Author's Note: The following is my attempt at fixing Chase/Alex post-finale. It's a compilation of non-chronological drabbles, most of which were written while listening to "All I Want" by Kodaline. Trust me, it applies. So does "Hell of a Season" by The Black Keys, after which this story is named. Onward!
Chase is grabbing a case of beer when he hears the faint sound of footsteps. His back straightens instinctively, and he takes a deep breath to remain calm.
"We're closed," he calls, to no one in particular.
"I heard you beat the crap out of some guy. Criminals are almost as sexy as men in uniform."
The sound of the returning voice causes his breath to catch, his body suddenly immobile. "Alex?" he breathes, turning her way. She's standing in the space between the bar and the stage, closer than he ever could've imagined again and yet inexplicably out of reach.
"I mean, I guess it was in the defense of others, but he still wound up in the hospital. Maybe I should start calling you 'Whiskey,'" Alex continues, her voice tentatively teasing.
The comment snaps Chase back to reality, shock replaced with a violent blanch. Music is the reason she left in the first place. "What are you doing here?" he demands. The words are thrown over his shoulder as he turns back to his work, effectively diverting his attention.
Pain etches itself across her face for a moment, but Chase isn't witness to the expression. "I'm back in town for a week or two," she shrugs.
"And what do you want?" He undergoes a great effort to make his voice sound exasperated, when really her answer could both fix the aching in his chest and intensify it tenfold.
"I just wanted to see you," she replies, her voice low and her eyebrows furrowed. This is the foreign Chase that only emerges when she has really messed up. The last time Alex saw this Chase, he kissed Mia just to spite her. This time is worse though, because now she deserves everything he throws at her.
"You could've seen me everyday in our - well, my - apartment, but you left anyway," he grits his teeth, throwing a glare her way for extra measure.
"I'm sorry," Alex offers, but her words are kindle for the fire in Chase's veins.
"You know, I should've expected this after what you pulled when I was in the Air Force," he points. "I guess I just thought you changed. That maybe I had changed you, or you cared enough this time around, or something." He lets out a huff of frustration, no longer able to pretend to concentrate on his work.
"Gypsies don't change their headbands, Chase."
In spite of the wrath clawing up his chest, a miniscule smile pulls at his lips. "That doesn't even make sense," he throws back, finally turning towards her. Alex takes the lighter mood as grudging acceptance and decides to step up to the bar, one hip resting against the counter in the space that serves as an entrance and exit.
"I guess not," she grins, hoping to preserve this new mood.
"I'm still pissed," Chase adds. Alex nods. He continues, "We're not okay, either. We're definitely not friends or whatever." She hides her wince with another nod.
"Were we ever friends?" she asks, but he just shakes his head.
"What do you even want from me?" This time, he meets her gaze outright.
"I told you-"
"No," he cuts her off. Confusion knits Alex's eyebrows together, but he pushes on. "What else do you want? You already saw me, and you're still here."
She opens her mouth to answer, and panic suddenly pricks Chase's chest. He's spent so much time alternating between missing her and hating her, now that she's here he's a little afraid she'll just slip through his fingertips again.
"I don't want to know," he shakes his head, taking a step towards her.
"Are you bipo-" Alex starts, but her words are cut off by his lips. God, she missed his lips.
Chris is babbling on about a guitar and half a pair of twins and some suspenders when he realizes Chase stopped paying attention about half an hour ago, right around the time the story stopped being funny and started being graphic porn.
"Dude!" Chris starts, his hands drumming against the bar top. "Chris Keller thinks you're lame and just missed out on the most fantastic story ever told."
Chase shakes his head, both in an attempt to focus and so that Chris won't see how close he is to laughing. "Sorry, I'm having one of those days. I'm sure your story was… interesting." Chase raises a skeptic eyebrow at his own choice of words.
"It's because Alex is back in town, huh?" Chris guesses, his voice taking on that rare sympathetic tone that always feels just a little bit abnormal. Chase is silent, so Chris swirls his beer and watches it intently. Right before taking a drink, he adds, "You never did get over the actress."
