When the World Stops
FredsAngel
Disclaimer: I'm not going through the whole "I-don't-own-Harry-Potter" thing because you already know that. (Hate to correct you, Dee, but you just did.) Cállate, Alex! Anyway, Playboy is owned by Hugh Heffner, Hustler is Larry Flint's and Penthouse belongs to whomever the hell it belongs to. (I didn't even know who did Hustler. Is there something you need to tell me?) Real funny. The only reason I knew that is 'cause I watched People vs. Larry Flint once. (Riiiight.) ::FredsAngel points to door:: Out. ::AngelsFred sticks out tongue before leaving:: Now where was I? Cinquanta Ristorante belongs to Silvio Gamba.
A/N: I'd like to apologise for chapter 5. AF is sexually repressed and the only way he can release it is to write down his fantasies. (One: I'm not repressed. Two: If I was [which I'm not], I wouldn't be if you had moved into my apartment. And three: I know you're just doing this because I told the whole fanon world how much you weigh.) I'm very happy with my weight, thank you. But you're real lucky I didn't catch it before posting. Otherwise… And you're still repressed.
A/N 2: Cinquanta becomes a recurring theme starting with this chapter. Since Angie is currently in New York and Cinquanta is my favourite eatery in NYC, it's become her favourite restaurant in the States. It's also ridiculously expensive so I thought it fitting that Alex would suggest that he and Angie eat there.
A/N 3: One Amazing Summer has been suspended indefinitely. I will finish it, but I need some ideas for chapter 4 (I just deleted the latest crappy version). Give me some ideas in your reviews. Or if you want, I can completely ignore Lee and George and post another Fred/Angelina chapter. Let me know when you review. Or you can e-owl me.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Chapter 6
~A Week Later~
I. Am. Exhausted. I need sleep, but I'm not going to get any. Between shoots, interviews, Alex's overactive sex-drive, and trying to avoid Fred (I swear he is stalking me), I am at the breaking point. Playboy, Penthouse and Hustler have all offered me a lot of money to pose nude for them. Normally, I'd say "No," but Alex is pushing for me to do the Playboy spread; he thinks it's a great opportunity. Or as he says, "You have a beautiful body, Toni; it's a crime not to show it off." Besides I have friends that have done Playboy and they said that the photos are tastefully and professionally done. But I'm too tired to think about how much money I'll make by allowing naked pictures to be taken of me. I just want to lie down and sleep for a month.
What time is it? Oh thank Merlin, it's only eight o'clock. I don't have to meet Alex at Cinquanta for another two hours. Just enough time to take a nap before dinner…
"Toni! Toni! Wake up!" Alex's voice yells in my ear. What the hell? We still have two hours before our reservation, so why is he here?
"Alex, I'm tired. I'll see you at ten." I'm going back to sleep. But before I can drift back in to dreamland, he shakes me fully awake.
"Toni, it's after eleven now." What is he going on about? There's no way I could've slept through dinner; I just got back to the hotel. Oh, he's still speaking. "You never showed up at the restaurant and I was worried. And when you didn't answer your mobile or your phone in the room, I got really panicky."
"Alex, I'm really sorry about standing you up. How can I make it up to you?" I ask, knowing full well that he's going to want A LOT of sex tonight to "make it up" to him. I'm already dreading it. It's not that Alex is horrible in bed; quite the contrary. He just wants it all the time. More than four times a day is going to bloody kill me.
"Just relax and get some sleep; you're overworked. Maybe you should go to the hospital where you won't be bothered." Well, that was an unexpected response. Why can't I fall in love with this guy? He's perfect. If Fred were here, he'd say "Because perfection is overrated" or something equally stupid. Dammit, Angie! I mean Toni. I mean… Aw, hell. I don't know what I mean; this Alex/me/Fred situation has me so confused that I don't know who I am anymore. Or rather, who I want to be. I like being a Muggle and I like being famous for something other than my name. But on the other hand, I miss being a witch and being famous for whom you go out with and how you look is almost as weird as being famous for who your parents were. And Harry thought no one understood how he felt.
