I'll call for pen and ink

McFly-slash ... Back in Wonderland

Tue, 06 Oct 2009 20:33:47 GMT

again. sorry for the terrible lack of fic. my plot bunnies are dying one after another it seems. but hey, at least i wrote something long now so that should do for the next weeks/months without stuff from me.

and now. enjoy. (and read slowly :p)

Title: Back in Wonderland
Author: me
Rating: PG-13
Chapter: 1/1 … Standalone
Genre: Angst, Romance, Drama
Pairing: PoynterJudd
Summary: I’m just one drink away and I’m back in Wonderland like it was yesterday.
Word count: 8,377
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my weird brain’s offsprings.
Dedication: ♥ manuanya ♥ because without her this story wouldn’t be existing in the way that it does. And it wouldn’t have an ending either.
Author’s note: Listening to ‘Lies’ (that line up there in the summary) and talking to Manu inspired this story.

He wishes it could be like it was back then. When there was purple hair and that lip ring and few less tattoos. That time when he just came over to him, placed himself halfway across his body, so close that he could feel his heartbeat and hear his breathing. And they would have endless conversations without saying a word. Solace would come through hands playing with odd strands of hair. A look from one pair of blue eyes into another was all the advice that was needed.

But it’s not like that, not anymore. And it hurts.

===

Harry hates this. He hates how far they’ve come. Or well, how far they’ve not come would probably be way more accurate.

It only seems like it had been yesterday. That time when everything had been different. Dougie was only 17 back then (so hm. Maybe it was longer ago than Harry would actually admit). He was looking at a mountain of shards that used to be his first serious relationship. No idea how he got to that point either, he just knew he was there and it just hurt, alright? Everything was fucked up and the world was a cruel place and he just wanted to curl up and die for a bit. But they were on tour, their first big arena tour, sold out venues up and down the country, and curling up or being dead was not an option. So Dougie had turned to that one solid thing that was there. That one solid thing that kept him from breaking down.

Harry couldn’t count the many times Dougie just came to him in the middle of the night. Looking alright to anyone who didn’t bother with a second look, but Harry only needed one blink and he could tell that the young man was as far from feeling good as a patient on his deadbed. So he would open up his arms to the bassist and he would crawl into them and sometimes he sighed numerous times and sometimes he ranted, sometimes obscenities left his lips like they were fired from machines and sometimes, most times, there would be nothing but silence.

Thinking back of it, it does sound a lot like this phase of his life was sad and dark and no fun to be stuck in. But if Harry is completely honest with himself, he will have to admit that this time, back in the day, was probably the only time when he felt like an actual complete human being. Because it was him and Dougie. And not much else.

But then things changed. Some might say they went downhill but Harry wouldn’t say so. He was with a girl who made him happy for a very long time so if it went any hill, it probably went rather up than down.

Izzy was great. She understood his life, had one quite similar. She didn’t get mad when Harry had no time to be on the phone for longer than a few minutes or when he forgot to reply to her e-mail because he had been stuck in an interview-marathon.

But there was this one flaw that she had, she and their whole relationship. She simply wasn’t Dougie.

The thought of being in love with Dougie never occurred to Harry at all. There was something, definitely something, but none of them ever called it love. It was being close and helping each other (though most times it was Harry helping Dougie). And yes, there was intimacy and a whole lot of affection. But it wasn’t love. Or was it?

Right now it isn’t so much love than it is anger. Because Dougie is an infuriating little creature, sometimes. Very often, actually. Recently anyway. Harry doesn’t know when or how it happened, he just knows who happened.

She happened and all of a sudden Dougie was this new guy who spent hours on the phone and drove halfway across the country to carry some shopping bags. He was seen in some paper every other day and he played bass for her band instead of his own. They had a dog and spoke of ‘us’ and ‘we’ and to put the cherry on top of this yucky ice-cream, they moved in with each other. A year in and they already lived together! In other relationships you forget your one-year-anniversary and then grovel with a bunch of roses and a big box of chocolates. But you do not move in with each other.

So ever since Dougie started seeing her, there was no more time for Harry. And he must’ve moved into this happy place with pink clouds and flowery fields because he had no more problems either. At least none that he needed Harry for. There was one tiny little weak moment when Flea had run off and almost got run over and Dougie had been a mess and Harry was there. But that was one fleeting occurrence and as soon as that had passed, it was back to pink clouds and flowery fields.

The thing is just. Harry misses that feeling of being the one Dougie counts on day and night. He misses being that superheroic person in Dougie’s eyes, the one who has all the solutions to all the problems in the world. He misses that he is needed, simple as.

And suddenly this idea keeps popping up in his head. An idea that just won’t go away. And this idea keeps just building itself up in his head and it all sounds just so good and so well-planned out. If he can’t make Dougie need him, how about doing it the other way round? Make him need Dougie. The effect will most likely be the same, won’t it? They’ll grow closer again, they’ll be back to solving each other’s problems. It would be like it was back then.

===

It is close to 3am when Dougie is awoken by the ringing of his phone. With a groan he rolls over in his bed and answers the call without checking the ID first. There are only three people who would call him at this time of the night anyway. Well, four, but said fourth person is lying next to him, sound asleep.

“This better be fucking important.” he croaks into the phone.
“Dougie? I can’t find my key. Can I … can I have yours?” comes a whiny voice from the other end.
“Harry?”
Then there is a giggle. And a hiccup. “Yyyyyyyyyup.”
“Dude, are you drunk?”
“Can’t find my keeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey.”
Dougie sighs, feeling a lot like he’s just talking to his cousin, the five-year-old. “Look in your pocket, Harry. Look. In. Your. Pocket.”
“Which one?”
“All of them.”
“I … s’dark, can’t find my pockets.”
Another exasperated sigh. “Where are you?”
“‘m. S’looks like home?”
“Okay, don’t move. I’ll be right there.”

And then Dougie is out of the door just a few minutes later, driving through barely lit streets, carefully watching that he doesn’t push the speed-limit. Least not too much.

He gets to Harry’s building and already sees him slouched down on the floor in front of the door when he drives up to it. He looks like he is asleep, right there on the doorstep, but he lifts his head (and even from inside the car Dougie can tell that this seems to be a rather difficult thing to do for his band mate right now) when he notices headlights coming closer.

“Dougieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! My saviour, you’re heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeere!” with a loud voice and arms flailing around uncontrollably.

Dougie parks the car, gets out and kneels next to the older male.

“Will you be quiet please? There’s people sleeping, you know. Come on, up you go.”

And with all his strength he brings Harry up to his feet, leans him against the wall and pats the outsides of Harry’s pockets until the feels the housekeys in one of them. Holding his friend in place, he fishes the key out of the drummer’s jeans.

“Yer …” Hiccup. “… yer feelin me up. ‘s feels funnyyyyyyy.”
“Oh you will stop feeling funny soon.” comes the mumbled response, “Now come on, let’s get you inside.”

And for God’s sake, Harry must have consumed his body weight in alcohol because really, he’s never been that heavy to move around. And his feet don’t seem to be part of his body anymore either because Dougie has to practically carry him through the door of his flat and he’s so glad that Harry chose the flat on the ground floor because getting him up a staircase would have needed a crane.

They pass the threshold of the flat and Dougie hits his hand against the wall, successfully finding the light switch on the first go. The bright lightning brings up a groan from Harry and when Dougie gets a whiff of his breath, what he already knows is testified. Harry has more alcohol than blood in his body.

“Bed or bathroom, Harry?”

Harry gives his best attempt to stand up straight. He waits a moment, paying attention to the signals his body give him.

“Bed. ‘m tired.”
“Okay, come on then.”

And he drags Harry to that big bed of his and just dumps him right there. And while he proceeds to take off Harry’s shoes and re-arrange that lumpy form on the bed, the drummer speaks up.

“Stay here?”
Dougie looks up. “What?”
The answer comes, but it’s in some half-asleep voice. “Jus’ stay, alrigh? Just like Wonderland.” And the words have barely left Harry’s mouth and he’s already asleep, softly snoring.

Dougie looks puzzled for a second, not understanding what Harry meant by ‘Wonderland’. He decides it’s probably some happy place inside Harry’s head where rivers are made of vodka, people play cricket 24/7 and everything is one massive Woodstock-festival. So he sighs, looking down at Harry’s sleeping form. He’s dead to the world, probably won’t remember a thing once he wakes up tomorrow (with a headache the size of a small country, no doubt).

And Dougie takes a look at the time. It’s almost 4am now and really, is there a point in going home? Not so much, he figures. He reaches into his own pocket and damn, his phone is on the nightstand. That is the nightstand in his own home, next to his own bed. And he has no idea where Harry’s phone even is and calling his landline would be a bad idea, it would only wake up the dogs and make them all antsy. So he just sighs again, gets out of his shoes, drops his hoodie to the floor and crawls into bed, right next to Harry.

===

Harry wakes up the next morning and. Erm. Whose idea was the alcohol-part again? He wants to swallow down that weird taste in his mouth but can’t for some reason. So water, yes, he needs water. Can’t open his eyes though because for one, that is way too exhausting and it’s probably daylight already and just thinking about daylight makes his head hurt even more than it already does. But where is that damn waterbottle?

He finally gets hold of the plastic object on the floor by his bed and takes a swig from it without moving too much. However, the thought that he will have to open his eyes at some point settles in his hungover brain so he figures he might as well get it over and done with now. He slowly cracks one eye open, not knowing what causes more pain inside his head. The movement or the daylight.

“Urgh, fuck!” he mutters out.
And then he suddenly hears a giggle from his side. His other side. “Yeah. Morning to you too, sunshine.” And the voice. Isn’t that?

With the last bits of strength Harry has, he turns his head to the other side, towards the voice and he’s definitely surprised to find Dougie sitting in his bed, back leaning against the headboard, a mug in his hand.

“Hey.” Harry mutters, pausing for a moment, “What are you doing here?”
Dougie smiles. “Well, who do you think got your drunken figure into bed last night? You called at some ungodly hour, were too fucking drunk to find the keys in your pocket. Called me to your rescue.”
“I did?”
“Oh yes. Kept shouting on top of your lungs when I got here, called me your saviour. You were quite a sight. Still are, if I may say so.” A smug grin. “How’re you feeling?”
“Like I chewed on an old carpet before I got run over by a bus.”
“Charming. Here, take those.”

And he hands over two pills, waits until they’re in Harry’s mouth and then hands him the mug with tea in it. Harry swallows the pills down, both in one go, before he dumps his head back on his pillow.

“I feel disgusting.”
“And, no offence, you are. So …” Dougie pauses, not quite sure to address this in the right way. But then again, is there ever a right way? “What happened?”
“What happened when?”
“What happened before you decided to drink up enough alcohol to match up to the Thames?”
“I was just. Drinking.”
“Obviously. But why?”

Dougie doesn’t want to pry but really, he needs to know. Because it isn’t like Harry to go and get drunk just because. There is always some sort of reason behind it, either something good or something bad. But always something.

“Do we have to get into this now?”
“Yes, we bloody well have to. You called me out of bed at three in the fucking morning and I’d at least like to know why.”
“I …”

And the words are stuck in Harry’s throat. He can’t just tell Dougie that he wants him back in his life, that he really does miss and need their messed up co-dependent relationship. Because really, it isn’t in his place to say that, and it isn’t the right time either.

“I just got drunk, alright? God, Danny does it all the time, haven’t seen anybody give him a hard time for it.”
“That’s because Danny’s Danny. You don’t do things like that, Harry.”
“Well, apparently I do.”

And he really doesn’t want to have this conversation. Not now (especially not now) and not ever, actually. So, no matter how much his body aches and no matter how exhausting every movement is, he really needs to leave this bed, this room, now. So he uses every tiny bit of strength left somewhere in his body and drags himself out of bed, staggering towards the bathroom and only moments later Dougie hears the shower running.

Harry spends longer in the shower than he normally would. But he really just doesn’t want to face Dougie. Kind of ridiculous, come to think of it. It’s not like Dougie is his mother and he’s fearing to be grounded or anything. But he knows Dougie wants answers and he can be persistent if he wants to be. And it’s these burning questions and the answers (his own answers) that Harry fears.

When Harry walks back into his bedroom, Dougie isn’t there anymore. And that almost makes him happy but only almost because he knows, he just knows, that Dougie didn’t go home. Not just yet. So he dresses slowly and then makes his way into his kitchen and surely enough. There is Dougie. Sitting by the table, typing away on Harry’s laptop.

“Made you food.” He doesn’t look up, just nods his head in the general direction of the kitchen counter.

The silent treatment is definitely a mother-trick. Saying nothing for a while, making the other person feel all safe and as soon as they do, bring on the questions and the guilt-trip. But Harry isn’t one to be played like that.

“Come on, I know you wanna ask. Ask then.” Because procrastination isn’t going to get him anywhere anyway. Let’s attack this. Head on.

Now Dougie actually looks up from the laptop, obviously being caught off guard by Harry being so straightforward. He expected this conversation to at least be some sort of a challenge.

“You know what I wanna ask. I asked already. How about you finally answer?” And back to the laptop.

That is definitely something Harry neither expected nor knows how to deal with. Dougie didn’t pretend to be annoyed and defensive, he actually really was.

“Why are you so pissed off? Jesus, I was just out and had a little too many. End of story.”

And then Dougie looks up, the anger of his voice now also visible in his eyes. He presses a button and then forcefully slams the laptop shut, not in the mood to care whether it’s Harry’s or his or if he broke it or not. He is just angry and the fact that Harry is so fucking oblivious doesn’t make the whole thing better.

“I am pissed off because you called me out of bed at three in the morning because you were so off your head that you couldn’t find a fucking keyring in the pocket of your jeans. And I am pissed off because I came here and brought you to bed and looked after you and made you your stupid breakfast and I didn’t even hear a single word of appreciation, no sign of a bloody ‘Thanks’. And I am pissed off because when I ask you what’s going on, when I wanna help you with whatever problem you have, you don’t even give me an answer but leave the room. That’s why I’m pissed off, Harry.”
“Fine. So next time I’m gonna call Tom then. Problem solved.”
“That’s not what I mean. I don’t mind helping you or anything. You know I don’t. But I at least like to know which kind of problem I’m dealing with. Which kind of problem you’re dealing with.”
“There is no fucking problem, Dougie. And if there was, who says that I you’re the one I wanna talk about it with? Not like you’re Mister Know-All.”

And those last words definitely come out way too harsh. So harsh in fact that they bring a look of shock on Dougie’s face. And his face contorts into something Harry can’t identify and his eyebrows twitch and then he just shakes his head.

“You know what? Next time? Call Tom. Cos I’m not gonna pick up the phone. I mean, I wouldn’t even know how to, right?”

And he leaves. He’s not saying another word, he’s not looking back. He’s not doing anything. He just leaves. He doesn’t even slam the door. It makes Harry realise that he’s just fucked up. Majorly.

===

It’s already afternoon when Dougie finally gets home. After leaving Harry’s he couldn’t go back to normality, didn’t have it in him to face anyone, needed to be with his thoughts for a while. It didn’t help really. He is still upset and he still can’t make sense of all that had happened in the morning.

He opens the door and Flea is there before he’s even fully inside, wagging his tail and yapping in excitement. And only seconds later she’s there too, leaning in the doorway to the living room.

“There you are.”
He nods, lips pressed tightly together.
“Where you been?”
“Harry’s.”
“For breakfast or …”
“He got drunk last night. Went over around three or so. Didn’t wanna wake you.”
“Not that you could’ve. Not without that.”

And she hands him his phone. He only takes a short look at it. No messages. No missed calls.

There is no ‘Thank you’ or ‘Sorry’ and he doesn’t lean over to give her a kiss on the cheek either. He pats Flea on the head, only once though, before heading straight for the bedroom, closing the door behind him. Isolation, he still needs it, apparently.

===

And Harry is in his own flat and he curses himself. He didn’t finish Dougie’s breakfast, he didn’t do anything but sit and stare into nothingness.

His plan backfired, totally. Instead of bringing Dougie closer to himself, he pushed him further away than he’s ever been.

Without thinking (because really, thinking got him into this mess in the first place) he reaches for his phone and dials a number.

“Danny? Hey, you and Ant up to anything tonight? … Wanna go out then? … Yeah, ‘s fine too. I’ll bring drinks. … See you later.”

As soon as he hangs up he realises that what he just agreed on is probably gonna land him in deep but he really doesn’t want to care for a while and it’s not like he isn’t in deep already.

===

Dougie has been sitting in his bedroom for the past two hours, staring at the exact same spot of the wall, trying to piece together exactly what happened at Harry’s. It just doesn’t make sense in his head. Not at all. Harry and him can talk about anything and everything and when a problem appears, they talk it out first, analyse it from all angles. And if they can’t solve it together, then they talk it out with Tom and Danny. Most times, talking to Tom and Danny hadn’t been necessary. Because yeah. They solve each other’s problems, nobody else needed.

And now Harry didn’t want to talk to him and he basically called him stupid. And he had said it with such spite that there was no doubt in the matter. Harry didn’t want Dougie around, didn’t want him to talk to, didn’t want him to help.

There’s a soft knock on the door. He raises his head just in time for the door opening. She sticks her head in.

“You okay?”
He shakes his head. “No. Not really.”

She comes in, takes a seat on the bed. She sits by his feet, doesn’t touch him though. She’s looking for his eyes.

“This about Harry and last night?”
“Yeah. Kinda.”
“Wanna talk about it?”
And he shakes his head again.
“Dougie …”
“Look, I don’t want to talk about it. And I can’t talk about it. Not with you.”
“But. I thought we talk about everything.”
“Are we really?”
“Well, I talk about everything with you.”
“No, you don’t. When you don’t get me on something, you run to Gi or Tom. When you have girl-problems, you call one of the girls.”
“Don’t make this about me when it’s you who has the issues, Doug.”
“Oh, so now I have issues?”
“Obviously.”
“I don’t have fucking issues, alright? I have a shitty day because I’ve had a fight with Harry.”
“So tell me about it. I’m sure it’s not that bad once you get it off your chest.”
“You really don’t get it, do you?”
“No. Frankly, I don’t.”
“Have you ever, ever, heard me talk to you about Harry and me?”
She thinks for a moment, then realises. “I haven’t, no.”
“And he’s never heard me talk about me and you, either.”
“So what does that mean?”
“That you and me happen on another level than Harry and me. Harry and I have always been on another level, ever since we knew each other. No one apart from him and me will ever be able to fully understand him and me. Hell, sometimes we don’t even understand us ourselves.”
“So you’re saying that I won’t be able to understand a stupid little fight between the two of you?”
“That’s my fucking point! If you only understood a tiny bit of what Harry and I are, you wouldn’t even dare to speak about it as ‘a stupid little fight’.” His voice has gone louder. He takes a breath, calms himself.
She takes a deep breath too. “You know, I don’t think I should be here.”
“I think you shouldn’t be either.”
“You don’t understand, Doug. When I say I shouldn’t be here, I mean that I probably shouldn’t be in your life right now. Not until you know who you are and who you belong to. And to be honest, I think you know who you belong to. And it’s not me. It’s never been.”

And Dougie is silent. Doesn’t say anything because yeah, he knows she’s right. He hasn’t been fair to her from the beginning on. A part of him was always with Harry in one way or another. And as long as that part of him can’t let go, it isn’t fair to be with just anyone.

“Sorry.” And he means it too.
“Yeah. So am I.”

She isn’t mad, she has probably seen this coming too. Maybe saw it the whole time, just chose to do the same thing as him. Ignore it.

She stands from the bed. “I hope you guys will work this out. I really do.”
“Thanks.”

And she leans forward and presses a gentle kiss on his forehead. She smiles at him one last time, a genuine smile, before she turns and leaves the room. And just a minute later Dougie hears as the front door closes with a silent click. And then he’s back to staring at the wall.

===

It’s not even seven in the evening when Harry rings the doorbell at Danny’s place. He’s early but it’s not like it matters. They’re not going to go anywhere and since when can you not get to your friend’s place early on a football-night?

Ant opens the door, ushers him inside, tells him that Danny isn’t in yet, off to buy some food. They have the first beer while they wait.

When Danny finally arrives, he brought pizza and more beer and some vodka because, “How long’s that beer gonna last us anyway?” and they drink more, get louder with each passing minute. Maybe it’s because of the football, maybe it’s not. For Harry it’s most certainly not. He isn’t even completely sure who’s playing.

It’s way past midnight and all of a sudden the mood seems to change, takes a drastic turn from good to bad. The football’s long over and they settled on some music channel some hour ago. Ant is already passed out on the sofa and Danny is definitely closer to sleep than to being awake. Harry asks for another drink though.

“Nah, sorry mate. Guess we drank it all.”
“What? No, that can’t be. I’m not even feeling anything.”

And he stands up, wants to go to the kitchen to look for himself, thinks in his disillusioned state that Danny wants to keep all the booze for himself and Ant. And he swaggers and all of a sudden the room is turning upside down and the kitchen doorway is so fucking tiny.

“OW! Fuck!”

One of Danny’s barstools lands on the tilted kitchen floor with a loud smash. It makes Ant wake up and Bruce is barking loudly at the unexpected noise.

Danny is by Harry’s side, kneeling down next to him and Harry can’t even recall falling over. “You okay there, mate? Here, let me help you up.”

Harry sees Danny holding his hand out to him, a look of worry on his face because Harry fell pretty hard, chances are he hit himself on the barstool or the doorway. But Harry isn’t hurt, at least not in a way that Danny could make better. And how can Danny not know, seriously?

“Get off me!” he snarls, batting Danny’s hand away, “I don’t need your fucking help, alright?”

And he tries to stand up but the room is still turning so he sits down there on the floor, leaning against the wall. He looks at his hands and he could really use a smoke right now but for the life of him, he can’t remember where he put his cigarettes. Dougie, he would know. Dougie knows those things. When Harry can’t find his phone, Dougie tells him it’s in the inside pocket of his jacket so it won’t get stolen. The car keys are in the left pocket of his trousers, house keys in the right. Dougie knows all that because he knows Harry. But now he’s not here and Harry can’t find his cigarettes and he fucked this all up and that’s why Dougie is not here to help him find them.

“Where are they, where the fuck are they?” he mutters.
“Where’s what, Harry?”
“I … he … help me find ‘em. I need ‘im to help me, he always knows where they are. Why’s he not here?”

Danny looks at Ant, hoping that maybe his room mate knows what and who Harry is referring to. Ant just shakes his head and shrugs his shoulders. At the moment Harry is making as much sense to him as mathematic formulas and the alcohol fogging his brain is definitely no help.

“I need ‘im. It needs to be like Wonderland.” And he keeps mumbling and repeating himself about finding them and needing him and his voice gets whiny and he might be breaking out in tears every second.

And Danny still doesn’t understand and he has no idea what to do to make Harry calm down and get him into bed. But he knows that there is someone who understands and who can calm him down.

===

Throughout the day Dougie had barely moved, and if so only to lie down on his bed.

The day was just too intense to comprehend. Just 24 hours ago he had been in a great relationship with the girl he fancied for years and he had the most awesome person in the universe as a best friend. And now he had neither of the two and everything just happened in such a high speed that it seemed like he went from all to nothing in under a minute.

In a moment like that he would normally call Harry and the two would talk and figure it all out in the end. Harry would assure him that he wasn’t worth of a girlfriend who clearly couldn’t understand the importance of the friendships that were lying under the surface of the band. Harry would offer a warm smile and a hug and sooner than one could blink, the world would be fine again.

But what now? Who could Dougie turn to after losing Harry? No one understood him like Harry did and no one could help him like Harry did. No one could ever be able to be a substitute for Harry, let alone replace him completely.

Dougie wants to sleep, he really does. Maybe, once he wakes up, this will all turn out to be one really bad dream. He will wake up and see her lying next to him. He will get up, go to the kitchen and Harry will be there, making him eggs for breakfast.

But then the phone rings and Dougie really thinks about not answering it. He’s been through enough today really. He can’t handle another thing. But the ringing doesn’t stop and something tells him that this must be something important.

For the first time since the afternoon he leaves the bedroom. His flat is cold and dark and empty and it seems like the persistent ringing of the phone is the only sound that’s currently heard all over the world.

He checks the caller ID this time. It’s Danny.

“Hey Dan.”
“Dougs, mate, I need you over here.” And he sounds desperate and alert and in panic.
“What’s the matter?” And now Dougie is alert and in panic too.
“Harry. It’s Harry. I don’t know what to do. I think he’s having a nervous breakdown or something. And me and Ant, we’re drunk, we all are. But Harry, he’s not making sense. I wanna get him into bed or in the shower or just somewhere but he won’t even let me touch him and please Dougie, you need to come here. Now.”

Dougie really wants to say no. Because he can’t face up to Harry. Not when he’s feeling like he’s feeling and not if Harry’s acting like Danny says he’s acting.

“Does Harry want me there?”
“Dougs, I don’t know what Harry wants. He keeps mumbling about needing help finding something, says that he needs someone and that he wants to go to Wonderland.”

And then Dougie remembers last night.

“Stay here?”
“What?”
“Jus’ stay, alrigh? Just like Wonderland.”

There’s pieces that suddenly start to come together, they form a picture. An old picture. Dougie still doesn’t see the whole thing but the fragment he can see, that’s enough. For now.

“Try make him drink water. Tell him it’s vodka, he won’t know the difference. Make him believe he’s still drinking, that should distract him. Just don’t give him coffee, it’ll make him sick faster than you know. I’ll be there in a few.”

And this time Dougie runs out of his flat and he speeds down the streets, ignoring any signs or red lights. He’s at Danny’s door in record speed.

Ant is letting out a relieved sigh when he opens the door and he’s almost about to just give Dougie a hug for finally being there, for bringing an end to this and putting them all out of their misery.

“Sorry Doug. I had no idea it would end like this. We never would’ve let him drink this much if we had known.”
Dougie pats him on the shoulder. “Not your fault, you just caught him at a bad time. Where is he?”

The question answers itself because right then Dougie hears a whimper, a hiccup and a few choked up words he can’t understand. He knows they can only come from one person. He rushes past Ant and follows the noise and then he sees it.

Harry is sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall, legs spread out in front of him, clutching a vodka bottle in his shaking hand. He takes a swig every now and then and mumbles to himself.

“Oh dear.” So yes, it actually is as bad as Danny said it was.

Danny looks up when he hears Dougie’s voice and you can see the weight that is falling off his shoulders now, that he’s glad that Dougie is finally here.

Dougie kneels down between Harry’s legs, runs his hand over his knee to get his attention.

“Harry. Hey, Harry.”

And Harry looks up with puffy eyes and his face expression resembles a smile when he realises it’s Dougie in front of him.

“Dougie! You’re heeeeeeeeeere!”
“Yes Harry, I’m here. Danny told me you’re looking for something?”
“‘m fags. Can’ find ‘em.”
“They’re in your car, Harry. You keep them there to smoke less, remember?” he says in a calm and soothing voice. It seems to help, Harry’s weeping is dying down. “Now, how does sleep sound to you?”
“You … you stayin? Like Wonderland?”
And Dougie nods, placing his hand on the back of Harry’s neck, making him look into his eyes when he answers. “Just like Wonderland, Harry.”

That seems to do the job as Harry puts the bottle down and makes an attempt to stand up. Dougie helps him, hooks the drummer’s arm around his neck, supporting him.

“Guys, can we … he really needs a proper bed.” He looks at Danny and Ant who are both standing at a safe distance, neither daring to say a word to not put Harry out of this comfort zone he’s found himself in.

“Take my room. I’ll sleep on the sofa.” Ant offers and he just rushes into the room to get some fresh clothes for the next morning.
“Thanks. Night guys, see you tomorrow.”
And Harry also yells “G’night fellas. Cheers for the evening!” before Dougie manoeuvres him through the door of Ant’s bedroom.

Once they’re in the room, all the noise seems to have to died down. They can’t hear Danny and Ant shuffling about in the living room, cleaning up the mess they all made, trying to also clean away the memories of the past few hours. And Dougie just takes a breath, trying to calm himself down for a change but he feels Harry’s weight dragging him down so he guides him over to the bed and makes him sit down.

“‘m sorry, Dougie. Sososo sorry.”
“It’s fine, Harry. No worries.”
“No. ‘m need to apologise now before I forget t’morrow.”
“I’ll remind you of it.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. And now come on, it’s sleep-time.”
“You really stay?”
“Of course. Wouldn’t be Wonderland if it wasn’t the two of us, would it?”

And Harry nods, his eyes almost falling close. He’s tired, so very tired. But he’s scared to fall asleep. What if he wakes up in the morning and Dougie isn’t there? So he holds onto him, really tight too, not intending to let go, ever. He feels Dougie’s heartbeat, can hear his breathing and this may as well just be the best place he’s ever been to.

Dougie runs his hand through Harry’s hair, much like the elder did it to him. Back in the day. He knows about the calming effect this simple gesture has held for so many years now. And it helps too. Harry’s breathing is evening out and when Dougie casts a look he sees that Harry is asleep. Finally.

So he moves him, carefully, afraid to maybe disturb him in his sleep, and lays him down on the bed, covers him with the blanket and just watches. Wherever Harry is right now, he’s obviously found his peace there and Dougie’s glad. Glad that apparently it’s him who can bring that peace to Harry.

He sits there and just watches for quite some time before tiredness seems to catch up to him as well. This whole day has been filled with so much everything that Dougie didn’t even have time to notice that he didn’t eat or sleep for almost 24 hours. So he just toes his shoes off and lays down, right there next to Harry, and sooner than he knows he’s fallen into a deep sleep as well.

===

They don’t know what the time is when they wake up but they both know it’s definitely too early for anybody to use a lawnmower so close to their window.

Dougie wakes up first, cursing the loud noise coming from outside and waking him from the first deep sleep he had in ages. And only seconds after his eyes are open he hears a muffled voice from next to him.

“Oh bloody fucking hell!”

Dougie rolls over and there he is. Harry, with his head buried under the pillow, mumbling out obscenities. He moves to lay on his stomach and just looks and listens. Harry can be a challenge in the mornings but if a hungover Harry gets woken up before the early afternoon, you may as well write your last wish. And that’s another thing that Dougie just knows about the drummer and the fact that he knows it currently just makes him incredible happy. And so, he laughs.

At first Harry is confused because yes, he again can’t remember how he got into bed and from what he knows, there shouldn’t be someone laughing next to him either. And if his hungover brain is getting the connections right, the laughing person shouldn’t even be who he thinks it is because. Yeah. He screwed that up.

He has to make sure though. So he lifts the pillow and casts a look. And yes, Dougie is laughing. In bed. Next to him. And this doesn’t make sense. And whose freaking bed is this anyway?

“Should I even bother to ask?” he croaks because whatever, Dougie will understand him no matter what.
“Ant’s bed.” Dougie just says, getting back to being serious about this. Being happy, that might come later. At some point.
“The fuck happened?”
“You gave poor Danny and Ant the scare of a lifetime last night. Danny called me at some time past midnight. He thought you had a nervous breakdown, for fuck’s sake.”

And yes, this comes out sharp but that’s the way it needs to be right now.

“What the hell is going on with you, Harry? Do you wanna go on like that until I get a call from a fucking hospital because you actually managed to get alcohol poisoning? And if you only think about giving me that ‘nothing’s going on’ crap I will throw you out of the window and let the lawnmower have its wicked way with you! Besides, I know that it’s not true. I know that there is something going on.”

Harry dumps his head back on the pillow. He really is in no state to have this conversation. Not again and not right now. But he knows how Dougie gets when he’s mad so he knows that yes, Dougie actually will throw him in front of the lawnmower.

“How do you know what?” Attacking this. Head on. Clearly, the only way to go.
“You said it yourself.”

And this makes Harry’s brain stop for a second before it’s picking up its work again, in overtime now. What did he tell Dougie? Or did he say something to Danny or Ant and they said something to Dougie? Did he put something on the internet, did he leave a message on Dougie’s voicemail?

“I can’t … I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Because really. Harry hasn’t got the slightest clue.
“Does ‘Wonderland’ mean anything to you?”

That really makes Harry’s brain stop. And his heart too and he’s sure, everything else came to a stillstand as well.

“At first I didn’t get it, you know.” Dougie starts, “The day before yesterday, when you called me. You asked me to stay over when I put you into bed, said ‘Just like Wonderland’. I had no idea what you meant, thought Tom had just overdosed you on Disney-films. But yesterday you kept telling Danny time and time again that it needs to be like Wonderland. I still don’t get it completely but I have an idea what you were talking about.”
Harry just raises his eyebrows, physically unable to do anything else, especially speaking.
“Maybe you didn’t mean a Wonderland. Maybe you meant our Wonderland. Not the album but. Everything that was going on during that time. Back then.”

Harry still can’t say anything. He just sighs. He’s defeated and he knows it. And from the look on Dougie’s face, from the way the young man nods his head, he can tell that the bassist knows as well.

“I just. The alcohol, that’s where you lose me. Dou you have to be drunk to remember or …?”
And finally. Harry speaks. “I made myself need you.”
“What?” Dougie really doesn’t understand. At all.
“Back then, it was you who needed me. You got dumped and you felt so down most of the time. And I was picking you up and put you back together. You needed me to do that because you couldn’t do it yourself. But these days you’re so. There’s nothing that breaks you and there’s no need for me to pick you up and put you back together. You don’t need me anymore so I figured …”
“You make yourself the weak one and let me do the job.” Dougie finishes.
Harry nods.
“But. Why? Why does it have to be like that? Why is there a need for being weak and needing to be put back together?”
“Because … because it brings us closer together. Ever since … her. She’s there so you don’t need me anymore. She’s there to pick you up when you’re down and she makes you feel better. Not me.”

And now Dougie finally understands. Harry thought he had lost him. To her. And by drinking himself close to a coma he was clinging to a very thin straw that represented their relationship. His drinking was a crying out for Dougie to not leave him alone in this life.

To make things worse, Dougie now sees it too. He can see what he did to Harry. He was too occupied, was so focussed on making his relationship with her work that he forgot that there were other things that needed work as well. And just as much work, too. If not more.

He hangs his head in shame. Can’t believe that this wasn’t what Harry did to himself. He did this. He did this to Harry.

“I’m so sorry, Harry.”

And now Harry is surprised because this was his own stupid idea. Dougie shouldn’t even feel the need to apologise. Finally Harry shakes off the blanket and sits up in bed, cupping Dougie’s chin. Makes him look up. Into his eyes.

“No, Dougie. No. There’s nothing you have to be sorry for. This is not your fault! I should be sorry. And believe me, I am. I am so sorry. I was stupid and needy and had absolutely no right to scare you and Danny and Ant like this. I was being a selfish bastard who couldn’t handle his best friend having a girlfriend.”
“You don’t have to handle that anymore.” Dougie mumbles and realises that Harry doesn’t even know yet.
“But I want to, Dougie. I’m your best friend, you shouldn’t keep things like that from me just because you think I can’t take it. Yes, it will suck for a while but I promise you, I will adjust.”
“No Harry, that’s not. It’s not what I meant. I meant that you don’t have to handle that anymore because there’s no girlfriend anymore.”

Harry is properly stunned now. When did that even happen? Last time he checked, Dougie was still in a good-working relationship with the girl he had wanted to date for a few years.

“But. When? How?” His brain has problems processing. Clearly.
“Yesterday. She didn’t get that there are things, people, in my life that have nothing to do with her.” He looks at Harry when he says ‘people’. “She just. She didn’t get it.” He shakes his head. “And then she left and I didn’t even try to stop her.”

