Harry and Alice - Backdated
Jan. 28th, 2015 08:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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om_mainHarry is feeling a little better, and Alice and he can finally enjoy some of Paris together.
Thank God for blizzards, seriously. Harry and Alice had found themselves stuck in Paris without a return flight, which was perfect since, for the first time, Harry felt well enough to go out for dinner. Felicia had gotten them a table at one of the Plaza Athénée restaurants and Alice had dressed up for him, and no one else, in one of her mini-dresses, a wine-red, lacey thing, and the boots he loved so much. Simple, but effective, and she didn't even feel out of place in the incredible restaurant. Admittedly, Harry tended to make her feel too relaxed to give a shit, and even when he was still recovering from his mutation being a bitch, he apparently managed. Soon enough, she'd all but forgotten about the intimidating aesthetics of the haute cuisine restaurant and the colorful variety of guests who were probably for the most part also here for Fashion Week. There was just Harry, and gratitude that they could have at least one evening like this.
Who knew, maybe there still wouldn't be any flights bound for New York the next day.
"So yeah, it was pretty typical Gaultier," she finished telling him about the show she'd gone and caught in the afternoon, having temporarily forgotten the scallops in her plate in favor of talking about one of her favorites. "In that - wow that guy is crazy." A good kind of crazy. The crazy that made you turn a surprise Naomi Campbell into the bride's bouquet for a finish.
"Always entertaining," Harry said with a chuckle. He was genuinely sorry to have missed it, but especially knowing so many people in town just then, Harry hadn't wanted to risk it. Not even for Ellie Saab the same day, even--the pictures from that one had almost made him sigh. Or would've, if he was the sighing type. As it was, he was working a full waistcoat, jacket, and scarf ensemble all through dinner to keep the faded but still slightly telltale patch of healing skin on his neck out of view. Not that anyone was looking at him, with Alice on his arm. "I always appreciate anyone who can bring a sense of humor to something usually so frowny."
"I don't know what I like more about him - his designs, or that," Alice agreed with a smile. And then chuckled, all the happier for sharing this with Harry, even belatedly. "...or the fact that I got to chat with Dita von Teese, okay, that ranked way up there, too." He was up and feeling better, and they were dining in one of the most renowned Parisian palace hotels. Life was good again.
...speaking of dining, she turned back to her plate, because wow, truffles, where had you been all her life.
"I wish I'd been there to take a picture." Harry's smile was still a little weak, his face a little pale, his eyes a touch sunken, but everything about the expression still spoke of his clear and unquestionable delight that she'd gotten to enjoy herself a little. In spite of this fucking curse. "What'd you say?"
"We talked about the show, obviously," Alice replied with a smile. "Honestly, I'm not even sure what I said exactly?" But the conversation, short though it had been, had gone well, so she figured she'd managed to be coherent. "Gaultier was standing like ten feet from us, and I was having a fangirl moment," she admitted, failing to feel any kind of sheepish, because Gaultier.
Harry chuckled, wishing even harder that he'd been there just to see her in that state. He didn't often think of her as 'cute'--it was usually beautiful or hot or something like that. The 'cute' wasn't all that surprising, though. Why shouldn't she be everything?
... she was, though, wasn't she? The grace with which she'd handled this shit situation--her dream of Paris, if not ruined, at least significantly dampened by this thing of his. Wholly apart from his annoyance with himself, his weakness, he had a new appreciation for her strength and ability. And, frankly, compassion.
All things he'd known were there. All things even more impressive in action.
So if his gaze was particularly warm just then, if his smile was especially appreciative and knowing, well, he assumed he could be forgiven. "You really are remarkable, Alice." Which probably seemed out of nowhere, but he felt like someone should tell her, all the same.
Alice blinked, caught off guard by the words, words that did feel out of the blue. "Um, okay?" she answered with an amused smile, but there was something in Harry's eyes that prevented her from simply laughing it off. She'd still resort to humor to ask what was up with that, though, because, well. It was what they did. "I'm fangirling Gaultier more often, if that's what I get for it."
