#Alec Hardy x Belle de Jour | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lostinfic · 10 years

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You and your heart.5

Pairing: Hannah Baxter x Alec Hardy

Rating: teen and up

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Ao3 FF.net

Author's note: thank you, thank you, thank you. I am overwhelmed by the positive response to this fic.

Previously:

“That’s my taxi,” Hannah says, reaching for the car door at it comes to a stop, “The Waldorf Hilton, please.”

She gets in but can't help looking back at Hardy. He looks defeated, drained.

“Wait,” she rolls down the window and hands Alec her keys, “guest bedroom is on the second floor.”

She tosses her head back and takes deep breaths, trying to reign in her emotions. She can’t do this right now. There's whoring to be done. She takes a pocket mirror out of her purse. All that black eye shadow, fake eyelashes, blood red lips, she barely recognizes her reflection. But Belle smiles at her confidently.

As the cab approaches the hotel, she receives a text message. It’s from Alec.

“I didn’t want you to leave. I wanted you to come to the doctor with me.”

She feels the blood drain from her face as understanding dawns on her. That morning, back at the train station, he’d told her the time and place of his appointment. She hadn’t made sense of it back then. With everything from Alec rebuffing her kiss and laying far away from her in bed to her increasing anxiety over whether or not he knows, she’d completely missed his point. Her mind had construed his words into what she dreaded the most, disregarding every little thing that spoke of his affection. They say people only hear what they want to hear. It’s true she couldn’t wait to get rid of him but not for the reasons he imagined.

“Shit!” she hits the seat with her fist, prompting a worried look from the driver.

The taxi decelerates in front of the luxurious hotel and the cabbie tells her the price for the ride. She doesn’t react. She’s staring at her mobile, reading Alec’s text over and over again. He needed her and she wasn’t there for him.

“All right, luv?”

“Erm, no... turn around please.”

He hesitates until she gets a stack of pound notes out of her wallet.

“Turn. Around.”

There’s not a light on in the house, everything is as she left it, no suitcase or shoes by the door. Only the swish of her sequined dress and the clatter of her stilettos disturb the silence. She dumps her purse on the table and walks up the stairs, calling Alec’s name. With butterflies in her stomach, she waits for an answer but she doesn’t get any. Finally, she finds him in the dim guest bedroom. He’s sitting on the grey duvet, engrossed in the wood grain of the floor. Legs crossed at the ankles, she stands in the doorway and bites her nails. She should have thought of something to say on the drive back. He breaks the silence first with a hoarse voice she doesn’t recognize.

“I kept thinking of that day, on the boat,” he says, rubbing a thumb in his palm.

She’d held his hand.

The thought of him, alone in a cold and sterile hospital room, breaks her heart.

“I’m so sorry...I was so sure you’d had enough of me.”

She pleads with her eyes, trying to convey her regret. He studies her features, running a hand through his hair while he considers what she said. She steps closer and hesitantly takes his hand between hers. He lets her.

“It’s awrite, I suppose,” he says, “I know what I’m like.”

His fingers are cold despite the summer heat and she rubs them softly.

“So, we’re good, yeah?” she asks and she hates the quiver in her voice.

He nods but it’s not enough to reassure her.

She guides him out of the room and down the stairs to the kitchen. She kicks off her high-heels and fills the stainless steel kettle. The situation requires a good cuppa. While she takes out her favourite mugs and fancy tea tins, he sits on a stool at the counter and observes the chic interior.

“It’s very white,” he comments, clearly disapproving of her decorating choices.

She shrugs and pours water over the orange blossoms and white tea leaves, making them swirl in the glass teapot.

“Why d’you need to make it so posh for?”

“Have you finished? My house, my way.”

He utters a non-committal grunt. While the tea steeps, she joins him on the other side of the counter. Alec retreats in his thoughts, bad ones by the looks of it. She doesn’t know what to make of his sullenness. Anger would be better than the dejected look on his face. She wants to ask how it went at the doctor’s but you can’t force these things, not with Hardy. So she doesn’t say a word and pours the tea. She gets lost in the steam rising from her cup and disappearing in the soft light of the pendant lamp.

