead kept his back to her as the flurries drifted down from the gray sky overhead. The books weighed down her arms, but the last thing she wanted to do was set them down on the sidewalk for a moment, especially when the blizzard was about to head in full swing on her head.
“I love you more than you’ll ever know,” she called out to him. He finally turned around for a look back at her, still with that thoughtful look on his face. She could feel the warmth of his lips still on her skin. “I love you more than you’ll ever know, Alex.”
“I do know,” he called back to her as a gust of wind welled up behind him and lifted his black hair up to resemble the billowing branches of a willow tree. He squinted his eyes and brought his coat collar up to his lips to protect himself from the bitter cold around him. She showed him a smile, and she nearly dropped the books on the sidewalk below her feet: she caught herself and walked on back to her apartment building before the flurries picked up into a full-fledged snowstorm.
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As the Seasons Grey