A/N: Hello everyone! This is a new story, that honestly I had a dream about and needed to put characters to it. I love the FSOG Triology, so I figured what better characters than them? This is an AU, and so most back stories are changed, as well as the characters themselves (somewhat.) If this is something that you will bother you, this story may not be for you! If you're interested on seeing where it goes, I hope you enjoy!
Note: These first couple of chapters will be shorter, as we are setting the scene with our characters!
Lessons Learned: Introduction
Part one: A Day in the Life of Christian Grey
BEEP, BEEP, BEEP.
7:00 am.
Christian Grey slapped the alarm to the right of his bed, effectively killing the bothersome noise beside him. He sat up, rubbing his fists against his eyes and removing the sleep from them. With a groan, he inhaled, the smell of coffee filling his nostrils and his townhouse.
He took a moment before leaving his bed, staring at the room before him and mentally comparing it to the one he occupied so many years ago. At least two times smaller, and quainter, his current bedroom showed more personality than any room he had inhabited before. The dark wooded dresser sat across from his bed, directly below a mounted forty-inch television. The room itself was warm, pictures of his family surrounding him, and model airplanes and gliders laying upon the dresser.
Christian stood, slipping on his house shoes before beginning his trek downstairs. The house was empty of noise, other than the sound of his coffee pot percolating for the last few minutes before the coffee would reach six cups, just as he liked it.
His phone sat on the brown granite counter top in his kitchen, a sharp contrast to the old white marble that adorned the kitchen in Seattle.
"Two missed calls..." He murmured, reaching for a coffee cup and filling it, topping it with a splash of cream.
His fingers moved over the iPhone, brow furrowing as he starred at the screen.
Mom - 2 missed calls
Christian let out an audible groan, rubbing his face with his hand. Following his groan, he took a deep breath, pressing CALL.
"Hello?" The sweet voice of Grace Gray said, and immediately Christian was filled with a warmth that only his mother could provide.
"Hi mom," He said lightly, sipping from his mug. "Is everything okay? You've called twice, before..." He glanced at the microwave clock, "7am.."
She let out a chuckle on the other end, "Of course dear. I just wanted to see how the semester is going, how the students are in class... so on and so forth."
"It's fine mom. Students are good, trouble with a few of them, but nothing I can't handle." Christian cleared his throat, leaning back against the counter. "You're telling me you called me twice... before 7am, to ask about school?"
"Okay, okay... you caught me. Too smart for your own good. Listen dear, Mia's coming into the states for Christmas."
A bubble of excitement filled him, "Wonderful! So, she'll be coming with you all then?"
A moment of silence filled the phone, before his mother began speaking again, her voice filled with hesitation. "Well, she said she'd love to spend the holiday at Bellevue, and invite some of her friends. But we wanted to run it by you."
His answer was quick and immediate. "No."
"But dear-"
"No mother. I still need more time, but until then, I will not be returning to Washington. I can't."
"Christian, she's been imprisoned. It's been nine years-"
"I said no!" He replied sharply, before taking a deep breath. "Even thinking about it mom, it just... sets me back. Listen, I have class, I need to get ready."
"Dear, you've made so many strides. Just... think about it, please."
8:15 am
The Massachusetts air was crisp, typical for the third week of October. Christian walked through the fallen leaves, the colors of fall surrounding him. The leaves crunched beneath his Steve Madden's, and he reveled in the sound. Since moving to Massachusetts so many years ago, fall had become his favorite season yet again.
The scene before him was the polar opposite of the scene he used to view in the morning. Instead of the concrete and glass buildings of Seattle, he was now surrounded by the lush scenery of Harvard Yard, it's buildings a reminder of the history they held. It was calming to him, and after the brief conversation with his mother, he took solace in it.
BEEP, BEEP, BEEP.
Christian glanced at his beeping watch, noting the time and quickening his pace. He quickly strode past the students rushing to class, most likely each regretting a weekend spent at the Cambridge Queen's Head.
Christian stepped into his office, quickly discarding his bag and stepping to cherry wood desk that sat before a window. The view from the window was quaint, smaller, but with an uninterrupted view of the yard and the students that wandered it.
"Christmas in Seattle..." He murmured, before scoffing and shaking his head, raising a hand to run through his dark copper colored hair.
After the incident, Christian Grey knew he would never return to Seattle. There were too many memories that he, and his therapist, had found too damaging. While he knew his parents would love to spend a Christmas in their home, his family spent each year making the trek to Massachusetts, and even going so far as to purchase a vacation home in Cambridge for visiting.
The New England style home sat about a twenty-minute drive outside of the campus, and while they offered him room and board during the semester when he worked, he refused. His own townhouse was a ten-minute walk from campus, and in having his own place, he felt normal. He acknowledged that it was certainly a different type of normal than he was used to, but it was comforting and it was his.
BEEP, BEEP, BEEP.
His phone alarm rang, and he glanced at the time, inwardly noting that his days were run by alarms of different kinds.
8:45 am.
Fifteen minutes to class, he thought and reached for his olive-green satchel, slinging it over his shoulder and starting down the hall to begin his day.
Christian stepped into the familiar setting that had become his home away from home for the past month. The auditorium sat 110, but his 55 business ethics students all made it a point to sit close to the front. Whether his voice didn't carry enough, or they were legitimately interested in what he had to say, he didn't know.
The room was simple, and it took him a total of five minutes to get ready for each class. The HDMI cable quickly attached to his laptop, and after opening his Fall folder that held his PowerPoint Presentation, he was ready.