After a few sips, Alec finally talks. He recounts what happened at the hospital, keeping his eyes on the cloudy liquid in his mug. He received test results from his latest checkup. His health hasn’t improved as much as they’d expected. It’s going to take longer than he’d been told before he can even think of taking the physical endurance test necessary to get back to work. Even then, he’ll probably be relegated to a desk job – if he’s lucky. His voice croaks on the last words, he clenches his teeth and tightens his grip on the cup.

She can’t think of anything to say except for platitudes meant to reassure herself more than him. Instead, she rubs his hunched back, her hand warm from holding her tea.

“Did you tell him you’d started working out again?”

“Aye, he said it would help.”

“I really wish I’d been there for you.”

He finally looks at her, trying to smile but only one corner of his mouth rises.

“It wasn’t just for me that I wanted you there.”

He rolls the sleeves of his gray shirt, avoiding her inquisitive gaze.

“Why, then?” she insists.

“I thought you had to know what you were getting into – how ill I am – before...”

“Before?”

“You know,” he moves his hand back and forth between them.

“Oh! That why you didn’t kiss me the other night?”

He lets out a short laugh.

“Still can’t believe I managed to resist that. You were practically throwing yourself at me.”

She nudges his ribs playfully and he smiles, it almost reaches his eyes this time.

“So, you wanted to? Kiss me, I mean.”

And there’s really nothing quite as adorable as the grumpy DI Hardy blushing. He tugs on his ear and gives her a sidelong glance and there’s that pull in her chest she’s learned to associate with him, with her feelings for him. Now would be an ideal time to kiss him except her mobile rings.

She digs in her purse and one look at the screen informs her that it’s her client -- the one she left hanging at the hotel. She leaves the room to take the call. Trying to make it as short as possible, she uses the good old “personal reasons” excuse. She might lose a client but she won’t lose someone she cares about. Not again. After hanging up, she stops by the bathroom and washes her face, scrubbing off the layer of make-up. While she’s at it, she decides to change into more casual clothes. She trades the dress for the extra-long violet tee hanging behind the door. She looks at the sequined garment in a puddle on the floor and thinks it’s like shedding a skin. Or an armor.

When she comes back into the room, she finds Alec pouring over her handbag, carelessly left opened on the kitchen table.

“You should also know that I know you’re a prostitute. High class escort by the looks of it,” he says, taking her completely by surprise.

She falters, her mouth opening and closing several times as she processes his words. Her heart pounds like a drum.

“How d’you know?” she asks, holding her breath.

“DI,” he points a thumb at his chest.

“For how long?”

Much to her surprise, he reveals that he’s had his doubts since the last time they saw each other, over two years ago. A few things had tipped him off. In his line of work, he’d met both sex workers and legal secretaries -- only one of those can afford the kind of clothes and house she has. That and some of the things she’d said in the past weeks. Hannah collapses in the nearest armchair. She covers her mouth with her hand as dozens of questions jostle around in her brain.

“Why d’you let me come to your house, then?”

He shrugs casually, hands in his pockets, barely frowning.

“I owed your father a favour, I didn’t care as long as you weren’t doing it in Broadchurch.”

She mulls over this new information, finding that his reason leaves her a little disappointed.

After a moment of heavy silence, he sits down on the white leather ottoman in front of her. He rests forward on his elbows, the back of his fingers brushing against her bare knees.

“Listen, Han... There’s always more to people.”

Something in the way the hard line of his lips softens, in the way he looks straight in her eyes, feels sincere. It makes her lean forward to pay closer attention to what he has to say.

“We see a different side of people, you and I, a side they don’t show the rest of the world. But we know they’re not just criminals or perverts... and I’m not just a DI and you’re not just an escort.”

“A minute ago you were devastated ‘cause you might not get back to work,” she points out.