"To be fair, I think you fangirling anyone would get the same effect." Harry's smile was crooked, but very, very real. "And that's part of it. But--I know this week hasn't been easy. And it definitely hasn't been the fairy tale you were promised. I hate myself a lot less than I expected for that, and that's because of you."
Right, that. Alice's amusement faded, leaving her serious and composed. She reached out to lay her fingertips on the back of his hand. "I'd rather you didn't hate yourself at all." It sounded like she was saying something else, too, but she wasn't sure that she wanted to figure out what, so she smiled and added, "This just means our next Fashion Week can only be a thousand times better." With him actually able to enjoy it with her.
Harry turned his hand over to tangle his fingers up with hers briefly. They were eating, yes, but he couldn't help it. Just for a moment. "I'm just not in the habit of disappointing myself, is all. Or anyone else." Except Norman--but I don't think that even counts, at this stage. "But you're right about that much. Everything is going to be a thousand times better."
Because he was going to treat her like a goddamn princess, because that was, quite simply, what Alice Fitzgerald deserved.
The food could wait, if you asked Alice. The food really wasn't what mattered here, which was saying a lot, given that her general hedonism very much extended to food and drinks. She wanted to protest that he hadn't disappointed her, that he'd still given her Fashion Week in Paris, but it would have been a lie not to confess that of course, of course she had been sorely disappointed not to share it with him. She could see his point, even if she strongly disagreed with it, and she had an inkling that trying to change his mind was a lost battle.
So, definitely best to focus on the future. She smiled, more brightly this time. "There's New York next month?" And London, but she doubted they could get away with taking Fashion Week sanity days so soon after this trip.
Harry gave her fingers a squeeze before letting go and returning to his exquisite steak. "We're about to make New York yours, Alice. Or, at least, all the parts of it that matter during Fashion Week."
It wasn't Paris, far too familiar for that, but there were still plenty of things he could show and give her in their own city. And he meant to.
"Oh no," Alice shook her head, but she was still smiling, and watching him. God, it was so good to just be here with him, and that colored the warmth of her smile, the spark in her eyes. "We'll make it ours."
Thank God for blizzards, seriously. Harry and Alice had found themselves stuck in Paris without a return flight, which was perfect since, for the first time, Harry felt well enough to go out for dinner. Felicia had gotten them a table at one of the Plaza Athénée restaurants and Alice had dressed up for him, and no one else, in one of her mini-dresses, a wine-red, lacey thing, and the boots he loved so much. Simple, but effective, and she didn't even feel out of place in the incredible restaurant. Admittedly, Harry tended to make her feel too relaxed to give a shit, and even when he was still recovering from his mutation being a bitch, he apparently managed. Soon enough, she'd all but forgotten about the intimidating aesthetics of the haute cuisine restaurant and the colorful variety of guests who were probably for the most part also here for Fashion Week. There was just Harry, and gratitude that they could have at least one evening like this.
Who knew, maybe there still wouldn't be any flights bound for New York the next day.
"So yeah, it was pretty typical Gaultier," she finished telling him about the show she'd gone and caught in the afternoon, having temporarily forgotten the scallops in her plate in favor of talking about one of her favorites. "In that - wow that guy is crazy." A good kind of crazy. The crazy that made you turn a surprise Naomi Campbell into the bride's bouquet for a finish.
"Always entertaining," Harry said with a chuckle. He was genuinely sorry to have missed it, but especially knowing so many people in town just then, Harry hadn't wanted to risk it. Not even for Ellie Saab the same day, even--the pictures from that one had almost made him sigh. Or would've, if he was the sighing type. As it was, he was working a full waistcoat, jacket, and scarf ensemble all through dinner to keep the faded but still slightly telltale patch of healing skin on his neck out of view. Not that anyone was looking at him, with Alice on his arm. "I always appreciate anyone who can bring a sense of humor to something usually so frowny."
"I don't know what I like more about him - his designs, or that," Alice agreed with a smile. And then chuckled, all the happier for sharing this with Harry, even belatedly. "...or the fact that I got to chat with Dita von Teese, okay, that ranked way up there, too." He was up and feeling better, and they were dining in one of the most renowned Parisian palace hotels. Life was good again.