And Harry wants to say something. He wants to tell Dougie that he needs to call her, now. And he wants to tell him that he better go get some flowers and chocolate and go over to her and grovel and plead for her to take him back. But he doesn’t get to say anything because Dougie just goes on talking.

“I didn’t stop her because I didn’t actually want to. I mean yeah, she’s great and the whole thing. It was good while it lasted but. The relationship wasn’t going to work in the long run. Because I wasn’t willing to fully commit. I couldn’t fully commit. Not when there’s something else, someone else” and he looks at Harry again, “who I put in front of her. I shouldn’t be with her if she cares more about me than I care about her.”
“But …”
And Dougie shakes his head, interrupts him. “There is no ‘but’, Harry. I didn’t love her and that’s it. Or. Maybe I did love her on some level. But it wasn’t anything like this.” He waves his finger back and forth, between himself and Harry. “You’re the one I talk to about everything and I’m the one you talk to about everything. And we surely had our fair share of ups and downs in the past but I mean. We’ve really done everything to screw up whatever is going on between us but we still always get back into it. We always end up with each other again because we can’t stay away from each other. And I really don’t want us to stay away from each other because that’s simply not the way it’s supposed to be. And this is not about you needing me or me needing you. This is about us needing each other. And maybe I’m pushing things too far here but I really am fed up with this, this whole ‘is it or is it not’-thing. It is, okay? It is and we are.”

And again, Harry can’t say anything. Doesn’t know what to say or if there even is anything to say. Because yeah, Dougie just said it all. He hit the nail on the head.

However, Dougie seems to misunderstand Harry’s lack of words. “Okay. I guess I was just seeing things.”
And now Harry jumps into action again. “No! No, you didn’t. I just. I’m quite speechless.”
“Good speechless or bad speechless?”
“Good. Definitely good.”
And Dougie smiles. Weakly, but it’s there. “So can we. Can we just finish up with this? Cos. I’m tired, Harry. I’m so fucking tired of the whole back and forth and I’m sick and tired of girlfriends that don’t mean anything. I just want to be with you.”

He hopes that Harry understands. Even though it’s early and he’s hungover. But he needs Harry to understand, to remember that he knows Dougie better than Dougie knows himself. Because Dougie can’t talk and think no more. And he doesn’t want to talk and think anymore either. He just wants to let go and fall. And he wants to be caught by Harry. No one else.

And yeah, Harry does understand. He can tell that Dougie is tired and exhausted and that he’s sick of talking and explaining, thinking and dealing. There’s this heavy burden that’s making him crumble more with each second. And he’s only moments away from breaking down from the pressure this whole thing has put on him.

Harry won’t let it come this far. He just grabs Dougie and wraps his arms around him. He holds him tightly to his chest, makes him feel his heartbeat and hear his breathing. He’s telling him a million things without saying a word. His eyes let him know that everything, they, will be alright at some point and the recent events will be nothing but a shadow in the background of some sour memories. He runs his hand through the young man’s hair and brings him to let lose. He lets him fall and catches him at the same time.

“I am with you, Dougie. You’re with me and I’m with you.”

It’s just like Wonderland.

The End

McFly-Slash ... Spanish Night

Thu, 17 Sep 2009 19:42:30 GMT

please excuse the lack of fic. guess that's what you call a writer's block, eh?
just letting you all know i'm still up and running (even though most times it doesn't feel like it)
currently i'm in glasgow, finishing up my 'six days-three cities-three countries-three occasions' tourtimes. had the time of my life so far and came to the conclusion that dougie poynter, manuanya, jamie parker and glasgow all make me ridiculously happy.

anyway, you came for fic, right?

Title: Spanish Night
Author: me
Rating: PG-13
Chapter: 1/1 … Standalone
Genre: Romance
Pairing: PoynterJudd
Summary: It was the Sangria. That damned Sangria. Or well, maybe not so damned after all.
Word count: 2,056
Disclaimer: I can only assume. But assuming is fun.
Dedication: for my Manu (manuanya) ♥. Mainly just because but also because she somehow has that little something that it takes to get me to write.
Author’s note: Yeah I know. Been a while. Think I had what is normally known as writer’s block. Not so nice.

It was the Sangria. That damned Sangria. Or well, maybe not so damned after all.

It was also the night before the start of their first tour through continental Europe. Their welcome to Spain had been euphoric, the weather was nice and everything was different and, most of all, free. Nothing and no one tying them down, a free ticket for anything and everything they wanted and more.

So they decided that, after a meal, Sangria was what they wanted. The real thing, not that cheap stuff that comes in a carton at the supermarkets back home. And the real thing was definitely something different as well.

They felt the effect pretty much after the first round, though neither of them actually admitted it. But they knew each other too well. Tom’s attempts of being funny were even less funny than normal, Dougie’s giggling at almost everything around him and the raised volumes of the voices of both Danny and Harry all told a different story than, “Me? Drunk? Nah, I’m cool. Bit tipsy maybe.”

First to cave was, of course, Tom when he announced, “I think … yeah … guess I’m going back to the hotel. Get some sleep in. You’re coming, guys?”
Danny only looked up with heavy eyes and weakly nodded his head. “Good idea that, I’m beat. Must be the jetlag.” which, in return, sent Dougie into another fit of giggles but he definitely wasn’t in a state to elaborate further on the fact that a time difference from one hour wouldn’t give anyone a jetlag. So Danny just shook his head at his younger bandmate. “You coming, Harry?”
“Erm. No, I don’t think. I’m gonna hang back here. You alright with that, Doug?”

Dougie looked up at the drummer, his giggles immediately dying down when he saw the look in Harry’s eyes. They both hadn’t spent actual time with each other in what seemed like years and there was no denying that, even though they saw each other almost daily, he missed the other male. And if those blue eyes looking back at him didn’t lie, that exact same thought ran through Harry’s head.

The bassist nodded. “Fine with me. I probably won’t be able to sleep anyway. Different bed and all, you know.”
Tom shrugged. “Whatever. Just try to be back before we actually leave for the gig tomorrow, will ya?”
Harry sat up straight and said with a mock stern look on his face. “Aye aye, Sir!”
Tom just laughed at that and followed Danny who had already flagged down a taxi for the two of them.

That left Dougie and Harry back at their table. Both men sighed at the same time, which caused another row of laughter before Harry suggested ordering another round. Dougie happily agreed because he thought that more alcohol would probably help to ease the tension that suddenly seemed to build up between them.

The alcohol kept flowing, round after round came in and all of a sudden it was 3am and both Dougie and Harry freely admitted that the pleasant buzz had definitely progressed into a state of being drunk.

“I think … back to the hotel?” Dougie asked, vaguely gesturing towards the street.
Harry nodded. “Yup.”
“Yup.” Dougie confirmed before getting up and walking in an almost straight line up to the street to flag down a taxi.

Almost half an hour later, the two males had finally reached their hotel. Walking had progressed into somewhat of a difficult task after being sat in the taxi for a while so they supported each other as they drunkenly staggered down the hallway where their rooms were located.

They reached Harry’s door first and after a bit of fumbling with the key card, the door opened and Harry stumbled in, Dougie right behind him.

“My room’s too far away.” the young man explained unasked.
“Your room’s two doors down.”
“Too far away. You have …” he fell face down onto Harry’s bed. “Mmm … bed.”

Harry only shook his head before he, also, fell down onto his bed, shoving Dougie slightly aside so he would have room for himself. Dougie only huffed before turning around and laying on his back, one arm on his chest, the other next to his body, his fingers tapping a rhythm on the mattress.

They laid like that for a while and all that was heard in the room was their breathing, mixed with the sounds that were floating in from the outside.

At one point Harry looked over to his side, checking if Dougie had fallen asleep by then. He was surprised when he saw that Dougie’s eyes were still open and fixed on the ceiling where the streetlights from outside created an abstract pattern.

Right then Harry realised once more how much him and Dougie had grown apart over the past months. It was the whole time off and the moving into new places that had brought them apart and Harry hated that it had come that way.

And another thing that Harry noticed was just Dougie himself. The way he laid next to him, completely calm. Few years ago, a drunk Dougie wouldn’t stop talking about elves and dwarves and unicorns that lived in his wardrobe.

However, the main thing that occupied Harry’s brain was how beautiful Dougie was. Not just now, always. Harry couldn’t recall a day in the past years when he hadn’t thought that but sometimes, just like now, the thought intensified so much that it was literally all that Harry had on his mind.

“You know.” Dougie interrupted the silence all of a sudden, “I don’t know why or how we got to whatever we are at the moment but I really don’t like it. I miss us. I miss you.”

Harry turned his head around and there it was. Dougie’s face really close, his eyes fixed on him. He didn’t seem that drunk anymore and he surely hadn’t sounded it either. And if Harry was honest with himself, he had to admit that the buzz in his head also had died down considerably.

“I know.” he agreed, “The other day when I saw you at Tom’s and your hair was dark again, I thought to myself ‘when did that happen’? It irked me, you know. I mean, it’s nothing against you, you can do whatever you want, but there was a time when I just knew those things.”

Dougie only nodded to that. He knew Harry was right. At some point, not even that long ago, considering how long they had been knowing each other by now, little things like a change in hair colour just wouldn’t pass the other one. No matter what it was, when something changed in either of their lives, the other one always knew it first or was actually present for it.

“Looks good by the way.” Harry muttered in an afterthought.
Dougie smiled. “Took you long enough.”

And that was all they needed, really. They knew that no one was mad at the other for falling out of touch, they had addressed the matter in a non-harmful way and now it was brushed away.

Harry smiled back at Dougie, noticing that, really, he hadn’t complimented Dougie in a long time. And that, Harry knew, had one reason and one reason only. There was someone else in Dougie’s life by now. Someone else who could, and probably would, gush over things like a nailed bass line or whatever thing the young man had accomplished. Harry wouldn’t go as far to say that he hated her but he definitely knew a ton of people he preferred having around himself. He didn’t like how she just was always there. Even when she wasn’t present, like now, she still was. Like a ghost hovering above them.

Just when the drummer opened his mouth to point out the fact that Dougie really didn’t need another person complimenting him all the time and maybe make him big-headed in the end, Dougie spoke first.

“Don’t.” He paused. “I don’t wanna talk about her. Not here and not now. And come to think of it, not with you either. You and her, that’s two different solar systems. Let me be in this one for a while. Please?”
Harry nodded. “Okay.”

And then there was this feeling. One that Harry couldn’t shake off. He had learned to ignore it over the years but he could never get rid of it, not even in his imagination. The feeling of wanting to be as close to Dougie as he possibly could. It had only gotten stronger in the past, ever since they started moving away from each other.

It was like Dougie had put a spell on Harry and their whole … was it friendship, was it more? The more the younger man closed himself off of Harry, the more the drummer wanted to be near him. Dougie had wrapped him around his little finger, something that no one even dared to imagine a few years back when the roles were reversed and it only needed a dark look from Harry to make Dougie be beside himself for days.

Dougie then moved a little closer to Harry. He propped his head up on his hand and looked down at Harry.

“I don’t mean to fuck you over. I really don’t.” he said sincerely.
“I know.”
“Why are things so different?”
“I have no idea.”
“I just want. I don’t know. Something normal.”
“Don’t you think we had our chances for that? I can recall plenty. It never worked.”
“But it did. We managed normal before but as soon as we seem to get there, one of us just goes and messes it up. I’m not saying that it’s intentionally, I know from my part it isn’t, but it just happens. I don’t think I’m in the position to ask for happily ever after. It doesn’t even have to be happy right now. I just want normal. Not you fucking me over, not me fucking you over. Just you and me and that’s it. Or is that too much to ask?”

And all of a sudden it was there. Decision time. Harry knew that, whatever he would answer to that final question it would definitely be the biggest decision he ever made. He might even dare to say it was life-altering.

If he said yes, that a shot at ‘normal’ was too much to ask, that would be it for Dougie and him. This was the last chance of many and if he denied the younger man now, he wouldn’t come back. Dougie had proven that he could manage life by himself. Sure, he might have preferred life with Harry but it definitely wasn’t that he couldn’t be without him, like it was a few years ago. But maybe that short at ‘normal’ was just too much to ask. A thing like ‘normal’ didn’t really exist anyway, did it? There would always be something that would get in the way.

On the greater scale of things though, just like Dougie said, he didn’t ask for much else than ‘normal’. No happy ever after or happy right now because, by all means, they would probably start fighting right the next morning and call each other useless idiots at least ten times a day from now on. They would fight and no one would back down until Tom smacked them both and forced them to say sorry. Harry would get annoyed at Dougie for leaving his things laying around everywhere and Dougie would get annoyed at Harry being a neat-freak. That was their version of ‘normal’ and that was what Dougie had asked for.

Harry looked back over at Dougie, back into those blue eyes, and his decision was made right there and then.

Dougie smiled and leaned in even closer. It didn’t need words or gestures or anything. He knew that they both had made their minds up.

“No freaking out?” Dougie then asked with a grin in his voice.
Harry grinned back. “Not more than normal.”
“I guess I can live with that.”

And then they were kissing and holding onto each other and melting into each other and, just like that, the world was happening elsewhere and all that existed was a normal night in Spain.

The End

mcfly-slash ... More than Words

Mon, 22 Jun 2009 17:40:03 GMT

oh deary me, my lj says i haven't updated since february. sorry for that but i was lacking serious inspiration and some skills.

but thanks to my ever-so-trustful muse i was finally able to come up with a little something.

Title: More than Words
Author: me
Rating: PG-13
Chapter: 1/1 … Standalone
Genre: Romance
Pairing: PoynterJudd
Summary: So did he really have to say ‘I love you’ to make Harry believe?
Word count: 1,358
Disclaimer: my guess? Not true. The only real thing in this is Harry's twitter-update.
Dedication: manuanya. Thanks for everything.
Author’s note: This is what happens when I get a Pudd-mail from Manu. Well, I suppose that and the fact that I haven’t written anything in what must have been forever.

It’s been a long day. A long day that consisted of getting up early, getting cramped up in a van and getting to one of these forest gigs, highlighted by playing to their fans, before getting back into the van and driving home through the night. It was amazing how they were in the middle of nowhere and London was what, three hours away? And because London and home were so close, there was no staying at a nice hotel with room service and pay-per-view films. No, right after the gig it was back into the van, back to getting cramped up.

The gig was good, though. It felt truly amazing to be back home, to see familiar faces in the audience. And it was definitely good to be able to take ten steps like a normal human being without people dragging at you from all sides or screaming so loud that it gave you a permanent ringing in your ear.

It was pleasantly silent around Dougie. Tom was hunched over his phone, 160 per cent chance of following his urge to twitter about this and that. Danny was leaning back in his seat, eyes closed. Not sleeping though. Just giving his eyes the break they needed after spending the day outside, attacked by a vicious case of hay fever.

And Harry. He was just staring out of the window, earphones of his iPod on, ever so slightly bobbing his head along to the beat only he could hear. He was there, right next to him, but right now he seemed to be miles away. Not in a bad way though. He was still there, right within reach but he’d probably get a heart-attack if someone so much as touched him right now.

Dougie smiled to himself and got his phone of out of his pocket. Now seemed as good a time as any to check if he had missed calls, e-mails or, of course, twitter-updates waiting for him. For a moment he wondered what exactly people were doing before they had iPhones and computers and before Twitter was actually invented. But then he read something that brought his thoughts, breath and, if he was honest, heartbeat, to an abrupt still stand.

mcflyharry: Those lyrics describe who I feel about the person sitting next to me in the car. He doesn't love me back : (

“What the fuck?!” Dougie blurted out all but silent, making both Tom and Danny wince and turn back towards him with a look of half shock, half surprise on their faces. Even Tommy took his focus off the road and cast a short look in the rearview, carefully studying Dougie.

Only Harry, he didn’t move. He kept looking out of the window, his head kept bobbing along to the music coming from his stupid earphones.

“What’s the matter?” Tom asked alerted, only to be completely ignored. His eyes rested on Dougie for a few more seconds until he shook his head and turned back around.

Dougie kept staring at Harry, a look of complete disbelief on his face. Okay yes, they’ve been a bit rocky in the past, no denying that. And it’s true that Dougie hasn’t said those three magic words in quite some time. But not because he didn’t want to. He wanted to, it just felt a bit too soon, he was not ready for the words and everything they meant. Not yet.

Nothing of it meant that he didn’t love Harry though. Dougie thought he had made that clear. He had ended that complete joke of a relationship he had been in, to be finally free. Most of his belongings were stacked in boxes, only waiting to be carried down the street, to find a new home at Harry’s place.

And just earlier, at the gig, didn’t Dougie made it perfectly clear that his heart and soul and just everything belonged to Harry, and Harry only? Did the words, okay, hidden in banter but words nonetheless, and him seeking closeness and all those looks mean nothing? The only thing still missing to make their relationship public was a page-sized ad in The Sun or something like that because everything else had been said and done already.

So did he really have to say ‘I love you’ to make Harry believe? After all this, after all they’ve both been through, after all that Dougie had done in the past to get his bloody point across?

Getting infuriated by the fact that Harry was still staring out of the window, Dougie decided that it was time for another bit of action. In the blink of an eye he had outstretched his arm and gave Harry what he hoped was a hard punch to his upper arm.

That seemed to do the trick as Harry snapped out of his daze and turned towards Dougie, removing his earphones.

“OW! What the fuck was that for?”

Harry’s raised voice brought the attention of Tom and Danny back towards them. This time it was Danny who was just about to ask about the issues of his band mates. But when he saw the dark looks that Dougie and Harry shot at each other, he kept his mouth shut and turned back around, hoping to just melt into his car seat or become invisible. A short look to Tom at his side told him that he blonde felt exact the same way.

Dougie threw his phone into Harry’s lap, letting the drummer pick it up and read his own twitter-update from earlier. Harry did and his expression softened a bit before handing the phone back to Dougie.

“How can you still …? … Why?” Dougie asked, his voice now barely above a whisper so Tom and Danny wouldn’t hear too much.

Harry only sighed deeply before he ran a hand first over his face, then through his hair. He then leaned his head back, his eyes firmly set on the car’s ceiling.

The truth was, Harry had no answer to Dougie’s question. He had no idea why he still doubted the bassist’s feelings for him. Maybe he didn’t even doubt them. Maybe he was just scared. They were so close to making it, for real this time. But they’ve been there before, more than just once, and they never managed to make it work. What if it would happen again, if they failed once more? Could they make it happen another time, could they actually get there, could they finally pass that imaginary finish line and fucking stay there, on the other end of it, for good?

Harry sighed again and this time the sound coming from his own lungs was followed by another sound. A slight click coming from his side.

Just a moment later the drummer felt how his own seatbelt was unbuckled and the second it was out of the way, Dougie had wrapped his arm around his waist and he felt the blonde’s chin resting on his shoulder, his nose slightly caressing his cheek. The fingers of Dougie’s hand wandered up to his neck, stroking the skin there with slow movements while the arm that had just been wrapped around his waist, travelled further up Harry’s chest. Dougie then slightly cupped Harry’s other cheek, making the older man look at him.

“I mean it, Harry.” Dougie whispered, his voice so soft that it felt like a touch to Harry’s heart.

Harry then nodded and pulled Dougie even closer, the legs of the bassist draped across his lap, while they held onto each other. Not for dear life, not even that tight, but their grip was strong enough in meaning so they both know that they had finally made it.

The music coming from Harry’s iPod was long forgotten, so was the confined space of the van or the fact that Tom and Danny were just a few feet in front of him. Dougie had fallen asleep, his head resting on Harry’s shoulder and the sound of his breathing soothing like a million touches, all doubts were finally gone and the finish line had become a tiny little scratch in the past.

The End

mcfly-slash ... Reunion

Mon, 09 Feb 2009 19:02:22 GMT

so, here i am again. bringing a story your way.
i'm still going through somewhat of a tough time, hoping that it will at least wind down at some point.
but in the meantime, enjoy what i came up with.

Title: Reunion
Author: me
Rating: PG13
Chapter: 1/1 … Standalone
Genre: Comedy … if anything
Pairing: PoyterJudd
Summary: “Okay, what could possibly make me this happy? Like, so happy that I feel like jumping around like a madman while bursting out into random songs.”
Word count: 822
Disclaimer: probably not true
Dedication: ♥ manuanya ♥ who is always there for me. Be it with encouraging words or distraction, pictures or just nothing but a look. I love you, dude!
Author’s note: So I guess we all heard it right? Blink 182 are back together. Which makes a lot of people happy. And I had the thought … how did Dougie take it? So I let my imagination run a little wild.

“Oh my god, Harry. Have you heard it? Have you, have you, have you?”

Harry merely looked up when Dougie stormed into his flat, his voice almost doubling over while waving his arms about as if he was surrounded by an army of hornets. Harry was used to outbursts like that from his boyfriend. Normally, they came around when he had just finished writing a song or when another of his lizard-breeds had been a success. And sometimes it was just when he found a new line of shoes on the DC-website.

“Have I heard what?”
“Oh my god, you don’t know?”
“Dougie, I don’t know what?”
“I just. I can’t believe it. You must have heard. The news are all over the place.”
“Okay, once and for all. I have not heard and I do not know. So I would appreciate it if you just sat your arse down, take a breath or ten and fucking tell me what’s going on.”

Huffing, Dougie did as he was told and plonked down onto the sofa next to Harry.

“Okay, what could possibly make me this happy? Like, so happy that I feel like jumping around like a madman while bursting out into random songs.”
“Loads of alcohol?”
“Funny. But wrong. What else?”
“Well, me. I hope.”
“It does. But you always make me happy, not just right now. You seriously can’t think of anything, like any occurring thing that could make me just as happy as you do.”
“Does it have to do with the band?”
“Our band?”
Harry nodded.
Dougie shook his head. “Nope.”
“So it’s another band?”
“Yes.”
“Are we suddenly playing 20 Questions?”
“Come on, humour me.”
“So it’s something about a band that makes you happy. But it’s not our band.”
“Right.”
“Someone bringing out a new album or going on tour or something?”
“I don’t know about a tour but yes, new album is right.”
“So it’s obviously someone who hasn’t released anything in quite some time.”
“Exactly.”
“That could be anyone, seeing as ‘quite some time’ in your book is everything longer than a week.”
“Okay. It’s been a very long time. In fact, so long that no one actually thought they’d see the day of a new album coming.”
“Okay, so that rules out New Found Glory then. Starting Line?”
“Close. You’re on the right track though.”
“Green Day?”
“Do you think they’d get me so excited?”
“Okay, true. Look, can’t you just tell me? I really have no idea.”

Dougie sighed, thinking about another way to break the good news to Harry.

“What seems to be a recent thing in the music-industry?”
“What??”
“Like, Spice Girls, Take That, Boyzone …”
“Re-uniting?”
“Yes, you got it! And now … what does it lead you to?”
“A band re-uniting and releasing a new album.”
“Right. And there is only one band who would make me crazily excited if they re-united and brought out a new album.”

At that, the light bulb above Harry’s head finally went off. He looked at Dougie, eyes wide and mouth agape. There really was only one band fitting into that category but …

“No!”

Dougie smiled widely, nodding his head to a point where Harry thought it would fall off his body at any given moment. Now Harry also noticed the t-shirt Dougie was wearing, one that he hadn’t seen on his boyfriend in a few years.

“You’re joking?!”
“It’s all over the internet. I can’t believe you haven’t heard it yet.”
“And they’re actually doing it? I thought they were fighting out World War Three or something.”
“They made up. Dude, this will be so fucking epic. There’ll be a new album and I’m sure they’ll go on tour at some point as well. Oh my god, I so have to go, no matter where it is. And if I have to fly to the moon. And you’re coming with. We could make a holiday of it. Like, go wherever they’ll be playing their first show and stay a couple more days. Our fans do that all the time so it really can’t be that bad. Or if they’re doing a tour, we could -”

Dougie couldn’t finish his sentence as Harry interrupted him, pressing his lips tightly onto his boyfriend’s, kissing him thoroughly.

When they separated, Harry cupped Dougie’s face, holding his face close to his own, speaking lowly.

“I’m so happy for you that Nsync are doing a reunion.”

Dougie only looked at him darkly but before he could even open his mouth to protest, Harry had pulled him close again, going in for another kiss.

The End

A/N2: I hope it’s obvious that it’s not Nsync who make Dougie so happy.

Comments are appreciated.

mcfly-slash ... Summer in the City

Fri, 23 Jan 2009 23:06:42 GMT

see? i've gotten the hang of it again!
creativity-dryspell is officially over, people!

Title: Summer in the City
Author: mostly me
Rating: PG
Chapter: 1/1 … Standalone
Genre: Romance
Pairing: PoynterJudd
Summary: Of course his and Harry’s holiday had to be over at some point.
Word count: 2,214
Disclaimer: still not true
Dedication: ♥ manuanya ♥ again! She is my only inspiration these days and really, I owe her so much more than just a story now and then.
Author’s note: This is a companion-piece to 'This is It'. You should read that first, maybe.

All good things must come to an end. Dougie knows that, had heard the saying tons and tons and tons of times. Still, it didn’t make the whole thing better. An end is never good anyway now, is it?

Of course his and Harry’s holiday had to be over at some point. There were things they had to get back to, lives had to be lived, more music had to be created. And even though he was excited to go back home, couldn’t wait to lay his hands on his bass again, he didn’t want to leave at the same time.

His mood seemed to drop to an all-time low when him and Harry had boarded the plane and the pilot greeted the passengers, saying over the intercom that freezing temperatures awaited them back in England. Typical for January, really, but it’s just so annoying when one day, you can roast in the sun, and the day after you have to put on five layers of clothing just to go to Tesco’s.

Harry notices Dougie’s mood dropping. He himself doesn’t mind the winter so much, likes the prospect of there might be laying snow on the ground when they get back. And who wants to have an endless summer anyway? Apparently Dougie does because the smile isn’t on his face anymore and just listening to the pilot made him shudder.

“Best we take our jackets out of our suitcases first thing in Heathrow, eh?”
“I didn’t bring mine.”
“Doug, it’s January.”
“I know but. We’ll get on the taxi home and Danny put the heating on in my flat yesterday. It‘ll be fine.”

Harry nods and pulls Dougie to himself as close as he can, what with the armrests down and them both buckled up in their seatbelts. He put on some sunscreen this morning because he knew the smell would remind Dougie of the summer and the sea and the beach. He wants Dougie to smell it all on him so he won’t be so sad anymore.

Dougie can’t help it though. The flight takes them almost ten hours and he drifts in and out of sleep, gets annoyed because he can’t move really and England comes closer and closer. And then they’re flying into Heathrow, the pilot announcing the temperature is just about five degrees and Dougie can’t even see any land until the plane almost touches the ground because it’s so grey around him.

They wait by baggage claim and as soon as Harry get’s his suitcase he takes out his warm jacket. He pulls out a jumper too, handing it to Dougie who’s standing there, only a hoodie over his t-shirt.

“It’s fine.”
“Will you put the damn thing on now? It’s cold outside.”
“Harry, I’m fine!”

And Dougie really doesn’t mean to be so harsh but it’s. His holiday in the sun is over and he’s back home and England just sucks at the moment, alright? And no, he doesn’t want to put on a jumper because that will only mean that he accepts the cold and right now, that’s not what he’s planning on doing.

They exit the terminal building and of course, it’s raining. Dougie isn’t even surprised. He just pulls his hood over his head and ignores the shiver that is running over his body the second the automatic doors close behind him.

Harry looks at the man next to him, eyebrows raised. He makes a move to hand Dougie the jumper again, since he’s still holding it in his hand. But Dougie just huffs and stomps off in direction of the taxis.

So they both get into the taxi and it’s like sitting in an igloo because the driver had been smoking with the window open and a fag-length is definitely enough to make a car cool down rapidly. They’re already on the motorway by the time Dougie notices that the heating is actually on.

Harry is sitting next to him, a bit helpless as to what to do to get his boyfriend out of this mood. He opens his jacket and pulls Dougie close so they’re both engulfed in warmth but Dougie barely reacts, just keeps staring out of the window, watching the rain coming down heavily.

“So” Harry starts, speaking low into Dougie’s ear, “I was thinking about running us a bath as soon as we get in, what do you think? Get the candles out, put some relaxing tunes on. You know, be right cheesy about it. Ignore the weather and all.”
“If you want to. I know I will do laundry as soon as I get in.”
“And that can’t wait? Having a bath usually not requires wearing clothes, you know.”
“No Harry, it cannot wait. I’ve been to Mum’s over Christmas and we left the second I came back from hers. It’s not that I want to do the sodding laundry but if I want to wear clean clothes tomorrow, I will have to do it.”

Dougie’s words, they sting a bit, maybe more than that. But Harry ignores it, ignores that mood Dougie’s in. He knows Dougie doesn’t mean it and that, deep down, he is sorry for letting it out on Harry. But the young man’s also frustrated and before he smashes something, Harry takes the punches for now.

The taxi arrives in their street and Dougie tells the driver to quickly pull over at his building because really, unpacking is necessary and maybe, when he’s home and he sees his basses again, strum a chord or two, he’ll feel better in no time.

Dougie enters the flat and he almost freezes on the spot. It’s cold, so bloody fucking cold. Why oh why did he tell Danny to put the heating on? He should have told Tom because Tom, instead of Danny, probably wouldn’t have forgotten it.

He opens the door of his flat again and just yells up the staircase. “Thanks for nothing, Danny!” Not that it’s of any use because Dougie could already hear the loud noise of Springsteen’s latest album when he entered the building earlier.

So Dougie turns the heating on, full blast, hoping that in one or two hours it’ll be a bit warmer. Then he goes for his suitcase. He just throws everything on a pile, before getting the rest of his laundry from his bedroom. And now there’s this massive mountain of clothing right in his living room and Dougie doesn’t know where to start. He sighs and starts sorting the clothes by colour and shoves a first armful into his washing machine.

It’s still not much warmer so Dougie goes to make some tea. And then he wanders through his flat, the mug in his hand and he just waits. The washing machine is roaring, the rain is still hitting forcefully against his window. He thinks he should actually get his bass out, play a bit, let his frustrations seep into angry notes but just as he’s on his way to get the instrument from his bedroom, he gets distracted by the phone ringing.

“Hello?” he asks into the phone, and it’s accompanied by a sigh. No point in hiding how unhappy he is.
“Got any food?”

It’s Harry and he sounds as cheerful as ever. Dougie really doesn’t get it.

“What?”
“Do you have any food at home?”
Dougie shrugs. He hasn’t even checked. “Dunno. I told Danny to just get me something for the microwave but seeing as he also forgot my heating, he probably didn’t get it either. One would assume he wants to kill me off.”
“Wanna come over? I kinda expected you not having anything in and I don’t really feel like cooking just for me. Come on, stop the sulking. For me?”

And Dougie can’t help it. He can basically see Harry’s hopeful puppy eyes right there in front of him and just. He can’t say no. Even though sulking really sounds tempting right now.

He sighs again. “Okay fine. Right now or …?”
“Right now’s just fine. And no worries about wardrobe. I have t-shirts and stuff for you if needs must.”
“Okay. See you in a bit.”

So Dougie leaves his flat as it is and makes his way over to Harry’s. It’s still raining and grey and cold and he really wishes that Harry would have gotten the flat upstairs, not Danny.

Harry opens the door to his flat before Dougie can even lift his arm to ring the doorbell. He looks as cheerful as he sounded on the phone and according to his attire, he hasn’t noticed the arctic temperatures outside. He smiles brightly and hands Dougie a glass, condensation on the surface, with a some liquid and green leaves and a black straw sticking out.

“Mojito?”
“What?”
“Mojito.” Harry lifts the glass a little, as if Dougie hadn’t seen it before.
“You can make Mojitos?”
“Found the recipe online. And no worries, I tried it before. Not yours, mine of course.”

Dougie gives his boyfriend a questioning look but still accepts the glass and tries a sip. It’s really good, the taste nowhere different from the ones he had on holiday.

Then he steps into the flat and he notices how nice and warm it is. “You told Tom to put the heating on, didn’t you? Idiot he is, he should have known Danny would forget mine and - wow!”

Dougie’s sentence is cut short when he enters Harry’s living room. There’s a little sandpit right in the middle of the room, complete with two deckchairs. Harry has the shudders closed and switched the lights on so it looked like the sun was shining right there in the room. And in the background Dougie can hear the sounds of waves crashing, probably a CD with sounds of the sea.

“How’s this … How’d you do that?”
“I had some little summer elves.” Harry says with a smile.
“I hope they’ll help you to clean that up. Sand in your living room, are you aware of what you got yourself into with this one, Judd?”
“You made a joke. That’s worth it.”

Harry leans over and presses a light kiss onto Dougie’s lips. Dougie can smell mint and tastes a bit of alcohol. Yeah, Harry definitely tested those Mojitos.

“Fancy some chicken? Fried. With rice and peas?”
“Let me guess. Got the recipe from the head-chef of the hotel we stayed at?”
“Fried chicken with rice and peas doesn’t require skills, you know. Now, want some?”
“Please?”

Harry nods and heads for the kitchen, yelling over his shoulder that Dougie can get comfortable and just relax until the food’s ready. And so he lounges on the deckchair, sucks on his straw every so often and closes his eyes, enjoying the warmth. For a minute he even forgets that he’s in Harry’s flat.

But then he hears Harry rummaging around in the kitchen and he snaps back to reality. He looks around himself again. Harry’s really thought of everything. The sand, the sounds of the sea and the sun (real or unreal, who cares? And the lamp surely won’t give him a sunburn). And it smells a bit of sunscreen too, probably the leftovers from that spray can Harry had bought for their holiday.

The urge to just be with Harry becomes overwhelming so Dougie gets up and goes into the kitchen. Not to help, he knows himself better than that, but he just needs to be next to Harry right now.

Harry seems to feel him approaching because the moment Dougie is in the doorway, he is already greeted by a blinding smile.

“Like it?”
Dougie nods. “I’m amazed. If we were over at mine, we could jump into the hot tub. I hope Danny left at least that in one piece.”
Harry laughs, flipping over the chicken in the pan. “Food’s almost ready.”
“Need any help?”
Harry shakes his head. “You’re on holiday.”
“So are you.”

And Dougie moves forward and wraps his arms around Harry’s middle from behind. He’s breathing him in, the smell of the flat lingering on Harry as well, so much more intense now that it’s right under his nose. He doesn’t wanna let go, ever. So he turns his head just a fraction and kisses the back of Harry’s neck, holding onto him tighter.

These are the moments he can’t see himself living without. They don’t need to talk or anything like that. They just need to breathe each other in and touch and hold each other and it’s fine like that. When Harry’s there with him, there’s no rain and it’s not cold or windy. He can be wherever he is, any place feels like paradise when Harry’s there, warm and comfortable and free of all troubles.

Winter will pass, the rain will stop pelting down and the sun will eventually return, even here in England. But Dougie now knows that he doesn’t actually need any of this. Because he’s got Harry and that even beats a year of summer holiday.

The End

Comments are appreciated.

mcfly-slash ... This is It

Sun, 18 Jan 2009 16:35:23 GMT

wahey people, i am back!
16 weeks i have been gone. i had to deal with death, life and just a lot of sadness and frustration.
and now i am back in the world of stories and words and it feels just so good.
now i can take on the world again. and it better let me do it.

