Work Text:
Alexander was sitting across from a woman much taller and younger than he was. She had pale, freckled skin, big, brown eyes that seemed to take in the space around them both - well, the three of them, counting Aaron who was sitting in the corner in a booth that was too hard, face hidden behind a menu. Her body moved fluidly; in one swift move her glass was at her lips, then her fork was in her fingers, and she was trying to stake a piece of breaded chicken from the bed of lettuce her salad was comprised of. She talked and talked and talked, about what, Aaron didn’t know. He wished he could read lips. He would probably be able to if he had taken that ASL class in college, but his stupid student advisor said no.
And Alex, his Alex, hung onto every single word. He had a very nice side profile, Aaron thought to himself; the light that filtered in through the circular windows made contact with his sleek, dark locks, making them look reddish, sort of. His onyx eyes, deep-set and every so slightly downturned, searched her delicate face. Then she laughed; he did too. They both threw back their heads and went ha-ha-ha-snrk! Snrk! Alex brought his napkin to his mouth to cover up his smile.
They laughed the same way, a cacophony of phlegm filled the air. His waitress set a cup of coffee, straight black, by his side. He uttered a soft “thank-you” and just stared at it. His heart had sunk its way into his stomach. He watched as they finished their meals; the last forkfuls of lettuce and handfuls of French fries, sips of still water and Diet Coke. Aaron had warned Alex countless times about how bad aspartame and whatever other fake sugars were in that stuff was; but Alex never listened. The young woman pulled out her wallet and beckoned over their waiter. Alex shook his head. He was patting his pockets, searching for the bulge that was his own wallet. The young woman shook her head; her hair bounced along with her. She could cover it, surely Aaron thought to himself; his eyes drifted down to her shoes. Louboutins, red bottoms and all. Oh, yes she could. But Alex wouldn’t stand for that. She paid, they stood, and they hugged. When they pulled away, Alex took her face in his hands and studied her. His eyes crinkled at the corners. The girl smiled. Don’t cry. She said, or at least that’s what Aaron thought she said. They started walking for the entrance, and that’s when Aaron made a decision.
“Alex,” he intercepted his husband by the soft, pilled sleeve of his favorite gray cardigan. Alex’s brows shot up. “Aaron. What are you doing here?”
“I was just, uh, getting a coffee when I spotted you two here,”
Alex turned to the young woman and gave her a soft smile. He looked at Aaron and shoved his hands in his pockets. “You wanna introduce yourself?”
The young woman stepped forward and stuck out manicured hand; five red-painted fingernails were pointed right at Aaron’s chest. “Hi.” She grinned; there was a gap between her two front teeth. “I’m Cherrilyn. Alex’s daughter.”