...speaking of dining, she turned back to her plate, because wow, truffles, where had you been all her life.
"I wish I'd been there to take a picture." Harry's smile was still a little weak, his face a little pale, his eyes a touch sunken, but everything about the expression still spoke of his clear and unquestionable delight that she'd gotten to enjoy herself a little. In spite of this fucking curse. "What'd you say?"
"We talked about the show, obviously," Alice replied with a smile. "Honestly, I'm not even sure what I said exactly?" But the conversation, short though it had been, had gone well, so she figured she'd managed to be coherent. "Gaultier was standing like ten feet from us, and I was having a fangirl moment," she admitted, failing to feel any kind of sheepish, because Gaultier.
Harry chuckled, wishing even harder that he'd been there just to see her in that state. He didn't often think of her as 'cute'--it was usually beautiful or hot or something like that. The 'cute' wasn't all that surprising, though. Why shouldn't she be everything?
... she was, though, wasn't she? The grace with which she'd handled this shit situation--her dream of Paris, if not ruined, at least significantly dampened by this thing of his. Wholly apart from his annoyance with himself, his weakness, he had a new appreciation for her strength and ability. And, frankly, compassion.
All things he'd known were there. All things even more impressive in action.
So if his gaze was particularly warm just then, if his smile was especially appreciative and knowing, well, he assumed he could be forgiven. "You really are remarkable, Alice." Which probably seemed out of nowhere, but he felt like someone should tell her, all the same.
Alice blinked, caught off guard by the words, words that did feel out of the blue. "Um, okay?" she answered with an amused smile, but there was something in Harry's eyes that prevented her from simply laughing it off. She'd still resort to humor to ask what was up with that, though, because, well. It was what they did. "I'm fangirling Gaultier more often, if that's what I get for it."
"To be fair, I think you fangirling anyone would get the same effect." Harry's smile was crooked, but very, very real. "And that's part of it. But--I know this week hasn't been easy. And it definitely hasn't been the fairy tale you were promised. I hate myself a lot less than I expected for that, and that's because of you."
Right, that. Alice's amusement faded, leaving her serious and composed. She reached out to lay her fingertips on the back of his hand. "I'd rather you didn't hate yourself at all." It sounded like she was saying something else, too, but she wasn't sure that she wanted to figure out what, so she smiled and added, "This just means our next Fashion Week can only be a thousand times better." With him actually able to enjoy it with her.
Harry turned his hand over to tangle his fingers up with hers briefly. They were eating, yes, but he couldn't help it. Just for a moment. "I'm just not in the habit of disappointing myself, is all. Or anyone else." Except Norman--but I don't think that even counts, at this stage. "But you're right about that much. Everything is going to be a thousand times better."
Because he was going to treat her like a goddamn princess, because that was, quite simply, what Alice Fitzgerald deserved.
The food could wait, if you asked Alice. The food really wasn't what mattered here, which was saying a lot, given that her general hedonism very much extended to food and drinks. She wanted to protest that he hadn't disappointed her, that he'd still given her Fashion Week in Paris, but it would have been a lie not to confess that of course, of course she had been sorely disappointed not to share it with him. She could see his point, even if she strongly disagreed with it, and she had an inkling that trying to change his mind was a lost battle.
So, definitely best to focus on the future. She smiled, more brightly this time. "There's New York next month?" And London, but she doubted they could get away with taking Fashion Week sanity days so soon after this trip.
Harry gave her fingers a squeeze before letting go and returning to his exquisite steak. "We're about to make New York yours, Alice. Or, at least, all the parts of it that matter during Fashion Week."
It wasn't Paris, far too familiar for that, but there were still plenty of things he could show and give her in their own city. And he meant to.
"Oh no," Alice shook her head, but she was still smiling, and watching him. God, it was so good to just be here with him, and that colored the warmth of her smile, the spark in her eyes. "We'll make it ours."
