So, uh...this is happening.
I'm not sure how many of you are following Rise of Green Street but I mentioned that through lockdown, I've been going through my files and have found SO much that didn't make it into Intervals. I'm honestly not sure of the reasons, I don't know whether it was because I couldn't swing the timeline or whether it just didn't feel right but reading through some of them now, I want to put them out there.
Maybe they're worth reading, maybe they're not but they took me back to a much simpler time so here is a taster. Let me know what you think. If you want more, you got it. But this will always be the Pete\Allie universe I adore most and writing these characters as they were when I started has given me all the early 00's feels. I really hope you enjoy this and maybe even take a moment to review.
Love, Ella x
When I first moved to New York and I was totally broke, sometimes I would buy Vogueinstead of dinner. I felt it fed me more
Allie Harding rolled her eyes hard and let out an distinctively uncharacteristic snort as she reached for the remote and muted Sarah Jessica Parker's self indulgent ramblings. Christ, how Lara watched this drivel on repeat was anyone's guess. Adding one last layer of deep purple varnish to her toenails, she sat back and cocked her head, determined to make sure they were perfect.
Anything to keep her from glancing at her phone. She refused to become that girlfriend, the one who when her boyfriend was out with his friends, stared at her phone longing for it to ring.
"Christ, I'm a lost cause," she mumbled to herself, pulling her knees up to her chest and resting her head on them.
It was a rare occasion for the Harding household to be vacant but with Lara and Harry out on respective dates still desperately trying to convince the world and themselves that they didn't want each other, here she was, alone in her gargantuan house. Ample fodder for any rogue serial killers as Harry had kindly reminded her as he'd left.
Rolling her eyes once more, she pushed herself up off of the confines of her bed and padded out into the hallway, down the curved Victorian staircase and towards the kitchen. Meandering around the island, she yanked the freezer open and grabbed one of the tubs of Haagen Daas she and Lara kept for emergencies. Ok, so being away from Pete Dunham for one night didn't constitute as an emergency but when your boyfriend could do things with his hands that hers could…well, it was an excuse to wallow.
Pulling a spoon from the door, she pushed it shut with her hip and made her way back up to her room, stopping only when a loud rattle sounded through the huge foyer. She froze for a moment, casting a cursory glance out of the window and noting that the weather was suitably British. The wind was wailing and a faint sheen of rain fell from the grey and gloomy looking sky. Taking the stairs a tad quicker, she froze when the sound made itself known again, louder this time and coming from a different part of the house.
"Harry?" Allie called, lowering the spoon from her mouth and swallowing hard. "Is that you?"
Silence.
"If you're back early and in a bad mood that you didn't get to cop a feel can you do me a favour and not take it out on your baby sister by freaking her out?" she called. "Harry! I swear to God-…"
She let out a scream, dropping her ice cream and scrambling up the stairs almost on her hands and knees as one of the doors off of the foyer flew open with a loud bang.
"Bloody hell!"
She froze, peeking through the stair bannisters as the shadowy figure pulled itself up, dusting off its long jacket and spraying rain water onto the floor. Her eyes widened with amazement, her mouth falling open as she drank him in.
"Dad?" she squeaked out.
Richard Harding stood upright, peering into the dimly lit foyer where he could just about make out his daughter, crouched on the stairs and clutching the banisters just as she did when she was a little girl trying to sneak down after they'd put her to bed.
"Ah, there's my Allie-Cat," he grinned. "Wait!"
He bent down and fumbled with his bags, standing up straight again a moment later, this time sporting an oversized sombrero and clutching a bottle of Mezcal.
"I meant to say…Hola Seniorita!"
Allie had no idea when it was that her body made the decision to function but she found herself flying down the stairs and into his arms, shrieking as she breathed him in. Her father had left for South America six months ago and other than the odd postcard and Skype call at dawn, she hadn't seen or heard from him. The curse of having an eternal do-gooder for a parent.
"My girl," Richard grinned into her hair as he swept her up into a bear hug. Letting himself simply revel in seeing her for a long moment, he pulled back from her and held her at arms length. She was still his Allie, the spitting image of her mother, all peach lips, honey hair and flashing emerald eyes, the flecks of amber in them glittering like stars as she fought to keep from crying.
"Before you start and then inevitably start me off," he took her chin in his hands and grinned. "I have mezcal and a spare sombrero," he bent down and placed it on her head, making her giggle and shake her head. "So how about you catch me up on what I've missed?"