He sat in the uncomfortable brown leather office chair, and he leaned back, folding his hands over his chest as he did so. His gray eyes trailed over the students as they filed in. So many of them reminded him of when he was a student, rushing around to make classes, hoping to never slip below a B.
Christian glanced at his watch, the time reading 9:01 am. He cleared his throat, and the shuffling of laptops leaving backpacks came to quick halt.
"Good morning every-" He began, interrupted by the heavy door of the lecture hall opening and shutting. A quick glance told him who the student was, and glancing downward at his attendance sheet, he noticed this was the third time in a month. "Miss Steele, class begins at 9:00 am.. not 9:03."
"I'm so sorry Professor Grey," The brunette stated quickly, amid the sounds of whispers around her. She slid into her chair, sitting quickly and pulling out a similar laptop to her class mates.
"No worries Miss Steele, see me after class if you will."
A nod and worried glance were replaced with a downcast gaze, and after his breath caught in his throat he turned to put at the presentation now playing across the board with the words, POP QUIZ appearing animatedly across it.
He grinned in response to the groans.
"Professor Grey... you wanted to see me? I'm so sorry about being late.. again." Anastasia Steele began to say quickly, following the class dismissal. He glanced up from his laptop, after pulling up a folder labeled Fall_morning_grades.
"Miss Steele. How are your other classes going?" Christian clicked open the folder, quickly scanning through to find the name of the brunette that stood before him.
Once her name appeared, he glanced upward at her. She stood with an air of uncertainty, her posture showing no sense of ease around him. Her brown hair was tied back, bangs hanging close to her eyes. Although it was chilly out, she wore a turtle neck dress with leggings, more suitable for the month of November.
"F-Fine... I suppose." She replied, and he watched as she gripped her bag tighter.
Christian watched as the remaining lingering group of girls left, and he stood walking to the door and closing it. After straightening his burgundy sweater, he turned to her. "Miss Steele, you're failing my class. Thankfully we're not yet to the middle of the semester, so the chance of you at least making a C isn't too bad, but it's going to take work."
He watched for any shock to flit across her face, but in return for his news, he received only sorrow.
"I know. I'm doing my best Sir."
"Do you need help? We offer tutoring almost every afternoon, shortly after class."
"I'm not available for those. My other classes run into them." The response was quick, and curt.
Excuses, Christian thought. Students always have them. "Miss Steele, what are you here for?" He sat on the edge of the desk, a foot away from her and she shifted uncomfortably.
"I'm studying to receive my Bachelors in Criminal Justice to eventually go into Law."
"This class is a prerequisite for many other classes that will be required. If you fail this, you might as well say good bye to that degree." He took a deep breath, "Listen, I'm not trying to scare you. It's my job as your professor to make you knowledgeable about these things, and to help you succeed in the future. If you're unable to make the afternoon tutoring sessions, perhaps I can help to personally tutor you in the evening during my office hours?"
Anastasia gripped her bag tighter, shifting her body weight to the other leg. "I would need to check, to make sure I'd be able to."
"Let me know. Preferably before the next test, which is two days after Halloween. You can go now."
"Thank you, sir," And with another quick mumbled thank you, she left.
"The usual, Christian?"
Christian glanced up from his laptop, the familiar face of Angela Johnson staring at him. With her usual pot of coffee in hand, she stood with her other hand atop of her hip, sassy as ever. Her IHOP name tag was worn, from the ten years of service she had put into the diner that sat on the Harvard campus.
"You know it." He replied, giving her the pantie dropping smile that he had come to perfect, but only used on her.
The sixty-year-old woman gave him a shove to the shoulder, rolling her eyes. "That doesn't work on me sweetie, but don't worry, you'll get your pancakes none the less. I'll be right back hun."
With a chuckle, he watched as she sashayed away, stopping to refill patron's coffee on her way to place his order.
It was six years prior when Christian first stepped foot into an IHOP. Before that, if someone had mentioned eating in a diner to him, he would have refused, citing multiple health concerns. He could acknowledge now that he felt it was below him, and he spent every Monday evening regretting those days.
He also now spent every Monday evening in the same booth, with the same waitress, eating the same food. Although was the evening, he would settle for nothing less than a stack of chocolate chip pancakes, smothered in whip cream. How he had lived his life without them before was a mystery to him.
The evening air felt calming as Christian approached his townhouse, the sight of it welcoming after a long day. After a quick fumble with his keys, he entered, kicking of his shoes and letting them rest by the door. He quickly removed his bag, hanging it on the hook beside his living room entrance where a sofa and entertainment center sat. Photographs of family littered his wall, a suggestion by his therapist.
He quickly made his way to his room, where he began discarding his clothes. Adidas sweat pants replaced BKE jeans, and his chest stay bare, former cigarette burn marks glinting in the light.
9:28 pm
Christian glanced at the clock, and found himself where he ended most days, on his sofa with his remote in hand. He clicked through the stations, but found that his mind was nowhere on the television in front of him, but on a past he thought he left behind.
Over nine years ago, his Monday evenings wouldn't end until at least two in the morning and even then, he'd need a stiff drink to help himself sleep. Thoughts of business dealings, of meetings and world travels filled his mind, but he found himself longing for none of it. He thought of his old condo, sitting on the top floor of Escala, something that people wished they could one day own, and he had gladly given it up. He thought of Grey Enterprises, and he quickly thought of Elena Lincoln.
"No." He said aloud, willing himself to let them go. I'm never going back.