alan rickman character oneshots

6. alan rickman. all the things she said

nsfw. bratty assistant being bratty, must pay the bills for her bratty mouth. or: an excuse to hate on stella fucking maris. cheers.

(i know that maris is her dead mother's nickname but it sounds more dramatic, sue me)

dedicated to parina x

It is freezing.

October slowly began to give way to November, and the golden hue of the mild autumn air fled into hibernation, leaving the stage to the icy north wind that sweeps through the grey city as if a switch has been flicked.

You hate winter and the cold, biting air penetrating to the bone, even more than you hate slow-walking people or warm, stale beer after work – but what you positively despise is waiting in the cold.

Another torrent of swear words pours out of our glossy mouth, and you're really close to taking your hands out of your coat pockets to check the time, despite the freezing temperatures, when his car finally turns around the corner.

"For god's sake, Alan", you grumble as you yank open the door and fall into the passenger seat. "Do you know what punctuality means? I was this close to freezing to death."

Without a look at him, you harshly tug at your scarf.

"Good morning to you, too", Alan greets you dryly, steering his car back onto the deserted, murky street.

You respond with an incomprehensible mumble and rub your hands together, the cold still stubbornly clinging to you. You have hoped, counted on him, that his car would be nice and warm, but the bastard hasn't even turned up the heat. Fumbling with the buttons of the climate control, you've began to curse again.

Alan watches you silently while sipping his coffee, his left hand lazily laying on the steering wheel as he watches your silent outburst.

Still quietly, but very obviously complaining about the cold and his lateness, you side eye him with a glare and grab the second cup of coffee.

"The one time I'm late is a tragedy, but the dozen times you are are little hiccups?"

His baritone voice sounds relaxed despite his scolding words, one of his traits you like the most about your boss, and you huff into your coffee cup.

"Make it make sense, darling."

You roll your eyes, very annoyed, very cold, and one of your hands lets go of the toasty cup to change the radio station and the volume while you're at it.

Def Leppard blares from the speakers, way too loud for this early time of day, and you sit back and sip your coffee with an overly smug expression.

The sigh Alan gives nearly drowns in the music, but you react to it anyway, and you do it very maturely. You stick out your tongue.

"Only old people listen to classical shit", you state with a shrug, knowing how much it pisses him off when you call him old despite your moderate age gap – he is only about 20 years older than you, a youthful 49 years old, but nevertheless, you take great pleasure in taunting him, particularly in the morning when it's just the two of you.

Alan quickly realized how to put up with you after hiring you, so he just sighs again when he pulls onto the highway, and simply says:

"You are a delight."

Finally satisfied, you look out of the window, and drink your remaining coffee in peace until you reach the theatre.

It's not the first movie you're working on with Alan, and you're pretty sure you know his work methods by heart now, but the last few weeks have been different, if not difficult.