"So they're still doing their stubborn dance, then?" Richard rolled his eyes as he sat across from his daughter at the huge marble island in the middle of the kitchen. They'd lit candles around them, their crystal glasses full of tequila, ice and lime. God, it felt good to be home.
"Oh yeah," Allie snorted. "I've tried everything, I've talked to them both but…-"
"You can't rush love, darling." Her father smiled knowingly. "Your mother would tell you that one,"
"She made you work for it, there's a difference," the blonde giggled, raising her glass to her lips. "And you passed with flying colours…eventually."
"She despised me at first," he laughed. "She openly told me that she thought I was an idiot…in fact, I think her exact words were "Richard Harding, you're a prat and if you send me one more bunch of flowers, I'll shove them up your arse."
Allie laughed loudly, throwing her head back. She had heard the story many a time before but it still got her. It made her heart hurt, having to hear stories about the woman she called her mother rather than being able to recall them on her own. What memories she did have were faded, having lost her when she was just seven. But it was moments like this that reminded her Poppy Harding would never truly be gone.
"So," Richard reached for the bottle and topped up his glass before leaning back and regarding her with a glint in his eye. "We've talked about your job, about Harry and Lara playing hard to get, about the eldest still being married to the most boring woman on earth…so that leaves…"
Allie bit the inside of her cheek, trying her best not to grin. She had told her father about Pete, of course. But it was a quick mention over a crackling phone call. And now here he was, pretending that he was remotely intimitading and waiting for all the details. Details which she would bet her bottom dollar Harry had already given him.
"Pete," she nodded.
"Ah, yes. Pete,"
"Dad," Allie groaned as she fell back in her chair and almost pouted.
"What?" Richard laughed, his eyes wide and innocent.
"I know that tone." She shot back.
"It's a tone all fathers have when they only have one daughter and find out she's inamoured with some mystery man," he shrugged, eliciting a laugh out of her.
"No, it's the tone all fathers have when they're trying to work out whether or not they approve."
"Well, shut me up then," he grinned. "What's he like?"
"Pete?" she raised her eyebrows. "He's a teacher, he's 24, he's-.."
"Darling, I don't want his CV," Richard shook his head. "What's he like?"
Allie looked at him for a long moment and felt her heart lurch. Of course she wanted to tell him about Pete, she knew that her father would love him the way that Harry did but there was another side to Pete, one that didn't exactly fall easily into conversation.
Straightening up in the stool, she clasped her glass with both hands and smiled.
"He saved my life the first time we met." She caught the look of shock in her father's eyes and reached out to pat his hand. "Relax, I wasn't exactly being held at gun point or anything. I was on the train coming back from Lara's birthday, I was with her and Will-…"
"Oh God, I forgot about that twat," Richard groaned.
"Dad!" Allie laughed.
"Oh, what?" he looked at her aghast. "I still can't believe you thought that pompus prick was worth your time. My god, I mean imagine thinking having investments is a personality trait?"
"Well, he was there," she rolled her eyes. "Being a twat."
Richard gave a grand sweeping gesture to show she had proven his point and then took another long sip of his drink.
"And I got left on the train on my own. I'm just sitting there when this…guy comes up. And he's disgusting, keeps trying to talk to me and then grabs my arm."
She saw her father tense and so moved the story on.
"And then Pete walks into the carriage and in a very…Pete way, tells this guy to get lost. He walked me to the taxi rank and gave me his coat. I found him a week later to return it and…" she shrugged, suddenly bashful. "The rest is history."
She grinned to herself, a warmth coming into her eyes thar Richard hadn't seen before as she absentmindedly ran the tip of her finger around the rim of her glass. Her mother did the same thing.
"He's funny, he doesn't care if he looks stupid doing something. He adores the kids in his class, he'd do anything for them. He's protective without ever being overbearing; he pushes me to do things that I never would have dreamed of. He's gentle. He knows everything about me and it still isn't enough. He makes me happy, Dad."
She met her fathers warm brown eyes and gave him a slightly watery smile.
"I love him."
Richard let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He'd known from the moment he'd met Will that he was in no way right for Allie, but she was young and had to make her own mistakes. That's what his wife would have said to him had she been there. So he'd waited, let her find out that she deserved better and now, here it was. Not that he didn't want to meet the guy to make his own assertions.