"I could always fly your private jet. You know, if you had one," Chase whispers, his voice one part teasing and two parts unabashedly vulnerable. Alex just grins against his chest, so he pulls her closer and tangles his bare legs with hers.
"I can't be whatever it is you want me to be."
Chase's eyebrows furrow as the spoon he'd been holding in his mouth clatters against his bowl. Though he's momentarily distracted by the fact that she's wearing his favorite t-shirt and only his favorite t-shirt, he eventually responds, "I just want you to stay."
Alex's voice is uncharacteristically quiet as she replies, "I can't do that either."
"Not even for one more night?" His voice is pleading, and the sound reverberates in her chest until the only choice she has is to walk across his apartment and crash her lips on his again.
His fingertip trails looping shapes along her waist, periodically dipping lower only to return to its original patch of skin. Silence has rested between them for quite some time now, and Chase would believe Alex had fallen asleep if her breath didn't hitch in tandem with his ministrations.
"Did you love any of them? The other ones?" his voice slips through the silence, satiny and low.
"Of course not," she breathes, pressing her lips to his chest, his neck, his cheek.
"You never asked me to come with you," he accuses, the words muffled against her neck. He tightens his arm around her midsection before she can answer - or worse, evade.
A sigh escapes from between her lips, like she knew this was coming. She'd actually spent countless nights internally dreading this conversation, preparing words that couldn't possibly begin to express her intentions. This conversation could go a hundred different ways, but the safest response is always, "I didn't think you'd want to."
Chase raises his head so he can meet her gaze with his own. "Maybe I did. Maybe I do. I don't know," he shrugs.
Alex smiles sadly. "That's why I didn't ask you."
He wakes up and instinctively reaches out, his hand finding air and then rumpled sheets. Another day, another disappearance. His scream of frustration is muffled by his pillow.
"And that's when he told me he couldn't do this anymore," Mia finishes retelling her latest heartbreak, tears streaking down her face. Chase swallows. He's never been in this kind of predicament, relegated to comforting a girl who broke his heart just a couple years ago. Mia has been a solid friend for a while though, so he can't help but feel obligated to fix the situation.
Gingerly, he swings an arm over her shoulders and pulls her in close. "It'll be okay," he offers.
Alex ambles through a crowd of passionately gyrating patrons, biting her lip as the anticipation of seeing Chase again bubbles in her gut. Her irregular visits are resulting in a confusing long distance almost-relationship, but he nevertheless always greets her with a crooked smile and a welcoming embrace.
A break in the crowd right near the bar is the perfect opportunity for her to see him before he sees her, and Alex takes full advantage. The sight before her drains the color from her face, but as familiar as it may be, she won't flee the scene this time.
Marching forward, she contemplates tapping Mia's shoulder (or pulling out her extensions), but settles for a biting, "Looks like someone else has taken over the occupation of boyfriend-stealer."
Surprise registers on both Chase and Mia's faces, but while Chase removes his arm and struggles to gather his bearings, Mia is quick to retort, "Boyfriend? Last I checked, you're the one who keeps leaving without bothering to say goodbye."
White hot fury shoots down Alex's spine, but her next accusation is cut off by Chase. "What are you doing here?" he implores, and Alex can't even comprehend how calm he's being right now.
"I came back to see you, like always, but instead I'm seeing Ashlee Simpson draped all over you," she spits back, feeling the irrational urge to escape again. It's always there, crawling under her skin and aching for attention.
Now her wrath is mirrored in Chase's eyes, and Mia's presence is forgotten completely as he stands up to invade Alex's personal space.
"So, what? You're allowed to be jealous if I even touch another girl, but I have to just suck it up when I see you all over guys on magazine covers?" his accusation ends with a huff, his frustration impossible to translate any other way.
"It's not like that, and you know it. None of those guys were ex-boyfriends that I had serious relationships or slutty reception sex with." When she continues, her voice is much quieter, "Why do you always go back to her?"
