Sweet Addiction

A/N: I'm so sorry about my unoffical hiatus. I've had a bit of a nightmare with revison and Christmas, Still, I'm back and I'm acutally going to do some updating, Cassandra next and then a oneshot I wrote ages ago. Happy New Year darlings, xx


There are lots of questions that can change your life,
“Do you woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?” is one of them,
“How do you plead?” Is another one, but “Would you like a newspaper in the morning,” generally isn't, only, as I gaze at the glorious Technicolor photograph, I realize that answering yes, probably wasn't the best idea, neither was it so bright to ask for The Sun.
Things had started out well- breakfast brought into the room whilst we lay lazing in best, golden sunlight streaming through the open windows, the chatter of people wandering the cobbled streets and the smell of sweet spring air filling the room. Holden had got up (naked... to which I couldn't help but revert to type and schoolgirl- blush) to get the newspaper and some tea (earl Grey, three and three quarters for me, no sugar no milk for him.) “Darling, I think there's been a mix up with the papers”
I sit up, blearily and run my hands through my hair, wrapping my arms around my knees and breathing in the delicious scent of wearing Holden's shirt. “Really? What did they send?”
He wrinkles his nose and says distastefully “The Sun.”
I smile, and gratefully take the cup of tea. “Thats what I ordered darling” I sip the tea, grimace and put it on the bedside table. “Can I have the sugar, Jack?”
“Bex, there's already about two in there.”
“No wonder it tasted funny.”
He tuts but passes the silver sugar shaker, I liberally sprinkle it into the tea. Two sugars indeed, what is this man on? I'm just thinking about clever ways to get more sugar into his diet when I see him sit down heavily on the end of the bed, I crawl along to the end of the bed and rest my chin on his shoulder. “Whats the matter?”
He gestures downwards at the front page of the paper.
Shit.
“Gentlemen Behaving Badly”
and below “London's answer to Paris Hilton has her heart broken- details on page nine” Oh, and in case that wasn't quite enough, a Technicolor picture of us, on the tower, each of us holding a cigarette, kissing, with the sunsetting behind us Any other time it would be a beautiful photograph, but right now, I can feel the tears welling up behind my eyes. All of those wonderful moments that we had together, cheapened, made sordid and disgusting.
All the guilt I had been feeling towards Annabelle evaporated. Bitch.
I don't have time to get angry, I've got to do some damage control, I pick up my mobile and dial my mother's number, she picks up, sounding a little slurred.
“Hello darling...”
“Hi, mum, look- Where are you?”
“I'm in Antigua, darling, with Daddy. About this whole mum thing, Don't you think your old enough now to call me Minty?”
“Mother! This is really important. Have you seen the paper?”
“Oh, yes, that darling. Well I must say, he's a good looker, isn't he? No wonder you got such good grades!” She cackles drunkenly and I hear a voice in the background “Minty, darling, Cocktail time”
“Cocktails, Mother? It's eleven in the morning!”
“Oh shush Darling, And sweetheart if I were you, I'd cut back on the carbs, your looking a little plump in those photos- Not even a teacher is going to have you if you've got thighs like tree trunks!” She cackles again.
I drop the phone and burst into tears. I'm embroiled in a massive sex scandal and all she can say is that my thighs are getting big?
Holden turns around and puts his arms around my waist, holding me tightly and stroking my hair as I sob into his neck. He doesn't try and shush me, he just lets me cry to him. I wind my arms around Holden's neck and cling to him. “Was your mother very angry, Bexie?”
I shake my head tearfully. “She.. She said that my thighs looked fat.”
He looks bemused, “And your very upset about that?”
“She doesn't care, Jack, she doesn't care that her only child is all over the newspapers.”
He smiles as me, and wipes away the mascara from under my eyes and kisses the tip of my nose.
“I love you, Bex.”
I wipe my eyes on the sleeve of his shirt, and run a hand over his jaw, his stubble sharp against the delicate skin of my hand, the dark red nail varnish standing out starkly against my pale skin. Even now I can't believe that I'm with someone so gorgeous.
He stands up, looks and me and takes a deep breath, “What do you want to do today?” I shrug, and lie back on the bed. “Lets do nothing. Lets just sleep.”
He takes hold of my hand and pulls me up. “No, Jones, If you stay here all day you'll just sulk and mope, you need to get up.
“I haven't got a thing to wear.” I slouch, fiddling with the hem of his shirt.
“We're going out Jones, if I have to carry you naked down the streets of London.”
“Fine!” I relent.