"So, how about he comes over for lunch tomorrow?" Richard held up his hand as he watched his daguther's eyes widen in fear. "Look, no matter how many continents I live on, I still make the best roast dinner in England and I absolutely promise to be on my best behaviour so…invite him round."
Allie regarded him seriously, her eyes narrowed slightly as she gauged his body language. He hadn't asked her for anything sharp or made a move towards his office where an antique shot gun hung above his desk.
"No threatening him? No Spanish inquisition? No-…"
"Just an old man getting to know his daughter's boyfriend," Richard grinned. "Scout's honour."
It was a few hours later that Allie let herself back into her bedroom with a yawn, leaning against her door for a moment and sighing contentedly. Padding towards her bed, she stopped short, the hair on the back of her neck standing up.
Turning, she peered out onto the small balcony off of her room and felt her jaw drop when she saw a hand clinging to it, the long fingers clutching desperately at the wet stone. In the few hours she and her father had been talking in the kitchen, a full blown storm had rolled in, bringing with it a midnight blue sky which crashed into grey cloud, thunder clattering throughout its expanse.
"What the fu-…"
She felt the air leave her lungs when the bodiless hand pulled itself up until a lump crashed onto the floor. Walking over to the balcony doors which thankfully, she had remembered to lock, she felt her butterflies break out in her stomach when she was met with the sight of Pete Dunham, drenched and clambering to his feet.
Yanking the doors open, she pulled him inside immediately, not worrying about the torrent of rain dripping off of him and onto her. His teeth chattered slightly with cold as he grinned down at her.
"Are you insane?" she whispered. "What are you doing here? And what have I told you about scaling my bloody house?"
"I was goin' for romantic," he smirked at her, laughing quietly when he saw she was trying not to grin back at him.
"You're going for a broken spine," she shook her head. "if you fall from that height you cou-…"
She stopped when his hands came up to cup her face, his lips finding hers. Allie melted against him, taking in a shuddering breath as he pulled back from her for just a moment, his eyes searching hers.
"I thought you were out tonight?" she whispered, her voice softer this time.
"I was," Pete told her, his hands gently running down her arms to intertwine his fingers with hers. "I was sat down the Abbey, the boys were pissed outta their trees and all I could think was…I want to be here,"
Allie felt her heart thump rapidly against her ribs, the rushing of her blood flooding her ears and making her forget to breathe.
"I think as much as I hate saying my brother is right about anything," he smirked. "He might 'ave been on the nose when he told me I was a lost cause when it comes to you. I just kept thinking about you bein' here all on your own…"
"Uh-huh," Allie rolled her eyes, making him laugh again.
"What?" Pete frowned. "You're not implying I'm only after one thing, are ya, Harding?" he clutched his chest, feining offence. "Because that would just be downright rude,"
"Oh, shut up," Allie grabbed him by his jacket and silenced his laughter as her mouth came crashing down onto hers. She pushed his jacket off of his shoulders, letting it pool on the floor. He walked her backwards in the candlelight, his hands pushing at her own clothing, growling in frustration when he had to pull away from her to yank both of their shirts from their bodies.
He picked her up, cradling her head as she locked her legs around his waist, keeping her lips locked against his as she fumbled with the belt on his jeans.
They fell onto her bed, his name a breathy moan on her lips as he made for her neck, one of his arms under her head whilst the other roamed her body wantonly.
"God, I love you," he told her, his voice hoarse and think with lust.
Allie ran a hand down his face, shaking her head as though trying to work out whether this was real. Whether the way he was looking at her right now was too good to be true. There was so much love in his eyes that it made her breathing short.
"I love you, too," she whispered back, pulling his head down to hers and kissing him with everything in her, moaning softly when he pinned her hands to the pillow either side of her head before lowering her body down onto his and making her forget anything but them existed.
Pete Dunham woke gently, his eyes opening once, twice and then blinking into the morning sunlight that was streaming in through the golden and cream drapes. Wincing, he brought his hand up to his left eyebrow, feeling the small cut there, its rough and uneven texture letting him know it had already begun to scab. It was a small war wound, one from a fight last week which had been caused by Bovver not knowing when to shut his mouth but it had opened in the rain last night, blood dripping into his eye and drawing some odd stares as he meandered around the streets of Chelsea.
Stretching, he turned and smiled as he found Allie sleeping soundly, snuggled into his side, one of her hands underneath his on his chest. Picking it up gently, he kissed it, running his other hand down her bare back and pressing a kiss against the back of her shoulder.