Title: This is It
Author: me
Rating: G … PG maybe
Chapter: 1/1 … Standalone
Genre: Romance
Pairing: PoynterJudd
Summary: This is It. Just what Dougie wanted and needed and imagined.
Word count: 1,612
Disclaimer: Not true, a real shame
Dedication: This is entirely for ♥ manuanya ♥! Because she was there when I was in need for someone the most, and she was there just like that. She brought me back to life and made me smile when I thought I lost the ability to do it. What you are about to read is inspired by her so this is not just dedicated to her, it is hers.
Author’s note: So this is my comeback-piece after what? My journal says 16 weeks! I think it differences from my usual stuff but as long as I can write again, I’m happy.

This is It. Just what Dougie wanted and needed and imagined. The year’s been long and exhausting, or maybe he’s just gotten old. Whatever it is, he is exhausted and tired and everything is just so draining. So of course he accepted when Harry suggested a holiday over new year’s, didn’t protest at all. And even saying ‘suggested’ isn’t right because Harry had just showed him all those pictures of this tropical island and handed him a ticket afterwards.

So now they are here. There’s sun and it’s warm and people don’t know them. It’s every single bit of perfect there can be. They can be whoever they want, can do whatever they want without cameras around and no one asking them questions.

They don’t do much during their days. They sleep in late and maybe they have breakfast, maybe they don’t. They don’t feel like surfing so they just spend time by the pool or at the beach and go for a lazy swim every now and then.

Today hasn’t been much different. It’s been the hottest day so far so even if they wanted to actually do something, they wouldn’t. Because collapsing from a heatstroke isn’t that much of a tempting idea. So they’ve been in the water a lot, at least cooling off a little, if that was possible since the ocean feels like a bathtub full of salty water. And they’ve been going through cold drink after cold drink, refusing the alcohol until it was at least a halfway respectable time.

The sun’s not as killing in the late afternoon anymore so they race each other into the water, the beer they had before making their steps a little easier. They let the waves crash against them and dunk each other in and they play around and laugh.

When the sun sets, disappears piece by piece behind the horizon, they stand across from each other and smile and Harry moves Dougie’s hair away from his face and then he kisses him so thoroughly that Dougie is actually sure that he is floating a few feet above the ground.

They want to go back to their room, shower away all that salt on their body, smell less like ocean and more like themselves. After all their playing around in the water Dougie is exhausted so he jumps on Harry’s back, determined to not walk through the sand and exhaust himself even further. That takes Harry by surprise so he stumbles and they both land in a heap in the sand. They laugh and wrestle a bit but get back up when they feel sand in places where sand really shouldn’t be.

Back in their room they feel sweaty and damp and there’s still sand everywhere so yes, shower is a very good plan. Dougie grabs a random towel and heads straight for the bathroom but Harry is already in the doorway, however he did that.

“Can I get in there?”
Harry shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”
“And that is because?”
“Since it’s actually your fault that we’re both in this state.” He gestures down his own body, sand sticking at some places. “I deserve the shower first.”
“You dropped me.”
“And you dragged me down with you.”

Dougie laughs, having experienced what felt like a billion of those playful fights before.

“You know, the time we’re standing here, discussing this, I could be out of the shower already. So technically, by you refusing to let me get in there” He points at the shower cabin in the spacious bathroom. “All you do is prolong your go for the shower.”
Harry grins, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Is that so? And how do you suggest we solve that problem?”
Dougie sighs, making it seem like he has to give Harry some bad news. “I guess we have to share the shower now. No other way to make up for lost time.”

Harry nods, sighing himself and then, in a moment of surprise, snatches the towel out of Dougie’s hand before heading into the bathroom.

“Hey, that was m-”
“Get yourself another one then.”

And Dougie wants to give another smart remark but Harry’s swimming trunks are falling to the floor, his boxers following swiftly and all he sees is the naked form of his boyfriend opening the door of the shower cabin before stepping in and turning on the water.

Dougie stares and he knows it. But there is all that water and it cascades down Harry’s body and Harry tilts his head back and his eyes are closed and the water runs all over his face. How would it be possible to not stare, seriously?

But suddenly Harry seems to notice that he still is alone in the shower so he turns and catches Dougie looking. A smug grin appears on his face and he blinks the water out of his eyes before poking his head out of the cabin.

“Stare longer and I will have to charge you for it. Come on, get yourself in here.”

And that, Dougie doesn’t need to be told twice. His trunks and boxers hit the floor and he all but dashes into the cabin, shivering at first at the lukewarm, more cold than hot water. But it’s nice after a few seconds because really, he’s been in hot water all day.

Suddenly there’s Harry’s body against his back and they’re both under the spray now and Dougie hums in appreciation because this? This is what Heaven probably feels like.

They stand like that for a while, Dougie leaning against Harry while sharing the water pelting down onto them from that massive shower head. And when the start cleaning themselves, each other, it’s with the same lazy languid moves they’ve had all day.

In the end they wash each other’s backs. They’re in this tight embrace and their hands roam over the back of the other person and they don’t wash each other really. It’s strokes, caring and full of love for one another, just with slightly soapy hands.

At some point Dougie gets on his toes, looking over Harry’s shoulder and reaching for the tap because he actually wants the water to be a bit warmer now and when he gets back fully into Harry’s eyesight, his hair has fallen into his face again and he smells so good and his breath ghosts against Harry’s face and if Harry concentrates enough he can feel their hearts beat in tandem. And he’s sure, absolutely certain, he has never been more in love with the man before him like he is now. If it were possible, he would probably burst from the intensity of the feeling racing through his body right now.

Dougie notices his boyfriend’s movements on his back came to a stillstand and when he looks back up at Harry, he almost winces when he sees the fire burning in the other’s eyes.

“Harry?”
“God, I love you so much!” Harry replies and sooner than Dougie can blink, Harry’s hands are in his hair again and lips crash upon his.

They kiss and their hands can never reach enough naked skin at once. It’s like they can’t get enough of each other, ever. And they don’t want to anyway. This is not about turning each other on, not about sex. This is about loving and needing each other. They are each other’s air and each other’s heartbeat. Each other’s love and each other’s world. Each other’s everything.

It feels like half the night is already over when they leave the shower finally. And again it’s Dougie who slumps against Harry’s body, his towel just hanging over his shoulders, even too tired to dry himself properly.

Harry reaches back, threading his hands through the hair on Dougie’s neck and it really feels as if Dougie’s purring against Harry’s shoulder.

“Tired?”
“Warm. Exhausted.”

Harry smiles and turns around and sure enough, Dougie can’t even keep his eyes properly open. He fastens his own towel around his hips and then takes Dougie’s towel away from his shoulders before tying it around Dougie’s hips. Then he just grabs him by the hips, swings him over his shoulder and the next thing Dougie knows is that he is laying on the soft sheets of their big bed.

The air is hot around them because they forgot to turn on the air condition when they entered the room earlier and it feels like sweat is forming on their bodies already but really, Dougie doesn’t care. Because Harry is there, next to him. His fingers are tracing the outlines of his tattoo and his breath is in his hair. He can smell the lime of Harry’s shower gel and Harry’s chest hair is tickling his forehead a bit.

He is tired but he really doesn’t want to fall asleep. Not when everything is so perfect. This is what he really wants. This is what he can’t live without, wouldn’t want to either. This is more than his world, it’s his universe and Harry is being his sun, the centre of it all. He can’t see himself without him again, can’t imagine to take on the world without Harry by his side.

But then sleep takes him over but he has one last thought while he feels Harry tightening his grip on him. He knows that this. This is It.

The End

Comments are appreciated.

mcfly-slash ... I'm living with what you've done

Thu, 25 Sep 2008 11:54:22 GMT

okay so ...
my nan died. this morning.
and i'm ill and just ...
there's a whirlwind in my head and i just want it to stop, really.
more than anything, i want it to stop.
thank god i still have my writing, otherwise i'd go insane.

Title: I’m living with what you’ve done
Author: me
Rating: PG13
Chapter: 1/1 … Standalone
Genre: Angst
Pairing: PoynterJudd
Summary: He didn’t believe in promises. Promises were worth nothing.
Word count: 4,288
Disclaimer: I’m pretty sure this didn’t happen.
Dedication: mostly my Puddner in crime manuanya and my CazzaBUMFACE. And everyone else who was there for me in the past days and kept me from breaking down.
Author’s note: This happened when I listened to nothing but 'Down goes another one' for almost a day. I analysed. Of course. But I thought that just Dougie had written the song until manuanya told me that it was actually Dougie, Danny and Tom. So when you read this, just imagine that it was Dougie alone. Because … that would help, really.

Dougie Poynter had many talents for a guy his age. Pretty much all of them had to do with the band he was in. Playing bass, singing, songwriting, entertaining people with nothing but thin air sometimes. He could do it all.

When it came to his private life, Dougie found himself thinking quite often that he was a failure though. He thought that, if it wasn’t for the band, he would probably be some guy roaming the streets of Essex, doing dodgy things to earn a little bit of money, and go home every night where his mother awaited him for dinner.

And what Dougie really wasn’t good at, at least in his opinion, were relationships. When it came to those he wasn’t just a failure. He was … well, worse than a failure.

Dougie blamed it all on his father. Because the bastard had walked out on the family. Dougie was 15 years old and when something like that happens when you’re a teenager, you know what’s going on. When you’re a child you may wonder why Daddy isn’t there anymore and you find silly reasons for it or believe the lame excuses that others have for that kind of behaviour. But when it all happens when you’re old enough to understand the adults you don’t need to find silly reasons or believe lame excuses. Because you know the truth.

His father walking out on Dougie, his mother and sister had broken Dougie’s trust. In anybody. Because his father had once sworn to be there for better or worse and then he just fucking left. He broke his promise just like that, with a note on the kitchen table. A little piece of paper had broken Dougie’s ability to trust people before he even had fully developed it.

Sure, he trusted his band mates. He’d be screwed if he didn’t because, in some twisted way, his life as he knew it depended on them. He trusted Tom to write one song after the other because, seriously, his songs defined the whole band and kept it alive. He trusted Danny to always improve on this producer-thing and his guitar-playing because it was thanks to him that what Tom wrote sounded good in the end. And he trusted Harry to always want to be better and make the impossible possible because he drove the whole band forward and didn’t allow anyone to mess up.

But that was pretty much as far as Dougie’s trust went. As soon as something or someone came in too close to him, he closed up.

So, when it came to relationships outside the band or his family, Dougie was at a loss. It’s not that he never tried. He did. He’s been with Hannah for almost two years. They even spoke about marriage, despite them both still being under-age. But then all those issues and insecurities suddenly were there again and sooner than he knew, his perfect relationship was over.

His other relationships, they were barely worth a mention. They lasted no longer than six months and Dougie didn’t even miss anything when they were over.

Dougie had learned to live with it. What else could he do anyway? Be a bastard like his father and make promises he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep?

But suddenly things had changed. In the past months something had happened.

Dougie had no idea how or when or why it had happened but suddenly Harry was there. And because Harry had this drive to make the impossible possible and he never allowed anyone to push him away, he just kept staying there. No matter how hard Dougie tried to push him away, Harry always came back again.

Dougie didn’t know what to do because yes, he liked Harry. Maybe he even loved him. And if there was one person in the whole universe he wanted close, it was the blue-eyed drummer. But he couldn’t let him in. Harry might loved him now but it wouldn’t last. When Dougie’s father met his mother he loved her so much that he promised her forever, only to leave after more than 15 years. Who guaranteed him that Harry wouldn’t do the same? Exactly, no one.

Still, Harry never stopped trying, never gave up getting close. And it irritated Dougie, so much. Why couldn’t Harry read the bloody signs? How brutally honest would Dougie have to be? Very brutal, probably. This was Harry, after all.

===

“Oi Dougs, lemme in, will ya?” Harry’s voice sounded through the closed door of the flat.
“I’m busy.”
“It’s not like I’ve never been in earshot when you had a wank. Believe me, I can take it.”
“I’m writing, you idiot. Bugger off!”
“What you writing?”
“A fucking novel. A song, what do you think?”
“Can I hear it?”
“No, you fucking can’t. And now just … please … just go!”
“Can I have a listen when it’s done?”

Harry sounded sad. Maybe Dougie had been a bit too brutal.

Dougie sighed. “I’ll email it to you, the second it’s done.”
“Promise?”

Dougie swallowed. He didn’t believe in promises. Promises were worth nothing.

“I’ll do it.”
“Okay.”

It was sometime past three in the morning when Harry knocked on Dougie’s door again, again yelling that he wanted to be let in. And again it irritated the bassist. So much, too. Harry had gotten the damned song, what else did he need, really? A plane with a fucking banner landing in front of his flat? An advert on TV?

Dougie opened the door and just looked at Harry. And the elder had obviously gotten the message of the email, of the song, because he looked like he was about to explode.

“What the fuck is this?”

Harry slammed his hand forward. He had held a piece of paper in it and said piece of paper connected with Dougie’s naked chest with such force that he stumbled backwards.

Too dazed to really comprehend what was going on because, in comparison to Harry, Dougie had been sleeping, Dougie held onto the paper and took it away from his chest to get a look. While Harry just walked past him into the flat, Dougie looked down at the email he had sent to Harry just a few hours ago. The song.

Tiredly rubbing his face, Dougie followed Harry into the bedroom, a litte thrown-off by Harry heading there instead of going to the living room. The bedroom was his own comfort zone, his cocoon. How dare Harry, really?

Harry sat on the bed, a stern look on his face and his arms crossed in front of his chest. It was scary how much he looked like Dougie’s mum who was about to give her son the lecture of his life.

“Got the email, I see.”
“Yeah. What the fuck were you thinking?”
“Can’t you read?”
“I can.”
“Then why are you asking?”
“Cos I wanna know what brought this up.” Harry gestured at the paper Dougie still held in his hand. He took a breath, calming himself down and when he asked his next question, his voice sounded a lot more softer, almost hurt. “What was going on inside your head when you wrote that?”

Harry knew Dougie had problems when it came to trusting people or opening up to them. He wasn’t blind, nor stupid. Like everyone else, he knew that Dougie’s father had left the family and it never needed science to see that the whole thing had left marks on the young man. Deep marks. But that was about as far as his knowlegde went.

And then, a few hours earlier, Harry had gotten that email from Dougie. The pent up anger and the fear and insecurities in the lines almost jumped at him. And after spending ages reading those lyrics again and again he got a slight idea what was laying behind all this. And he had decided to do what he hadn’t done in all the years until now. He decided it was time to confront Dougie with his past. Because this? It couldn’t go on. Whatever was going on with Dougie, inside of him, if he kept it inside longer, it would kill him sooner or later.

That was why Harry had been so angry. Because Dougie was very slowly killing himself. He kept it all inside of him and that fucking angered Harry. That Dougie was doing all that to himself.

Getting a glimpse of the look in Harry’s eyes, this deep want to just understand and help him, Dougie could barely take it. He avoided looking back into those blue eyes, studied the shadows the light created on the wall instead.

“Dougs?”
“I …” Dougie then looked at his band mate and he saw it, the want to understand and help. It hurt. “Damn Harry, you’re not stupid. You should get it.”
“It’s not about me not getting it. I want you to tell me. Say it.”
“I … I can’t, Harry.”
“Yes. You can and you will.”

Dougie felt a headache coming up. No matter how much he loved Harry for never giving up, right at this very instant, he wanted to kill him for it. Slowly and painfully.

He knew that there was no way out. Harry wouldn’t leave this room until he got what he wanted. And if it took him a fucking week and the band would have to cancel all their activities, Harry would eventually get it out of him. Because really, he was that good.

Sighing in defeat, Dougie sat down on the floor, leaning against the other end of the bed from where Harry was sitting. What? Harry wanted to hear it, he never said a word about wanting to look at Dougie too.

“It’s a bit …” Dougie started, still trying to get his act together, “It could go as a companion piece to ‘She falls asleep’. Like, the person who found her, it could be from their point of view.”
Harry made a confirming noise, letting Dougie know that he understood.
“It started out as that and it could still be seen like that, I suppose. But the more I wrote, it became … it’s sort of … When my dad left … how he left me, in what state I mean. And how I deal … live with it.”
“Okay.” Harry said, nodding even though Dougie couldn’t see it.

Dougie took a deep breath and picked up the paper to read. For a few moments he just stared at the letters and words in front of him. He saw his father behind so many of them, it was unreal. For a moment he even felt like back in the day, when he entered the kitchen in his old house and just saw the note and knew what it said without even looking at it. For a split second the neat printing even changed into the scrawl of his father and he saw the words from almost six years ago, right there in front of him.

“Did the best that I could … said I’d die for you and I would … But I drowned all those feelings in the flood …” Dougie read out with a shaky voice, “He made a promise, he swore to love her, and us, no matter what. And from one day to the other he buried those feelings, just like that. He just stopped loving us. He broke his promise and left.”

Dougie paused, finding it harder than anything else to get into this bit by bit. Never, never ever in his whole life, would he do that again. Questions about the song? Well, Tom or Danny could answer them, because no way, he wouldn’t. Not for a million pounds.

“Need to know if you’re there … if you’re listening to my prayers, to my tears … Feel like raindrops through the mud …” he read on, “I just … I can’t help wondering. I mean, surely he knows what I’m doing, you know. I wonder if he ever thinks about me, when he sees me on TV or something. If he feels proud, or sorry or whatever else. Is he actually still interested in me? Does he care about me in some, any, way?”
“Would you want him to?”
“I don’t know. Sometimes, when I get angry, I want him to see me do good and I want him to hate himself for leaving. You know what I mean? Like, I bought Mum a car and I took her and Jazzie on holiday and stuff. I want him to hate himself because if he hadn’t left, he could have gotten his piece of the cake too. Because … he’s my dad, you know. I mean, Mum and him could have gotten a divorce and that would have been fine, I guess. I would still be talking to him, I suppose. But this was like … he didn’t even care. I was about to start something great and he didn’t fucking care. I felt like, even though I made something out of myself, I was worth less than nothing to him.”
“Like a raindrop in the mud.”
“Yeah.” Dougie said silently.
“But your mum … the rest of your family … they’re all proud of you. They care. I’m proud of you too, so are Tom and Danny. Because back then, you had a million and one reasons to break but you sucked it up and battled through it and gave all you could to the band. And look where you are now. You don’t need him, Dougs.”
“But I do! He’s my dad, Harry. Of course I need him. And he fucking promised to be in my life. And now, where the fuck is he?!”

Harry didn’t know what to say about it, how to reply. This was the first time Dougie actually spoke about his father. Not about how he was, what kind of person, but he spoke of him, how he was in his life and, from one day to the other, he suddenly wasn’t there anymore. It was something Harry couldn’t really comprehend. His parents were still going strong and he couldn’t imagine it to be different. Ever. But that was obviously the thought behind it. Dougie had thought that too, that his parents would just stay together. And even if they weren’t together, with each other, he had always seen both of them in his life.

“How was I to know that a year ago I’d need to read between the lines … and every lie and that’s why …” Dougie spoke again, bringing Harry’s attention back to him, “There were signs.” he said calmly, “They weren’t getting along like they should’ve. I saw it, felt it, knew it. But it was … I had other things on my mind. Stuff that I was getting up to. Gigs and those things.”
“It wasn’t on you to save your parents’ marriage, Dougs.”
Ignoring Harry’s comment, Dougie kept reading. “Every time I fall asleep my dreams are haunted … every time I close my eyes I’m not alone … and every time I cry I’m right back where you wanted … I try to drown you out so down goes another one …” He sighed. “It’s still there. Not as often and not as intense as it used to be. But it’s still there. The guilt never leaves me. Never. Thinking that maybe I could’ve done something to prevent it. And it fucks me over. My dad was a bastard. An utter bastard for leaving us like he did. And I know I shouldn’t give him the satisfaction but … it still bothers me, still makes me think. And if that’s not bad enough already … I’m like him. I’m going down like he did.”

Harry could barely believe his own ears. Dougie thought he was like his father? In a flash, he was off the bed. He sat down right beside Dougie and brought his arm around his younger band mate’s shoulder, pulling him closer.

“Don’t you dare even think that, Dougs! That’s not true!”

Dougie leaned into Harry’s side, not brushing him off or moving away for once.

“But I am. Every relationship I have, I destroy it. Because I don’t believe in promises. Or love. Or being with someone. Because I can’t trust.”
“Dougs, your relationships, they ended because … it wasn’t just because you. So what if you have problems trusting someone? A relationship is based on two people, on giving and taking. It’s a constant fight and it’s everlasting work. You think you have issues? Well, so fucking what? We all have them. But if you’re with someone and you really want to be with them and they really want to be with you, you’re both going to fight and work for it. If you have problems, you need someone who helps you facing up to them. Someone who won’t let you run away. Someone who won’t give you up.”
Dougie looked at Harry. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”

A tiny smile spread on Dougie’s face and he leaned back against the bed again, Harry’s arm still around him. He looked back down at the paper in his hand.

“Living fast, dying young … But I’m living with what you’ve done … Now I face accusations, I won’t run, no …” He paused. Thinking. Remembering. “He’s had a good life with Mum and us, he really had. Jazz or me, we never caused trouble, least not too much. And he was young. He had it all at a really young age. I guess that was one thing that made him leave. He probably thought he lost some good years of his life because he had it all so early. And then he suddenly turned into that big coward who left. He left me, his 15-year-old son who was barely able to deal with his own life. He left me to deal with it all, to be the man in the house who had to take care of two women.”
“And you did it. You did the right thing.”
“You think? I left Mum and Jazzie, two weeks after he left.”
“But you left them for a better reason. You left them to take care of them, in your own way.”
“I did what he did.” Dougie tried to reason.
Harry tightened his grip on Dougie. “No, Dougs! No!”
“But it’s …”
“No, it’s not!”
Dougie paused again. “People talked. The neighbours. When I left home. But I wasn’t running away from the responsibility, right?”
“Of course you weren’t! You may went away but you didn’t leave. And I know for a fact that no one ever thought of you that way, that you ran away from it all. We all, Tom and Danny and me, we admire you so much for what you did. You were 15 and your life was about to change and still, you always kept your family in mind. You made sure that what you did was good for them as well.”
Dougie nodded. “I did. I still do.”
“And your mum knows. Everyone who matters knows it too. Fuck everyone else.”
“I guess.”
“And I know.”

Dougie smiled again, picking the paper up again.

“I’m starting to remember things that you said … I’m unravelling what they meant …” His eyes left the page again and he looked straight ahead, a vision of what he was about to say right in front of him, almost close enough to reach for it. “When we spoke to each other, shortly before he left actually, he was joking about me being old enough to get more responsibilities soon. I never thought much of it. I mean, that’s quite your typical father-son-conversation, isn’t it? Bet your father gave you the speech too.”
“Yeah. Though his came when the band was starting. He still wanted me to do something ‘real’.”
“I got that too. ‘You can’t be in bands forever. This whole Mick Jagger still running around on stage at 60 years only worked once’ he said. Never told him Mick Jagger’s a singer not a bassist, though.” Dougie smiled faintly, “And when he was gone, I suddenly got the meaning behind all those things. He wanted me to do something ‘real’ too. Maybe because he knew he wouldn’t stay around.”
“Or maybe not. Could’ve still been him joking.”
“We’ll never know.” Dougie looked down again. “But the world moves on, you’re just another one …” he read, “But no matter what he did to me, I’ll live with it. And he’s just another wanker on the planet.”
“True.”

They both paused for a moment, both letting the lyrics settle in.

“There’s still … in the song, there’s still a bit left.” Dougie broke the silence after a moment.
“Let’s have it.”

Dougie took a final breath and looked down at the paper. And again, there was this odd feeling in the pit of his stomach. The feeling he had a few years ago. The feeling that this was final.

“And how can I go on cause when I’m in the sun I see your shadow on the ground … but you’re never there when I turn around …” He paused once more, “I think that’s self-explanatory.”
“Yeah.”
Still, Dougie spoke again. “He’s there. He’s just always there. And that sucks so much. Because I don’t fucking want him to be there. I want him to go away. Like, properly. He’s been gone for almost six years, how can he still be so present? He’s not even around but he messed my whole life up. You, Danny and Tom, you’re like brothers to me, or even more, and I can’t bring myself to trust you completely because of the things that he did six fucking years ago.”

Without realising, Dougie had started to cry. He tried to control it, force the tears back, but that only made them pour out of his eyes stronger.

Harry didn’t say a word when he brought his other arm around Dougie as well, pulling him towards himself, letting him cry on his chest. Feelings and thoughts that had been locked up for six years all released themselves onto Harry’s chest and he did the only thing that was right at that moment. He let them flow.

“It sucks so much.” Dougie repeated into Harry’s chest, his voice choked and interruped by hiccupping sobs, “I can’t bring myself to open up and let you into my heart because I’m so scared that you’ll do what he did and leave me.” He looked up at Harry, eyes red and cheeks tear-stained. “But I want to. I want to let you in. You. Tom and Danny too. But it’s mostly you. Because …”

Dougie trailed off. He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t tell Harry that he wanted to open up to him because he loved him. It was too hard. If he said it, it was there, between them. And maybe Harry would say it back and maybe he wouldn’t. In the end it didn’t matter anyway because love was just a promise like any other. Something he didn’t believe in.

Harry cupped Dougie’s face in his hands, bringing their eyes on the same level. With his thumbs he wiped away the tears that still ran down Dougie’s face.

“You just did, Dougs. You let me in. I know that what you just did was extremely hard for you and I know that you probably want to kill me for making you do it. And I’m sorry that it hurt you, I really am. But in the end, it was what you needed to do. You needed to let it out. And you let it out to me. How much more in could I be?”
“You don’t really want me to answer that, do you?” Dougie replied, his attempted laughter still somewhat choked by his tears.

Harry let out a light laugh and pulled Dougie close again, pressing a tender kiss to the other boy’s head.

“Harry?” Dougie uttered after a while.
“Hm?”
“I don’t want you to leave me.”
“I’m not going to, Dougs. Promise.”
Dougie violently shook his head and looked back up at Harry. “Don’t. Don’t promise.”
“But I …”
“I know but … Promises are something I don’t believe in. At least not yet.”
“I want you to believe me, Dougs. Believe in me.”
“I … I do.”

Saying those two words almost broke Dougie apart again. Saying those two words meant that he was setting himself up for all the things he had avoided for such a long time. He was setting himself up for love and commitment and opening up to someone else. Setting himself up for trusting someone. Trusting Harry.

Harry’s heart almost exploded in his chest when he heard Dougie stammer out his last words. Because he knew how much it took the younger man to say them. He now knew about the constant fear and insecurity they brought with them, for Dougie at least. He was proud beyond belief and could barely get his head around the fact that Dougie had said those two words to him. Automatically, he held the younger blonde even tighter.

“Hey Dougs?”
“Yeah?”
“The song’s amazing.”
“Thanks.” Dougie smiled.
“And I know you don’t want promises or anything but just … I want you to know that I will do everything humanly possible so you won’t write something like that about me one day.”

And that, Dougie believed. More than any promise. Harry wanted to make this whole thing with them work and what Harry wanted, Harry got. And that, Dougie trusted in.

The End

Comments are appreciated.

A/N 2: Sometimes it scares me how much my stories reflect my own life, actually.

mcfly-slash ... Those Summer Nights

Mon, 22 Sep 2008 13:42:34 GMT

oh.my.god. it's a story!

yeah, i needed to do something.

my nan is about to die. and i've lost my job.
found out about both in the timespan of a few hours.

and then i got myself a new job and had to re-schedule my mcfly-tour for november for the second time.
first it was glasgow and liverpool. then it was sheffield, newcastle and liverpool. now it's just liverpool.

so yeah, my world is in shreds but i need to stop myself from thinking or feel sorry for myself so i wrote.

Title: Those Summer Nights …
Author: me
Rating: NC17
Chapter: 1/1 … Standalone
Genre: Smut
Pairing: PoynterFletcher
Summary: Summer days drifting away to … ah … those summer nights
Word count: 2,851
Disclaimer: no true *shakes head*
Dedication: nicky1388 who prompted me ages ago. Her prompt was ‘Summer’ and she wanted a Floynter, of all things. And if you want to, you can prompt me here but be aware that it will probably take forever until I will write your story.
Author’s note: This took me forever and a day. Because I don’t do Floynter normally. But I’ve been going through more than I could take recently so I welcomed pretty much every tiny thing that kept me from thinking.

“Summer days drifting away to … ah … those summer nights.” Tom happily sang along while he was sitting at home, watching ‘Grease’ on DVD.

He had just returned from a trip to Tesco, loading up on ice-cream, knowing that it would definitely come in handy to have some in the freezer if the summery weather continued. He was just stuffing another spoonful of the cold treat into his mouth when he was interrupted by a loud bang at his front door.

Pausing his DVD, Tom left the ice-cream on the coffee table and trudged through his corridor towards the front door to investigate where the noise came from. He risked a peek through the peephole and saw Dougie standing outside his door, looking dazzled at it.

With a smile, Tom opened the door. “Alright, Dougs? Couldn’t find the doorbell?”
Dougie just walked past Tom into the house, kicking his flip-flops off. “When did you start locking the front door?”
“Must’ve been when I realised I would get no time to myself if I didn’t lock it.”
“I ran into the bloody thing. A warning would’ve been nice, you know.”
“Okay then. Hey Dougie, just so you know, my front door’s locked.”
“Bastard. Anyway, I couldn’t fail to notice you coming home earlier and was that some Ben & Jerry’s peeking out of that Tesco-bag?”
“Not that it’s any of your business but yes, it was.”
“Good. Go get the stuff and two spoons and meet me in the living room.”
“Buy some yourself.”
“Dude, have you checked the weather? Summer’s here full force. Crossing the street to get here was about as far as I could go without getting a heatstroke.”
“As if. The temparature in your flat isn’t much different, you’re just being lazy. By the way, it didn’t occur to you that maybe that was my ice-cream, did it?”
“Nah. I’ve known you for five years. You never just buy stuff for yourself, you always buy enough so you can feed us because you get off on taking care of us. Now go get the stuff before it’s melting.”
Tom sighed. “It’s in the living room already. But hands off my spoon, I don’t know where your mouth has been before. I’m getting you your own.”

Grinning, Dougie went for the living room while Tom went into the kitchen to fetch Dougie a tub of ice-cream and a spoon.

When Tom returned to the living room, Dougie already got comfortable on the sofa, looking back at Tom with raised eyebrows.

“We’re not watching ‘Grease’, are we?”
“Well, I was watching ‘Grease’. That was before you decided to invite yourself into my house. So now you’re either watching it with me or you’re going back to the rainforest you call home. Without my ice-cream.”
“So ‘Grease’ huh? That’s always been my favorite, dude!”

They fell silent and Tom re-started the DVD. His focus stayed on the film but he didn’t need to look at Dougie to see him cringe at some parts or shake his head at others. It was only after Tom had sang along loudly to one of the songs that their silence got broken by a short laugh of Dougie.

“What?” Tom wondered, looking over at his bandmate.
“You’re such a geek.” Dougie replied, laughing again before sticking another spoonful of ice-cream into his mouth, sucking on it soundly.
“And you’ve noticed that just now?”
“No but … every time I think you can’t go further, you do. You out-geek yourself on a daily basis, basically.”
“And that’s a bad thing?”
“No, not at all. Just shows you’re passionate. I like that in a guy.” Dougie grinned, winking at Tom.
“That the only thing?” Tom asked curiously.

Dougie’s sexuality had never been a secret to Tom, or any of the other guys, for that matter. Still, no one actually knew what Dougie liked in a significant other specifically.

Dougie shrugged. “Can’t really say, actually. If it tingles, it just does, you know.”
“But some things make you tingle more than others, right?”
“Yeah, but that depends on the person. Like, I love how Danny is always happy and how he can entertain himself and everyone around him with nothing. Harry is competitive and just doesn’t give up until he gets what he wanted. He’s really driven, which is incredibly hot. And you … when you love something, you just love it, period. You don’t care if people laugh at you for it. And you’re creative and talented. Both probably the biggest turn-ons ever, no matter in who.”

That had Tom confused. Did Dougie fancy him? He had just said that certain things about him turned the younger guy on, didn’t he? And how come that Tom wouldn’t even mind if Dougie was interested in him?

Not noticing Tom’s dazzled state, Dougie continued to speak. “When you’re sitting at the piano and just start to play something out of nothing. Dude, you have no idea how fucking sexy that is. Or you’re sitting here, singing along to all the songs in bloody ‘Grease’ and it just makes me wanna grab and kiss you.”
Tom looked over at Dougie, seeing his friend completely at ease, not the slightest bit ashamed of what he had just said. “Why don’t you do it then?” he asked, surprised how easy the question had left his lips.

At this, Dougie turned over to his bandmate, saying nothing, just raising his eyebrows in question.

“I mean, you always follow your impulses. Why not now?”
“Because …” Dougie looked for words. “Tom, this is you.”
“Yeah. And?”
“It’s just … I never thought you … you know.”
“No, I don’t actually.”
“Acting spontaneously is about as far away from your personality as thinking before acting is from mine.”
“Maybe I’m tired of always thinking.”

With a grin, Dougie took the ice-cream tub Tom held in his hand away from him and placed it on the coffee table.

“No more for you. This is brain freeze in its worst stage.”
“Doug, I’m serious. If you wanna kiss me, fucking do it!”
“You seem awfully eager for someone who isn’t even openly gay, do you realise that?”
“And you are a pain in the arse, do you realise that?”
“I’m just trying to save you from doing something you might regret in the end.”
“How do you know what I’m going to regret and what not?”
“Because I know you. You’re all up for it now and then you’re going to chicken out later.”
“Am not.”
“Prove it then. Like you just said, if you wanna do it, fucking do it. Not that you’re going to or anything …”

Dougie then sat back on the sofa, keeping his eyes on Tom, a smirk on his face, wordlessly challenging him to put his words into action.

With a huff, Tom took back his ice-cream tub and leaned back on the sofa, setting his focus back on the film showing. No matter if he wanted Dougie or not, he surely wouldn’t give his younger friend the satisfaction and proving that he was right in thinking that Tom was so desperate that he would jump him.

The amused smirk never leaving his face, Dougie brought another spoonful of ice-cream to his lips, but couldn’t hold back one last remark.

“Wimp.”

And that was all that it needed.

Tom forcefully slammed his ice-cream tub back on the coffee table and took Dougie’s away from him as well, before grabbing the younger man by the shirt collar, pulling him onto his lap.

The second Dougie was close enough, Tom slammed his own lips on the other one’s, not even giving him a chance to protest. But when Dougie immediately thrusted his tongue past Tom’s lips, the guitarrist realised that if he wanted to wait for Dougie protesting, he would have to wait quite some time.

When the need to breathe became evident, Tom pulled back from Dougie’s lips, bringing at least some distance inbetween them. Still, he made sure to keep his firm hold on Dougie’s hips so the bassist wouldn’t dare to escape him.

“Fuck you!” Tom uttered breathlessly, finally replying to Dougie’s last statement.
Dougie grinned and wriggled his eyebrows. “You wanna?”
“What?!”

Without a word, Dougie ground his hips against Tom’s, making the elder release a moan. He also couldn’t fail to notice that there was something stirring inbetween them too. Dougie wound his arms around Tom’s neck, never bringing his hips to a halt, while he whispered into Tom’s ear, nibbling on the lobe.

“You want me Tom, don’t you? You can have me if you want. You can fuck me, you just need to say it.”
“Nnnrgh, Doug …” Tom got out between gritted teeth, the combined sensations of Dougie grinding down on him while the boy breathed into his ear almost making him see stars.
“Say it, Tom.”

Those three words were too much for Tom. He turned his head again, his lips crashing down onto Dougie’s once more. He barely pulled away to speak.