"Don't be silly. Honestly, I'm fine. Like you said, I'm overworked and tired. I'll be fine. If I go to the hospital, I'll come off as a weak and fragile diva in the rags. I don't even want to know what the public will say about me."
"They'll say that the future Mrs. Alex Daniels works too damn hard and deserves to relax."
"Then why not just send me to a –" I shut my mouth mid-sentence. Something about Alex's last sentence just sounded out of place. "Alexander Christopher Daniels, are you proposing to me?"
"Not right now, but I intend to someday. But," he lies down beside me on the bed "if I was, what would your answer be?"
"Ask me in another nine months when we've been together for a year and picked up on one another's bad habits. Then maybe I'll have a better answer for you." I'm lying, but he can't tell. My answer would be a resounding "No," even if I weren't hung up on Fred. I've done the marriage thing once; it didn't work out and I have no intention of ever doing it again.
Alex grins at me. He reminds me a lot of Fred when he smiles. Actually he reminds a lot of Fred period. Same chocolate-brown eyes, same mischievous nature. The hair could use some work, though; flaming red is so much sexier than orange. "Ah, yes, my girlfriend; always so damned practical." (A/N: AF: Ah, yes, my girlfriend; soon to be my EX-girlfriend if she doesn't stop cracking jokes about my hair colour.)
"It's not my fault you're a daft American."
"Well, you need to learn how to live, you uptight European."
"I'd rather be uptight than to have no common sense."
"I have common sense."
"You do not."
"Do too."
"Do not."
"Do too."
We go on like that for a good ten minutes until he begins to tickle me mercilessly. "I'll stop if you admit that I have common sense."
"Never!" I exclaim from my position on the bed. As overworked and tired as I am, I must admit that this is fun. Eventually, I'll say it, but not before he gets tired of tickling me and admits defeat. Then we'll shag our brains out and have a good laugh in the morning over some coffee and fruit. And amusing as this is, it's still sort of boring. Probably because it's so predictable.
Ironic that I would use the term "predictable" to describe an aspect of my life; after all, the last week has been anything but. I mean, first I get back together with Alex. Then my ex-husband shows up at my home and we end up in bed. Several times.
I sigh. I told Fred that we couldn't be together anymore and I stand by my decision. But I miss him like mad. Alex and I don't really think on the same wavelength. Our personalities complement each other, but we don't have that mental connection like the one I had with Fred. When he isn't in a playful mood, Alex is so hard to read. With Fred, I could usually tell what he was thinking, no matter his mood. I even used to finish his sentences. Annoyed the hell out of George, it did. ("You can't do that, Angie! That's my parlour trick.") Like he never used complete Abby's and Alicia's statements.
I look down at my sleeping lover. He's snoring, not loudly, but it's still enough to distract me from my thoughts. Fred never snored, that blasted voice at the back of my mind taunts. Hmm. I wonder what he's doing right now. No, I don't. Yes, you do, the voice says back. You miss him, too. All right, already. I admit it. Now what do you want me to do about it? Go to him, you git! Apologise for everything and beg him to take you back. Not going to happen. Toni Toussaint does not beg. No, but Angelina Johnson-Weasley does if it means she'll get her husband back. I won't do it. Fine, then. End up with Daniels. Have boring, predictable sex and wake to his bloody snoring every morning. See if I care. I'll do that then. Fine. Fine. And with that final thought, I drift off to sleep, barely noticing that Alex's arms encircling my waist with a light but firm grip.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
I know it's short, but I wrote this a while ago. And my wireless signal keeps going out in the dorm, so if I'm on the 'Net, I'm probably in the library. Even as I edit this, the clock reads 2:12 AM and I'm actually supposed to be studying for my three midterms that I have to take tomorrow (well, today). But I'm sick of studying, so I thought I'd take a break so I could this have up by 8:30 AM EST.
Okay, no more excuses. My next update probably won't be until at least November 2nd 'cause I've got to get ready for Homecoming and I'm going home this weekend. AF will probably put chapter 7 up before then and if I finish chapter 8 early, I'll have him put it up, too. BTW, we have absolutely no idea how long this fic is going to be, but we have finished the last chapter. Right now, it's slated as chapter 12, but I'm pretty sure that's going to change.