"Mmmmm," she sighed softly, shifting against him.
"Mornin' sunshine," he pressed his lips to her ear, glancing up to see her bright ivy coloured eyes boring into his.
"Morning," she mumbled, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
Pete Dunham had honestly thought he'd be dead in the ground before he ever found himself thinking a girl was cute but laying here, watching his girlfriend glancing around the room, her eyes heavy with sleep, he knew he was a lost cause if ever there was one.
He frowned when she sat up slightly, yanking the bedsheets up and peering down at his naked body, a definite smirk on her peachy coloured lips.
"Oi," he laughed. "I might 'ave to start charging a fee if you're gonna do that,"
"Well, I was just checking your balls were still there," she giggled, fixing him with what she desperately tried to make a serious stare. "After you walked out of a boys night out down the pub to come see your girlfriend, I figured it was best to be sure."
"I came 'ere to get laid," Pete narrowed his eyes at her, laughing when she fell back into the pillows with a roll of her eyes. "What was your name again? Abbie? Ellie?"
"Using humour as a defence mechanism, to mask the sad truth…" Allie shook her head. "You, my friend, are whipped."
"Right, that's it," he lunged at her, grinning when she shrieked when he began tickling her sides, knowing it was her weakness. He kissed the side of her neck, his fingers digging into her ribs as she flapped about beneath him, trying in vain to get him back, refusing to accept what they had established long ago – no one tickled Pete Dunham.
"Give up yet?" he quirked an eyebrow at her.
"Piss off, Dunham," Allie gasped, grabbing a pillow and walloping him with it, not in the least bit surprised when he caught it and threw it over his shoulder. His hands came to rest either side of her head and he licked his lips, sending a shiver right through her.
Oh boy, she knew that look.
"What are you doin' today?" he asked her quietly. "Because I 'ave a feeling my plans might interfere with yours," he gave her the same damn smirk that got her every time. "Especially if yours involve leaving this bed,"
Allie giggled, excitement tingling through her body as she ran her hands up his bare back, the hard muscles contracting under her touch.
"I don't have any pla-…"
Pete watched as her eyes widened and she froze. Frowning, he wondered if he'd hurt her somehow or worse, had she spotted something he'd broken last night when he practically fell through her window. Lord knows a teacher's salary wouldn't do shit if he had to replace something in this place.
"Lunch with my Dad," she whispered.
"Your dad's back?" Pete frowned as not a second after the words have left his mouth, she slapped her hand over it.
"Yes and he's here, in the house so would you keep your Goddamn voice down?" she hissed.
"After the night we had, you're worried about him hearing us now?" Pete smirked, knowing he was pissing her off. "I think you borderline broke the sound barrier when I-…"
He laughed, trying his best to keep his voice low in spite of it as she slapped his back hard, a blush creeping up her neck and making her look even more adorable.
"I'm serious," she shoved him backwards and scrambling off of the bed, trying to locate her pyjamas which had been flung God knows where in the heat of the moment. "You've not even met the man, you cannot let the first handshake be naked in his daughters bed,"
"Alright, alright," Pete chuckled, whipping the sheets from his body and watching as she stopped her movements for just a second, her jaw going slack at the sight of him. Annoying or not, Pete Dunham naked was something that would stop any red blooded woman in their tracks.
"You are such a pain in the arse," she half hissed, half laughed, locating his boxers and jeans and throwing them onto the bed.
Yanking on a hoodie of Pete's she had stolen months ago, she jumped onto the bed and hovered above him, her eyes on his, the warmth he was used to back in them as she smiled.
"Morning,"
"Morning," he greeted her back, kissing her lightly before pushing himself up to get dressed, watching her as she pulled her hair into a loose and messy bun on her head. How was it that even the most basic things this girl did made his heart stop? He wondered if she knew all the little things he noticed about her. If she knew that he could tell what mood she was in from what records she was listening to? That he knew when she laughed, when she really laughed, her eyes flashed, the amber flecks in them getting brighter? That she always put a dab of perfume on the back of her neck and when she put the bottle back, she would always run her finger along the photo of her mother that sat next to it?
"So, lunch?" he asked, coming to stand behind her in front of the mirror, his arms wrapping around her middle. "With your old man?"