It wasn’t the right thing to say. At least, it didn’t come out too snarky. He doesn’t hold it against her. In a way, his older age is what she likes the most about him: he’s mature and wise and he can handle her. He merely quirks an eyebrow and continues with his train of thought:

“My job... it’s never been just a job, you know?”

She nods emphatically, he might as well have been talking about her.

“And with Danny’s murder, I...”

He sighs deeply, averting his eyes once more. She rests a hand on his forearm and he goes on to say:

“Sometimes it’s... self-destruction. So we have to remember it’s not all we are.”

Her eyes well up. A jumble of pleasant and unpleasant emotions swirls through her: the joy of having someone who understands and the bleak reality of her situation. She loves her work, she’s good at it, brilliant even, but she fucked up. She let Harry mess with her head and play on her insecurities. She alienated people.

Alec cups her face, slender fingers cradling her jaw like fine porcelain, and he wipes a stray tear away with his thumb. She leans into his touch and it becomes more like her cheek caressing his palm than the other way around.

“Sometimes I think that maybe it’s not that I like my job so much but that it’s become an excuse to keep people away,” her throat cracks and hurts, her face contorting as she tries to keep the corners of her mouth upwards. “But what else can I do? What will you do?”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure there’s plenty you can do,” he replies dully.

“… Right.”

She reclines in her seat. A “now what?” hangs in the air.

“I think I’ll become one of those hippie farmers,” Alec says, “I’ll raise wild chickens and grow organic Brussels sprouts or something,”

Hannah laughs through her tears, wiping them away with the back of her hand.

“And I’ll become a bee keeper and sell overpriced honey to vegans,” she adds.

“And you’ll be a successful writer.”

“Yes, well, actually, I already am.”

He smiles and she gets the sudden urge to hug him. Following her impulse, she gets up and wraps her arms around his neck. He sees himself as old and weak but to her he’s a solid, comforting presence. Even in London he smells of their beach house, pine and sand. With her exacerbated sensitivity, the contact triggers another wave of emotions, these ones all positive. He hugs her back, nose buried in her golden curls. After a while, she lets go to sit sideways on his thigh. She keeps one arm around his shoulders, playing with the short hair at the base of his head.

“I mean it you know,” he says, “you’re young and healthy and smart. You can do anything you want.”

He really believes it, believes in her. And there’s that overwhelming feeling in her chest, a tightness. Fear. That she doesn’t deserve it -- him. She can barely breathe and she needs to look away from his eyes. But he holds her chin and her gaze, makes her believe him.

“You. Can do anything.”

Her fear decreases a notch and her chest feels tight for a whole other reason, her heart swelling, pushing at her ribs, unable to contain all this love and begging for more. His eyes are already kissing her. His thumb whispers over her lips, slightly pulling on the bottom one just as her tongue darts out. She feels the tip of his nose first, like a tentative nudge, her eyes close and she tastes his gasp. Dry lips press against hers, salty with her tears. She’s been kissed many times before – never like that. It appeases and excites her all at once. His hand delves in her hair as it grows hungrier and she molds her body to his, depriving herself of oxygen for the sake of desire. When they part, she keeps her eyes closed for a few seconds, resting her forehead on his, savoring the warmth spreading from her lips to her heart.

“Are you coming back to Broadchurch with me?” he whispers.

“Yes”

“Just to be clear, by that I mean that I want you to come back with me and live with me in the beach house for as long as you need –but not in the guest bedroom.”

“Oh well, in that case –”

He stifles her giggles with his mouth and she feels him smile as he kisses her again. And again. And again.

A/N: This is as far as I had planned to take that story. I feel that if I were to continue, there would need to be an actual plot and I have too much work coming up to take that on. I might write a sequel, there is still so much to explore with these characters, just not right right now (unless one of you wants to grade all of my students' papers and finish my master's degree).

ETA: Bonus chapter !!

#Hardy x Hannah #You and your heart #dwcastxover #Alec Hardy x Belle de Jour #lostinfic writes stuff

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