“I wanna fuck you, Doug. I wanna fuck you so hard until you won’t remember your own name anymore.”
“Let’s take this to the bedroom, then. Because this” Dougie ground down on Tom once again, letting the elder feel the bulge in his trousers. “won’t stay up long with ‘Grease’ running.”
“You really are a pain in the arse.”
“Oh no, that’s what you’re going to be. And I’m looking forward to it.”

Shaking his head with a laugh, Tom made Dougie get off his lap so the both of them could stand up and get upstairs. However, the way was prolonged by the boys stripping, groping and kissing each other. When they finally fell down on Tom’s bed, nothing but their boxers was covering them and Dougie’s more than eager fingers made them fall to the bedroom floor soon enough.

Once Dougie was actually naked underneath him, Tom, just as his younger band mate had predicted beforehand, felt his nerves flutter. What was he supposed to do now? Sure, he had thought about this happening before, but never had he dared thinking that it would actually happen. And now that it did, he had no idea what to do first, what to say, if to say anything at all, or just … go ahead.

“Tom?”

Dougie’s voice from underneath him pulled the blonde out of his daydreaming and he looked down and the other male.

Dougie cupped Tom’s cheek with his hand, letting his thumb graze the skin of the elder.

“Stop thinking.”
“But I … I have no idea what to …”
“Follow your impulses. Do whatever feels right. I’m not going to leave.”

Tom just nodded while Dougie tilted his head upwards to meet Tom’s lips in a tender kiss. And Dougie definitely knew what he was doing because after less than two seconds, all of Tom’s doubts were forgotten and all he wanted was to kiss Dougie into oblivion.

Dougie switched their positions so he was on top now. His hand left Tom’s cheek, grabbing Tom’s hand and guided it downwards to where their groins were connecting every so often.

Tom broke the kiss and looked up at Dougie when he noticed where his hand was suddenly placed.

“Touch me, Tom.” Dougie breathed.
“I can’t … I don’t … how do I …” Tom stuttered.

Smiling up at Tom, Dougie pointedly wrapped his hand around Tom’s hard cock, making the elder moan at the simple touch and buck his hips into Dougie’s hand.

“You could also do this …”

Dougie started to move his hand up and down on Tom’s length, making Tom groan even louder and arch his hips even more.

“Come on, Tom. Touch me. Make me feel what you feel right now.”

Throwing his hesitation out of the window, Tom now also reached for Dougie’s rock-hard cock and wrapped his hand around it, immediately starting to copy Dougie’s movements. His mind was spinning from Dougie’s well-practised movements and he was determined to pleasure him as much as he was pleasured himself.

Dougie almost came there and then when Tom finally lost his shyness and began stroking his cock. He leaned down and began sucking the skin of Tom’s neck into his mouth, wanting, needing, to do something to distract himself from the fluttering in his stomach or otherwise this whole thing would be over before it even began.

“Do you … we’d need … lube or anything?” Dougie mumbled into Tom’s skin, before leaning up again and looking down at Tom, trying not to pay attention to what Tom was doing with his hand around his cock for at least a moment.
“There are condoms in the drawer.” Tom nodded towards his bedside cabinet. “And … well, there should be some hand creme in there.”
“That should do the trick, I think.”

Dougie took his hand away from Tom’s erection and shuffled through the drawer, looking for the items Tom had mentioned. Tom kept rubbing Dougie’s length all the while, enjoying how easy it was to distract his young lover.

When Dougie had found the items needed, he leaned back over Tom, his face expression changing into a pleasured one whenever Tom did something with his hand that he enjoyed.

“For someone who was shitting himself about two minutes ago, you seem oddly comfortable right now.”
“Well, I have a good teacher, showing me all the right moves.”
“You do, don’t you? Then I think it’s time to move to the next part of this particular lesson.”
“And what would that be?”
“You. Inside. Me.” And Dougie puncuated every word with a kiss and a featherlight touch to Tom’s still hard cock.

Tom swallowed at Dougie’s words, his nerves almost getting the better of him again. But Dougie was fast at reading the obvious signs. He made Tom look into his eyes again, while picking up the stroking motions on the elder’s errection again. Tom’s worries were washed away as quickly as they had roamed over him before.

With skilled fingers, Dougie rolled the condom on Tom’s arousal and coated it with hand creme, before guiding it towards his entrace.

“Wait!” Tom interrupted and stilled Dougie’s movements, “Don’t you … I mean … aren’t I supposed to … get you … ready?”
“It’s fine, Tom.” Dougie leaned down to kiss him once more. “Stop worrying and just enjoy, alright?”

Tom nodded and just moments later he felt himself being engulfed by Dougie’s body ever so slowly. He had to hold back a moan when he looked up at the other male, his head tilted back and his eyes shut tightly, moaning throatily while he let Tom travel deeper and deeper inside of him.

“Okay?” Dougie asked when Tom was fully inside of him.
“‘S so … it’s so tight. Fuck!” Tom breathed.

Smiling, Dougie raised his hips again until only the head of Tom’s cock was penetrating him, before bringing his hips down again, riding Tom slowly and thoroughly. With each movement Tom found it harder to breathe, to think, to move, to do anything really. But he didn’t want to leave it to Dougie to do all the work so when Dougie brought his hips down, Tom thrust his own hips up, meeting Dougie’s halfway.

At this Dougie let out a deep moan of Tom’s name and began to speed up his movements with each thrust, Tom’s hips raising with every downwards movement.

“Harder, Tom. Fuck. Fuck me harder!”

And Tom did. His hips barely touched the mattress anymore while Dougie still rode him for all he was worth, one hand gripping onto the headboard of Tom’s bed. The other wandered to his erection, standing proud and begging for attention and Dougie fisted it and stroke it out of time to their thrusts.

Watching Dougie pleasuring himself and knowing that he was also a part of the pure satisfaction on the young man’s face and the sounds that left Dougie’s lips, brought Tom closer and closer to the edge. And only seconds later he came with a loud moan of Dougie’s name. He kept the movements of his hips going, determined to not stop until Dougie would find his own release as well. And just moments later, Dougie’s face contorted in pleasure and he came all over his hand while calling out Tom’s name.

Both men slowed their movements down, before Dougie raised his hips one final time and let Tom pull out of him. Still breathing heavily, he collapsed on the mattress, half on half, off Tom.

“That was …” Dougie gasped out, “… yeah.”
“Exactly.” Tom replied while ridding himself of the condom.

They both didn’t say a thing while getting their breathing back to normal. But suddenly Dougie let out a giggle which made Tom turn to look at him.

“What now?”
Dougie shook his head. “Nothing. Just have this song in my head now.”
“Which one?”
Grinning, Dougie looked back at Tom before starting to sing softly. “Summer days drifting away to … ah … those summer nights.”

The End

Comments are appreciated.

mcfly-slash ... From Dawn til Dusk

Thu, 07 Aug 2008 13:38:35 GMT

woooooop!
i just booked some stuff for in less than a week.
cos i'm seeing manuanya, oh_mumble, armillarysphere and evolia and a few friends from scotland.
and i'm seeing doug and harry and tom and danny aka mcfly
and i'm seeing my friend zara afterwards.
and i'll spend some time in a plane and at an airport and in trains.
and i'll basically will get out of this shithole that is my hometown and away from the hellhole that is my workplace.

but first, i'm bringing a story, yes?

Title: From Dawn til Dusk
Author: me
Rating: PG13
Chapter: 1/1 … Standalone
Genre: Comedy, Fluff
Pairing: PoynterJudd
Summary: Some days are just not meant to be perfect. Or good. Or at least normal.
Word count: 3,683
Disclaimer: Lies! I suppose.
Dedication: to ♥ Manu (manuanya) ♥ who not only prompted me with ‘Dawn’, requesting a Pudd, but who I also randomly met the other day and who I had an awesome night with, filled with laughter and booze and fags and Dougie and Pudd and annoyance and weird men and one line out of this story ;) She’s basically awesome, actually. Hope you like this, you crazy chicken.
Author’s note: I needed and wanted to write some Pudd again. And this just came about after I thought back of the day Manu and me met and four hours after I was done and smiling like the Cheshire Cat.

Some days are just not meant to be perfect. Or good. Or at least normal.

You just know when those days happen. Your alarm goes off even though it doesn’t need to since it’s your day off to begin with. But the alarm is set in your phone and you forgot to disable it the previous night. So you kill the alarm and the phone somehow lands on the floor with an odd noise. You open your eyes and you immediately know that you better not get out of bed because the day will be a mess if you do. So you wanna get back to sleep because it’s way too early to get up, but because the bloody alarm was so persistent, it’s still ringing in your ear and you can’t go back to sleep, no matter how hard you try. So you might as well get up, right?

And then it all happens.

You swing your legs out of bed and forgot that you had been thirsty last night and you knock over the water bottle on the floor with your feet. And of course you didn’t bother to put the cap back on the bottle in your half-sleep last night so you spill the water onto the carpet. And a bit of the water also spills over your phone that’s still laying on the floor.

You curse the day already, despite only being awake for less than five minutes. But you still wanna make the best of it so you start looking for that favorite t-shirt of yours. You look everywhere but the damn thing is just nowhere to be found. That’s when you remember. You wore it just the other day, when you were out. And you had a few too many drinks. And you had gotten sick. All over the t-shirt. And you were too busy to do laundry. So yeah, the t-shirt is still laying right outside your washing machine, probably.

That’s about the time you give up. On your mood brightening up. On the day to take a one-eighty and become better at all. It’s not going to happen anyway so why bother?

Dougie Poynter was just having a day like that. Nothing seemed to work in his favour. Nothing.At.All.

He had spilt water over his phone and carpet this morning and found his favorite t-shirt stained with vomit in front of the washing machine. Also, he was out of coffee and couldn’t find more than a few pence in his wallet when he wanted to go to buy some. Danny had taken off to go home for the weekend and Tom was somewhere with Gio so it wasn’t like he could go to theirs and ‘borrow’ their coffee.

Also, Dougie couldn’t get to Harry either. Sure, the drummer was at home but Dougie was pretty sure that he was the last person Harry wanted to see on his doorstep. The two of them had a pretty evil fight the other night. Dougie couldn’t remember what it had been about but as things heated up both of them had thrown many horrible insults at each other and this day was the fourth in a row of them not speaking to each other. Which was a record for them. They had been friends for five years, a couple for nearly two, and they fought about once a week. But they never had not spoken to each other for four days before.

Dougie was just thinking about ways to get his caffeine fix without having to leave the flat when he, for the first time, noticed the silence around him. He went into the living room to check and found out why it was so silent. Flea was laying in his corner and looked like his owner after a heavy night out.

Sure, of all days, his dog had chosen this one to be ill.

So Dougie carefully lifted the dog up and brought him outside into his car. But when he wanted to get back into his flat to grab Flea’s comfort blanket, the door had fallen closed. And, of course, Dougie had left the house-keys inside.

Muttering under his breath, Dougie decided that he would deal with the matter later, setting his main priority on his pet right now.

On the way to the vet, Dougie had to stop at every red light possible and it seemed all the people in the whole country who actually stuck to the speed limit were driving in front of him. And sure enough, Dougie had left his phone at home as well so he couldn’t even call the vet to say he was coming in today.

It also seemed like every pet in Greater London had gotten ill on the same day and his vet was the only one in the area who was open. Upon entering the vet’s, Dougie was faced with a room full of waiting people with pet-baskets or ill animals by their feet. Dougie couldn’t find a spare seat either so he sat down on the floor, feeling much like the furry patients surrounding him.

He had almost dozed off when his name was called and he carried Flea into the doctor’s office. And for once, everything went normal when the doctor found out quickly that Flea had probably eaten something wrong. He gave him an injection of something Latin and told Dougie that the dog would be himself again by the end of the day.

Dougie went back to the front desk to pay for the treatment but was met with an apologetic look from the nurse when he handed over his credit card.

“Sorry Mister Poynter, but our card reader isn’t working today. We can only accept cash payments, I’m afraid.”
“But I … I only have a few pence on me. Can’t you … I don’t know … write a bill or something and I transfer the money. Please, my dog is ill and I’d like to get him home and not make a detour just to get to a cash-machine first.”
The nurse smiled at him. “That’s fine, Mister Poynter. I’ll print you a bill. Just take a seat, I’ll bring it over in just a minute.”

‘Just a minute’ then turned out to be almost half an hour as yet more patients came in, distracting the nurse from Dougie’s bill. And then, right when his bill was supposed to be printed, there wasn’t anymore ink in the printer which stole yet another five minutes of Dougie’s waste of a day.

On his way home Dougie decided that yes, days like that one actually did call for a detour to get to a cash machine. Just not to pay the vet. Dougie just wanted his coffee to have at least something about this day that was enjoyable.

There was a queue at the cash machine, because there was only one of the three things actually working, no surprise there, but Dougie ignored that, desperate for some Starbucks. Jogging back to his car, he noticed the woman dressed in navy blue, peeking at the number plate of the car right in front of his own. He surpressed a curse when he saw a piece of paper already tucked under his wiper upon getting closer. He snatched the paper away and was just about to unlock his car when the police woman addressed him.

“Is this your car, sir?”
No, I just wanted to see if the key in my hand fits into the lock, duh! Dougie thought to himself, but replied as politely as he could. “Yes, it is.”
“You know that you’re not allowed to park here, sir?”
“Yes and well, normally I really wouldn’t. But my dog is ill and I needed to get money to pay the vet and there wasn’t any parking space at the cash machine. And I thought I’d only be a few seconds but then there was a queue because two of three machines were out of order. And … yeah. But I’m here now and I’m gonna drive away right this instant so could you … let that one slide, maybe?” He indicated at the paper still in his hand.
“Sorry sir, I can’t do that.” the woman said sternly before writing down another number of a car, “The terms of payment are written on the back of the ticket. Have a nice day.”
“Yeah same, you stupid witch.” Dougie muttered.
“Excuse me, what was that? Would you like to add insult to a member of authority to the ticket?”
Dougie shook his head, finally unlocking the driver’s door. “No no. Have a nice day, Miss.”

The way back home was just as filled with slow drivers and red lights as the way into the city and Dougie had never been so glad to see the green and white sign of his local Starbucks.

His focus set on the wallet in his hand and the tenner that was stuck somewhere in there, Dougie paid no attention to his surroundings when he entered the Starbucks, only desperate for his coffee before finally going back home. A high-pitched squeal pulled him out of his revery though.

“Oh my god! Becky look, it’s Dougie from McFly!”

Dougie only had time to cast a short look at the clock hanging above the counter - lunch time at the local school, right about then, of fucking course! - before he was surrounded by at least 15 girls, squealing and excited and shoving papers and mobile phones into his face, taking pictures.

Deciding that getting a coffee under this circumstances was impossible, Dougie fought his way back outside, all the girls hot on his trail. So there he was, right outside the Starbucks, and the girls around him seemed to get more by the minute because each of them seemed to phone their friends, telling them to run to ‘the Starbucks around the corner from school’ because ‘Dougie from McFly is here, oh my god!’

It took about half an hour until each and every girl had gotten an autograph, a picture, a hug and whatever else they wanted from him and they all went back to school, leaving Dougie alone finally. So he turned around, ready to just get into Starbucks and get himself a bucket of vanilla frappucchino, because even the large cup wouldn’t be enough right now. He had just opened the door when immediately all the empolyees gave him dark looks, obviously not too happy about the scene he had just caused.

“Forget it.” Dougie said and left again.

Getting back into his car, Dougie just leaned back into his seat.

“Fuck this fucking day!” he cursed.

He took a deep breath and sat back up, ready to start the engine and get back home when something caught his attention. Right there, underneath his wiper. Another parking ticket.

“Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!” he swore under his breath while scrolling his window down to snatch the ticket away. Holding the piece of paper in his hand, he then turned around to the backseat, looking at his dog. “I hope you realise that this is all your fault. If you weren’t a bloody animal, I’d make you get a job so you can pay for those.”
At this, Flea just raised his head, looking at his owner.
“Yeah, whatever.”

Setting on the fact that he finally had enough of this day, Dougie then started the engine, ready to get home, lock himself into his flat and not leave it before the following morning. Of course that was when he realised that he couldn’t lock himself into his flat as he had managed to lock himself out of said flat earlier.

So really, there was just one place left where Dougie could go to. The only place he had avoided going to for the past few days.

His knees were reduced to a jelly-like mess and being sick all over himself and the doormat seemed like a good idea when Dougie actually stood outside the door of Harry’s flat, Flea, who was in a much better state already, by his feet.

It took him a few minutes to actually ring the doorbell and once he had, he just wanted for Harry to open the door so he could get in, maybe nick a coffee and phone a locksmith so he could get into his flat and forget that this day ever existed.

After what seemed forever, Harry finally opened the door, indeed looking less than happy to see Dougie standing in front of him.

“I locked myself out.” Dougie started right away, “And Flea’s been ill so I had to get him to the vet. And I forgot my phone at home and I had no money and then I was stuck in traffic and got two parking tickets and there were girls all over Starbucks and the people there probably hate me now and … Look, all I need is a coffee and your phone so I can get a locksmith because my spare key is at Danny’s. But Danny is in Bolton and his spare key is at Tom’s and Tom’s away with Gio and Gio has the second key to his house and … I just want to go home.”

His expression unchanged, Harry just stepped aside, letting Dougie enter. He also grabbed the phone from the service station in the corridor and handed it to Dougie before disappearing again.

Taking note of the fact that Harry was far from pleased by this whole situation, Dougie sheepishly made his way into the living room, going for the yellow pages which were laying on the floor by the bookshelf. He looked up a few numbers and started dialling.

“Hi, erm … I locked myself out of my flat. Can I get a locksmith please? … Watford … What? Is your office in New York? … No, I didn’t mean that, sorry. … Yeah, might as well. How much will it be? … Excuse me? I don’t wanna buy the place again, I just wanna get through the front door! … Oh no, thank you, for nothing!”

Dougie was just about to throw the phone into the corner when he remembered that it wasn’t his phone and he didn’t want to give Harry another reason to be upset at him.

Just as he was thinking about Harry, the man himself entered the room, wordlessly handing Dougie a mug and a plate with a sandwich.

“You? Are a saint.” Dougie said with relief and took the mug and plate from Harry, sitting down on the sofa.

He took a bite of the sandwich before taking a sip of the coffee, smiling for the first time on the day as the liquid collided with his tongue. Releasing a contented sigh, Dougie leaned back on the sofa, closing his eyes.

“Bad day?” Harry suddenly asked from beside him, for the first time since Dougie entered the flat actually speaking to his visitor.
Dougie shook his head. “Not bad. Fucked up. All bad days in history teamed up to haunt me today. I should’ve just stayed in bed.”
“What happened?”
“Just … everything. I forgot to disable my alarm last night so of course it woke me up this morning. And I spilt water over my phone and I couldn’t wear my favorite t-shirt and then Flea was ill and I locked myself out when I brought him to the car. And the vet was filled with people and I couldn’t pay with my credit card. And I just wanted some Starbucks but I had no money so I stopped at a cash machine but there was a queue and I got a parking ticket. Then I finally got to Starbucks after fighting traffic again and it was lunch time at school and all those girls hogged me for ages. And those Starbucks-people all had sticks up their arses and their looks shot daggers at me when I went back in so I never got my coffee. And I got another parking ticket. So I wanted to go home and just forget this day ever existed but then I remembered I had no keys and with Danny and Tom not being home … And I just phoned the locksmith and they said they can send someone over by half seven tonight and it’d cost me about 150 quid because we live so far out and I yelled at them so now no one’s coming and I don’t wanna deal with it but I have to because you don’t want me here, obviously, and … everything is just fucked up.” Dougie whined.
Harry looked at him again and for the first time there was something like sympathy showing in his eyes. “You can stay here if you want. Deal with the locksmith tomorrow.”
“No Harry, I … I don’t want to bother you.”
“You never cared if you bothered me before, why now?” And there was actually a slight smile showing on the drummer’s face as he said it.
Dougie faintly smiled back. “Thanks.”
“Nevermind. Hey, erm, I was just about to go do some shopping. Want me to take Flea? Give you a little bit of peace?”
“Would you?”
Harry nodded.
“God, thank you so much. You mind if I take a shower?”
“Will you just stop asking? What happened to ‘my home is your home’?”
“I didn’t think it still was after … you know …”
Harry patted Dougie’s shoulder. “Later, Doug.” he said before getting up, letting out a little whistle, Flea’s sign to follow him.

Harry had barely left the house when Dougie was already in the bathroom, letting the warm water of the shower soothe him and hopefully wash away all the leftovers from this horrible day. After he was done, he went into Harry’s bedroom, picking a sweatshirt from the wardrobe. He had no idea what Harry and him currently were but the big sweatshirts of the elder always had a comforting way about them and Dougie definitely needed some comfort right now.

Dougie then went back into the living room and switched the TV on, watching something random while he finished his sandwich and coffee. He felt exhausted too and proceeded to lay down, pulling the hood of the sweatshirt over his eyes.

When Dougie awoke again, he felt more relaxed finally. He had no idea what time it was though. The room was darker than before he fell asleep but not totally dark, so it was probably dawning now. Finally there seemed to be an end of the day.

The blonde listened up and heard sounds from the kitchen. Adjusting the sweatshirt, he got up and followed the noise, seeing that Harry was preparing dinner.

“Hi.” he croaked, standing in the doorway.
Upon hearing his voice, Harry turned around to him. “Oh hey, you’re alive! Couldn’t get you up when I came back earlier so I thought I’d just leave you to it. You probably needed the sleep, huh?”
“I sure did. Need help?” Dougie pointed at the food spread out on the kitchen counter.
“No, that’s fine. With a day like today … you might end up killing the both of us.” Harry smiled. “Oh and … Flea’s better. Taking a walk did him good, I guess?”
“The doctor gave him something, said he would be okay by tonight.”
“Yeah well, he is. By the way, phoned a locksmith for you. They couldn’t stop by tonight but they’ll be here tomorrow morning at ten and only charge you about 50 quid. You’re staying here tonight. And …” Harry pointed to a mug next to the coffee machine. “Fresh coffee, help yourself.”
Dougie smiled gratefully, pouring himself a coffee. “Thanks so much, Harry. Really. You didn’t have to do it all, though.”
“What? And have you go through another day like this one? I don’t think so.”
“Yeah but … with all the mess …”
Harry interrupted. “It’s alright.”
“No, it’s not. I’ve been a complete arsehole the other day and a whiny brat earlier.”
“Well, I’ve not been less of an arsehole. And you’re cute when you’re a whiny brat. Also, it gave me the chance to mother you without you rolling your eyes at me.”
At this Dougie actually smiled and, despite what Harry had just said, rolled his eyes at the elder. “You’re a freak.”
“You’re one to speak.”

Both men shared a smile before leaning towards each other, kissing gently, the simple gesture bringing an end to their fight.

“Just for the record, I’m sorry. About, you know, the other day.” Harry said when they pulled apart.
“Just for the record, me too.” Dougie paused, pointing a finger at the other man. “And I’m not cute!”
Harry smiled again and pecked Dougie’s nose. “Yes, you are. But don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”

Dougie shook his head at his boyfriend before getting his mug and taking a large sip.

“Ow! Fuck’ ‘ake!”
Harry turned his attention back to Dougie. “What’s the matter?”
“Burn’ my ‘ongue.”
At this, Harry could only laugh. “You know what? You’re probably better off if you not touch anything for the rest of this day.” He waved his arm into the direction of the living room. “Lay back down on the sofa or something.”

Dougie just smiled at that but didn’t leave the room. Instead he was closing in on Harry until he was standing next to him, leaning against the counter Harry was just standing at.

“What now?” the drummer asked.
“I burnt my tongue.” Dougie replied.
“Yeah. And?”
“Kiss it better?”

As a reply, Harry just laughed again. But nevertheless, he wrapped his arm around the other man’s waist and pulled him close before locking their lips together, letting their tongues clash.

Dougie wound his arms around his boyfriend’s neck, easily getting lost in their kiss, thinking to himself that, no matter how horrible a day could be, it would be alright as long as Harry was there to kiss it all better.

The End

Comments are appreciated

mcfly-slash ... Keep me a Secret

Tue, 15 Jul 2008 11:52:44 GMT

good gracious, is that to believe?
i'm posting a story!
miracles do happen, don't they?
yeah, sorry i have been away for absolute ages. i've been kidnapped, you know. by my job. i'm barely home these days, let alone have time to be creative.
still, in the approximately 20 hours i have to myself each week, i managed to write something.
wanna read it?

Title: Keep me a Secret
Author: me
Rating: PG13
Chapter: 1/1 … Standalone
Genre: AU – Drama, Angst, Self-analysis
Pairing: PoynterJudd
Summary: Falling in love was a stupid idea. A really stupid idea.
Word count: 8,835
Disclaimer: Naaaaaaah! Don’t believe me.
Dedication: Everyone who missed me!
Author’s note: So yes, here I am again. I was on a bit of a hiatus. Not that I wanted to be though. But work sucked all my strength and energy out of me and I'm actually happy that I even had time and strength for this piece. It means a lot to me and it took me two months on the dot to finish it. So I only hope and pray that you lot like it.
Also, I think I remember that there once was a song with the same title by Ainslie Henderson (does anyone actually remember 'Fame Academy'?) but the song has nothing to do with the story.

Falling in love was a stupid idea. A really stupid idea.

Yes, there you have it, I told you. Straightforward. Blunt. In.Your.Face. That’s just me, you know. I’m what some would call brutally honest. I don’t wait for right times to tell something uncomfortable, I just say it when it needs to be said. I’m not one to drag around secrets with me. All in all, I don’t even like secrets that much.

But that was until it happened. Until this little thing called love came along.

I hadn’t meant for it to happen. Honestly, I didn’t. Love and me did not match. The only thing love and me had in common was that we both had the tendency to be a pain in the arse. So I simply refused to fall in love. Crushes, okay. Little affairs or one-night-stands, nothing wrong in that. But I never let anyone get closer to me than they could get in one night of shagging. Hell, I wouldn’t even get any of the one-nighters into my flat, nevermind into my heart.

For years and years I had no secrets and refused to fall in love. And it had worked perfectly. All my life, actually.

Until I met him. Harry.

I wasn’t in love with him. At first. Love just decided to butt in on me. And once it was there, it just didn’t go away. And it also brought me the biggest secret of my life.

Harry and I met on a party. I like to socialise – though my friends call it ‘shameless flirting’ – and when I saw him standing on his own in a corner I grabbed two bottles of beer – one for me and one for him – and went over to him.

We got on really quickly. We had a lot of things in common, were about the same age, him being two years older than me. We could talk for hours about literally everything. He was an outgoing, fun-loving young guy, just like me. I think I’m not wrong in saying that we clicked instantly.

But I was not in love with him. I had just found a friend.

However, a lot of people thought different. Okay, I do admit that might had to do with the fact that I could count the amount of my real friends on half a hand, while all the other people I knew were basically those I had slept with and stayed in loose touch with. But really, Harry and I were just friends. I have this rule, you know. ‘Never fuck a company member.’, which best be translated into, ‘Hands off your mates, however hot they may be!’ And that I stuck to. ‘Stuck’ being the keyword here, I think.

The first time I was accused of feeling more than friendship for Harry was one night when my mate Danny and I had been out partying and went home without me having met anyone. That comes close to a nuclear disaster to Danny, so he said it was time for a talk. And that should have worried me. Danny talks a lot, but he never announces it before.

“You fancy Harry.”

Not a question, a statement.

“I fucking do not fancy him.”
“Dougs, it’s always Harry this and Harry that. You don’t flirt around anymore. You may not know it yet but you do fancy him. And as your friend I tell you … stay away.”
“He’s just my friend, Danny.”
“Still. Stay away. He has a boyfriend.”

Boom!

“What?!”
“Tom told me, him and Gi know the guy.”
“Harry never told me about a boyfriend.”
“Yeah well, maybe ‘boyfriend’s not the right term. They’re on a break kind of thing. Tom said they’ve been knowing each other pretty much their whole life, were together all the way through high school. They wanna get serious, Dougs. Serious as in married.”
“You just said they’re on a break. How can they be on a break and at the same time be engaged?”
“They wanna test out the waters or something, try being single for a while before getting attached for good. I have no idea. You better ask Harry anyways, I’ve already said too much.”

I’ll be honest with you, when I had heard that, it was like a slap in the face. I was angry and confused and god knows what else. And before you think that it had to do something with feelings for Harry that I didn’t want to admit, calm down. It was simply because I had been lied to for months by someone I considered a very good friend, not because the guy I apparently liked had a boyfriend. As I said before, I don’t do secrets and this definitely was a secret.

I met up with Harry a few days after my talk with Danny. I had been thinking about whether or not I should confront him with what I had heard or just wait until he would tell me on his own. In the end I decided on a middle-thing. I would drop hints and just wait until Harry cracked.

Harry had spent a few days with his family and because he had borrowed his car to his sister who had in return crashed it, I had to come pick him up. I had never met Harry’s parents before and once I started the small talk with his mother I came to notice that I was as much a stranger to them as they were strangers to me.

“So dear, you are a friend of our Harry then?” his mother asked while we waited in the living room. Harry was outside in the garden, saying goodbye to the rest of his family.
“Erm, I guess you could say I am, yes. We’ve been knowing each other for a few months, see a lot of each other.”
“Oh do you really? Harry never told us.”

I could feel the smile leaving my face. Harry’s mother could obviously tell. Her face brightened up and she tried to save the situation.

“But he’s always so busy, that boy. I have no idea what he’s up to most of the time. And I mean, which guy in his twenties tells his old mother all about his friends anyway, right? And he’s probably mentioned your name in phonecalls. But I’m not the youngest anymore, start forgetting things.”

I just nodded absent-mindely, letting my eyes travel around the room to hide how uneasy I suddenly felt. I spotted a few photographs on the mantlepiece and walked over to get a closer look at them. There was the usual wedding-picture of Harry’s parents, pictures of first days at school of Harry and his siblings, baby-pictures of children, nieces, nephews, cousins – all that kind of stuff.

And there was this one picture. Harry and a guy. It was more recent, the colours not faded and bleached by the light like on the old pictures. Both were in fancy suits, sitting at a table somewhere outside, smiling widely into the camera.

“Doesn’t he look handsome, wearing a suit?” Harry’s mother asked from beside me, “That was last summer. On a wedding.”
“Who’s the guy?”
“That’s Martin. Harry’s boyfriend. Don’t you know him?”
Despite feeling like I’ve been kicked in the stomach, I forced a polite smile and came up with an answer. “Oh no, I do know him. Well, about him. I’ve never met him.”
“Well, of course. How could you with him being abroad, right? Taking a year off to travel the world, that does require some courage, don’t you think?”
“It does.”
“I wish Harry would’ve gone with him. He would have learned so much. Martin asked, you know. But as usual Harry’s pride came in the way. We would have loved to pay that trip for him but he always insists to do everything on his own.” She sighed. “Even if it means that he has to let go the love of his life.”

I didn’t know what to say about that but thank god I didn’t have to say anything as, right in that moment, Harry entered the room, saying that it was time to go.

Our way home that day was spent in unusual silence. Well, at first it was.

“You alright, Doug?”
“Yeah fine, why?”
“You’ve been so quiet. At my parents’, all day, basically.”
“Nothing to say I guess. And I better keep my focus on the road. I don’t fancy another shredded car, especially not mine.”
“Want me to drive?”
“No, it’s fine.”

It was silent for a few more minutes. But then I couldn’t keep it inside any longer.

“So … Martin, huh?”
Even from the corner of my eye I could see Harry flinch. He cast a careful look at me. “My mum?”
I shook my head. “Danny actually. Just the other day.”
“Danny?”
“Well, Tom. Tom told Danny, Danny told me. Your mum just gave me the details.” I looked at him for a second, seeing that he felt far from comfortable. “You could’ve just told me you’re engaged. It wouldn’t have made a difference.”
“Engaged?”
“Aren’t you? That’s what I’ve been told.”
“Fucking no! We’re not even together anymore. Who told you that rubbish?”
“Danny said that Tom said that you’re on a break. Seeing what it’s like to be single before you tie the knot. Stuff like that.”
“Doug, we don’t even know if we’ll get back together. Yes, we did talk about getting married. I won’t lie to you, I saw myself settling down with Martin, always have. But we’ve never gotten engaged. Which was mainly Martin’s doing.”
“It was?”
“Yeah. He didn’t know what he wanted. One day he told me he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me, the next he said he will travel the world to see what he missed out all his life. So he planned it all and sooner than you know he was gone. And we split up. Or … officially, we’re on a break. I think Martin just wanted to be safe, didn’t want to come across as the tosser who left his hubby-to-be. He suggested splitting up for as long as he’s away, then see what happens when he gets back. This way, we can both have our fun in the time being without feeling bad. And in case one of us meets someone and it gets serious, we’ll tell each other so we know what the deal is.”
“But your mum said …”
Harry interrupted. “Martin is the picture perfect son-in-law for my mum. It would’ve broken her heart if I told her we split up. So I told her that Martin wanted to take me with him but that I rejected. Truth is, it never crossed his mind to take me along. But that, of course, I couldn’t tell her. And I can’t exactly tell her about the whole ‘having fun’-part, can I? No mother likes to hear that her son is putting it about. And then, when Martin’s back and him and me get back together, there’s no need to tell my mum anything anyway. And if we don’t get back together, we can always say we’ve grown apart. Stuff like that tends to happen when you’ve not seen each other for a year.”
“Okay, fair enough. I wouldn’t lie about stuff like that but that’s your decision. Still, why haven’t you told me about him? I thought we’re friends.”
“We are.”
“Friends don’t keep things like that from each other.”
“I know but … if I told you that there kind of is someone when we met. Would we be the friends that we are right now?”
“Sure, why not?”
“Because … well, you’re single … you’ve approached me on that party …”
“And I bet that either Tom or Danny or both of them told you that I wouldn’t have done that unless I was interested in you.” I finished for him.
“Pretty much, yes.” Harry admitted shyly, “It was Tom and Gi though. Danny just told me you’re a massive flirt.”
“I’m not that bad. You know what I’m like. I’m outgoing, yes. And I tend to fool around with guys every now and then. But do you see me hanging out with them? I draw the line between friends and … well, shags. Besides, Danny’s not much different, only that he flirts with girls.”
“So you’re not … interested?”
“Not in anything apart from your friendship.”
“Okay. So … we’re alright now?”
“Yeah. Unless there’s a divorce and several children that you kept hidden from me as well.”
Harry laughed a little. “Nope, none of that. I promise.”
“Then we’re alright. But Harry?”
“Hmm?”
“I’m not a fan of secrets. I hate them to be honest.”
“Okay. I’ll remember that.”

After that it was back to normal with Harry and me. We were friends. We were the kind of friends that tell each other everything in a deep conversation before going out to get hammered. We got strange looks because we were so close yet still insisted on being just friends. People warned him to be careful to get involved with me and I’ve been warned to not fall for someone who I couldn’t have. No one seemed to believe that Harry and I were just friends.

But that’s exactly what we were.

Our friendship was true and real.

And then we did something that messed it up.

Harry and I were just spending a few days at the seaside. We both had some stressful weeks at work and decided we just needed some time away from our usual surroundings and get drunk somewhere else for a change.

The first night of us being there, we stuck to our plan. We found a relatively cheap pub and sooner than you know we both were in that pleasant state between tipsy and completely drunk.