Chase's eyebrows knit together as he responds, "Firstly, there's nothing going on with Mia and me. Secondly? You're insane. Just because they're not exes doesn't mean it sucks any less."
"It's not like we're actually together anymore, Chase." Her voice is barely discernable over the blaring of live music, but there's a tinge of wistfulness to it.
"Yeah, I guess not," he concedes, "But then again, maybe I'd have a better idea if you had even bothered to break up with me."
She means to reply, but he storms away as the sound of the bass (and her heart) engulfs her.
"You could always write another script. Julian could help you again, and you could film it here. Again." The words slip out one morning, as the sun is invading the sky and filling out his apartment until the walls are painted an impossible shade of orange.
A smile slowly graces her face, mirth shining in her eyes. Humoring him, she says, "And it'd be a love story? Again?"
"Why not?" Chase shrugs. He tangles one hand in the hair at the base of her neck. "You could write ours."
Alex's smile fades, and she bites her lip before answering, "People don't like tragic endings."
"Who says we have to be tragic?"
"All great love stories are tragic, Chase," she speaks matter-of-factly, her words reflecting a wisdom she perhaps doesn't possess.
He pushes his nose against her forehead, pausing for a long moment. Finally, "Maybe we should just be an average one."
Her steps are tentative, but her heels click noisily against Tric's floor anyway. Chase is doing inventory, as he always seems to be doing, and though she's sure that he can hear her, he hasn't reacted to her presence yet.
"I'm sorry about the other night," she starts, "I haven't been fair to you lately."
Chase just shakes his head, throwing a towel over his shoulder as he meets her eyes. "It doesn't matter."
"What do you mean?" she blurts, stepping behind the bar until there's only a foot of space between them. "And why do you always say that? Of course it matters!"
"No, it doesn't," he clips, his voice unreadable. "You saw us together and got upset. I feel the same way whenever I look at one of those tabloids. You're just not around to see me Hulk out."
"I'm sorry," Alex sighs. He goes to interrupt her, but she talks over him, "No, you have to let me get this out." Chase nods his consent, so Alex continues, "You should know that nothing ever happens with those guys. It's just publicity."
"Nothing?" He tilts his chin up.
"Well," she grins almost bashfully, and then bats her eyelashes. "Sometimes we kiss."
"I kiss other people too," he shrugs. "We're not together, remember?"
She trains her gaze on the floor, all flirting ceasing for the moment. "I guess we're not." She shifts her weight. Her voice is earnest when she adds, "It doesn't mean I don't still love you."
"I know," he nods before pressing his lips to her temple. Alex smiles again.
"It's okay that you didn't say it back," she teases. One hand raises to fist itself in the fabric of his shirt so he can't escape just yet.
"I didn't think I had to." Their eyes are locked, and she moves to kiss him before he can take it back.
"What happened to the pictures in your phone? There's, like, one of Tric, and a bunch of Chuck. I think he took them all himself though," Alex rambles, eyebrows furrowed as she toys with Chase's phone. He glances back at her on the bed, his fingers still working to tie a knot with his shoelaces.
"Yeah, he likes to steal my phone and take 'selfsies,'" Chase explains, a smile playing at his lips. "Chris does it too."
Alex's eyes narrow suspiciously. "You're changing the subject," she accuses. "What happened to the other pictures?"
Realization dawns on Chase's face, and he clears his throat before turning back to inspect his shoes. "I deleted them all. Didn't want the reminders," he swallows.
"Oh."
She always feels particularly vulnerable in the shadows of the night, away from an adoring public and the façade of fame. Chase knows it, so he takes extra care to pull her closer in the event that they're both awake.
"How is it that you can feel more exposed when no one's around?"
His voice is quiet enough to accommodate the thick of night, so low that she almost thinks she imagined it.
"You're around," she points out.
"Is that so bad?" he asks, his voice sounding as vulnerable as she feels.
"No," she breathes. Her index finger finds the center of his chest, sliding along the indentation between his pecs while she considers her next words. "Just different. Unknown territory."
