This time we see a bit more of Alistair. The poor chap has been feeling abandoned lately. I also wanted to thank zoeysanny. You sadly left me no way to reply, but your encouraging comment was the inspiration for this chapter. Thank you! So here, enjoy!
For disclaimer, check the first chapter.
It was raining. Again. Alistair hated rain. It was wet and cold, making everything slippery and clammy. He sighed and grabbed another lemon biscuit that Winston had brought him earlier. Absentmindedly he stared into the fire. Flames danced merrily, without a care in the world. Alistair stuffed another cookie into his mouth and snorted. It must be some cosmic joke that he hated everything here, no, cut it, he LOVED the food! BUT, he hated everything else, and yet he was born and confined here, on this confounded land.
Another cookie disappeared. Dreamily he wiped the crumbs from his hands and sweater, stood and faced his books, sighing contently. Books, his only love, and they filled almost every wall he had for his use. It was quite a lot, if you didn't mind him saying so. He smiled broader.
He brushed his fingers lovingly against the covers, deep in thought. He sneezed and grabbed hold of the bookcase. What the…? His nose twitched again. Winston? Had that old oaf abandoned his precious books to the mould and dust? Almost frantic, he pulled couple of his treasures out of the shelves, inspecting them closely. Nothing. Clean as always.
He humphed, and gingerly stuffed the books back only to sneeze again, bumping his head against the bookshelf. "Bloody hell!" Alistair swore loudly and stepped back, rubbing his abused forehead. Angrily he turned. And froze.
Alistair walked swiftly to the North wall of the library. Swiftly he pushed the hidden switch, activating the mechanism and stepped back. Noiselessly the bookshelf slid away, revealing the dark corridor behind it. He pushed another switch on the left side of the wall and stepped inside. Even though slightly damp, this passage to Laras room was still better than the one outside. He didn't like walking that corridor at nights, firelight reflecting back from that creepy picture of Mr and Mrs Croft and sending eerie shadows on his way.
Alistair had nothing against the former owners of the huge mansion, yet, meeting their lifeless gaze every night was not a number one activity in his list. Listening to all the ghost stories from Lara was already more than enough. And Lara was really okay with him using this route, as long as he still knocked first anyway.
And he did. Three times to be more accurate and still no answer. He took a deep breath and pushed the button, opening the hidden door to Laras domain. He cleared his throat nervously, suddenly crashing here didn't sound so bright anymore.
"Hallo, Lara!" he called out, starting to step through but stopped. Only few ashes glowed dimly in the fireplace and all the light were out. Alistair huffed disappointedly. Gone again and not a word to him! He stomped back to him room. Why bother informing him? He's only the one supposed to know everything she throws at him. How on Earth does she expect me to be ready when I don't even know in which bloody continent she is! Angrily he stopped in the middle of the room.
The clock on wall showed eleven. Guess I'll get to bother Zip, he thought sourly. The relationship between two men hadn't been going well since that had happened. Alistair sighed again and reluctantly grabbed an extra jacked. "No way will I freeze to death in those endless hallways!" Still grumbling he switched off the light and closed the door.
The corridor was indeed cold and dark. Alistair shuddered and quickened his pace. No matter how many years he spent in this too-big and empty manor, walking around it at night still brought chills down his spine. He quickened his pace and glanced at the painting above the huge fireplace. Color drained from his face and he squeaked, breaking into the run. "He winked. Laras Dad just winked at me!" Alistair panted to himself.
Cursing under his breath he rushed down the stairs. Damn Zip, why couldn't he stay upstairs like the rest of us? No, he still had to have his own way. Jogging slowly he yelped as he hit his hip against one of the tables. His vision turned red. Forgetting the darkness, cold and ghosts, he marched right up to Zips door, and yanked it open.
Emptiness greeted him once more. However this time the lights were on and the fire blazed strongly. Alistair stared around suspiciously. Where has he disappeared to? The door at the other end of the room was ajar. Determinately he stepped forward, ready to shout at someone. Grabbing the door handle he froze for the second time in that evening.
Sure, there was Zip. Slumped across his sofa, one hand loosely hanging across the back, leisurely watching TV. But his other hand was securely wrapped around a petite body sprawled over his chest, long dark hair snuggly tucked under his chin. Alistair gawked. And mind you, Alistair never gawked. Brought up as a perfect gentleman, he was restrained and polite, and never-ever stared.
But this was not just any situation. We were talking about Lara. Lara sprawled all over Zip, and them being way too damned comfy about it! Alistair opened his mouth, his lungs filling with questions. Lara stretched and Zip casually brushed his lips across her shoulder, squeezing her tightly. Alistair wheezed and almost choked on his own tongue.
Before he could shake off his stupor Lara jumped up. Alistair blushed to the roots of his hair. The white, oversized and definitely masculine shirt just covered enough to keep Alistair from fainting. She disappeared for a minute only to return with a wine glass. She nudged his long legs to a more comfortable position and settled on his slap again. Alistair still gawked. His mouth had started to feel uncomfortably dry.
He heard a soft murmur and Zips chuckle rumbled across the room. She took a sip and offered her class to Zip. He took the glass, only to set it down and swiftly pulled her flush to his chest. Lara squealed and Alistair grabbed the doorframe. And the he kissed her. It was slow and passionate. Later Alistair could have sworn he saw sparks fly. What was even more terrifying, was that it looked so…natural.
However, when Lara slid her arms around Zips neck and his hands started to slide dangerously low, Alistair finally managed to break his lethargy. He leaned heavily against the wall and clutched his wildly beating heart. Wha…, his fuzzy brain refused to construct any coherent sentences.
There was a thump and muffled voices. Alistair jerked upwards, not daring to look back and sprinted outside. Not a thought was spared on the chilly hallway and once back in his own rooms he stripped from all of his outer clothes and slipped between the cold sheets. Only when tightly wrapped in the protective sheets did he allow himself a slow smirk.
So here you go. Written in class, while pretending to actively participate. The idea just didn't leave me alone. I hope your imagination flies where I left the open ends.
Just to specify, I don't have anything against England, I've been there repeatedly myself and I love the country, just thought it'd be fun to look at moping and moaning Alistair :D
And do leave me some of your precious reviews, they're such an imagination boost! I cherish each and every one!