An hour later, he gets his way, dressed in his shirt, his Hermes belt (round my waist.. I had to make an extra hole with my nail scissors which I don't think its going to go down to well later) and my high heels from the wedding (an idea I stole from Carrie in sex and the city) I skip along in front of him. The sugary tea, early morning sex and a post coital ciggarette have improved matters quite considerably. Holden looks less than impressed at having to go out wearing his vest with his wedding trousers, but I wasn't giving the shirt back, and it has him who wanted to go out in the first place. I thought it looked very stylish, like a Dolce and Gabana model, but Holden, ever the old public school boy maintained that he looked stupid and like “A foreigner.”
“Shall we go to the park?” I ask hopefully.
Holden smiles, “Hyde Park?”
I giggle again.. “I was thinking Wandsworth Common.”
He looks confused, “Why?”
“It's different.”
I stop at a likely looking bus stop and in happy coincidence, the bus is going in the right direction. I hop, ticket less and smile at the bus driver. “Hello Sir- Here the thing, I did have a ticket, but I don't actually have any pockets” I gesture at my shirt.
The man squints at me “Eh? Aren't you that girl from the paper?”
I shake my head. “I'm sorry Sir, I think must have made some quite of mistake, my name is Louise May Alcott.”
I bust into peals of giggles, Holden looses his patients, puts some money down on the ticket machine, smiles apologetically and bustles me onto the bus. He goes to sit down, but I grab his hand and drag him upstairs onto the top deck.
“Louisa May Alcott? Didn't she write Little Women”
I laugh, “It was the first name that came into my mind.” I collapse backwards onto to front seat and giggle as the bus lurches and Holden falls over backwards. “Jack? Are you ok?” I laugh as he gets up, trying to regain some dignity.
“Why are you so over exited, Bex?”
“I'm not sure.. There was a lot of sugar in that tea...” He smiles despite himself and starts to very gently kiss my neck and nibble my ear, whispering all kinds of entirely inappropriate, though inordinately sweet, nothings to me. “you don't need sugar.. your sweet enough already.”
“You are such a clishe darling”
“cheeky, aren't we?”
I pout, playing up to this, “Mabey just a little bit.. But I'm not sure you if could do something about that.”
“Is that a challenge?”
“Perhaps.”
“Your either very brave darling, or very stupid”
I'm saved from having to think of a quick retort because the bus stops by the common and I jump up, descend the stairs and bounce off onto the pavement.
Holden follows me, carrying my handbag which I had left on the seat. “How can you have so much energy?”
I bend to take my shoes off and skip away, calling backwards “Because I'm not old” I squeal as he runs after me, catching up easily, putting his arms around my waists and gently tackling me onto the grassy ground. I lie next to him, panting and looking up at the sky. “Stay there” I instruct, leaping up and running barefoot across the grass, climbing the fence and crossing the road. I walk into the cool dark corner shop and buy two ice cream, then skip back across the road, smiling at all of the wolf whistles coming from cars.
“K, million dollar question: Magnum or Feast?”
He considers me carefully. “Magnum.” He answers. I laugh delightedly.
“Thank God, You'd have broken my hearth if you'd taken the feast.”
For a while we simply lie, companionably eating ice cream and looking up at the clouds. After about and hour I fish in my clutch bag to find my cigarettes and a lighter. I take out one and put it between my lips, light it and then pass it to Holden.
“Still smoking, then Jones.”
I take the cigarette back and take a long drag. “Yep.”
He takes it back. “I gave up.”
“Try harder.”
He smiled.
“When did you start?” I ask.
“The day that I saw a packet in the bag you dropped in the dining hall.”
I sit up. “Really?”
He nods. “I wanted to see more of you.”
I run a finger along the crook of his arm. “You won't be allowed to teach anymore, will you?”
“No.”
“I'm sorry.”
“It's not your fault.”
“What are we going to do?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, today has been wonderful, but we can't spend the rest of our lives like this. I've got to go back to uni in October, and of course you can come back with me but my flat's tiny, and oh god, I'm going to have to clean if before I let you go anywhere near it, and I'm actually totally broke, particularly after buying that dress and...” Holden puts a finger to my lips, silencing me. He takes a long, considering drag on his cigarette and looks at me.
“I don't know whats going to happen, Bex. But I do know that I'm in love with you, and I've got a first degree from Cambridge in History. It's all going to be ok.”
“Jack?”
“Yes?”
“I love you.”