"Like Mars?" he raises an eyebrow. Alex snorts.
She enters his apartment unannounced, having now acquired a key (that was not given to her with commitment strings attached). Chase wanders out of the bathroom, a curious quirk in his brow and a mouthful of toothpaste accompanied by a toothbrush handle.
"Hey," Alex greets, flitting over to him to place a kiss on his cheek and then grimacing when toothpaste rubs off on her. "Gross," she whines.
Chase smirks before stepping back into the bathroom and washing his mouth out. "I see you've stolen a key for yourself," he nods towards her closed fist.
"Yeah," she confirms, plopping down on his bed. "Figured it would make my life easier."
Chase raises an eyebrow at that. "And you didn't think that a year ago?" he intones.
Alex winces, but for the life of her, she can't seem to produce any kind of retort.
"Do you even want to be here? With me?"
"Of course," she defends, as if the answer is obvious. "I came here voluntarily, didn't I?"
He shrugs. "I guess," he says, "But you sure do have a weird way of showing it. Leaving all the time doesn't exactly scream, 'I miss you.'"
She's on the defensive now, her eyebrows meeting incredulously as she searches his face and finds nothing helpful. "Of course I miss you!" she insists. "I guess I just… I want the best of both worlds. You here, and the music everywhere else."
"Wow," he quips, "You really know how to boost a guy's confidence. How is that even slightly encouraging?"
Pushing off from the bed, Alex attempts to limit the metaphorical space between them by positioning herself directly in front of him. "It's encouraging because I want you to be happy," she shrugs. "And you're happy here."
"I'm happiest when you're here," Chase corrects.
"Me too."
"Then why don't you stay?" he pleads, eyes widening as his palms find her waist and hold her there.
"Maybe someday I will. We're still young, you know," she says.
"I know," he concedes. His eyes suddenly lighten, storm clouds lifting as the corners of his mouth turn up conspiratorially. "Promise we'll meet up every year, on this day. You can stay however long you want, as long as we meet at least once a year. And I'll wait until you're ready for more," he vows.
"Okay," she grins, sensing a fair agreement. "I promise."
His smirk grows as he teases, "No takey-backsies."
"No takey-backsies," she agrees.
He greets her with a megawatt grin and an "I missed you."
"Yeah," she says, a smile teasing her lips before she leans up to kiss him properly.
"You've never told me about your parents," she accuses, her voice light even though she's genuinely curious. She can feel his shrug beneath her, so she moves to rest her hand on his chest and her chin on her hand. After batting her eyelashes, he sighs and she knows he's given in.
"They're pretty average," he begins, one hand finding her back and splaying there. "They fell in love during college and have been inseparable ever since. And if they could, they'd probably have a lot more than just one kid."
"More," Alex demands. He shoots her a perplexed look, but her mischievous grin only grows. "Tell me more."
"Well," he sighs, "They loved ballroom dancing. My mom always joked that my dad had two left feet, but you'd never be able to tell by the way they danced together.
"When I was younger, I used to sneak down the stairs after I was supposed to be in bed and watch them practice. And that's how I learned to dance."
Alex's eyes have softened considerably, and though she doesn't want to ruin the fragility of the moment, she can't help but whisper, "I've seen you dance. You're the one with two left feet."
Chase rolls his eyes dramatically. "You've only seen my club dancing," he explains. "My ballroom dancing is a whole different story."
"I double-dog dare you to show me," she arches an eyebrow.
He grabs her by the waist then, rolling until he's hovering over her. She giggle-snorts, and Chase buries a smile against her neck in response. "Later," he promises. "We have time."
"At this point, I could probably afford my own plane. If I wanted to," Chase boasts, punctuating his claim with a casual shrug of his shoulders. They've been closing up for at least 15 minutes now, and although the silence is comfortable, it isn't desirable.
Alex eyes him skeptically, though a small smile curves her lips. "You mean if I wanted you to?" she challenges.
Before Chase can answer, a distinctive raspy voice from the recording studio yells, "Chris Keller thinks you're whipped!"