I was standing by the bar, watching a few girls on a hen night making complete fools of themselves when suddenly Harry who had just returned from the toilets pressed himself against my back, his voice husky in my ear, his breath tickling me.

“In case anything happens between us this weekend, you wouldn’t tell anyone, would you?”

I turned around to him, not knowing where that suddenly came from.

“What?!”
“If anything happens between you and me this weekend, would you tell anyone?”
“Why, is there a chance of anything happening?”
“You never know.”

I had no idea what to say to that so that’s what I did. I didn’t say anything.

“I mean, think about it.” Harry continued, “If people find out we shagged, I’ll be the one who cheated on my boyfriend and you’ve proven the fact that you indeed shag every living thing around you, friends or enemies or casual aquaintances.”
“It’s not cheating when you’re not actually with someone, you know.”
“To the people we know I am.”
At that I just let out a small, somewhat bitter, laugh. “You know how I feel about secrets, Harry.”

For me, that topic was done with my final statement. I mean, what else was there to say anyway? Harry had been drinking, he couldn’t be serious about what he had said. And besides, if we had wanted to fool around with each other, we already would have done it. Before we became friends.

Only, Harry didn’t seem to be as done with the subject as I was. When we returned to our hotel room in the early hours of the morning and I exited the bathroom after having a shower I found Harry in my bed, under the sheets, apparently just waiting for me to join him.

“Wrong bed, buddy.” I stated in a joking manner.
“I don’t wanna sleep alone.” he replied sleepily.
I laughed lightly. “No more drinking for you, dude.”

And then there was that little voice in the back of my head, telling me to not get into this bed, screaming at me to better sleep in Harry’s bed because it was safer and easier and definitely trouble-free. But then again, what harm could it do? Harry was drunk and tired, what on earth could possibly have happened? He would probably fall asleep right away.

So I got into bed, the same bed as Harry, and settled under the duvet, closing my eyes, waiting for sleep to come over me.

What I didn’t wait for was Harry to snuggle up to my back, holding me close around the waist. But that was exactly what happened.

“You smell good.” Harry whispered against my neck, making me shiver on the inside and the voice in the back of my head only scream at me louder.
“It’s called shower, Harry. You should try it sometime.”
“You look good as well.”
“Right now all you see of me is the back of my head. Not to sound cocky, but almost every part of my body looks better than the back of my head.”
“No, I mean … You look good … always. I can see why people want you.”

At that I turned around to him, inwardly flinching at how close he really was. His eyes were clouded over by something that I have never seen in them before too and I couldn’t help but swallow down a lump that was suddenly blocking my throat.

“What’s going on here, Harry?”
Harry studied my face and then shook his head. “I don’t know.”

And then, just like that, we were kissing. And it was a kiss like none other I had before. Usually, when I kissed someone or someone kissed me, it was clear what it would lead to. Usually I had kisses that spelt sex. But this kiss, the first kiss I shared with Harry, that wasn’t about sex. It was soft and gentle and curious, full of promises, as if we had all the time in the world and not just one night.

It was the perfect kiss. The kiss that everyone secretly waits for all their life.

After a few moments my better judgement kicked in. I didn’t actually want to end whatever was going on but I still pushed Harry away from me. He still hovered above me and looked down at me with a questioning look in his eyes.

“We shouldn’t do this, Harry. It’s just … you’re my friend and … it’ll make things too complicated.”
“Yeah … you’re right.”

Harry rolled off me and laid next to me on his back. What followed were a few moments of silence but I could almost hear the thoughts running through his head, same as he could probably hear mine. And I was quite sure that we both thought something similar anyway.

“This kiss was …” Harry uttered after a while, letting the end of his statement hang in the air.
“Yeah …” I replied.

I turned my head to look at Harry. He was laying on his back, looking up at the ceiling, his chest moving up and down from his still somewhat ragged breathing. I looked at him for maybe ten seconds when he suddenly looked back at me.

And just like that, all our boundaries fell.

Harry was back on top of me in a flash, kissing me again. And this time, there was no question what that kiss would lead to. Our tongues were battling for dominance before our lips even fully touched and needy moans filled the air while both Harry’s and my hands roamed over each other’s bodies and tugged on offending pieces of clothing.

“Wanna fuck you, Doug.” Harry let out while his hips ground heavily into mine, his hard cock brushing against mine.
“Oh god, yes.” was all that I could respond.

And well … that’s what happened. Harry and I slept with each other that night. And by all means, it was amazing. It wasn’t like those usual one-night-stands. Maybe because Harry and I knew each other, I have no idea. It was wild, yet at the same time it was intimate. We were eager to explore each other, still it felt like the night would never end so we had forever and a day. And afterwards there were no awkward silences or empty promises of calling each other. And there wasn’t that atmosphere of ‘Okay, let’s get out of here’.

Long story short, it didn’t feel like a one-night-stand. It felt like something better, something with a meaning. And for the first time, I didn’t mind. I somehow even liked the meaning.

Harry and I fell asleep with each other too. He had his arms securely wrapped around me from behind, his face nuzzled somewhere in my neck, his breath hot on my skin. He fell asleep really quickly but I was laying awake quite some time, savouring the feeling of safety I suddenly had and which I never knew I wanted or even liked.

When I woke up the next morning, I noticed something strange. There were no arms around my waist anymore. Harry’s breath wasn’t there anymore either.

Sleepily I turned around and there was Harry, sitting up in bed, reading.

“Morning.” I mumbled, turning towards him fully, trying to wrap my arms back around him so I could go back to sleep.

Suddenly I felt Harry tense before he wriggled himself out of my grip. I was wide awake in an instant, sitting bolt upright immediately.

“What?” I wondered.
“It shouldn’t have happened, Doug. It was a mistake, a huge mistake.”

He then got out of bed and wordlessly grabbed his washing bag and a towel and got into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. I looked at the door completely baffled, not quite understanding what had just happened. I only knew one thing. I couldn’t stay in this room, I couldn’t be there when Harry would get out of the bathroom.

In a frantic rush I dressed, slipped on my shoes and left the room. Once outside the door, I had no idea where to go though. Being alone seemed like a bad idea as it would only make me think too much but then again … I was in an unfamiliar town, a place where the only person I knew was the same person I just escaped from.

I wandered away from the hotel and just sat at the beach, staring at the sea in front of me, trying not to think, trying to get Harry’s words out of my head. Only, it didn’t work so well.

I don’t know for how long I sat there, staring at the sea, until I felt some sort of presence next to me. I didn’t even need to look up, I knew it was him. Before I could say something an little plastic bag was dropped into the sand next to me. I only cast a short look but I could see a sandwich, something to drink and a packet of cigarettes.

“Figured you might.” Harry said.

Nodding wordlessly, I reached into the bag and pulled out the cigarettes, patting my pockets for a lighter when Harry’s hand appeared at my side, handing me one. I lit the cigarette and took a few drags, ignoring Harry as best as I could.

“You alright?” Harry finally asked, now sitting down next to me.
At this point, I actually turned around to him, just giving him a look. “What do you think?” No point hiding my sarcasm there, either.
“Look Doug … I don’t know what to say …”
“What is there to say?” I interrupted, “You said it all earlier. I was a mistake that shouldn’t have happened.”
Harry shook his head. “I didn’t say that.”
“You slept with me and then told me it shouldn’t have happened and that it was a mistake. You said that to me and correct me if I’m wrong, but if it had been any random bloke those words would never have left your mouth. So all in all … I was the mistake, not what happened.”
“Doug, I …”
“Why did you let it come this far, Harry? You knew all along that it was wrong, why the fuck did you let it happen?”
“It needs two for that, Doug. Don’t put all the blame on me.”
“Why not? I’m not ashamed of the fact that I had sex with you.”
“I’m not ashamed.”
“Then don’t say that it was a mistake. If you had been too bladdered to think straight, then it would’ve been a mistake. But you knew it would happen, Harry. I think you even wanted it to happen. Otherwise you never would’ve asked me if I’d tell anyone. And now that it did happen you regret it.”
“I never said that I regret it.”
“So you don’t regret it and you’re not ashamed. Yet, you wanna erase last night out of your life. Brilliant logic there.”
“Try walking in my shoes, Doug. It’s not as easy for me as it is for you.”
“And whose fault is that? You could have it so easy, Harry. You just need to stop living a fucking lie. You’re single. Single and free to do whatever you want … and whoever you want. There’s no need for you to keep any secrets from anyone. You don’t have to shout it from the rooftops but you you also don’t have to keep it a fucking secret that something happened between you and me.”
“Why are you so keen on everyone knowing? Usually you don’t brag about your one-night-stands. What makes sleeping with me so different?”

I didn’t know how to answer to that. Or well … I knew. But I also knew how Harry would react if I told him the honest answer and I also knew I wouldn’t like it. Still, I confessed. Straightforward. Blunt. In.Your.Face.

“Maybe it’s the fact that it wasn’t a one-night-stand this time. At least to me it didn’t feel like one. It was just … it wasn’t just to get off. I fell asleep with you, to the sound of your breathing and I felt taken care of and safe. I just felt, you know. And your reaction this morning and this whole conversation right now made me realise that you don’t feel that way and I just gotta live with it, I guess. And that hurts. Because for the first time I’m actually ready to be part of something but instead I’ve had to hear that I’ve been a mistake and hearing that isn’t that much fun. Epecially not from the one person I want to be something with.”
Harry just looked at me for a moment after this, his expression a mixture of surprise and curiosity. “So you’re … you like me?”
“I do, yes.”
“Then why did you … you should’ve stopped me.”
“I didn’t think it was necessary. Up until last night I thought that if we fooled around with each other, that’s what it would be, just two mates fulfilling their needs. Then we suddenly had sex and everything changed. And now I feel all those things and you don’t feel them and you wanna keep me as your dirty little secret and that’s just all a bit too much for me. I don’t really know what I expected after last night but I definitely know that I didn’t expect this.”
“But Doug, I … Being with you … it would just be … it’d be too messy. Too weird. Too complicated.”
“How do you know? You’re not even giving me, giving this, a chance.”
“We’re not on the same page, Doug. I love you, I really do. But I love you as my best mate. And I … I don’t think that will ever change.”
“So this is why you won’t say anything.”
“What is?”
“You won’t say anything because it wasn’t serious to you. Or not serious enough anyway.”

Harry didn’t answer to that, probably to not hurt me with the truth. But his silence was screaming the answer out louder than he could have ever said it.

I nodded slowly. “I get it.”
“I’m sorry Doug. You have no idea how much. I wish it was different, I really do.”
“It isn’t though, is it?”
Harry shook his head, his face showing he really was sorry. “What now?”
“Moving on.” I said, “Forgetting. Ignoring. Going back to being friends, pretending this last night never happened.”
“Could you … I mean … you’d do that? You hate secrets.”
“I do. Right now more than ever. But I love you, Harry. In whichever way. And I rather keep you and a secret than confess a secret and lose you.”
“And you? How will you cope?”
“With what? Being just your friend?”
Harry nodded.
I shrugged. “I’ll figure out a way. And if it gets too much, I’ll just get you drunk and hope for a repitition of last night.” At this Harry just shot me a shocked look, to which I only smiled. “Joke, Harry.”
He only smiled half a smile to that. “At least now I understand this whole ‘Don’t fuck a team mate.’ thing.”
“‘Never fuck a company member.’. If you so happen to quote me, do it right at least.”
“Whatever. I get it now. Sex is evil.”
“The sex isn’t. It’s evil when two people want two different things and realise that after the sex.”
“Yeah …” Harry trailed off.

We kept sitting in the sand, side by side, for a few more minutes. I had calmed down considerably and I wasn’t mad at Harry or anything. But still …

“Harry?”
He turned his head, looking at me. “Hm?”
“Not to be rude or anything. But could you … I mean … I was just sitting here and you still have the hotel and the rest of the town … Can you leave me alone for a bit?”
“Sure.”

Harry stood back up, brushing the sand off his jeans before he proceeded to move. He walked a few steps back towards the street but suddenly spoke up again.

“Doug?”
I turned around. “Yeah?”
“You’ll come back, right?” Harry asked and from his tone I could tell that he was actually scared that I wouldn’t.
I smiled. “Sure. I didn’t pay my share of the room for nothing.” I paused, letting the joke run out. “I’ll be back later. Just … give me a bit.”
Harry nodded and turned back around, walking back towards the hotel.

I kept sitting by the beach for hours, just thinking. Wondering how things would go on between me and Harry. Questioning myself if I could actually keep a secret, big as this, to myself. And what if I couldn’t? I mean, surely I’d feel the need to talk at some point, right? And then I would have to talk to Harry, him being the only one I could confide in with this subject, as well as him being the subject itself. How could I ever talk to him about my feelings when he knew exactly that said feelings weren’t for some guy, but for him, or because of him?

And, thinking further here, what would be if Harry actually met someone and that someone was worth telling others about? What would it be like when Harry told me he met someone? What if I was going to meet him? I would see Harry kiss him and I know how it felt. I would see Harry touch him and wish that it was me he touched.

Also, Martin would be back eventually. And then? Could I sit back and watch him get Harry back? Could I see them get married even?

God, I hated love. With a passion. I was wishing I would have listened to Danny at least once in my life, only this one time when he told me to stay away. If I concentrated hard enough, I could actually hear a fat ‘I told you so’ in his broad northern accent ringing in my ear.

It was past dinner time when I returned back to the hotel. The whole day had passed without me moving away from the spot I had occupied in the morning. And I had only noticed time had passed when I was starting to get cold because the sun had set.

When I got back into the room, Harry was there. He sat on his bed, watching TV, but jumped up the second I entered the room, dropping the remote to the floor.

“There you are!”
“I told you I’d come back.”
“Didn’t think it would take you all day.”
“Sorry, Mum.” I joked half-heartedly.

I didn’t quite get it, to be honest. After everything that happened he still had the nerve to worry about me. Not like a friend would do, more like a boyfriend would do.

“What you been doing all day?” I asked conversationally, getting a jumper out of my bag and putting it on.
He shrugged. “Nothing really. Wandered about town a bit, had food out, but then came back here. I wanted to be there when you came back.”
“Why?”
“Don’t know. Just … because, I guess.”
“Well, I am back and I’m still in one piece. You can stop worrying.”
“I wasn’t worried. I just … I wanted to be there.” He paused, studying me for a moment. “You feel better?”
“Honestly? No.”
“Doug, I’m -”
I interrupted. “Sorry? Yeah, I know. Apology accepted. But you can’t expect me to go back to the same old within a few hours. I really wish I could, even if just to stop it from hurting so much when I look at you.”

That last statement hit Harry. I knew him well enough to be able to tell. He blinked quickly once or twice, his body twitching just that little bit. It was like an invisible hand had just slapped him out of nowhere.

“Don’t say that.” he said, his voice a little raspy and blocked. He sat back down on his bed, probably to recover from the shock I just gave him. While sitting back down, he had his eyes on me the whole time.
I also sat down on the edge of my bed, right across from him, looking him dead in the eye while I spoke. “But it’s the truth, Harry. Looking at you hurts. Because I look at you and I see and hear all the things that happened inside this room last night. And at the same time I know that it’s all I’ll have from now on. You’re everything I want and at the same time everything that I can’t have and I somehow have to look past that and be friends with you. Because besides all the shit that has happened, you are my friend and I just can’t let you get out of my life because of something like love. But still, right now, I look at you and it hurts.”
“What do you want me to do, Doug? I don’t want you to be hurt so tell me what I can do.”

I sighed, thinking about an answer to that one. I didn’t want to be hurt either. If I permanently felt like I felt on that day, I couldn’t handle being hurt longer than a week. And I knew how Harry could make me feel better, but what would make me feel better, it would make him feel worse.

“Be normal, I guess. I can’t force you to love me, right? So you’ll be you, I’ll be me and we’ll get this thing over with.”
“You mean …”
“Friends, Harry. That’s all we can be. We know how to be friends with each other, we’ve been friends for months before … that. So let’s just get back to how it was and ignore everything else. That’s the only thing we can do.”
“But … I mean … there’ll always be the feeling of ‘what if’, don’t you think?”
“Of course it’ll be there. It’ll be there every time we so much as look at each other, every time we touch just fleetingly. But we either give in to it or not. Nothing inbetween. So … what will it be?”
“What, you want me to decide now?”
“Well, when the fuck else?”
“But … I can’t. Not now when it’s all so … it’s still so fresh. I need to think about this first. I don’t want to say ‘no’ now and mean ‘yes’ next week or the other way round.”
“Why is that suddenly such a problem for you? This morning you knew perfectly well that you didn’t want to be with me.”
“I know but … This morning you said that I never would have asked you to keep last night a secret if I hadn’t meant for it to happen, remember? And I’ve been thinking that you had a point there. Maybe I did want to be with you as well and I just got scared after waking up. You know, scared of being with you in an actual relationship, of telling others about it, of telling Martin and my family about it. And maybe that’s why I told you it’s been a mistake. Maybe I just thought it was a mistake. But maybe it wasn’t. Maybe you and me and last night were just the way it was supposed to be.”

I groaned, not believing that all this really happened. I had just started getting used to not be able to have Harry, just got it into my head that being his friend was something too, better than not being anything in his life at all, and here he goes and changes his mind or what?

I got off my bed and made the step over to his, sitting down next to him. Not touching him but still, I was close.

“Maybe or definitely? I know this kills Harry, but you have to make a decision. Yes or no, there is no maybe.”

Harry didn’t reply. He slumped back until he was leaning against the wall, staring into space. He opened his mouth a few times, as if to say something, but then closed it again, taking a deep breath. Finally, after a few agonizing minutes, he looked back at me and spoke. He sounded calm and collected but there was also heartbreak clearly sounding through.

“I can’t, Doug.” He paused. “There is a part of me that wants to find out how it would be but I just can’t give in. There’s just too much that I could lose if this goes wrong. And I don’t mean Martin or my family or whoever else. I mean you and only you. I already messed up so much last night and I think if it happened again, neither you nor me would be able to fix it again. I was so close to losing you today and I just can’t risk something like that again and losing you for real next time. You mean the world to me, Doug, and even if it kills me, I can’t be with you. I’m too scared of losing you.”

There it was, the answer that I had been dreading, even though I knew that he would decide like that. That’s where it helped just knowing Harry better than he probably knew himself. We weren’t different in so many ways but if there was one thing where we indeed were different, it was in the way we made decisions. I was the one deciding from my gut feeling, he was the one listening to his head.

I have to admit it hurt, though. Even though I knew I had it coming, it hurt a lot. But at the same time I only loved Harry more because here he was, not doing what he probably wanted to do in fear of losing me and destroying our friendship.

“God, we’re a fucked up pair, the two of us.” I mumbled.
“Yeah.” Harry sighed. “Hey Doug?”
“Hm?”
“Just so you know … Last night … I really don’t regret it. It was too amazing to regret it and I’m not just saying that.”
“Thanks. And … you know, likewise. I might have regretted a few of my one-nighters but I’ll never regret the one I had with you.”
“Shame we’ll have to keep silent about it, though. We really could show off with it.”
I grinned. “Nah, everyone else would just be jealous. Better keep it a secret.”

Silence fell upon us after that, just our breathing filling the air in the room.

“You’re going to make someone really happy one day.” Harry said after a good five minutes.
I scooted back on the bed, until I was leaning against the wall, just like him. “You think?”
“Yeah.” He took a deep breath. “I will hate him.”
“As my friend you’ll need to put him through the test though, see if he’s good enough for me.”
“Well, in that case, I’m sorry. You’re gonna be single for the rest of your life.”
“Makes two of us then. Sorry to say but no one will be able to meet my standards. Danny doesn’t even introduce me to his girls anymore because I always find something I hate about them. And just you wait til Martin gets back. He won’t know what hit him after I’ve been through with him.”
“You wanna meet him?”
“Actually … no, I don’t. I can’t see myself meeting anyone that could be worth your time. It’d hurt too much.”
“I know. I couldn’t meet anyone you go out with either.” He sighed. “You think it’ll ever stop?”
“To hurt?”
Harry nodded.
“I hope so. I hate this, I really do. I wish I could just close my eyes and count to ten, then open them up again and we’re friends again. You know, like we were before last night even though last night happened. Make it seem we were two different people last night and are just Harry and Dougie again now. That way we could have our friendship and last night, not our friendship or last night.”
“That’d be perfect.” He paused. “Wanna try?”
“Try what?”
“Close our eyes and count to ten.”
“Aren’t we a little too old to believe that stuff like that actually works?”
“Maybe. But … what could it hurt?”
Smiling lightly, I shrugged. “Okay.”

We both looked deeply into each other’s eyes before closing them. Then all I heard was Harry’s breathing and I think I stopped counting after two or three.

“Done.” Harry said after a while, way longer than it would have taken him to count to ten.

We opened our eyes again, immediately setting our focus back on each other.

I was the first to voice my thoughts. “Didn’t work. I told you.”
“Was worth the try.” Harry uttered.

We kept sitting on the bed, both not looking at each other anymore. I think if I had, I would have just forgotten about all the things we agreed on and jump Harry again. Something that probably wasn’t that good of an idea. I brought my feet up on the mattress, my thighs almost touching my chest. I started fiddling with my bracelets before, subconsiously, I started to bite my nails.

Suddenly, Harry grabbed for my hand and held it tightly in his, stating, “You know I hate it when you do that.”
“Sorry.” I apologised shyly.
“What goes on in that head of yours? Right now.”
“Too much shit.”
“What exactly?”
“Honestly?”
He nodded, waiting for me to tell him.
“I think it sucks that we have this stupid agreement to be friends. Because there’s something I’d really like to do now but I can’t do it, because that thing I have in mind, you normally don’t do it with a friend.”
“What is it?”

I looked back at him again, squeezing his hand that little bit tighter, holding it in mine more so he couldn’t run away.

“I want to kiss you.”
“Doug -”
“I know. That was inapropriate. Sorry. You wanted to know, though.”
“That’s not what I meant. I wouldn’t stop you if you kissed me, actually. But I’m not going to be the one leaning in. I’m not going to be the one starting it. Not again. If you wanna do it, do it. But you have to start it and be aware that it’ll be the last time. Ever.”
“You’re a fucking bastard, I hope you know that.”

We fell silent, again. But I barely noticed the silence over the mess that was going through my head right then. I really wanted to kiss Harry again. I didn’t want sex or anything, I just wanted to kiss him for hours and hours. But I knew of the effects of Harry’s kisses, for one. They were addictive. And I knew that, if we went there again, even if it was just kissing, it would hurt a million times more when we stopped than it hurt this morning. Would I be able to kiss Harry again, knowing that every second of it could be the last, that every kiss could be the kiss goodbye?

I continued, sitting there on the bed, staring at my legs in front of me. Harry still held onto my hand and I could feel his eyes on me from time to time. He could tell I was troubled, which was probably the main reason why he hadn’t let go of my hand. Him holding my hand was him supporting me. He was being a friend again.

I think it was that what made me understand. Whatever I would end up doing, Harry was still going to be there in the end. At the end of the day he would hold my hand. Support me. Be my friend.

“Oh fuck it!”

It took me the whole of two seconds to move over and straddle Harry’s legs and press my lips onto his.

Harry took no time in responding. He let go of my hand and wound his arms around my waist, holding me close to his body while our liplock remained.

We had this perfect kiss. Again.

My heart was racing and at the same time breaking inside my chest but I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop even though every second was more painful than the one before.

At some point I felt my legs go numb from the straddling position I had on Harry’s lap so I gently pushed him to lay down, my lips still never leaving his. Even though I knew I should have, I had no intention to stop this kiss, too scared of the second when everything would be over for good.

Still, the dreaded moment arrived at some point. I felt Harry gently cup my face, breaking the two of us apart.

“Give me a minute to breathe, will you?”
I shook my head, resting my forehead against his, my lips ghosting across his while I whispered, “Breathing is overrated.”
“That’d look nice on a tombstone. ‘Here lies Harry Judd, beloved son, brother and friend. He died at the age of 24 after he was made to believe that ‘breathing is overrated’.”

Despite not wanting to, I giggled. I settled down at Harry’s side, his arm securely around my back while I had mine wrapped around his middle.

“What time is it?” I wondered.
Harry reached over to his bedside table, fumbling for his watch. He looked at it before putting it back down. “Just gone ten. Wanna head over to the pub, get a few drinks in?”
“Better not. I fear to think what could happen. Let’s just keep laying here, yeah?”
“Okay, fine.”

Harry got more comfortable in his position, still holding me close, his fingers now tracing lazy patterns on my arm that I had still wrapped around his waist.

“It’s over now, isn’t it?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer, knew it before I had even brought up the question.
“Only this is.” Harry replied, “We’re still friends.”
“Yeah?”
“Of course! I never would not want to be your friend. I couldn’t not be your friend. No one else I know can match up to me when it comes to drinking.”
“Danny could. Easily actually.”
“He might but I barely understand his accent when he’s sober, nevermind when he’s drunk.”
I smiled. “You’re awesome, Harry.”
“I know. But thanks anyway.”

For the rest of the evening, and most part of the night, Harry and I stayed in our position on the bed, talking about anything and everything. Just like we used to.

I remember that, before I fell asleep, Harry already sleeping next to me, I thought if it would always be like that, being friends with Harry might not be as painful as I thought it would be.

But then we eventually came back home.

Suddenly everything was so weird. Nothing between Harry and me had changed, yet everything was so different all of a sudden.

The secret was hanging above us.

Harry and I were still the friends we were before we went on our little holiday. When we were among others, we were this seemingly unbreakable pair that everyone knew. We threw friendly insults at each other like nicknames and made each other’s jokes even funnier.

But then there were those looks we shared, when no one else was looking or when it was just the two of us, and it was then that I could almost feel the fire flickering between us. And there were those touches that were a tad too familiar and too lingering and I always had to pull back to prevent me from doing something stupid. I had to keep the secret. I had to keep myself in check. I had to push the love away. Ignore it. Forget it.

Harry and I never spoke about the night we had again, not even when we were alone. I thought of it a lot and I could tell from the look on his face that he did too. But still, thinking - remembering - was all we did. Speaking about it would only make it appear at the surface again and we both knew that, once that would happen, we would never be able to push it back to our memories again.

And eventually, we both crossed the final line that made us friends again.

We let other people get into our lives again.

Harry was casually dating around. That’s all I knew about it. I refused to hear about it, each and every time. I never knew a name or anything else, never met anyone or even saw a face. I knew that Harry went out with someone and that was about as far as it went. Knowing that was bad enough, but anything else would have killed me.

Mind, Martin never came back into Harry’s life. One day Harry had gotten The Call. Martin told him he had met someone, that he was getting serious with them. Harry wasn’t even surprised. Also, that saved him from telling Martin that he wouldn’t get back together with him even though there wasn’t anyone else in the picture.

I got back into old antics too easily, never seemed to have forgotten all my old tricks. I chatted up people like I never did anything else. I had a few hours in a foreign bed and then left before the sun came up the next morning. Harry never wanted to hear a word of it, never threw a look in my direction when I spoke to a potential one-nighter.

Harry Judd is still my best friend. I see him almost every day and we still go out with each other at any chance we get. People look at us in awe, wonder how we can be so close without having the slightest bit of sexual attraction between us. They have no idea, which only proves that I’m probably better at keeping a secret than I thought I was.

Harry and I have sleepovers quite often. Going home together after a night out. Visiting one another after we’ve been with someone who doesn’t mean anything to either of us. Stay at each other’s because we can’t be arsed with getting a taxi home. We always sleep in one bed in those nights, holding onto each other so tightly that you couldn’t fit a sheet of paper in between us.

We’ve never even kissed again. One kiss and it would throw both him and me into something we probably couldn’t handle, something that would only destroy our friendship and that was something that the both of us weren’t going to risk.

So, after all this, nothing really changed. Everything is still the same, I suppose.

Besides that I have a secret. And that I have fallen in love. Both for the first and last time in my life.

The End

Comments are appreciated.

A/N 2: Without sounding too full of myself but I think this … I really wish I could, even if just to stop it from hurting so much when I look at you. … is probably one of the most amazing lines I ever wrote. I read over the story about a million times and even after the million and first time, this line made me shiver.

A/N 3: Would anyone here be kind enough to upload all those new mcfly-songs that have been flooding around for me? I have 'One for the radio' but I do believe that there are about a million others around.

mcfly-slash .. Believing in Miracles

Wed, 07 May 2008 14:13:38 GMT

hellooooooo!
oh my god yes, is is me. been gone ages, i know.
just .. had to get that simple plan-tour over and done with. which was a whole lot of work. apparently it's harder to get over and done with something shit than something good.
then i had stress at work.
and now i still feel horrible. i'm still having stress at work. and i have about six million things going through my head that i can't seem to solve.
and all that is apparently not stopping me from writing.

Title: Believing in Miracles
Author: me
Rating: PG-13
Chapter: 1/1 … Standalone
Genre: AU - Romance
Pairing: PoynterJones
Summary: Dougie Poynter didn’t believe in miracles.
Word count: 4,709
Disclaimer: nope, not real
Dedication: to my girl Star star55 as a very late birthday-present. Plus, she prompted me with ‘Miracles will happen as we speak’ and because she apparently likes to torture me, she wanted some Pones. But hey, anything for her, I suppose. Happy belated birthday again, love!
And if you want to prompt me, you can do it here.
Author’s note: This piece really wasn’t fun. Took me about a month to write this. I started before I went onto my Simple Plan-tour from hell and then I came back and writing was the last thing I wanted to do. But I know what happens to those stories I don’t finish so I forced myself to write and I hope the outcome is fairly decent.

Dougie Poynter didn’t believe in miracles. Actually, he didn’t believe in anything. He’d been through too much in his young life to have belief in things like love or happiness or even miracles.

He grew up with a mother and a father who seemed to have forgotten the concept of love light years ago. All Dougie ever heard of them were their raised voices while they fought and all he saw was things thrown back and forth between the adults.

Dougie was only four years old when his sister Jazzie was born. He couldn’t actually remember the occasion but he remembered that, ever since then, he didn’t have the life of a normal child anymore.

He had barely reached his sixth birthday and he had already replaced both mother and father to his little sister, the two grown-ups to occupied in their fighting that they had no time to bring up one child, let alone two. Jazzie’s first word had been a baby-version of her brother’s name, ‘Dubbie’, she had made her first ever steps towards him as he held out a teddy out to her.

Dougie was in his first year in school and he was already able to cook a meal for his sister. By that time his father was barely at home and his mother was too busy to ‘re-live a lost youth’. The only thing they both had in common was the fact that they didn’t care about their children. And so it was Dougie who woke his sister in the mornings, who made her breakfast and who brought her over to the neighbour’s house from where she would get driven to kindergarten before he made sure to get to school on time. And in the evening it was Dougie who made dinner for both his sister and himself and who got the little girl into bed before he made a little bit of his homework and went to sleep as well.

When Dougie was 14, his parents finally seemed to realise that there was no sense in their marriage anymore. His father moved out of the house. By that time both Jazzie and Dougie were so accustomed to their life as a team of two that they couldn’t care less whether their parents were still together or not.

The years of bringing Jazzie up had left their toll on Dougie. Never could he have imagined how hard it was to raise a girl in pre-puberty. And it didn’t help that he was in puberty as well. He had no time to find friends because he had to save Jazzie from the fake friends she trusted in too fast. He had no time for his own school-work because Jazzie was too occupied with being a young woman, or so she believed she was, to care about her school-work. And Dougie figured that if there was one of them who needed to have a better life than the one they were brought up in, it was Jazzie, not him.

Now the GCSEs were just a few months away and Dougie was more clueless than ever. He had never missed a day in school but some stuff his teachers talked about, he had never heard about it in his life whereas the other people in his classes participated and made notes. Right now they were all working through some book and Dougie just sat there and looked baffled at the pages open in front of him.

“Dougie, I’d like to see you after this lesson.” his teacher said upon walking by, giving him a warm smile.
“Sure, Miss.” he replied politely before looking back down at the book and pretending to read.

After all the other pupils had left the room after the bell sounded, Dougie also gathered his stuff and walked to the desk of his teacher.

“You wanted to see me, Miss?”
The teacher looked up from the notes she just made. “Ah yes, Dougie.” She closed her note pad and took off her glasses. She also stood up and sat on the edge of the table, now being on eye-level with the boy. “Are you alright, dear?” she asked.
“Yeah, everything’s fine. Why?”
“Don’t fool me, Dougie.” his teacher said, giving him a look that told him that whatever troubled him would be kept as a secret.
“It’s home.” he muttered, “I thought it’d get better after Dad left but nothing changed. Mum is still out and about all the time and then comes home drunk and I have to get her showered and into bed and out of it in the mornings so she can go to work. And she just doesn’t care. And I have Jazzie to look after or otherwise she’ll turn into a young version of my mum. Then there are my lizards and I can’t give them away because they’re the only friends that I have and I have to keep them anyway because I breed them and sell them on so we can have a warm meal each night because Mum drinks away all her money. And a day only has 24 hours and I just couldn’t fit everything that I have to do and take care of into 48 hours, let alone 24, because I still need a little bit of sleep and I need to come to school and I already barely have time to sleep and something’s just always happening and I just … I don’t know. It’s all too much. And then I come here and the teachers talk about stuff that I should know but never have heard of because I’m just too exhausted to pay attention. School-time is the only time I actually get to relax and that is wrong on so many levels because GCSEs are coming up and I need to pass them because I need to get good grades so I can find a decent job and move into a flat with Jazzie.”

His teacher had patiently listened to Dougie’s rambling and once he was done and took a deep breath to stop the tears that threatened to leave his eyes, she put her arm around the young boy’s shoulders and pulled him close until he was sitting next to her on the table.

“Dougie, this is too much for you. You’re a teenage boy. It’s not your responsiblitly to look after your mother or your sister.”
“But if I’m not doing it, no one will. And I don’t even want to think about what will happen then.”
“But what about you? Who looks after you, Dougie?”
Dougie shrugged. “I manage. It’s been like that all my life.”
His teacher shook her head. “This can’t go on like this. You’re gonna have a breakdown sooner than you know.”
“But what am I supposed to do?”

Wordlessly, the teacher got off the table. She walked to her bag and rumaged around in it a bit before retrieving a brochure she handed to Dougie. The blonde boy scanned it a while before looking back up.

“This is like boarding school.”
“Yes, kind of.”
“I can’t afford going to boarding school.”
“That’s the thing. Boarding schools are for, let’s say, priviledged kids. This place isn’t. It was designed for kids like you. Kids with broken families. Money is not an issue. This place is there to give children with families like you a better life.”
“But what about Jazzie? I’m not leaving her with my mum.”
“You don’t have to. She can live there as well. You’ll be with other people your age. Even moreso, they’ll know about your problems because they have the same. No one there comes from happy surroundings. I’ve been there before, the atmosphere is absolutely friendly and the people in charge are really nice. I’m sure you can even take your lizards with you. They’ll also have great tutors there so you’ll be able to catch up with school-stuff.”
Dougie looked down at the brochure again. “My mum will be in huge trouble if this works.”
“Think about yourself, Dougie. You can’t stay at home and neither can your sister. Your mother needs so much more than you can give her, she needs professional help. And you and your sister need to live.”
Dougie nodded and got off the table. He stuffed the brochure into his bag. “I’ll talk about it with my sister.” He made to leave the room. In the doorway he turned back around. “Thank you, Miss.”

===

It was only a few weeks later and both Dougie and his sister stood outside their new home, both a suitcase in their hands that held the last things they needed to bring.