"Is that ok?" Allie frowned, suddenly realising that maybe Pete didn't want to meet her dad. Maybe this was all too much after six months together? For all she knew, this could still be just a bit of fun to him, why the hell would he want to-
"Do I bring beer or wine?" Pete cocked his head at their reflection, his chin resting on her shoulder as he bent down and kissed it. "Oh fuck, do I 'ave you like…talk about rugby and shit?"
"No," the blonde laughed, shaking her head as she turned in his arms and linked her own behind his neck. "Just…be you. That's all I want."
Pete nodded, slightly unsure. Ok, so her brother was sound for a poncey Chelsea bloke but what would her Dad be like? Christ knows her oldest brother Richard hadn't exactly warmed to Pete. He didn't belong in their world and he was the first person to admit that he wasn't good enough for Allie Harding so what if her Dad-
"You're overthinking," Allie told him in a sing-song voice. "I know that look,"
"When do I ever overthink?" Pete snorted.
"Uh-huh," Allie nodded, brushing his lips lightly with her own before shoving him towards her balcony doors. "Be here at 1,"
Pete frowned, eyeing the glass doors warily, unsure if he was understanding her correctly.
"There's no way you can leave through the house," Allie shook her head, as though reading his mind. "If you bump into old man Harding, he'll know you were here overnight and honestly, I know you're the Major of a firm but I think he might take you in a fight,"
Pete laughed, shaking his head, preparing to argue with him when she walked over and planted her hands flat against the hard surface of his chest.
"Ok, imagine for arguments sake, twenty years from now, we have a daughter. You wake up one morning and there's a 6ft2 hooligan wandering out of her bedroom wearing last nights clothes and her lip balm all over his neck?"
Pete regarded her seriously for a moment, his chest tightening as he thought, not for the first time about having a family with her. The girl in his arms was his entire future, he knew that, he just didn't know it had crossed her mind. He zoned back in to the matter at hand and nodded grimly.
"I'd probably kill 'im," he rubbed his jaw.
"Well, there you go," she shoved him out onto the balcony and rolled her eyes when she spotted yet another of her plant pots had fallen victim to a late night Dunham visit. "I'm going to go downstairs and make breakfast and see you at 1,"
"I swear to Christ, Harding," Pete muttered as he threw his left leg over the brick railing, gulping at the distance to the ground. This somehow seemed much easier when you were drunk, horny and heading up. "You're lucky your fit and as for breakfast, go easy on the bloke, if he really has been out living in the jungle, the last welcome back to jolly old he needs is your cooking,"
"Don't make me push you," she narrowed her eyes at him, giggling as he sent her a wink and then disappeared. Hearing her balcony doors close, Pete let out a deep breath, balancing carefully on the ledge as he reached over and grabbed the iron trellis that ran up the house. He shoved himself onto it, his trainers slipping as he skidded down, crying inside when he realised the toes of his brand new trainers were taking the brunt of the effort.
A mere ten feet from the ground, he glanced around, weighing up whether to aim for the stone decking that led to the pool or the flower bed to the right that was home to some very thorny looking roses. He was in the midst of weighing the pros and cons when gravity made the decision for him, sending him flying and straight onto the concrete. He amazed himself in his ability to keep from shouting out, the only noise that came from him being a slight 'oof' and a definite crack which he prayed wasn't his spine as he hit the ground.
Squinting into the glaring winter sun, he grunted, turning himself onto his side and preparing to hoist himself up when suddenly a hand appeared in front of his face. He closed one eye, trying to make out who his saviour was when an unfamiliar voice broke through the silence of the garden and turned his blood to ice.
"You know, you're right. I've worms, spiders, even the odd guinea pig in the last six months and yet the idea of being subjected to my daughter's cooking is enough to make me cry."
Pete Dunham had never really felt afraid; not since he was a child and his father would come home from the pub with whiskey on his breath and his belt in his hand, at least. But now as he shakily accepted the hand Richard Harding held out to him, he swore he felt his heart stop.
"Pete, I presume?" Richard grinned, enjoying the awkwardness that seemed to envelop the stuttering young man in front of him. "Richard Harding. Your girlfriends father."
"I uh…" Pete blinked slowly.
Please tell me I died on the way down and this isn't happening.
"I uh…I'm Pete," he blurted out clumsily.
"That much we established," Richard nodded, sending him a wicked grin and slinging an arm around his shoulders. "Now I know its early, but I could use a whiskey, what do you say?"
Told you we were going to way back when...let me know if you're remotely interested in part 2 :)