"Are we ever going to talk about whoever is listed in your contacts as 'Not Alex?'" she arches an eyebrow and meets his eyes over the bar countertop.
"Looking through my phone again?" he asks, feigning annoyance even as a smile pulls at his lips.
"As a matter of fact, yes," she complies. "Now, who's 'Not Alex?'"
Chase stares at the glass he's been cleaning for five minutes now as if it's the most interesting object in the world. He tries to sound casual when he answers, "Just some girl with a name that isn't Alex."
"Like… a booty call?" Alex grins, mischief lighting her eyes.
Chase blushes fiercely. "No."
"Then who?" she probes.
His explanation comes out in a flurry of hurried words, starting with, "It was this girl I slept with after you left to try and get over you except she turned out to be Chris's girlfriend and then I slept with her maybe once or twice after I found out and then Chris found out and now neither of us are seeing her. Obviously."
Alex raises an eyebrow. "You have changed," she jokes, "But I guess jerks are kind of hot too."
"We really do make quite the twosome," Alex says, her voice reflecting her level of wonderment. Chase spins her then, immediately drawing her in afterwards and swaying his hips to music that isn't playing.
"You mean under the sheets?" he teases. "Because if so: yes."
Alex clucks her tongue disapprovingly. "I think I'm rubbing off on you. And not in the hot way," her voice lowers.
"It's because you're the devil," Chase shrugs. "Speaking of misbehavior, aren't you supposed to be humming a tune for us to dance to?"
"I never should've become a musician," she sighs, and then begins humming anyway.
"Not that I'm complaining," Chase begins, eyeing her carefully while keeping his head facing the ceiling, "But I thought the agreement was once a year. This is your fifth visit in a single year, and you've been here for weeks."
"Definitely not complaining," Alex narrows her eyes before her demeanor softens completely. "I don't know," she intones, "I guess I've just been missing you more and more lately."
He considers this for a moment. "Does that mean something's changed?" His tone is filled with hopefulness, and he feels so ashamed of the fact that he bites his inner lip.
"I don't know if I'm ready to settle down in one place yet, if that's what you're asking," she replies, choosing her words carefully. "But…" she continues, "Yeah, maybe."
"I knew extra work-outs were a good idea," Chase grins, lightening the mood. "No matter how much Chris complains about the smell."
"The smell? What exactly does a work-out entail in Chaseland?"
His eyebrows knit together in confusion before he answers, "A trip to the gym, gutter-mind." Alex just snorts, one hand coming up to cover her mouth and stifle the sound.
"That was a gay joke, wasn't it?" he accuses, realization dawning. "I never should have told you about waking up with two strippers and Chris in my apartment." When he glances down at her and she's still silently chuckling, he adds, "Oh, shut up."
"Make me," she dares, arching an eyebrow.
The air is laden with salt and moisture, and as the wind sways the trees from side to side, Alex feels a sense of tranquility wash over her. This feeling doesn't come often, but when it does, she's usually tangled in the sheets with Chase. She almost begins humming a familiar melody, but the sound is caught in her throat when she hears Quinn shuffle next to her.
"So, what's going on with you and Chase?" Quinn playfully nudges Alex's shoulder with her own.
"I have no idea what you mean," Alex evades coyly. Her eyes are now trained on the crash of the waves against the shore.
"You know exactly what I mean. It's a 'will they/won't they, is she staying or going' mess. Kind of like a soap opera, except more ridiculous because I don't understand why you can't just stay," Quinn provides a recap of Alex's own life, and Alex can't help but internally groan. She's getting the third degree from Quinn, who got married in a government building and got a 6 year old kid of her own without any of the strife kids usually cause. Simple life, happy Quinn.
"It's not that easy," Alex answers. "I mean… how can I be myself with him when I don't even know who that is?"
"So you're looking for yourself out in the world?" Quinn glances at Alex, and Alex nods her agreement. "Well, what if he's the one that's known you all along? What if you can 'find yourself' right here?" Quinn presses.