As Dougie’s teacher had said, once it was shown under what circumstances the siblings had to live, they were offered to live at the new place. They had been given rooms on the same floor and some pieces of their furniture were already set up in their new rooms. Jazzie had a single room, wheras Dougie was going to live in a room with someone else.

As expected, Dougie’s mother hadn’t made much fuss about her son and daughter leaving their home. Dougie had explained it to her when she had one of her sober moments and she had just shrugged it off, showing exactly how much, or less, she cared about her children.

“Home sweet home?” Jazzie asked as she stood outside the building, looking sideways at her brother.
“Something like that, I guess.”
“Guess it’s better than staying with Mum, though.”
“I think everything’s better than staying with her.”

The siblings were just about to enter the building when the doors swung open and one of the attendants greeted them. Next to him was a boy about Dougie’s age, bearing a wide and friendly smile.

“Dougie, Jazzie! Finally! We’ve been waiting for you.” The attendant beamed.
“Yeah sorry. Took us a bit longer than expected.”
“It’s fine. Now come on in. Jazzie, let me get your stuff.”

The attendant took Jazzie’s bag away from her and swung it over his shoulder. The boy that was with him did the same with Dougie’s stuff.

“Dougie, this is Danny. He’ll be your roommate.”
“Hey mate, you alright?” Danny greeted with his wide smile and for the first time Dougie noticed the bright blue eyes of the other boy. “Gonna help you get settled and all. But you’ve been around before, haven’t you? Already saw those lizards of yours, they’re well cool. But don’t worry, didn’t touch them. Was too scared they might bite off me hand or something.”
“That’s gonna be fun with you two.” Jazzie butted in, “Prepare for many one-sided conversations, Danny. Dougie here doesn’t talk.”
“I do talk.” Dougie defended himself, “Just not much.” he added a bit more quiet.
“Well, that’ll change.” The attendant said, “Danny’s our hyper one. You can’t really be silent and shy around him. Now come on Jazzie, let’s get you to your room and leave the boys to themselves.”

A few minutes later, Danny and Dougie were in their room. It was fairly big. Each boy had a wardrobe and dresser and by the window was a table with four chairs. Danny had decorated his half of the room with posters of footballers and all sorts of football memorabilia. On his dresser he had put a stereo with a few CDs. Dougie’s half of the room was bare apart from the big tanks with his lizards on the floor and one on top of the dresser.

“You can use the stereo if you want. But you don’t seem to have too many CDs.” Danny pointed at one of Dougie’s boxes that rested on his bed. It was smaller than the others and had a label that read ‘CDs, Films, Books’.
“Yeah, I mean, no. Never had much time to buy CDs. I have everything of Blink 182, that’s about it.”
“You don’t mind Springsteen though, do you? He’s my favorite.”
“Okay.” Dougie said, too shy to admit that he never actually listened to a Springsteen-song.
“Have to warn you though. When Bolton plays and I can’t see it on the telly, I have to listen over the radio. I might get a bit loud then.”
“Bolton?”
“S’where I’m from. You’re the first one who can’t tell. Everyone who hears me just say hello asks if I’m from up north.”
“I wouldn’t know.” Dougie admitted, “The only people I heard talk are my mum and my sister and the people at school. And my dad when he was still there. I could tell you sounded different but you may as well be from the other side of town, I wouldn’t have a clue.”
“You lived pretty isolated, didn’t you?”
“Of course not. I’m not coming from another planet.”
“But you seem so … I dunno. You seem like you’ve never seen anything that lies outside the route between your home and your school.”
“That’s not true! I’ve been to the lizard shop.”
Danny laughed. “Whatever, mate. Let’s get you get settled, yes?”

===

It was night time and Dougie couldn’t find sleep. He tossed and turned in his bed, studied the patterns the moonlight made on the ceiling above his head. From the other side of the room he could hear Danny’s even breathing, a sign that his northern roommate was obviously asleep. Dougie closed his eyes, hoping that the breathing sounds would soothe him to sleep but that didn’t help either so he went back to tossing and turning around.

“It’s normal.” came Danny’s sleepy voice after a while, “When I came here, I couldn’t find sleep for a week. In the end I only fell asleep because all the nights I was awake exhausted me.”
“Can I ask you something, Danny?”
“My sister started doing drugs. And me mum and dad wanted to be there for her. In the end they blamed each other for what had happened to Vicky. She was put into rehab, my parents got divorced and I was sent away so everyone could get their lives back in order. Been to a place like this one in Manchester before but I always got into fights there so people figured I might be better off here.” He propped himself up on his elbow and looked at Dougie on the other bed. “You wanted to know why I’m here, right?”
Dougie nodded.
“What about you? What brings you here?”
“Was my teacher’s idea. I’d fail my GCSEs because of the shit that’s been going on at home. My parents split up when I was 14, Jazzie was 10. My parents been basically fighting all my life, never cared about Jazzie or me. I’ve been in the parental role ever since she was born.”
“You were four when she was born.”
Dougie nodded again. “I never had a childhood, never had friends to play with. Everything I did, I did it for Jazzie. When she was a baby, she slept in my room and I got up at night to change her diapers. I always made sure she had something to eat and all that. And that just remained until now. But these days I have to watch her more than while she was a child. She’s too trustworthy sometimes and I don’t want her to get hurt. And she needs to do well in school. My life’s screwed up enough for the both of us, I want at least her to have it better in the future.”
“You can still have a better future.”
Dougie snorted. “No chance, dude. I have almost ten years of school I need to catch up on. And I’m not exactly what they call the sharpest tool in the box.”
“Miracles will happen as we speak.”
“Not for me. I’m too far gone for a miracle.”
“Wouldn’t bet on it.” Danny smiled. “And now come here, you can sleep in my bed.”

===

Over the next few weeks Dougie had to adopt a completely new life. For the first time since he even remembered he spent hours on doing his homework. He had gotten a tutor who helped him and when it was time for the GCSEs, Dougie attended them with confidence. It paid of as well, he passed them all with marks that not just surprised him, but also his teachers.

Dougie had also loosened up a lot ever since he left home. Now that he knew that he didn’t need to look after his sister all the time, he finally found time for himself. He had gotten a battered skateboard from one of the boys living on his floor and as long as the weather allowed it, Dougie was trying to learn new tricks or just skated around.

But most of his time Dougie spent with Danny. Danny played guitar and while Dougie sat over his homework, Danny would often sit on his bed and play. Danny tried to introduce Dougie into the world of football, but soon realised that his younger roommate probably would never share his passion for the sport, same as Danny didn’t get what fascinated Dougie about skateboarding.

The summer holidays were coming up which meant that Danny would go to Bolton and visit his family. And for some reason Dougie didn’t know himself he didn’t want his roommate to leave. He had gotten used to have Danny around. He couldn’t sleep without Danny in the room with him and facing up to a few weeks without his friend around seemed like an eternity to Dougie. When Danny was around, he always had something to do, someone to be with. With Danny being gone, Dougie would just be alone since Jazzie would spend her summer with one of the girls that lived on her floor.

“How long will you be gone again?” Dougie asked a few nights before Danny would be leaving, looking over to the other bed.
“Four weeks. If things go well. I might get fed up and come back sooner.”
“Mhmm.” Dougie mumbled.
“You gonna go home?”
“Nah. I tried to call Mum. She didn’t even pick up. And what should I go home for anyway? Just to play babysitter for my mother? No, thanks.”
“What you gonna do all summer then?”
Dougie shrugged. “Skate. Take care of the lizards. I’ll find something to do. Not like I’ve never been alone before.”
“I feel bad leaving you here.”
“Don’t be an idiot. I’m a big boy, I’ll manage.”
“Sure?”
“Yeah. Don’t worry.”

===

And so, a few days later, Dougie stood outside the building and watched Danny throwing his bag into the boot of a taxi. He saw him turn around on the backseat, waving at him until the taxi had rounded the corner.

The first day was depressing. Dougie sat in his room by the window and just looked outside for hours. He hated everyone who walked past. Young children holding their mother’s hands, dragging them down the street towards the ice-cream stand. Teenagers his age sitting on the bench by the busstop on the other side of the road, chatting to each other. Old couples enjoying a walk in the sun. Dougie just wanted to smack them all because they were happy and he wasn’t.

Three days after Danny was gone, Dougie left his room for the first time. He went skating on the ramp in the back garden. He skated and skated and when he was done it had long turned dark and the young boy had several bruises and scratches. And he was frustrated. So he came back into his room and, without further thinking, grabbed for his phone.

“What up, Doug?” Danny answered his phone, sounding so cheerful that it made Dougie even more frustrated. Danny was supposed to feel as miserable as he was. Just because.
“Havin fun?” Dougie asked sharply.
“Yeah, it’s fun to be with Mum. Went to visit Vicky today. She has an own place now, lives with a few friends of hers. It’s great to see her do well. And yesterday Dad took me to the footie. Tomorrow my nan and grandad are coming over for a visit.”
“So you’re not coming back sooner?”
“I’ve only been gone three days.” Danny laughed. “Give it time.”
“Yeah.”
“Something wrong, Doug?”
“I hurt myself on the ramp earlier.”
“Well, no surprise if you’re out skating in the bloody dark. I told you to get some of these protection pad-things.”
“No!” Dougie now snapped, “You told me that we’ll go get them together but then you’ve been too busy getting ready for going home and you forgot. And now I have bruises and scratches and I look like I had a fight with a tiger.”
“It’s hardly my fault that you can’t skate, is it?” Danny joked.
“It bloody is too. Because if you hadn’t buggered off home I wouldn’t be out skating for hours in the first place. I’d be hanging out with you instead of thinking about what you do all the time. I’d have you here to talk to instead of sitting in the room waiting for you to call. And because you don’t leave my fucking head I go skate and then I still think about you all the time and I fall over and now look where that got me!” Dougie pointed at his sore knee, for a moment forgetting that Danny wasn’t even there to see the injury.
“Anything you wanna tell me, Doug?” Danny asked calmly, knowing that there was something that really troubled his young friend which he needed to get off his chest.
“It’s just … remember that you told me that I will get my miracle? You told that to me in the first night we met and I didn’t believe you. I never believed in miracles and here you come and suddenly I have a friend and I do well in school and for the first time ever I wake up in the morning and don’t completely hate my life. You brought all that, Danny, you are my miracle. But you left.”
“I’ll come back, Doug.”
Dougie shook his head, tears now coming to his eyes. “No, you won’t. Because you have your mum and dad and your sister. Life is good for you. Why would you want to leave? You’re home, Danny. Your miracle did happen. Mine didn’t. As usual.”

Dougie then hung up and buried his phone deep into his wardrobe. Sure enough, just seconds after he had hung up it was ringing again. Dougie knew that it was Danny but he didn’t want to talk to him. What was there to say, after all? Danny might didn’t know it yet but he already was so happy about being home, what could make him leave again?

The next day Dougie spent in his room again, but this time not hating everyone else for being happy. This time he hated himself. He hated himself for becoming so dependant on Danny. He hated himself for becoming his friend in the first place when he should have known that it wouldn’t last.

Night time had come again and Dougie was laying on his bed, staring up at the familiar patterns on the ceiling when suddenly the door burst open, the sound of it hitting the wall almost giving him a heart attack. The light was switched on harshly, making Dougie cover his eyes immediately.

“Don’t you fucking dare to hang up on me ever again!” came an angry voice.

Dougie took his duvet away from his face and, to his great surprise looked at the angry face of Danny.

“And where the fuck did you put your phone? I tried to call you about a million times since yesterday. I was worried sick that I come back and find you dead or something.”
Dougie just stared up at Danny, still too stunned to move. “Danny?”
“Well, duh! Who did you expect? Did you think I let you tell me that I wouldn’t come back just like that? And since you didn’t answer your damned phone I had to come and tell you face to face, didn’t I? By the way, you owe me the money I spent on the sodding train ticket!”

Having said that, Danny seemed to calm down. He threw his bag onto his bed before switching the light off again and making his way over to Dougie’s bed. He gave Dougie a sharp look and the boy pulled back his duvet, letting Danny into his bed. Danny slung his arm around Dougie’s back and pulled him close.

“And now tell me. Why did you think I wouldn’t come back?”
“You didn’t call and didn’t text. And you sounded so happy on the phone. You were at home and you had your family and all. If I had been you, I wouldn’t have wanted to come back here. Nothing you have here can match up to being with your family.”
“How would you know?”
“It’s your family, Danny. Every kid who lives in this fucking building wants a family and I think each of them would go in a heartbeat and live with their family, given the chance. So why would you throw that away?”
“My family could never replace this for me.” Danny mused, looking down at Dougie in his arms. “I felt that when I was home, actually. They welcomed me with open arms, sure that, but there are so many things that happened in both their lives and mine. I adopted new habits without them and they adopted new habits without me. I have my own life by now and going back home would be a step back. I think it’s the same like going to college in another city or something. Once you left home you’re gone. You may come back in the holidays or for Christmas but you probably can’t live there for good anymore. You grow out of home and home grows out of you. Sure, it was nice to be home and to spend time with my family but even before I got there I knew that I wouldn’t be staying even if I was given the option for it.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Besides, I could never leave you. Though I might if you keep throwing temper tantrums at me over the phone and then refuse to talk to me for a day. You really scared me, Doug.”
“Sorry.”
“Me too.”
“You’re sorry? What for?”
“I shouldn’t have left you. And I should’ve called or something. I should’ve known you’d need someone, what with Jazzie being gone as well.”
Dougie shook his head. “You couldn’t have known. Hell, I was shocked at myself when I realised how much I missed you.”
Danny smiled. “Missed you too.”

Silence fell onto the pair then and it took a while until Danny uttered a question he had wanted to ask ever since he had spoken to Dougie the day before.

“Did you really mean what you said?”
“Did I really mean what?”
“You said I was your miracle. Yesterday. On the phone.”
Dougie was silent for a moment. “Yes.”
“So you meant it?”
“Yeah.”
Danny smiled again. “Good. You’re my miracle as well, you know.”
“I am?”
“What, do you think I would drop everything and go on a train trip halfway through the country for just anyone?”
“Thanks. Means a lot, you know. That you came back. Another day and I might have skated all the way up to Bolton.”
“Then thank god that I came back. I dare to imagine the state of you if you skated down the motorway.”

Both boys giggled before they fell silent once more. Dougie snuggled up to Danny even more and Danny held onto Dougie even more.

“Danny?” Dougie uttered when he felt sleep approach him, wanting to say just one final thing.
“Hm?”
“I love you.”

Danny smiled to himself before bringing his hand up to Dougie’s chin. He moved the other boy’s head up until their eyes locked again and pressed a short and tender kiss onto Dougie’s lips.

“I love you, Doug.”

Upon hearing that, Dougie smiled again and closed his eyes, sleep coming easily now that he knew that indeed, miracles did happen.

The End

Comments are appreciated.

mcfly-slash ... A Million Touches

Mon, 24 Mar 2008 15:24:23 GMT

heyyyy .. happy belated easter and all that jolly stuff!
hope we all had enough chocolate?

tomorrow is 'german idol'-day in my hometown.
which means i'm going to see the poser j.j. again.
and i'm gonna see the man with the voice.
and i will die.

andandand .. i've seen that i got a few nominations for the mcslashawards .. like, three alone in one category and all that?
thank you guys!
i have no idea who voted for me but really, thank you!

and now .. story?

Title: A Million Touches
Author: me
Rating: G … completely clean
Chapter: 1/1 … Standalone
Genre: Romance
Pairing: PoynterJudd
Summary: A touch is a hand that is placed on something, an object or another person. Your hand makes contact with something, or someone, and it’s called a touch.
Word count: 2,133
Disclaimer: not true
Dedication: leathlin who prompted me with ‘Touch’ and asked me to write some Pudd. And I did … with pleasure. And if you feel like setting me a challenge, you can do it here.

A touch is a hand that is placed on something, an object or another person. Your hand makes contact with something, or someone, and it’s called a touch.

But there a million and one ways to touch. Or to be touched.

===

There are the obvious touches. Plain and simple and for everyone to see.

A reassuring hand on my shoulder when I again broke something in a house that isn’t mine with my clumsy hands which aren’t capable of anything other than playing bass. I was gesturing and didn’t notice that this glass vase was standing right there and sooner than I know, there is shattered glass on the floor and an exhasperated question about what I did manage to break yet again. I blush and I want to hide and I stammer an apology but then there is suddenly his hand on my shoulder and as soon as I feel it, I know that I might get another lecture to just be careful but that nothing worse will happen.

We’re doing yet another dumb interview with yet another dumb interviewer who asks yet another dumb question. And I just do what I always do. I cut the connection between my mouth and my brain and give a dumb answer. I’m being stupid on purpose. And I feel a few pairs of dark eyes on me and there is even the smack upside my head coming from him. And I see him shake his head, making it look like I’m being scolded for being cheeky but then there is his hand falling down and I feel the pat on my back, right between my shoulderblades, and I know, I just know, that the smack was not so much for scolding me but for letting the public think I am being scolded when in reality it’s more his appreciation of my honesty.

A squeeze to my forearm to calm me down. When we’re playing new material to the big bosses and I just have no idea whether they’re going to like it or if they lock us inside the studio until we come up with the patented cheesy stuff. Or when we’re about to go on stage and it’s one of those arena-shows that I simply won’t get used to playing. My heart will race a mile a second and my palms get sweaty and my leg just won’t stop twitching and I’m biting my nails even though they’re barely there anyway. And then there’s his hand on my arm, squeezing lightly, but not too much, and I know that everything will be fine because, after all, I’m not alone.

===

There are the less obvious touches. They are there as well and everyone can still see them, yet only people who are close to us, who really know us, who know about us, they notice them and notice that there is a bigger meaning behind them.

We sit next to each other and our legs are touching. To everyone else it looks like our legs are just brushing against each other because some sofas in TV-studios are just too tiny for four people. But then again, we all sit next to each other, we all sit on that tiny couch, close to each other, yet it’s just our legs that are touching, it’s his leg brushing against mine. Because this is way to show closeness. It’s his way of showing me that he’s there and that he’s not gonna leave either. And since he can’t say it out loud, he’s showing it. Pretty much shoves it in everyone’s faces but yet, no one is seeing it.

We have to pose for pictures and suddenly there is his forearm on my shoulder. It looks like I’m just being a support so he doesn’t fall over. But it’s not that. He leans on me, that he does, but it’s his way of telling me, of telling the world, that he will always be an extension of me. He tells everyone who will look at the pictures that, if they want to do any harm to me, they will have to push him out of the way. It shows that he will always protect me from anything and that I can always rest my head on his shoulder if I need to.

There are new clothes that we got sent. A big pile of t-shirts, jumpers, jackets and whatever else. We pick random stuff that we like, try it on, check if it looks okay in the mirror. And suddenly there are his two hands, snaking up and down my body from behind, smoothing creases in the clothing, adjusting a collar or tugging at the hem of a t-shirt to get it over the waist of my trousers. It’s almost a touch you’d expect from a parent, your mum making sure that you look presentable for a family gathering. Yet, when he touches me like that, it’s because he wants me to look extra good. Because then people will want me and he can secretly smile to himself because the one that everyone wants, he is his and his only.

===

There are the intimate touches. Those that we not really show to the world. And not because we don’t want to seem like a big bunch of saps. It’s because those touches aren’t meant for the world.

I get tired during a long drive through the country. The constant humming of the engine of the car, the heating that is on because someone is always cold, and the lack of conversation, all that combined is just so tiring. I feel my eyes get heavy but before they’re falling close for good, I can feel him tugging my upper body down until my head is resting on his shoulder or on his lap. His fingers run through my hair, play with the strands, and that is all I really feel before sleep finally takes me over.

It’s a movie night, at Danny’s place most likely, because his TV is just the biggest in history. We all fight over which DVD to watch until we get fed up and watch something entirely different in the end. We paper-scissor-stone over the best places, the two seats on the sofa, and even though I never win, he always does and then Tom and Danny just don’t bother anymore and give the other place to me. We always try to sit normally at first, but ten minutes into the movie, and we’re already a mess of tangled limbs. And almost automatically his fingers find their way to the bottom of my t-shirt, pushing it up just that little bit and I feel his index and middle finger trace random patterns on my lower back. And even when there are explosions coming from the TV or people get killed off by a psycho killer, I don’t feel the least bit scared.

We’re all having breakfast or lunch or dinner together, all sitting around a big enough table, food set out in front of us, ready to dig in and fill our plates. As usual, I forget to get me something to drink or I’ve left my fork on the kitchen counter so I have to get back up again. When I get back to the table, he hands me my plate with just the right amount of the right food, and he pulls my chair back so I don’t drop my fork or spill my drink. And I sit down and he flicks my nose with his finger, wordlessly telling me that I’m a little forgetful idiot but that it’s fine because I’m his little forgetful idiot.

===

The touches I enjoy the most are the touches that aren’t touches. No contact is made, at least not a physical one, but I still get tingles in my stomach and I still have shivers running up and down my spine and I still feel like I might burst from the intensity of my feelings for him.

Everyone is already gathered in a conference room, glasses filled with champagne and ready to be raised at another success the band has had. Everyone is just waiting for me but I’ve been back at the car because my phone had slipped out of my pocket and was hidden somewhere beneath the seats. And then I get into the room and I shrug off my jacket and grab for a glass of champagne myself. And I feel his eyes on every of my movements without even turning to look at him. And when I look back at him, sure enough, there are his lips curved into that smile of his, there is that sparkle in his eyes. He’s looking at me with so much love, adoration, wonder, and I can’t help but love him even more. Because he is the most amazing person on the planet and yet it’s him who almost bursts in pride because I, his silly little boyfriend, just entered a room and everyone is looking at me.

I’m standing outside, having a smoke. I’m just there for barely a minute and he and Danny come to join me. Danny is rambling about football, or about a song, or maybe even about an alien invasion and Tom being taken away to some other planet. I try to listen, I really do, but I can’t, because the cigarette is taken from inbetween my lips and I just want to start to protest but then I see him grinning at me before taking a drag and placing the cigarette back to where he took it from before lighting one of his own. He has that mischevious smirk on his lips, challenging me to just say something. But I can’t and he knows that I can’t. I can’t because I don’t want to. And he knows I don’t want to because he knows that I like what he just did. He knows that I like that he takes my things because it means that I feel comfortable in sharing everything with him.

Waking up after a long night of drinking I realise he’s not in bed with me. And I’m not even fully awake yet but I already know that I don’t like that nothingness I woke up to. And I’m just about to close my eyes again, welcome the sleep back and just hope for the fact that he will be back when I wake up again. I grab for his pillow to put it over my head so I fall asleep to the scent of him and then hear rustling that surely does not come from the pillow. I reach to my own cheek and find a post-it note stuck on it. I take it off and his handwriting tells me that I’m even more silly when I’m drunk, and that the only straight thing about me should at least be the lines I choose to walk in after drinking, and that he surely could wake a dead easier than me, and that I really need to buy some food for me and not only for my pets to avoid waking up to an empty bed, and that he went to the shops and took the dog with him. And he tells me that I’m basically useless but that he loves me anyway and that he couldn’t be happier waking up next to a slobbering git. And that makes me smile because he loves me just the way I am and my heart swells up at that because I know I don’t need to be a single bit of perfect and yet, I will always be for him.

===

So you see, in the past years I’ve learned that you don’t necessarily need your hand to touch something or someone. You can do it in a million different ways.

A touch can be anything. A laying on of hands. Someone leaning on you. A brush of legs. Fingers running through your hair. A teasing flick to your nose. A sparkle in someone’s eyes. A mischevious grin. A little note. Or maybe just a smile.

A touch is a touch when it gets through to you.

And as long as it warms your insides, it really doesn’t matter if you feel it physically or just with your heart. All that matters is that you feel it. And it’s even better when another person, your another person, can feel that you feel it.

===

I’ve been touched by Harry about a million and one times already. More than that, surely. He has touched me a million and one time in a million and one ways.

A million and one touches but none is like the other.

But they all tell me that he loves me.

The End

Comments are appreciated.

mcfly-slash ... Exposed

Tue, 11 Mar 2008 12:45:41 GMT

eeeeeeeee .. i have a ticket to see doug!
august 16th, grantham, i'm there!

latest obsession = german idol.
there is this guy and he has this orgasmic voice and .. no good.

must distract myself.
story anyone?

Title: Exposed
Author: me
Rating: NC-17
Chapter: 1/1 … Standalone
Genre: Porn
Pairing: JuddJones
Summary: Those two inches of exposed skin between the top of his shorts and the bottom of his t-shirt …
Word count: 3,996
Disclaimer: not true … I think
Dedication: to Star star55 who prompted me with ‘Exposed’ and wanted me to write some Junes. Et voilà!
And if you feel like prompting me, choose something here.
Author’s note: So, yet another boysex-story from me. I’m slowly getting a hang of it, I think. And this is also my first Junes everrrr!

Being in a band can be a really dangerous thing. Especially when you’re a guy in your 20s, which means that you’re basically constantly horny. And when you also happen to be in a band with just guys, it’s not funny either, even when those guys are your best friends. Because ‘best friends’ means no boundaries. ‘Best friends’ means that there are no qualms about getting naked in front of each other and that sort of stuff. And when you’re in that kind of state in that of kind band and you’re gay and have a rather inapropriate crush on your very hot drummer … Let’s face it, in that case you are downright fucked. Not literally, though – unfortunately.

So yeah, welcome to my life then.

At first everything was fine. First there was just Tom and me. Was all fine in my book. Tom is straighter than a ruler. Plus, not really my type anyway. But you can’t have a band with just two guitarrists so that’s why we had to find people for drums and bass.

Finding a bass player was fine. Dougie was the best and despite him being the weirdest individual on this planet, he’s a great guy. Has no idea about football, chatting up someone – guy or girl, no matter – makes him shit himself in fear and he’s the biggest leightweight I ever came across but honestly, I wouldn’t swap the friendship with him for anything in the world.

The drummer, he is the problem. I didn’t really like Harry at first. I didn’t get his sense of humour, could never tell when he was being honest about something or when he used his bloody sarcasm once again. But the problem was that he was good on drums and he instantly had clicked with Tom and Dougie. So there was no choice really, we had to take him in.

With time I got to know Harry better. And with knowing him, I started liking him. I started to understand his jokes and I could tell when he used his sarcasm. Plus, he really is like the sun – the longer he’s there, the hotter he gets. It really is unfair. He had a mullet, for the love of god. A mullet is the least sexy thing ever but he made it sexy. But then he started experimenting with his hair. Longer, shorter, dyed, not dyed – he did it all and every style looked even better than the one before. He also started working out and got into his running-thing and became really toned in the process. Not good, not good at all. I won’t dare to imagine what he looks like in a few years to come.

I mean, we’ve all grown up, all our looks changed, but I can safely say that Harry is the only one of us who turned into this god-like figure. And that is fucking pissing me off. How am I supposed to keep my thoughts and hormones under control with someone like Harry Judd being constantly around me, oozing his sex-appeal and being absolutely fuck-able all the damn time?

I tried to distance myself from Harry for a bit. First there was Christmas and New Years so we didn’t see much of each other anyway. Then we went to Australia and me and Tom got really into the whole recording-thing while Harry and Doug did god knows what. And Harry was always training for that marathon as well. Some days I only saw him for breakfast and dinner and inbetween that he was plain and simply lost.

I did miss him, don’t get me wrong. It was weird to be at the same place as him and yet, I barely got to see him. But at the same time it was nice to just play music with Tom without trying to think of old women in bikinis just to not get a boner at the mere sight of Harry.

But of course Harry was catching on. I don’t know if Tom said anything to him or if him and Doug just got bored but these days they are around a whole lot more. And it starts to be unfair again.

You know, when you’ve not seen someone for a while and then you see them again, you start to notice every little change they’ve been through? It was like that for me when I really looked at Harry again. He was suddenly really tanned and thanks to his constant running up and down the beach, his legs had gotten really muscular, nevermind the rest of his body. And you better not get me started on that arse of his. I think ‘firm’ doesn’t even come close.

And just earlier that firm arse with the rest of the awesomely sexy Harry Judd decided to saunter into the room, eyes immediately settling on me spread out on the sofa in front of the big television we have in that house we have rented for the time being Down Under.

“Hey Dan, what you doing? Where’re the others?”
I shrugged. “Think they went to eat or summat. No idea really.”

Harry nodded, plonking down onto the sofa, right across my legs, I might add. He stared at the telly for a bit until he huffed.

“This is so boring.”
“What is?”
“Everything. It’s a nice day out, we shouldn’t waste it sitting in here.”
“What you wanna do then?”
“We could go swimming or surfing.”

Oh no. No, no, no, and have I mentioned, no! That was so not a good idea. Because going swimming meant a tanned Harry in his low-slung trunks, water dripping from that sexy body of his. And if I saw that in my current state, even thinking about hords of old women in bikinis couldn’t help me. Nevermind seeing Harry in a skin-tight wetsuit.

“Nah, don’t feel like it. But you go if you like.”
“I’m not going alone. Come on, don’t be a spoilsport. I thought you enjoyed the surfing last time.”
“I did. I just don’t fancy all that salty water entering my body through my eyes, ears and mouth today.”
“Pleeeeeeeeease Dan. I don’t wanna wait hours until Doug gets back.”
I groaned, looking back at him. “You won’t shut up until I agree to go with you, will you?”
He smiled triumphantly. “Nope. Come on, I put my surfboard on top of the wardrobe in my room, you need to help me get it down.”

Reluctantly, I raised from the sofa and followed Harry into his room. Entering, I was a bit surprised. His room was quite a mess, what with several t-shirts thrown about and all. His room has never been so messy before.

Harry smiled at me. “Doug’s doing. He can’t be arsed with his laundry so he borrows my stuff.” he explained, “Help me with the board?” He pointed to his wardrobe. I could see the pointy end of the surfboard poking out on the edge.

I stretched and got on my tip-toes until I had a slight grip on the board and then looked over at Harry, doing the same at the other end of the board, checking if he was ready to lift the thing down. And right then I was doomed.

Thanks to his stretching, Harry’s t-shirt had moved up a couple of inches and gave me a nice view of that bit of stomach that was now exposed right between the top of his shorts, his underwear poking out over their waistband, and the bottom of his t-shirt. It was maybe two inches but that little bit of skin was enough. My mouth was watering and I couldn’t tear my eyes away to save my life. And before I knew it, it happened.

Harry had moved the board on his side but I was too paralysed to do anything so I lost grip on the board and it fell down on my side, its end hitting me right on the head, bringing me out of my pleasant daze.

“Ow! Fuck!”

I pulled my hand back to rub my head which wasn’t the best idea either because the damn board now fell all the way down and right onto my foot.

“Fuck’s sake, what’s it with that damn thing?” I cursed.
“Shit! Dan, you okay?” Harry placed the board on the floor and rushed over to me.
“My foot hurts. Not as much as me head though. Ow.”
“Sit down. I’ll check if you’re bleeding.”

He guided me over to the bed, shoving Doug’s – or his – t-shirts down onto the floor so I could sit down on the sheets. I sat down on the bed and he stood right in front of me, his hands brushing aside the hair around the spot where the surfboard had attacked me.

“I can’t see blood.” He touched a certain spot and I winced. “You’ll probably get a little bump there, though. But don’t worry, I think you’ll survive.”
I nodded.
“I suppose now you really don’t wanna go surfing anymore?”
“Good guess.”
“Shame. But whatever. I’ll go tomorrow with Doug.” He then left his spot in front of me and fell down onto his bed next to me, his legs dangling down by my side. “It’s still boring though.”

He raised his arms and folded them behind his head and there they were again. Those two inches of exposed skin between the top of his shorts and the bottom of his t-shirt. Harry was looking out of the window and therefore couldn’t see me taking in every millimeter of that piece of skin right there, right in front of me, close enough to touch.

And before I could even think about my actions, I did just that. Almost automatically, my fingers reached out and their tips tentavely touched Harry’s skin, stroking along a few centimetres as well.

I felt Harry wince under my touch but I was too mesmerised to move my hand away. His skin was so soft under my fingertips and even though I barely touched him, I felt his stomach muscles twitch.

“Danny?” he asked cautiously, “What you’re doing?”

At the sound of his voice I snapped out of my trance. I quickly pulled my hand away, staring down at my fingers as if it wasn’t even my own but a stranger’s hand attached to my own arm.

“I … I better get going … Y’know … back to the telly I think.” I stuttered and made to get up.

Harry then grabbed for me though, holding me firmly by the wrist. He sat back up and looked me dead in the eye and I swear, the look in his eyes made me turn to a puddle of Danny there and then. If it were possible to turn into water, he would have had a wet patch on his floor.

“Don’t go.” he simply said, his voice suddenly filled with … was that lust? “Touch me again.”

I was paralysed again. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t even blink I think. Harry hadn’t just asked me with a lust-filled voice to touch him again. Or had he?

Harry must have sensed my hesistance because he took the lead then. Still holding me by the wrist, he guided my hand towards his body, gently pushing it back under his t-shirt. I felt his skin under my fingertips again and swallowed as a jolt of electricity shot right through my whole body. Harry then let go of my hand and brought his hand back up from under the t-shirt. He snaked his arm around my neck and pulled my face closer to his. Shortly before our lips touched, he moved his lips to the side though, breathing down on my neck before moving up to my ear.

“Move your fingers, Danny.” he breathed into my ear.

Swallowing again, I did as he said and slowly curled my fingers, that simple action making his breathing quicker. He was obviously enjoying it so I straightened my fingers again, tracing them in slow movements along his skin which made him moan right into my ear.

Harry then pulled his face away from my ear and was looking at me again. We got lost in each other’s eyes for a moment before he leaned in and properly kissed me on the lips. His lips first just moved against mine until we both seemed to have the same idea at the same time and simultaneously opened out mouths, our tongues immediately meeting inbetween our lips.

My fingers still tracing lazy patterns on his stomach and his hand still on the back of my neck, Harry sunk back down onto the mattress, pulling me with him in the process. Once he was laying on his back, me hovering above him, Harry let go of my neck and his hands moved to my sides, tugging my t-shirt upwards. Our lips parted only long enough for him to pull the t-shirt over my hand and discard it to the side and once the cloth was removed, Harry’s hands began their journey over my back, my chest and my stomach, each touch sending shivers up and down my spine.

Growing more confident with each second, I in turn moved my hand under his t-shirt up until I reached a nipple. I rubbed it between my fingers, feeling it harden under my touch while Harry needily moaned into our heated kiss.

I pulled away, breathing heavily and looked down at him, seeing his eyes clouded with lust and want. “It’s not fair.” I panted, “I’m here topless and you’re still wearing all your clothes. Must change that.”

Without hesistance, I ripped off his t-shirt and while I was diving for his lips again and my hands tried to touch every bit of now overly exposed skin at once, Harry was already fumbling with my belt buckle, getting it open in a speed that was quite impressive. He definitely wasn’t new at this. I suppose that was Dougie’s doing as well.

I couldn’t put further thinking into that idea as Harry shoved his hand right into my boxers and grabbed for my hard on, making me almost bite down on his tongue in surprise. I pulled away and let a groan escape me as Harry’s hand stroked up and down my length in just the perfect speed. If he went on like this, the whole thing would be over before it even began and that really was the last thing I wanted.

Swallowing hard, trying to not give into the sensation, I tried to speak. “Harry … Harry … stop.”
“Don’t think I can, Dan.” he panted, pulling me back down, nibbling on my earlobe, “Feels too good to finally be able to touch you.”
I chuckled, the air I released in the process making Harry moan again. “If you won’t stop, I’ll come in about 30 seconds.”
“Can’t see anything wrong in that.”
I shook my head, moving my lips right to Harry’s ear to whisper, “I don’t wanna come unless I can come inside you.”

