Mr Americano - ALAN RICKMAN fanfic

Chapter 14 - Consequences

[Lots of emotions flying around in this one]

More delicious smut/fluff coming your way in upcoming chapters, with plenty of drama!

 I plan to update every couple of days.

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"What were you planning huh?" 

Scott's voice bellows across the room dangling a pillowcase full of money at arms length. "Don't you fucking lie me and tell me you aren't up to something! There's over £1000 in here! You ain't getting that much from tips! You've been fucking lying to me, you sneaky little bitch. I bust my ass and you're stashing money in a pillowcase in the back of a wardrobe! What the fuck is it for huh? You tell me!"

"I've told you!" I cry, "I wanted to put away some savings for a rainy day."

"Bullshit!" he spat, lurching forward. "You're planning something."

"I'm not planning anything!"

"Why were you keeping this from me?"

"I...I don't-"

"You told me that you didn't get tips from work, you lying sack of shit!" His hand whips across my face, sending me stumbling. "Do you know how much this money could have helped us?"

The instant sting sets my face alight. Blinded by my clutching hand covering my eyes, I can hear him, feel him, standing ominously above me, yelling obscenities about what a lying scum bag I am and that I should be ashamed of myself, that I'm immature and emotionally selfish, only thinking of myself.

"You are unbelievable!" I cry, daring to look at him. His face is blotching with anger and alcohol consumption. "You need to calm down."

"Calm down?!" He repeats the same phrase three times, screaming in my face.

"You better tell me what the FUCK you were planning to do with this money."

In desperation for all of this to be over, I tell him. "My play! My fucking play ok! I want to have something stashed away, it's an investment."

He arrogantly laughs, walks around a bit and comes back to yell some more.

"Get a fucking grip Rebecca. It's not a priority. We're swimming in bills and you're stuffing notes into a pillowcase to gamble it all on fucking play! Now is not the time! You've got no idea, have you?" He pauses for a second, laughing in his hostile demeanour. "This money is coming to me now."

"It's mine! I earned it!" I retaliate.

I go to grab the pillowcase, but he pushes me back in the chest, hard.

"You know how important this play is to me," I cried, my voice raising. "You talk about me supporting you, but what about you? Do you ever support me?"

"I fucking support you!" he screams, banging his fist against the door. "Look at this place! Look at it!"

Tired of us going round in circles, the pressure inside me builds up so strongly that I explode in rage.

"STOP IT! Stop it! I can't stand it! I'm tired of you kicking me down for earning less than you. You're trying to invest in your future, but you're not allowing me to invest in mine. You spend your money on tech and fucking gadgets and then complain when we're struggling with bills. Yes, there's £1000 in that bag but I've been saving that for a year. A year! I was the one who said to you we should get a place that's less expensive, but you insisted on this place. Yes, I work in a fucking coffee shop ok!"