"I don't know." Alex digs a little hole with her big toe, smoothing it over only to dig an even bigger hole.
Quinn's voice becomes an admonishment as she rounds off with, "Well, you better figure it out. You can't just string him along forever. One of these days, he might just cut the ties."
Alex kicks at the sand restlessly.
"You know, you left me once too," she whispers, glad that he's facing away from her. She watches the muscles in his back tighten as he stiffens, and her breath catches in her throat. Maybe she shouldn't have said anything.
"I said goodbye," he mumbles, refusing to turn towards her. "And that's one for your two."
She takes a deep breath. "But you left for a whole year."
"And you didn't write," he croaks. Alex wants to reach out for him, but she's terrified that the tightening in her throat will only worsen if she moves.
"It's not what you did, Alex. It's how you did it."
"Do you ever feel like we're stuck in a never-ending cycle? Like we're recycling the same things we've said a thousand times, and history just keeps repeating itself?" she asks, voice inquisitive.
Chase squints his eyes tiredly before reaching out for her. He finds her hand and squeezes gently. "Then let's break the cycle, Devil Dupré."
He slides his lips along her collarbone, and the movement lifts her from sleep with a gasp. A wicked smirk finds its way to her lips, but just as she juts her hips upwards, he angles his away. She quirks an eyebrow; he wraps his index finger and thumb around her wrist and raises her hand to his face. Carefully, he kisses the inside of her palm and then rests his lips against the pink ridges of one of her old scars. Reminders of the worst and luckiest day of her life.
She gulps, but says nothing. He continues his ministrations with her other wrist, and she lets him continue his steady exploration of her body for the rest of the night.
She watches his eyes flutter closed, waits until his chest rises and falls with an even rhythm. Sleep won't come for her any time soon, not when her mind refuses to rest.
After taking a deep breath, she says, "I don't know why I can't commit. Or why I can't really talk about it. Sometimes, I think you just scare me. I mean, you bring out this part of me that I've never known before. You make me want to be better. And I love that, but I don't know how to cope." She pauses, searching for the words.
"You remember that time I told you I'd never been in love with any of the guys I dated? Well, I can't say that anymore. It's just… terrifying. And I can't believe you're actually waiting for me to figure my crazy out. What is wrong with you?"
"You." Alex starts at his voice, momentarily speechless.
"Excuse me?" she finally responds, having gathered her bearings.
"You, Alex," he starts, "are what is both right and wrong with me. You asked."
She looks down, her eyes tracing irregularities in the sheets. "I thought you were asleep."
"Y'know, you don't have to be afraid to talk to me about stuff. I am your boyfriend, when we're in the same area code," he says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. The realization that maybe he's right curls the corners of her lips upwards.
"Chase Adams, my boyfriend," she mimics, shoving his shoulder.
"Can you stop attacking the air or whatever? I can't sleep with you moving around so much," she whines, making to turn over and fall back asleep. When she notices the pensive expression on his face, she stops in her tracks.
"Hey, what's wrong?" her voice is suddenly tender.
"You just kind of have a habit of disappearing after big confessions. I guess I can't sleep if I'm expecting you'll be gone when I wake up."
"Chase, look at me." She waits until his eyes meet hers before continuing, "I'm not going anywhere. At least not right away."
His gaze falls to the sheets to hide his disappointment.
"Look, I meant what I said. Something changed. Stop worrying, okay?" Quieter, "I always come back to you."
He looks up again, so she kisses him until the tension in his body dissipates.
"I could come with you," he says suddenly, his eyes somber. Alex's hands still around a shirt in her suitcase, her eyebrows furrowed.
"You'd hate it. Tree Hill is your home," she insists, shaking her head. The fact that she hasn't gone back to packing shows him that in spite of her words, she's considering his proposition.
"No, you are." His voice is unwavering, and when he steps towards her she reaches out to rest her hands on his forearms. Maybe to steady him, maybe to steady her heart.
"C'mon, let's buy you a private jet," Chase winks.