That seemed to do the trick because almost instantly, Harry pulled his hand away and pulled my trousers and boxers all the way down my legs, leaving it to me to shake them off, while he wriggled out of the rest of his clothes as well.

With no more barriers inbetween us now, I wanted to take my sweet time to explore Harry’s body further. I had been dreaming about seeing him like this, exposed to his fullest, for longer than I can remember and now that it had happened, now that I had him exposed underneath me, I didn’t want it all to end. I sat up, straddling him and let my fingers run up and down his torso and arms, creating a mental map of all the dips and curves of his body. I let my hands travel down his body until I reached his hard on and I couldn’t resist. I losely fisted it and stroked up and down, seeing Harry squirm under me, his eyes closed in pleasure, mouth agape, moans leaving him at every breath.

“Stop teasing Danny, just … please …” He trailed off, moaning even louder as I cupped his balls in my hand.
“Please what, Harry? Tell me what you want me to do.” I asked him boldly. Moving to stroke his length again, I leaned back down, whispering into his ear again. “Do you want me to suck you off, Harry, make you come in my mouth, licking you clean? Or do you want me to fuck you? Do you want me to pound you into the mattress, hard and fast, me buried deep inside you?”

My dirty talking apparently had an effect on Harry. I could feel him get even harder in my hand and the air was filled with low throaty moans, all coming from him, while he couldn’t stop writhing underneath me.

“What do you want me to do, Harry? Tell me and I’ll do it.”
“Fuck me, Danny.” he gasped out, “I want you to fuck me. Please!”
I nodded. “D’you have … you know.”
“Drawer.” Harry pointed to the side, to his bedside table.

I sat up again and pulled open the drawer, immediately finding a tube of lube and a packet of condoms, both obviously being opened before.

“You’re definitely not new to this.” I voiced my thoughts, looking down at him with a raised eyebrow, “Doug?”
“Just a bit of fun. Was his idea.”

I shrugged. Honestly, at that moment I couldn’t care less if Harry was fucking Dougie on the side. He could’ve been with the whole population of Australia, for all I cared. He was with me now and that was all that mattered to me.

Deeply kissing Harry again, I popped open the lube and blindly spread a good amount of it over my fingers, moving first just one to his entrance, breaching the ring of muscle for a first time. Hissing in pain, Harry squeezed his eyes shut before taking a few deep breaths. With a simple nod of his head he urged me on to add another finger, reaching down to stroke his cock to distract himself from the pain.

Three fingers in and Harry suddenly arched his back, letting a short shout of my name leave his lips in ecstasy. Aiming for the same spot again, I thrust my fingers in, seeing Harry’s face contort in pleasure.

Being sure Harry was ready for what was about to come, I reached for the packet of condoms, getting one out without looking away from Harry’s face. I didn’t want to miss just a tiny second of him being so deeply lost in the sensations he was obviously going through. He had other ideas though. He took the still wrapped condom out of my hand, opened the foil and rolled the rubber down my length, smirking when a few obscenities left my lips as his remarkably skilled fingers moved down my shaft. He then reached for the lube and his eyes never left my own when he coated my erection generously with the clear substance.

Mustering up the very last ounce of will power in my body I then sat up slightly, wrapping Harry’s legs around my hips and guided my cock towards his entrance. Looking into his eyes again and seeing nothing but want and need and, most importantly, approval, I took a deep breath in and while releasing it, I entered him in one smooth thrust.

“Oh fuck!” Harry screamed out, panting heavily now, his eyes squeezed shut again.

I stopped any movement and just stayed still inside him, watching him try to control his ragged breathing. He shifted about a bit and then looked up at me again.

“Okay.” he said, giving me the best reassuring smile he could come up with.

Supporting my weight on my hands on either side of his head, I slowly started to move. I could feel myself slide in and out of him and that feeling alone almost made me see stars. Feeling my cock enter and leave the tight hot heat of Harry was a million times better than I ever could have imagined.

“Go … oh god … fuck me harder, Danny!”

I didn’t need to be told twice. While Harry’s legs wrapped tighter around my waist, trying to pull me into him deeper, I picked up speed with every thrust until I was literally pounding into him, the headboard of the bed hitting the wall with every move. My arms started wobbling so I leaned down on my forearms. The slight change of position made me enter Harry at a different angle and suddenly he screamed out my name in sheer ecstasy again.

“There … right there, Danny! Oh god … fuck!”

Smiling to myself, I continued my thrusting into him, hitting his sweet spot dead on with every move. With hasty movements Harry grabbed his own cock again, starting to rub it hard along to my movements inside of him. His eyes rolled almost into the back of his head and his mouth was open in an o-shape. His breathing was heavy and beads of sweat ran down his face. He had never looked more perfect than in that very moment and I almost came from just looking at him.

“So … so close, Harry.” I whimpered out and leant down to kiss him again, my tongue mingling with his immediately.

Suddenly Harry pulled away and his face contorted in pleasure again. He let out a long groan of my name again and when I looked down at where his hand was wrapped around his cock I could see his fingers coated in a white sticky substance. I looked back up at Harry’s face, not wanting to miss any of his expressions while he rode out his orgasm, me still moving fast inside him.

Seeing that I was literally on the edge of orgasm, Harry then brought his hand up to my mouth, letting me lick his come of his fingers while he contracted the muscles of his arse around me. All that combined, the taste of Harry in my mouth, his muscles tight around me, made me let go as well. I came with a low and long moan, still moving frantically inside him to not lose a precious second of the state of bliss I found myself in.

My arms then completely gave up on me and I heavily collapsed on Harry. I slowed my movements to an almost complete halt until I pulled out of him, using the last bit of strength I had to roll to the side.

We then laid both on the bed on our backs, the only sound in the room being our still ragged breaths.

“That was …” I panted.
“Fucking amazing.” Harry finished for me, before adding, “And long overdue.”
I turned my head and looked at him, smiling. “Definitely. Both of it.”
“And it’s much better than surfing.” He chuckled.
“Much.”
Harry then looked down at himself, his body slick and sticky with sweat and his semen. “I need a shower.”
“Uh-huh.”

He then raised from the bed and moved towards the door of the room, grabbing his towel on the way. I leaned up again, watching his every movement. No doubt, Harry being exposed was the best view in the world. I let my eyes roam over every inch of skin on display. His calves, thighs, his oh-so-perfect arse, his back … his face?

The towel hung over his shoulder, Harry looked at me smiling, obviously liking that I was probably eating him with my eyes.

“Do you think I’m going to shower alone?” he inquired, grinning.

Returning his grin, I jumped up from the bed and followed him eagerly. If Harry really thought that I already had enough of him being exposed, boy, was he wrong.

The End

Comments are appreciated

mcfly-slash ... It's the End of Something Simple ... And the Beginning of Everything Else

Thu, 06 Mar 2008 15:05:03 GMT

eeeeee .. pammy vs world 1-0!
i beat the booking-add and booked almost everything for the simple plan tour in one smooth go!
i feel so pleased really.

aaaaaand .. i got a million dollar smile from a million dollar boy this morning.

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand .. i'm bringing a story.

life is good, innit? ;)

Title: It’s the End of Something Simple … And the Beginning of Everything Else
Author: me
Rating: PG12 (there might be a dirty word once in a while)
Chapter: 1/1 … Standalone
Genre: Romance, Self-analysis (hah, I created my own genre!)
Pairing: PoynterJudd
Summary: We’re just living our ‘thing’, our simple thing.
Word count: 2,073
Disclaimer: not true … probably
Dedication: for Ams (elphee) Thanks for the challenge which wasn’t really a challenge to be honest, hehe. Also, thanks for letting me help supporting Mister Judd.
Author’s note: This piece was supposed to be one of my prompts but in the end it didn’t really fit to the prompt but because I liked it, I just kept writing. And as luck would have it, it worked perfectly with the Baldy McCharity Fic-Project.
The title of the story is actually stolen … I suppose no one but me knows this but it was the slogan that was used in the TV-advert for ‘Dawson’s Creek’ before the show first started in the USA (I’m a sucker for that show even though it stopped a million years ago)

Simple things. That’s what I like. Which is to be expected I think, seeing that my life isn’t that simple. I’m not saying it’s complicated either though. It’s just … doing simple things, like a visit to my mum, I can’t do it just like that because I’m either travelling or doing something else with the band. I can’t do anything spur-of-the-moment, have to plan the tiniest things.

I think that’s why I like the ‘something’ with Harry so much. Because it’s something simple. It doesn’t need planning or travelling or instructions from other people. All it needs is him and me.

Everybody else sees it differently, of course. To them, the ‘something’ between him and me is the most complicated relationship in the world. And I think that’s exactly the problem. Harry and I don’t have a relationship, not in our eyes. I mean, we both do have a relationship … with our girlfriends. What’s going on between him and me is different.

Okay, so we do share looks that last longer than they should. And our touches are a bit more lingering that what other people might call normal. And the jokingly flirting between us probably isn’t as jokingly as it seems. But that’s all that it is. At the end of the day we can go back to our girlfriends and not feel guilty about anything we did. Because we didn’t really do anything. We’re just living our ‘something’, our ‘something simple’.

And at the moment our ‘something simple’ really is the best in the world. Because we’re in Australia and all we have is each other … and Tom and Danny maybe. Our families aren’t here and neither are our girlfriends. And there are no real plans except our recording schedule and two little gigs. For the rest of the time it’s just us and our ‘something simple’.

We arrived two days ago and it’s slowly starting to settle in that we’re on the other end of the world. The jet-lag is gone and we’re not freaked out by the fact that we can walk around in shorts and t-shirts and have to put on sunglasses in the first months of the year.

Tom and Danny are gone for the day. Danny said something about taking a look around and Tom went with him so our dearest guitarrist couldn’t get lost or mugged - or both. So for a few hours it was just Harry and me and our ‘something simple’ in the house we rented with the others.

I found him outside, on one of the deck chairs, reading a book. The whole scenery had something really peaceful. The sun shone brightly, not a cloud in the blue sky and all I saw was Harry on a deck chair, the book in his hands, the deserted beach in the backround. He seemed so at ease and untouched by everything around him.

“Not out running?” I asked upon moving closer to him.
He looked up from his book and smiled at me. “Too hot. I’m gonna go for a run when the sun’s set.”

He put his book aside and reached for my hand. I took it and he pulled me closer until I was resting between his legs, my back against his chest. His arms wrapped around my waist and I felt his breathing on the side of my face.

“God, this is so nice.” He sighed.
“Hmmm.” I mumbled, “No early mornings with Fletch and Tommy telling us where to be and what to do. Danny isn’t complaining because he got woken up too early and Tom isn’t complaining about Danny complaining.”
“Yeah, that too.”
“Why, what did you mean?”
“I think it’s nice that we can just be, you know? I can be with you like this and no one will care. No one will frown when I hold you like I am or stuff like that. It’s like being on holiday, people let a lot of things slide because the circumstances are different.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure. If Tom could see us right now, we’d get an earful how we can’t do this to our girlfriends. Leaving aside the fact that we aren’t really doing anything other than simply being who we are around each other.”
“Are we?”
“Are we what?”
“You said that we’re simply who we are around each other. Are we?”
“Yeah, course we are. I mean, we’ve always been, right? It’s just you and me being with each other in our own little simple way. That’s why I like it so much. Because we don’t need to explain things to each other and we don’t need to analyse everything we do and are. Our relationship is the simpliest in the world and that’s the best thing about it.”
“So you like the simplicity?”
“I do, yes. When I’m with Louise, I always think about this and that and if I should put my arm around her or hold her hand and stuff like that. I can’t just be around her. I mean, I do like her and all that but dude, being in a relationship is so complicated. It’s nowhere near simple.”
“That’s just because it’s new. Give it a while and you’ll know what to do around her and what not.”
“I don’t wanna wait, though. I mean, I’ve just gotten used to the fact that she’s actually my girlfriend and now I’m away for four months, away from her and the relationship. When we’ll get back home I’m going to have to do the same shit over again, getting used to it all over again. And all that stuff wasn’t exactly fun last time.”
“Doug, you have to give it some time. Rome wasn’t built on a day either. You can’t just get together with someone and expect for things to run smoothly. It’s gonna take ages until you figure everything out. And when you have figured it out both of you will have matured a little bit more and there are new things to get used to. Being in a relationship is basically constant learning.”
“I don’t believe that. When I’m with you I never feel anything like that. With you I just know what I can do and I never have to worry whether or not I touch you at the right spot at the right time.”
“What we have is different from what you have with her.”
“And that’s what I’m getting at. Being with you is simple, being with her is complicated.”
“The thing with us is just simple because we aren’t actually together.”

We fell silent after that. I guess Harry was right. But at the same time I also thought he wasn’t. We just knew each other on a level that couldn’t match up to anything else. I’ve heard him talk about girl-related stuff so much in the past years and I knew what he deemed okay and what he didn’t.

Harry didn’t mind kissing or cuddling in public. To a certain point. When you got too stuck in it, then it was time to seek privacy. I knew that about him. But when it came to my own girlfriend I had no idea how she felt about kissing or cuddling in public. Would she freak out if I held her hand or would she almost jump me? I had no clue.

While I was thinking my hands sort of landed on Harry’s. His were shifting a bit until we were actually holding hands. I looked down and the sight of our clapsed hands on my stomach made me snap back to reality.

“See, it’s that!” I exclaimed loudly, making Harry wince in surprise.
“What is what?”
“That!” I nodded my head towards our hands. “We’re just holding hands like that and I didn’t even think if it was right or not. Hell, I didn’t even notice that we held hands until I actually saw it.” I sighed. “Why can’t it be that simple with Louise?”
I felt Harry shrug. “Maybe the feeling’s just different. You like her so you don’t wanna mess it up by doing something wrong. I was the same when I first started seeing Izzy. Remember how I was paranoid about absolutely everything I did? But nowadays I just know what I can do. Which is basically what I want. It’s not like she cares anyway.”

I looked back at Harry at that. I knew him and Izzy were having trouble. I didn’t know what had caused it but they definitely weren’t on cloud nine anymore. Sometimes they seemed more like friends than an actual couple.

“Are you two having problems?”
“Maybe. I don’t know.” He paused. “I think we’ve reached simplicity as well. A bit too much simplicity probably.”
“It looks like it, to be honest.”
“I know it does. And she knows as well. Maybe the time apart will do us good. It’s sort of ‘make it or break it’.”
“And what option is in the lead?”
“Right now … ‘break it’ I guess. Because … it is simple with her but it’s not the same simple as it is with you. With you it’s something simple and everything else at the same time. With her it’s just simple, no ‘something’ and surely no ‘everything else’.”
“Everything else?”
“The feeling that I can just be. That I don’t have to think and even if I had to, that I wouldn’t, because what for? Maybe I should think that whatever we have isn’t what a friendship is supposed to be but why bother? You feel good with it and I feel good with it and that’s all that matters. I should worry about people frowning at us but I don’t because as long as I can be with you nothing else is important anyway.”
“You know, someone I know once said to me that we’re just like that because we aren’t actually together.” I smiled at him. “If we cross the line to ‘everything else’ there’s gonna be no ‘something simple’ anymore.”
He smiled. “Maybe. But it wouldn’t be much different from what it’s now, would it? We’d be doing what we’re doing just now. All we’d have to worry about is that someone could walk in on us while we’re going further than ‘something simple’.”
I giggled. “Shame actually. Imagine Tom’s face if he did.”
Harry laughed, obviously seeing the shocked expression of our band mate in front of him. “Classic.”

Again, we fell silent. And subconsiously we snuggled up to each other a bit more.

“I think she isn’t the right one.” I stated after a while.
“Louise?”
I nodded.
“If you really think so you should tell her.”
“I’m going to. It’s for the best. I can’t be with her when deep down I want something she won’t be able to give me.”
“Which would be?”
“Something simple and everything else.”
“I think that’s what everybody wants.”
“You as well?”
“No.”

To say that I was surprised at that answer is actually an understatement. I sat bolt upright, our hands losing contact in the movement. I turned halfway and stared back at him and he just sat there, smiling.

“No?! Why no?”
“Why would I want something I already have?”

And then he took my hand again and pulled me back forward. I almost bumped my head into his but my hand instinctively reached for the backrest of the deck chair and I stopped myself from crashing into him.

Suddenly we were so close. When we exhaled, our breaths mingled inbetween us and if his eyes just cast a millimeter to the side or down, I could see it.

And it was then that I knew what he meant. Because I didn’t think about anything as I moved closer to him. Nothing was going through my head, and it was just me being, when I leaned in and let our lips touch.

We melted into that kiss. I can definitely say that nothing I ever did felt so … right. Because that’s what it was. It was him and me and it was right.

Our lips lost contact after a while. I barely noticed. I had never felt so … complete … in my whole life.

“Dougie?”

His voice pulled me out of my thoughts. I blinked and all I saw again was his face. He warmly smiled at me.

“Welcome to everything else.”

The End

Comments are appreciated.

mcfly-slash ... Runaway

Mon, 03 Mar 2008 12:54:01 GMT

eeeee, i will book stuff for simple plan this week!
for my birthday-week and all.
and i might buy me a ticket for the foo fighters.

Title: Runaway
Author: me
Rating: PG13
Chapter: 1/1 … Standalone
Genre: AU - Romance
Pairing: PoynterJudd
Summary: Harry turned back around, smiling to himself. So maybe this holiday wasn’t as much a waste of time as he thought it would be.
Word count: 6,004
Disclaimer: this is not true
Dedication: to manuanya, who requested this story. It’s for Harry and for charity and therefore, I can look past the fact that you basically giving me the plot restricted me a bit too much (next time, keep it simple with a pairing and a rating?)
Author’s note: So here goes my first bit for the Baldy McCharity Fic-Project. At first I wasn’t too happy with the request for the fic but as I wrote, it started to grow on me. After all, holiday-romances are something I seem to be good with, right?
And I may add … I have never actually been to Portugal, so I have no clue how it is there.

Time is money. That was something that Harry Judd had not only learned but also lived by day after day. Quite literally as well since it was basically the ground rule at his job. He was a financial advisor and he was good at his job. People trusted him with their money and in his remarkably short career he had never failed that trust once. He had even gained something from it. By helping other people with their money, he had also helped himself and a job that, in the beginning, was only good to pay the bills, now could pay more than just bills. And he was still only 25.

Harry’s free time was ‘suffering’ though. His parents complained often that they barely saw him unless it was a forced occasion spent with the family. His friends had to practically drag him away from his computer and paperwork to get him to the pub for an hour or two on a weekend. The last date Harry had been on was probably some time in school and his last summer-long holiday was even longer ago.

But then again, time was money, and how are you supposed to make money if you waste the time in the pub, on dates, with relatives you haven’t seen since you were a toddler or laying around on some beach, roasting in the sun?

However, he had to change his mind when it was time for a check-up at his doctor’s. In the past weeks Harry had felt worn-out, found it hard to focus and a persistant headache was his constant companion. His doctor only had a short talk with him and then presented his solution. And his solution wasn’t a prescription for some painkillers.

“Mister Judd, you are in need of a holiday. And I’m not talking about a weekend on the countryside. I’m speaking of at least a week in the sun. Book yourself some time off, fly into the summer. Wander along the beach and do nothing for a change. And I mean it, leave your work back here, no one will die from it. You need to do this for yourself or otherwise next time you’ll see me will be because of a heart-attack.”

That made Harry think. Apparently he was really endagering his health and if he went on like this, he would be of no help for anyone. A holiday might be a waste of time, and therefore money, but if he was dead or had to quit his job due to health-problems, that would even be a bigger waste of time and money.

So Harry did what he was told and only a week later he squinted into the sun shining down onto Portugal.

He had arrived only a few hours earlier and the first thing he did was call his office. Both his assistant and secretary assured him that the office-activities were still in tact and that they would be for as long as Harry was away. They also made sure that their boss understood that they would hang up immediately, should he dare to call again while he was away.

Banned from work Harry had no choice than to lay by the beach with nothing to do. Even though still in Europe, it was also impossible to find any sort of financial newspaper so all Harry could do was stay by the beach and get burnt by the sun. And that’s what people called enjoyment? For Harry it was nothing but plain boredom.

“Can I get you a drink, sir?”

Harry squinted up at the figure standing by his side. The sun was blinding him for a moment so he used his hand to shield his eyes from the brightness. He looked up at a boy, looking way younger than he probably was. He was wearing the usual hotel-uniform for daytime, white shorts, a dark green poloshirt and a white basecap. And he looked down at Harry, obviously awaiting a reply from him.

“Oh … erm … yes, I’d love a drink. Something cold?”
The boy smiled. “Sorry, but I think you have to be a bit more specific. Alcoholic or non-alcoholic? Our head-bartender Paolo is one of the best in the country, he can do it all. If you prefer it fruity, there is also a wide range of freshly squeezed juices.”
“You’ve got it all, don’t you?”
“And if we don’t have it, we’ll get it for you.” the boy recited the hotel’s motto.
“Fine, I’ll get … you know what, just get me an ice-tea.”
“Flavour?”
“Which do you have?”
“I’ve never counted but it comes up to a million. I can recommend strawberry, cherry and lemon though.”
“Get me lemon, then. Thank you.”
“Coming right up.” The boy nodded and made to leave.
“Hey!” Harry called after him, making the boy turn back around. “What’s your name?”
The boy smiled at him. “It takes more than an order for a drink for that.”

Harry turned back around, smiling to himself. So maybe this holiday wasn’t as much a waste of time as he thought it would be.

===

It took until the evening for Harry to see the boy from the beach again. It was time for dinner and Harry wanted to make his way to one of the restaurants nearby. He had just pressed the button for the lift and now patiently waited by the doors. When they opened, Harry was more than pleased to see the boy again, this time dressed in a more smarter uniform. The shorts had been exchanged for trousers and the polo-shirt had been replaced by a button-down. Gone was the cap and for the first time Harry saw the mop of blonde hair on the boy’s head.

“You’re the one to do everything in here, aren’t you?” Harry asked upon stepping into the lift.
“I fill in where I’m needed. Where to?”
“Lobby please.”

The boy pressed the button and the two stood in silence for a moment.

“Where have you disappeared to earlier?”
“Had to help out in the gym. Someone training for a marathon is currently staying with us and from the looks of it, I seem to be the only one to understand how to get the treadmill to work.”
“Marathon.” Harry mused, “Why would anyone run 26 miles? You have cars to overcome that sort of distance.”
The boy smiled. “Maybe some people just like the challenge.”
“I like challenges too. But I still don’t have to run 26 miles.”
“Each to their own right, I guess.” The boy paused. “We’re here. Lobby.”

As if on cue the lift’s door opened. But Harry didn’t bugde, he kept standing on the spot inside the lift until its doors closed again.

The boy looked at him. “I don’t know where you come from but where I come from people exit a lift at their destination. Posh or not, you still have to move by yourself in this place.”
Harry ignored the boy’s comment. “Where you come from, where is that? Because you don’t really seem that local to me.”
“Used to live in Essex. Great Britain.”
“I know where that is, thanks. And now you’re here because …”
“You can’t find a decent beach in Basildon. And the weather down here’s better.”
“Right … what’s your name?”
The boy shook his head, smiling at Harry again. “It takes more than a conversation in the lift for that.” He pressed the button to open the doors again. “Have a nice evening, sir.”
“Yeah.” Harry replied, “You too.”

He exited the lift and looked back at the boy one last time before the doors closed again.

===

For the next two days Harry always walked around with eyes wide open, looking for that mysterious boy. He wasn’t found anywhere and it wasn’t like Harry could just ask someone for him, he didn’t even know his name. And just asking for that ‘young and sexy blonde English boy’, that seemed just too desperate. But then again, Harry wanted to see him again, so maybe he was desperate.

It was another evening and Harry was laying around on the big bed in his hotelroom. He had been on a day trip in the area, being a tourist for a change, and he just wasn’t in the mood to go anywhere tonight. He was hungry though so there was only one option for him. He grabbed for the phone, ordering something on room service.

15 minutes later and there was a knock on the door, followed by a call of “Room Service.” and Harry had to smile at the familiar voice. And sure enough, when he opened the door, there was the blonde English boy again.

“And so we’ll meet again.” the boy said as he went through the door, pushing the cart with the food into the room ahead of him.
“Apparently so. Should’ve guessed you do room service as well.”

The boy set the tray of food onto the table in Harry’s room and then made to leave the room again. But Harry blocked his way, standing right at the door, his back against it.

“Do you have to leave?”
“I’m on duty, so I guess that means yes.”
“But … I do pay to stay here, don’t I? And I pay for all services, right?”
“I might be the one for everything in here, but I’m not a prostitute.” the boy said, his face darkening.
“Sorry.” Harry quickly apologised, “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just saying, if I’d kindly asked you to stay, isn’t staying part of your job? By staying to have dinner with me you’d make me a happy customer and that’s a hotel’s policy, to make the customers happy. Or isn’t it?”
The boy faltered. “I suppose. But I … I have work to do.”
“Nothing a phone call can’t get you out of.” Harry winked at the boy. “And now get comfy and help yourself with some food while I get you a free night.”

Reluctantly, the boy did as he was told while Harry went back to the phone. He listened in awe as Harry talked in a calm voice to whoever was on the phone, telling some lie about knowing him from back home and asking to let him off the hook for the night so they could get ‘reaquainted’. After Harry had hung up, he turned back around to the boy.

“Tonight and tomorrow off.” he announced.
The boy looked baffled. “How did you do that? I could beg on my knees and they wouldn’t give me an extra day off.”
Harry just smiled. “As I said, it’s a hotel’s policy to make the customers happy. And a happy customer is a paying customer. Money makes the world go round.”
“Right … it’s all about the money.” the boy muttered bitterly.
“No.” Harry shook his head eagerly. “The money just helps. I wanted to spend time with you. And I would have wanted to spend time with you, no matter if I pay for it or not. And I’m not paying for you anyway, I pay for the hotel. You just so happen to be a part of the whole thing. But you know what, let’s just forget about it, alright? Money or the hotel is not an issue tonight. It’s just about you and me, okay?”
“Okay.”

Harry dug his fork into into the food that the boy had brought and put it on an extra plate, making sure the boy did the same. He really wanted to spend time with him, get to know him better. Making the boy feel uncomfortable, scare him away probably, was the last thing Harry wanted.

“So …” Harry started once they were seated with their food, “You still haven’t told me your name.”
“It’s Dougie.”
“Harry.” he introduced himself.
“I know.”
Harry raised his eyebrows in question.
“You’re a guest. It’s my job to know your name.”
“I thought we’re not talking about your job tonight.”
“Right. Sorry.”
“How comes you work here? Did your family move to the area or something?”
Dougie shook his head. “My family is back home. Well, what’s left of them is anyway.”
“What do you mean?”
“My mum left the family a few months before I turned 18. She fucked it all up. My dad first got really despressive, always went out drinking right after work, coming home smashed. And then he did a complete one-eighty and started dating around. There was a new girl half his age pretty much every week. And my little sister always hung out with her friends and pretty much lived at her boyfriend’s. I spent my 18th birthday all alone at home because everyone had forgotten about it. The next day I took the money that was put aside by my family so I could go to college and I bought a plane ticket. And now I’ve been here for almost three years, working my arse off. It’s not bad. I don’t have to worry about where to get food and most employees live here as well. The weather’s good and the customers are mostly nice. It’s better to be pushed around here than being forgotten at home.”
“Wow, that’s … I’m sorry to hear that. Do you still talk to your family?”
“There’s the occasional phone call.”
“Do you miss them?”
“Not so much. It’s more home that I miss, you know. Like, the little things. Even though we’re still in Europe here, sometimes I feel like I’m on another continent. I barely speak the language because people here at the hotel speak mostly English. But you still barely get foreign things here, if you do it’s a day or two later. People are really laid-back around here. What you can’t do today, fuck it, just do it tomorrow or next week. It’s like that with everything. Over here, you are behind on everything. And because I work so much I don’t really have time to get into the city. I can’t even remember when I bought a CD or a t-shirt the last time.”
“We can go to the city tomorrow, if you want.”
“You surely have better things to do than take me into the city.”
“I don’t actually. It was my order to have a good and relaxed holiday but I can’t stay at the hotel all day.”
“It was your order to have a holiday?”
Harry nodded. “By my doctor. He told me if I keep on doing what I did, I’ll end up with a heart-attack.”
“What did you do?”
“Worked. A lot.”
“What do you do?”
“I’m a financial advisor.”
“That explains the money.”
“I guess. I basically work non-stop. I have an assistant and a secretary but I do most of the stuff by myself. Barely go out or take time off, let alone go on holiday.”
“And that makes you happy?”
“It surely made me rich.”
“But not happy?”
“I don’t know. I never had time to think about it.”
“Then you aren’t. If you’re happy you just feel it. But when you have to question yourself if you’re happy, then you’re not.”
“Are you happy?”
“Generally spoken, yes. There’s a downer here and there but I sure as hell am better off here than at home.”
“Have you ever thought about going back?”
“To do what? I have nothing back in England.”
“You had nothing when you came here either.”
“Yeah, but when you have nothing here, it still works out for you in one way or another. If you have nothing back home, you’re fucked. Without a job you can’t find a place to live and without a place to live you can’t find a job.”
“I could help you out.”
“I don’t need your money, Harry.”
“Who talked about money? I have a guest room in my flat. You can stay there while you try to find a job. And once you have one, you can either move out or stay and pay a share of the bills.”
“You think it’s that easy?”
“It’s not gonna be easy. But it’s a start.”
“Who said that I wanna go back anyway?”
“No one said. But you already wasted three years of your life in this place. Do you really want to be a servant all your life?”
“No but …” Dougie trailed off. “You barely know me, Harry. And I barely know you. I can’t just leave a safe job just because I like the way you look. And you can’t just let me live with you for free because I look hot in my uniform.”
Harry shrugged. “I can’t. But maybe I want to.” He paused. “Just think about it. I’m still here for a few days. The offer is on the table though. Take it or leave it.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“That’s all I want. Think about it.”

The two men continued their meal before deciding to go out for a few drinks in one of the many bars nearby. Before they went, Dougie had to change his uniform for something casual though so he took Harry back to his room. Upon entering Harry knew that Dougie definitely had to leave this place. His room was tiny and barely furnished. He also had to share his bathroom with other employees. But Harry chose to make no comments about that, not wanting to seem too eager for Dougie to leave with him or make himself appear too stuck-up.

On their night out, Harry noticed for the first time that Dougie, despite his job, definitely was able to take care of himself. He wasn’t poor, had enough money to pay for his drinks. And he knew the area. He brought Harry to places a little off the main road. The atmosphere there was entirely different from all the tourist-places. More locals were around and even though there was a language barrier they still seemed to be able to communicate with them.

Dougie had been right, the people Harry got to meet were all really easy-going. They had a totally different lifestyle. They didn’t live to work, like he did. They worked to live. Everyone put fun ahead of everything. Work was something to pay the bills and their clothes and their food. But once everyone went home to their families, they left work behind and just lived.

Harry revelled in this contrast. Even more so, he let it affect him as well. And if he was completely honest with himself, he envied all the people here, envied the life they were living. He made the promise to himself that he would visit his family more often and go to the pub with his friends when they asked him to as soon as he was back home.

===

Just as agreed, Harry and Dougie went into the next bigger city on the following day. Just like the other locals they took an old battered bus right into the city’s centre and then set off for their activities.

Harry had no idea where he was most of the time so he was happy in letting Dougie take the lead. He was dragged to music and clothing stores where Dougie spent half of his last paycheck. Then they had some local seafood in a gorgeous and at the same time cheap restaurant.

After lunch they wandered around a bit more and suddenly reached the zoo. Dougie stood outside its big gates and dug in his pockets, putting all his money together. He bit his lip, obviously thinking whether to spend his last money on a ticket. In comparison to everything else, the tickets were fairly expensive, for the zoo being one of the attractions for the tourists.

“You wanna go in?” Harry asked.
Dougie nodded. “I love animals. Back home I went to the zoo at least once a month. Ever since I’ve been here I haven’t been once. But if I go in, I have no money left for the bus back to the hotel.”
Harry took out his wallet. “I’ll pay for your ticket.”
“No Harry, I can’t accept that. Put your wallet away. I can always go some other time.”
“Don’t be silly, Dougie. You showed me a great time in the past two days. Buying you a ticket for the zoo is the least thing I can do.”
Dougie sighed. “You’re not going to give in until I say yes, are you?”
“Not a chance.”
“Okay then.”

Harry then bought their tickets and as soon as the two had passed the entrance, it was like Dougie was pushed back in time. His eyes seemed to get bigger and shone so much brighter and his smile seemed to reach around his head. He started bouncing in his step, eagerly to explore every area of the zoo at once. He suddenly wasn’t the 21-year-old hotel servant anymore, he left that persona of him at the entrance. Right now he was just Dougie. And Harry loved it.

They two men spent the whole afternoon in the zoo, almost had to be kicked out at closing-time. Dougie had been running from place to place, looking at all the different animals in awe. He had also taken over Harry’s camera and was taking pictures of anything and everything, planning to put them up in his room.

When they arrived back at the hotel in the evening, Dougie could barely stand up straight as he was so tired. Yet, his smile could have illuminated the world.

Harry had walked Dougie back to where the employees lived and it was time for them to part ways.

“You know, you’re still off. You could … stay at mine. For the night.”
Dougie smiled. “I have the first shift tomorrow. Gonna get up at half five to get the dining hall ready for breakfast. Thanks for the offer though.”
“Am I gonna see you tomorrow?”
“Sure. I’m on duty in the dining hall in the for breakfast and dinner. Between that I’ll be working with Paolo at the pool.”
“I’ll stalk you then.”
“Okay.” Dougie paused. “Thanks for today, Harry.”
“No, thank you.”
Dougie smiled again, looking up at Harry shyly. “Night then.”
“Good night.”

They both just kept standing there, looking and smiling at each other. It was Harry who mustered up all his courage and leaned down towards Dougie, awaiting a reaction from the younger man. There was none so Harry took it as a ‘go ahead’ and let his lips come in contact with Dougie’s. He felt resistance for a split second until the shorter blonde visibly relaxed and snaked his arms around Harry’s waist, holding him close. In turn, Harry cupped Dougie’s face in his hands and let his tongue explore the inside of Dougie’s mouth.

They pulled apart after a while, getting their breathing back to normal. Their arms still stayed around each other, their foreheads were touching.

“I really don’t want to ruin the mood but I really need to get to bed now.” Dougie said.
“You sure you don’t want to stay at mine?”
“Let me rephrase what I just said – I need to get to sleep, not to bed. And for some reason, I think I wouldn’t get much sleep in your bed.”
“Right.” Harry pulled back his hands, much to Dougie’s chargrin. “Go and have sweet dreams. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“I’ll make sure of that.” Dougie gave Harry another short kiss. “Night Harry.”
“Night Doug.”

Dougie turned and headed down the path leading to the employees-area, Harry watching his back until he disappeared.

===

Over the next few days, Harry saw a lot of Dougie. But it still wasn’t enough for him. He had become more than infatuated with the younger man even though he had only known him for almost a week. He loved how Dougie had just accepted this lifestyle he had, how it didn’t seem to phase him that he was always running around, following people’s orders, serving other people for that little money he made.

Any form of relationships between the hotel’s employees and the guests were frowned upon and despite most of the staff ignoring that unspoken rule, Dougie stuck to it. He and Harry only kissed in the privacy of his or Harry’s room. Their touches were fleeting, barely there, but still electrified both men to their cores. To everyone else they seemed like they had the usual relationship between employee and guest, friendly talking over nonsense like the weather. Only they knew that it was something bigger and deeper.

It was another night in which Dougie had snuck into Harry’s room after his shift was over. They were laying on Harry’s bed, enveloped in each other’s arms, listening to the roaring of the ocean.

“I’ll leave tomorrow.” Harry stated, breaking their comfortable silence.
“I know.”
“Have you thought about my offer?”
“More than you would think.”
“And?”

Dougie sighed. In the past days he had barely thought about anything else but whether he should leave the country with Harry and go back to England. All the time he had been weighing up his options.

If he left Portugal to go back to England, he had the chance to patch things up with his family. He would be seeing his father and sister again. When he had left them, there had been many things uncleared between all of them and from what he had heard, they both had settled down and gotten closer to each other again. Now he was the only missing piece of the puzzle his family had become.

And if he left, Dougie could be with Harry. In the past days he had received more love from Harry than he had ever gotten from anyone else. At the same time he had experienced for the first time how it was to love someone else. How it felt when your heart was almost exploding when he just thought about the other man.

But then, Dougie had a job to do. Not the best job, surely not, but it was a job. He had a place to live, had food and clean clothes and a steady income. Back in England he had nothing of that. He had never been one to study much while in school and back in Britain people were judged by their degrees more than anything. And even though Harry had told him that he could live with him, the idea of that wasn’t too comforting for Dougie. In the past years he had always managed everything by himself, never needed other people to help him, didn’t want other people to help him. He had become independent, to a level where he found the idea of someone else paying anything for him unbearable.

Also, what if Harry and he broke up? He knew that while in Portugal, their relationship was based on something different than it would be back home. While Harry was here, he was on holiday. Once he got back to England, he had his job and his life again. And where would Dougie fit in then? He knew that, if he stayed, he would miss Harry. A lot. But maybe missing him was better than being back in cold and grey England while Harry was at his office all day and their relationship fell into pieces.

“I don’t know Harry. There’s so much that can go wrong when I go back with you.”
“Like what?”
“Well, my job-situation for once. All I have are my GCSEs, and they were bad. I have nothing else that I can throw into a job-application, never seen a college from the inside.”
“You’ve worked here for three years, Doug. That’s something that differences you from everyone else. You get along with all kinds of people, nothing stresses you out. Those are qualities you can’t learn at any college in the world.”
“Okay right, point for you. But what will happen to us if I leave?”
“What do you mean, what will happen to us? Nothing will happen to us.”
Dougie shook his head. “That’s what you think now. But being back home will affect you, even though you can’t see it now. You’ll be back at your job and sooner than you know it’ll consume your life again and there’s no time for me anymore.”
“Doug, that’s not going to happen. My job only consumed me in the past because I had no idea that there was anything else in the world. Now I know and I won’t let it slip through my fingers again.”
“Still … I just can’t leave, Harry. I want to, more than anything. But I just can’t.”
Harry’s face fell. “Why?”
“Because it’s my life. This is my life. It’s nothing big or fancy but for the first time ever, it’s my own.”
“So that’s it, you’re staying here?”
“Yeah.”

Harry didn’t know what to say to that. When he was with Dougie, he felt more complete than ever, didn’t care about his job or anything else. And now it was all supposed to be over, just like that?

“I could stay here.” he tried.
“No, you can’t. Portugal isn’t your thing, Harry. Because living here is nothing like coming here for a one-week-holiday.”
“But there has to be something. I can’t just leave and go back home and that’ll be it.”
“But that’s exactly how it is going to be.”
“I love you, Doug. Doesn’t that mean anything?”
“If this was about love, I’d be packing my bags already. But I can’t let love get in the way, Harry.”
“If you can’t let love get in the way, what else can make you change your mind?”
“I can only do it myself.”
“You won’t though.”
“No. I’m sorry, Harry.”
Harry sighed. “Yeah. Me too, Doug. Me too.”

===

It was in the middle of the night when Dougie, who had been awake all the time, took one last look at the face next to him.

He was fighting tears when he carefully got out of the bed and back into his uniform. The lump in his throat was almost choking him when he stood by the door of Harry’s room, looking at him sleeping one last time. It hurt him to no end to just leave him like that but he knew he would be hurting so much more in the morning when Harry would leave for good. By leaving now, he would just make things easier for the both of them.

===

When Harry’s alarm woke him up before sunrise the next morning and he sleepily patted the bed by his side, his hands landed on nothing but the soft sheets. He was wide awake in an instant, looking around the room for any trace of Dougie. His heart skipped a beat when his eyes landed on the chair on which Dougie had placed his uniform last night, seeing it was empty.

Even though it hurt him, if Harry was completely honest with himself, ending things between him and Dougie like this was probably for the best. No drawn-out goodbye, no last looks, last touches or last kisses. Only reminders of the best week he ever had in his life, not destroyed by a haunting image of the sadness on Dougie’s face. Everything that could have been said between them had been said. There was no need for anything anymore.

With the thought of what could have been if the conversation between him and Dougie had turned out differently, Harry packed the last things into his suitcase before leaving the room and minutes later checked out of the hotel, waiting for the taxi to get him to the airport.

It was at the airport when Harry started to look around every few seconds, hoping and wishing to see Dougie running towards him through the crowd, announcing loudly that he had changed his mind. But he didn’t come running towards him so Harry checked in, accepting his documents without a word or a smile.

He knew he needed to get onto this plane. He had to get back to England. He had to get back to his job, to his clients who waited for his return and his abilities to make time turn into money. But it all seemed so useless to Harry. Money, his job, the trust his clients had in him … nothing of it made sense anymore.

When the last call for his flight was announced, Harry didn’t move. He kept sitting on the seats in front of the screen where all the departing and arriving flights were shown, staring at it but not seeing it at the same time. It was just like the rest of the world … it was there but Harry didn’t see it anymore. Without Dougie, Harry saw nothing in his life anymore.

The flight Harry was supposed to get on had been replaced by many others long ago when the sound of something familiar brought Harry back to the world.

“Missed your flight?”

He looked around and just like that, his heartbeat overpowered everything around him and his wide smile brightened up the whole country.

“Looks like it.”

Dougie came towards him and plonked down onto the seat next to him, a hastily packed bag on the floor between his feet.

“Going somewhere?” Harry asked.
“I’m on the 8pm to London.” Dougie pointed at the screen. “Called my dad this morning, said that he’ll get his chance to make up for the time lost in the past years. He had booked a ticket before I had put my shoes on.”
“How about your job?”
“I quit. There are hundreds of jobs in London, there should be one for me as well.”
“I thought you wanted to live your life.”
“Yeah but … my life isn’t that much fun when I can’t share it with another person. I was working by the beach at sunrise, getting the sunshades ready and all. There was this couple, watching the sunrise, and they were surrounded by nothing but happiness and love. But then I looked and I saw the sunrise but it was nothing special. If the sun isn’t even special anymore, then where’s the point in staying?”
“You won’t see many sunrises in London though. You probably won’t even see much of the sun in general, at least not as much as here.”
Dougie shrugged. “I don’t care. London has you and you are something that Portugal wasn’t able to be for three years.”
“What?”
“Home.”

Dougie looked at Harry, smiling lightly. Harry smiled back at him and put his arm around the other man’s shoulders, pulling him closer. He inhaled the scent of Dougie’s hair and just that simple little movement put everything back into shape. Colours and sounds and everything around him was there again.

“I’m sorry, Harry.” Dougie uttered after a while.
The elder pulled away and looked down. “What for?”
“You have to buy another ticket again and your suitcase is probably going round in circles at Heathrow. I should’ve made up my mind earlier.”
Harry shook his head. “It doesn’t matter, none of it. As long as you don’t change your mind again.”
“I’m sure I won’t.”
“Still, I don’t wanna risk anything. Come on, I need to buy a ticket and we have to check in before the queues start. The sooner I get you into that departure-gate the better.”

Dougie chuckled and let Harry pull him into a standing-position. Arms still around each other they walked to the desk of British Airways. A brunette woman who had just finished a phone call looked up at them, smiling.

“How can I help you today?” she asked friendly.
“I’d like to buy a ticket.” Harry said, letting go of Dougie to get out his wallet.
“Where to?”

Harry looked down at Dougie again, sharing a smile with him before taking his hand and squeezing it tightly before he replied.

“Home.”

The End

Comments are appreciated.

mcfly-slash ... The Beginning

Fri, 29 Feb 2008 15:33:28 GMT

oh look, a free afternoon, sort of. hasn't happened all week.
i'm exhausted. and tired.
and booking stuff for simple plan next week. eeeeeeee.
and i have a story.

Title: The Beginning
Author: me
Rating: PG12
Chapter: 1/1 … Standalone
Genre: Romance
Pairing: PoynterJudd
Summary: “Why do you think I’m not ready?”
Word count: 2,453
Disclaimer: not gay, not true … that’s what they say, at least
Dedication: to juddpoynter who prompted me with ‘Beginnings’ and requested a Pudd and therefore gave me a prompt for the sequel to The End and Reminders. And if you feel like prompting me, do it here.
Author’s note: And here we have the third part to my latest little trilogy which I nicely titled ‘The End is Always the Beginning’. We’re bringing the circle full close.

My life sucks. And I’m not trying to sound emo here, I really mean it. My life sucks.

Just a quick update and explanation as to why exactly it does. Actually, you can pretty much sum it up in one word. A word that seems to be what everything that happens in my life inevitably comes down to.

Harry.

He is it. He is everything. He is the problem and its solution. He’s the one that causes trouble, helps me through it and in the end, creates even more trouble than I had before.

Harry is the only constant in my life. He was there, he is there, he will be there. Always.

Harry simply is The One. And still, him and me just don’t seem to be able to happen.

At first there was Harry’s girlfriend. She was never literally between us but it was her being with Harry that stopped him from allowing himself to love me and to be with me.

Then Harry finally realised that he did love me and he and his girlfriend split up after a fight. And he told me that he loved me. Unfortunately, he he chose to tell me when I had started seeing my girlfriend. So then it was me who didn’t allow myself to love, at least not him. I gave my girlfriend a chance, but at the same time told Harry that he shouldn’t give up waiting. Knowing myself, I knew that I would be drawn back to him at some point again.

It was unfair to make him wait but still, that’s what he did. While I felt more and more miserable in a relationship that I had forced upon myself, Harry was there. He helped with words, drinks, distractions.

What had to come, did come. My girlfriend and me split up. I tried telling me that it was because she kept nagging on me, wanted too much too soon. But deep down I knew that it was simply because she wasn’t Harry. I just never said it out loud.

And as usual, I went to Harry afterwards. Well, I didn’t actually have to. I was over at his when my so-called relationship with my girlfriend reached its end. We split up in Harry’s living room, she left and slammed his front door shut.

And of course, Harry was there. He was there with kind words and solace, just like he’s always been.

I was ready to give Harry his chance, there and then. He still loved me, I obviously still loved him. Hadn’t stopped apparently, just tried to tell myself I had. It was just logically for us to get together, finally.

Unfortunately, Harry saw the whole thing differently.

“I’ve never not been ready.” he had said, then paused, before adding, “But I don’t think you’re quite ready yet.”

To me this was a whole load of bull but try to get that into the stubborn head of Harry Mark Christopher Judd.

He had said that to me a few days ago but I still didn’t get it. We both obviously loved each other and we both finally agreed on it and for the first time there was nothing that could stop us from being with each other for real. Well, apart from him of course.

I was just ready to go on a walk with Flea. I was sitting in my living room, shoes and jacket on, the dog on a rampage in front of me. I stared at the clock, waiting for the knock on the door that told me that Harry was there to pick us up. I don’t know why I was waiting actually, Harry hadn’t been with us for a few days. The same amount of days that had passed since he had shot me down, actually. I know he wanted to give me time to think but I didn’t want that. I had been thinking all the bloody time in the past days and to be honest, I was fed up with it. I mean, it’s nice that he wants to be sensible and all that but really, sensibility was the last thing I wanted from him.

“Come on buddy. If Harry doesn’t want to talk to us, we’ll just go talk to him. See what he does about that.”

Taking Flea by the lead, I left the flat and walked the short distance to where Harry lived and rang his doorbell. He opened the door moments later.

“Doug, I don’t think -”
“No, you won’t think! You go back into that flat of yours, sit the fuck down and listen to me!”

Obviously surprised by my little outburst, Harry stepped back and let me enter. He took Flea’s lead off before leading the dog into the living room, closely followed by me. He sat down on his sofa, the dog by his feet and looked up at me, standing in his living room, trying to control my thoughts. I seem to do that a lot recently, stand in his living room and try to collect and control my crazy thoughts.

“Why do you think I’m not ready?”

Yeah, I know. For someone who had days to come up with something, anything, this was lame. But at the same time, this was the main question that flooded my brain over and over again. And I finally wanted and needed an answer.

“You’ve just got out of a relationship, Dougs.”
“I know, thank you very much. But what does that have to do with anything?”
“You answered that question yourself a few days ago. In that very room, actually.”
“Huh?”

I really hate it when he goes all smart and know-it-all on me, I really do. Because in such situations I tend to say what I just said, ‘Huh?’, and feel more stupid than I probably am.

“You said that you haven’t had a relationship in years, didn’t you?”
“Yeah. And?”
“And that’s the thing. Because you haven’t had a relationship in years, you obviously didn’t have to leave anyone in years either.”
“I left anyone ever. I am usually the one who gets dumped, remember? Wasn’t much different this time.”
“Just proves my point.”
“What is your point?”
“When you get out of a relationship, you can’t jump into the next right away. Especially not when you’re the one who got left.”
“Why not?”
“Because you need time to adjust.”
“Adjust to what?”
“Being left. Being single.”
“I don’t care that I’ve been left. And I don’t want to be single. I want to be with you. I wanted to be with you all the time. Even when I was in that piss-poor excuse of a relationship, I wanted to be with you.”
“You weren’t though. You picked her over me.”
“I told you, that was a mistake.”
“What if being with me turns out to be a mistake as well?”
“Has it ever been? Even when I was just a thing at the side, I never would have questioned myself if being with you was a mistake. I may have made a ton of mistakes in my life, but if I know one thing, it’s that you or being with you never were one of them.”

I finally sat down next to him. I could see that he was troubled and that he probably had been thinking about the whole thing as much as I did. This whole going-around-in-circles relationship that we had, it was tiring for the both of us. But still, he didn’t seem to want to change it, finally bring it into another direction, move it forward.

An awful thought popped into my head. Maybe I had fucked it up. I had made him wait and maybe that had been the mistake.

“Don’t you want to be with me anymore?” I voiced what suddenly was my biggest fear.
“Of course I want to. Don’t ever think I don’t.”
“Then why are we still talking about it all? Why aren’t we happening finally?”
“Look at this whole thing, Dougs. With everything that has been going on in the past, do you think it’d really be clever for us to get together?”
“I don’t care if it’d be clever. We both had our fair share of stupid decisions in this messed up relationship. But the one thing that always remained was that we both always wanted each other on some level. We always wanted to be with each other, Harry. We can be now. Nothing is going to stop us.”
“I’m just … I’m scared, Dougs.”
“What are you scared of?”

Harry paused, looking down at Flea who was laying under the coffee table, looking up at both of us with his wide, always awaiting eyes.

“I love you, Dougie.” Harry said finally. He still wasn’t looking at me, still looked at the dog by our feet. “I really do love you and it broke my heart when you decided to be with her. It hurt so much because I had to see you be with her even though you didn’t want to be with her. I always saw how unhappy you were with her. And then you split up and the first thing you do is offer yourself to me. I feel like, maybe you only want me because I’m just there, you know. I’m always right fucking there because I’ve always been and why should I not, I’m your best friend. But Dougs, you have to realise, when we get together, everything will be different and I don’t want you to wake up one day and realise that you also don’t want to be with me. You have to be a hundred per cent sure of what you want before we get involved in anything.”
“I am sure.”
“How can you be? Your girlfriend was out the door for 30 seconds and you already were ready for the next thing. That is such … it’s such a Danny thing to do and we all know where that always goes. And I love you too much to be just a fleeting thing for you.”

Oh man, he was really serious about that. Harry really and absolutely thought that he was just a rebound for me. That I just wanted to be with him to not be alone, or something like that.

“Harry, look at me.” I demanded.

He still had his gazed fixed on the floor so I cupped his chin with my hand and turned his head, holding it there so he wouldn’t look away again. I wanted him to look at my face, into my eyes. He needed to see how sure I was.

“I don’t know where you get your crazy ideas from but I want you to know that whatever you think, it’s not true. You could never just be a fleeting thing for me, a rebound-relationship because I can’t stand the thought of being alone. You mean too much to me to just be a fleeting thing. I know we’ve never been easy on each other in the past. But I can guarantee you that if you stop what is supposed and meant to happen, the future will be even worse than the past. I know that you want to give me time to think or to adjust but I don’t want that. I don’t want to adjust to being single because I don’t want to be single. And I don’t want to think about whether or not I want you because I’ve been knowing the answer to that for longer than I can even remember. I can understand that you’re scared, Harry. But there is nothing to be scared of. I am not going to break your heart. You’ll only break it yourself if you stop a thing that should have happened years ago.”

With a shake of his head, Harry wrenched his face out of my grip and looked away again. I have no idea if he didn’t want to believe me or if he just couldn’t believe me. All I knew was that my words didn’t seem to get through to him and that was fucking frustrating.

I let my head fall back and stared at the ceiling. “What do you want me to do, Harry? I love you. What does it need to get that into that stubborn head of yours?”

At that, Harry’s head suddenly snapped back towards me. I saw him staring at me wide-eyed and open-mouthed out of the corner of my eye. I turned my head to look at him.

“What?”
“You never told me before that you loved me.”
I snorted. “I thought at least that was made clear.” I paused. “You thought I didn’t love you?”
Harry nodded.

I smiled and moved until I was straddling Harry’s legs. I wrapped my arms around his neck and this time, he looked back at me without hesitation while he held me by the hips.

“I love you, Harry. More than anything or anyone on this planet. I can’t think of any moment when I didn’t love you. And I’m sorry that it took us ages to get to this point. I’m sorry that I needed to be unhappy with a girlfriend to realise what I have with you. I’m sorry that I never screamed it from the rooftops that it’s you that I want and need and love. I’m sorry that I made you doubt my feelings for you. But I promise here and now that, from this day on, there will be no time passing, and no girls, and no untold feelings, and no doubts anymore. I love you and if it’s necessary, I am going to tell you that I do at least once an hour. But please, can you just listen to your stupid heart now and allow yourself to be with me? Because I’ve been waiting to fucking kiss all air out of your body ever since I walked through your door earlier and if you keep me from doing that for just another second, you’ll end up as reptile-food in my freezer.”

Harry just laughed at that. He laughed heartily and really, it was the best thing I had heard in ages. His grip on my waist tightened and he pulled me closer to him until our noses were almost touching.

“I love you, Harry. I love you, I love you, I love you, I l-”

I couldn’t continue because it was then that Harry finally seemed to believe me and pressed his lips onto mine. But I couldn’t care less that I hadn’t been able to finish my sentence. I was part of the beginning of something so much better anyway.

The End

Comments are appreciated.

mcfly-slash ... Reminders

Mon, 25 Feb 2008 12:40:03 GMT

-sigh- the week of nothing to do is over. almost.
tomorrow it's back to work and then it'll be straight through til saturday evening.
and then i'll try to squeeze in panic at the disco some time on thursday. and maybe buying a ticket for the foo fighters and stressing out because i need to book stuff for the simple plan tour.

my life really could've chosen another week to catch up with me, seriously.

anyway, i'm here to bring a fic.

Title: Reminders
Author: me
Rating: PG12 (swear words)
Chapter: 1/1 … Standalone
Genre: Self-analysis
Pairing: PoynterJudd … Poynter/OFC
Summary: “You’re spacing a lot today. What’s going on?”
Word count: 2,831
Disclaimer: not true, not gay … I think
Dedication: to b_u_n_n_i_e_s who prompted me with ‘Flashback’ and requested a Pudd. There you go, love. It’s not really angsty though. And if any of you would like to prompt me, you can do it here.
Author’s note: I love my readers. The prompt b_u_n_n_i_e_s chose goes hand in hand with The End which was another prompt. So this is the sequel to that. I’m just so clever, aren’t I? The flashbacks are in italics, by the way.

“Hey, earth calling Dougie!”

I snapped back to reality at the hand moving from left to right in front of my eyes. I blinked quickly a few times and then looked towards the source of the hand, my eyes landing on my girlfriend’s amused face.

“You spaced for a minute there.”
“Yeah sorry. What were you saying?”
“Flea is getting restless. I think we should take him for a walk.”
“Oh … yeah … sure, let’s go.”

I raised from the sofa, proceeding to put my shoes and jacket on while Flea was going mental at my feet. Next to me was my girlfriend, doing the same, being much more successful without a crazy pet by her feet, manipulating her every move.

===

Harry knelt down, trying to tie his shoelaces which was made really difficult with the bounding dog right next to him, sniffing at his hands before trying to attack his face with his tongue.

“Good god Flea, give it a rest. What are you feeding him, Dougs?”
“It’s not my fault, honestly. He gets like that whenever I just mention your name.”

Smiling, I watched Harry proceeding to attend his shoelaces, finally managing it. He took Flea’s lead and attached it to his dog collar so I could put on my shoes in peace. As soon as Harry had attached the lead, Flea already tugged on it, dragging Harry towards the door.

“He’s going to scratch down your door if he won’t get past it this instant. We’ll meet you outside.” Harry said to me while opening my front door.
“Okay.”

===

“Looks like you finally managed to calm him down a bit. He’s not attacking every moving thing around him anymore.” my girlfriend remarked, bringing me out of my daze again.
“Nah, it’s just you. You probably calm him down. You should see him when Harry’s around.”
“That’s because you boys are all crazy, no surprise he goes mad then.” She stroked Flea between his ears. “Am I right, boy? Yeah, I am, aren’t I?”
I stood, jacket and shoes on, lead in my hand. “Ready then?”
“Ready when you are.”

===

Walking around the area with Harry always had a calming effect on me. Flea was a bundle of energy in front of us, dragging on his lead, sniffing on everything that dared to be on his path. He really was like a child that we both had to take care of.

When Harry and me were out with Flea we always talked about everything. It was the only time when we were with each other without that sexual tension between us and I liked it like that. It was one of the things that always showed me what I really had in Harry. On top of everything, he still was my best friend and that was something he would always be.

===

“You’re spacing a lot today. What’s going on?”
“Hm?” I snapped out of my thoughts again. “Nothing. I’m just thinking.”
“What about?”
“Band-stuff. It’s complicated.”
“Is it about the record company thing?”
“No … yes … it’s … you wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
I took a breath, feeling a headache coming up. “Look, it’s just … you just wouldn’t understand, alright?”
“But …”
“No but!” I snapped, “Just leave it, will you?”

Angrily, I stomped ahead a little, past the gates of the park, letting Flea off the lead and threw his ball that I kept in the pocket of my jacket for him to bring back to me.

===

“Iz and I broke up.”
“What? When?”
“This morning.”
“Why?”
“We had a fight.”
“About?”
“Nothing.”
“Huh?”
“It was … I don’t know. I tried to tell her something that had to do with the band. About that messed up gig the other week. She was like, ‘It’s over, don’t think about it.’, brushed it right off. I got so angry and next thing you know, we were fighting.”
“Understandable.”
“Is it?”
“Yeah. If you mess up a gig you can’t just brush it off. No matter if it’s over and done with, unfortunately it’s always the mistakes that seem to not leave your head.”
“Still, I shouldn’t have fought with her over it. It’s a band-thing, I can’t blame her for not getting it.”
“You blamed her for not being supportive, not for not understanding.” I paused a second. “And then you broke up?”
“Yeah. She said that if I keep letting my frustrations out by screaming at her, that’s not really the best outlook into the future. I told her to not be overdramatic because of one little thing and she told me to go fuck myself.”

Harry paused, laughing somewhat bitterly. He took Flea’s ball out of the pocket of my jacket and threw it, watching the dog run off after it.

“Another proof that girlfriends and band should not mix. I wonder how Tom does it.”
“Gi was there before the band. Maybe that’s why.”
“Someone should have told us that as long as we’re in the band, we shouldn’t date anyone. It’s called ‘sex, drugs and rock ‘n roll’ and not ‘relationships, drugs and rock ‘n roll’ for a reason. Worked many years.”
“Yeah, but if we worked that way, Danny would have around ten kids by now.”
Harry grinned. “Ten a year, you mean.”
I grinned back. “Something like that, yeah.”

===

I felt some movement next to me and looked back at my girlfriend who just fished the keys to my flat out of the other pocket of my jacket.

“You know, I don’t wanna fight with you. But I probably will if you keep on spacing on me all the time. I’ll wait at yours.”
“Yeah, fine.”

I watched her back as she left the park, rounding the corner to my home. Flea was back at my feet, letting the ball drop to the ground, looking up at me expectantly. I knelt down to pat him on the head.

“Don’t get yourself a girlfriend, buddy.” I advised, “They always make a huge fuss over nothing. Us boys are much easier to understand, right? I mean, if we were here with Harry, we wouldn’t fight, would we?”

At the sound of Harry’s name, the dog started yapping excitedly and snapped his head up, looking up at me with its big eyes.

“I know, Harry’s a great guy, isn’t he? You get yourself a Harry instead of a girlfriend then. That would make you happy, wouldn’t it?”

Flea yapped even more, wagging his tail back and forth, tipping his nose against the hand in which I held the lead.

===

Flea and Harry always were a right pair. If I went out for a walk and Harry wasn’t there, Flea seemed to have super-powers. He dragged me with such force towards Harry’s door that I couldn’t do anything but give in. Ever since I had gotten Flea, he had accepted Harry as much as his owner as he had accepted me.

Harry never seemed to care about the fact that, out of the blue, he had a new pet though. He knew the times when I went for a walk with Flea and usually just came over to mine by then, ready to join us. I think on some level, Flea wasn’t just my dog but ours.

When Harry was with Flea, he also was with me. And it was on one of our trips to the park that, for the first time, I realised that I wanted something bigger and more than this. And that I wanted it with Harry.

“Flea …” I said to him when we were at home that one night after Harry had left, “You love Harry, don’t you?”
As if he really could understand me, Flea barked.
“Yeah … I love him too.”

===

“You wanna go to Harry, don’t you?”

At my words, Flea started bounding up at down again. I put his lead back on and the second it was attached I had to hold on it tightly or otherwise my own pet would have brought me to the ground again. I almost had to run down the street to keep up with him.

I had just reached Harry’s front door when Flea stretched and dug his little claws into the door. I didn’t even have to ring because just moments later Harry opened the door, getting onto his knees immediately, expertly catching Flea in his arms.

“I knew I heard something. Hi guys! Wanna go for a walk?”
I walked past Harry into his flat. “We’ve only just been. But someone was missing you.”
“Awww, you missed me, Flea, didn’t you? Missed you too, buddy.”

While I took off my shoes and jacket, Harry and Flea went ahead into the living room. Reaching the room as well I plonked down onto the sofa, letting out a groan.

“What’s the matter?” Harry asked and sat down next to me.
“I really don’t like girls at the moment.”
“Girls in general or a specific one?”
“A very specific one. She’s always fucking nagging on me, dude. She always wants to understand everything. And then I tell her that it’s something she just wouldn’t understand and she still keeps asking about it.”
“She cares about you, Dougs. She wants to figure you out.”
“I can’t even figure myself out. Why should she be able to? And why does she want to in the first place? You don’t want to either, you love me the way I am.”
“I do actually.”

At that, I just looked at Harry and suddenly, all the sexual tension was there again. I hadn’t felt like that for weeks. Ever since our talk a few weeks ago, ever since I had decided to give the whole girlfriend-thing a shot, I hadn’t allowed myself to felt like that.

I was just about to open my mouth to say something – what, I didn’t know myself – when the doorbell went. Taking a deep breath, probably to release his part of the tension, Harry rose from the sofa and went for the door. I heard a female voice and I just knew I was in for trouble. And sure enough, just moments later my girlfriend entered the living room. And let me just say, the look on her face was less than friendly.

“Knew I’d find you here. Just wanted to give you these. I’m off home.” She tossed my keys into my lap.
“I thought you wanted to wait at the flat.”
“That’s what I did. I waited for a bloody hour.”
“Oh … I didn’t realise -”
She cut me off. “There are many things you didn’t realise, Dougie. Me being one of them.”
“Hold on a sec.” I held my hand up. “Just because I’m not talking about a band-thing with you, you don’t have to get all ‘you ignored me’ on me. That was just one damn thing.”
“It was not!” Her voice rose. “Over the past few weeks you didn’t seem to be there at all. When I was around, your thoughts were on something else the whole time.”
“I told you, I was just thinking. I’m going through a lot at the moment, in case you failed to notice. I could be fucking jobless in a few months if we go through with that record company issue so excuse me if that sort of occupies me.”
“And what gives you the idea that I wouldn’t understand that?”
“Because you just wouldn’t. This is about the band so how can you be able to understand it? You’ve seen a tiny little glimpse of me and my life so far. You have no fucking clue so don’t think a few weeks as my girlfriend make you an expert. 20 years of being me haven’t made me one either.”
“I’m not trying to be an expert. I just wanted to be there for you. But you always shut me out and ran to Harry.”
“Yeah, because Harry is in the band. And he’s my friend.”
“I could be your friend as well but you’re not even giving me a chance.”
“You know what? You have no idea. You have no idea about the chance I’ve given you. I gave up something that was beyond amazing and I gave it up for you. And now you’re standing here, daring to tell me I didn’t give you a chance? I could have lost the best thing in the world and now you tell me I didn’t give you a chance?”

I rose from the sofa, pacing back and forth in the room, trying to keep my thoughts at bay. Not that it helped or anything. There were so many different thoughts in my head, in my current state only a knock-out would have made me cool down.

“Oh really?” she asked sarcastically, “Then tell me, what exactly did you give up for me? Because as far as I can tell, all you really seem to care about besides your family are Harry and the band. You still have your family, you still have the band and you still have Harry. So what exactly did you give up for me?”
“Harry!” I screamed at her, “Harry and I, we have something. Or … we had because I decided that I couldn’t be with you and him and the same time. I cut the chord to what him and me had or could’ve had to be with you. Because I thought what you and me had just started may turn out to be something on the same level. So yeah, maybe I put Harry ahead of you a few times. But you know what? It was the right thing to do. Because through it all, Harry was my friend and he just gets me. And he still loves me to a point I can’t even understand but he was always willing to sit back and wait. Something that you weren’t able to. You always say you care about me but still, you couldn’t sit back and wait. You wanted everything all at once and you just didn’t want to realise that what you wanted was something I couldn’t give to you. I haven’t been in a relationship in years, I don’t know how it is to be with someone like that. But I was willing to try. For you. I gave you the biggest chance I ever gave anyone. So don’t you fucking dare to say I didn’t.”
“You are gay?”

Good lord almighty, this girl really knows how to wind up a guy. Ten seconds ago she was whining about me not opening up to her and then I spill my guts to her, basically give her what she wants, and that is all she has to say about it?

“Is that all you care about? Whether or not I’m gay?”
“To be honest, right now … yes.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake!” I groaned, finally calming myself down a little bit. “Yes, maybe I am gay. All I know is that the past few minutes have shown me that it’d be much easier if I was.”
“Fine. I’m gonna make it easy for you then.” She rose from the sofa and stood in front of me, her eyes on the same level as mine. “We’re over, Dougie Poynter!”

Then she left the room and moments later I heard the front door slam shut. I kept standing on my spot, in the middle of Harry’s living room. My legs felt a little wobbly though so I just sat down, there on the floor, burying my head in my hands, swearing to myself.

A few moments later, I felt movement at my side. I looked, seeing Flea by my side, resting his head in my lap.

“See, that’s why I told you to not get a girlfriend, buddy.”
“At least a dog can’t slam the door.” came Harry’s voice suddenly.

I looked up and saw him stand in the same doorway that my now ex-girlfriend had went through minutes earlier.

“You heard it all, I suppose?” I asked.
“I think even Tom and Danny heard it. And they’re down the road.”
“Yeah.” I paused, patting Flea’s head in my lap. “I was so stupid.”
Harry moved to sit down across from me on the floor. “You weren’t. You couldn’t have known that it would end up like this with her.”
“I don’t mean her. I mean you. When you told me you love me I knew that being with her would be a mistake.” I paused, taking a deep breath, looking him dead in the eyes. “You ready for your chance now?”
He smiled at me, that broken smile I knew all too well. “I’ve never not been ready.” Then he paused. “But I don’t think you’re quite ready yet.”

Harry then got up and left the room, leaving me sitting on the floor, confused beyond belief.

Will this fucking story ever end?

The End

Comments are appreciated.

A/N 2: Meh, I've done better. Who also thinks that the beginning of the fic is really awful?

A/N 3: *hides behind chair* Please don’t throw things at me. There is a third part to this story, I'm not that mean.

mcfly-slash ... The End

Wed, 20 Feb 2008 12:07:02 GMT

woohoo .. i have a week off. a week of no work and of generally nothing.
i might as well be in heaven.

to celebrate, i'll bring a fic.

Title: The End
Author: me
Rating: PG13
Chapter: 1/1 … Standalone
Genre: Angst
Pairing: PoynterJudd
Summary: What we have, it had to end at some point.
Word count: 2,142
Disclaimer: oh god, hopefully not!
Dedication: to manuanya who prompted me with ‘Endings’ and requested a Pudd. I hope this meets your expectations? And if any of you wants to prompt me, you can do it here.
Author’s note: This was supposed to be an entirely different story for an entirely different prompt. But then it turned out to be this one for some reason. And then I suddenly got really caught up in it and wrote the story in less than an hour.

I can’t even say how long it has been going on. It sure seems like forever.

Ever since the day we’ve met, Harry and me have been close. Not just as friends, on every level. I could talk to him about everything, he was always there to hang out with to do nothing.

It started as a spur-of-the-moment thing, initiated by him because he’s always been more bold, more straight forward, braver.

We were both single and lonely at the time. Nothing felt wrong when we hugged, kissed, undressed each other.

At first we thought it was just one night, really tried to make it just one night and keep it that way. But the want and need for each other almost killed us so it happened again. And again.

Then he started seeing his girlfriend. So we thought we’d just stop then. But again, after a few weeks we were pulled back to each other. We just couldn’t do anything against it, an invisible force brought us to each other time and time again.

We kept going on, even though he had his girlfriend. He never told her about it, knew that she just wouldn’t understand.

The whole thing, it went on for years.

Until I met her.

It freaked me out at first, being in an actual relationship. Everything seemed so new and so different from what I was used to. I suddenly didn’t feel need or want for physical contact with Harry anymore. Instead I felt butterflies going mad in my stomach when I just thought about my girlfriend.

I only did what was right.

When Harry tried to hug me, I stayed stiff as a board. When he leaned in for a kiss, I pulled away. When his fingers moved towards my clothes, I slapped them away.

I could tell he didn’t understand what was going on. I knew he thought that if he could have me and his girlfriend at the same time, I should be able to have him and my girlfriend at the same time as well.

Only, I didn’t want to have him and my girlfriend at the same time. I wanted only one of them. My girlfriend. All the time.

The new year’s just started and with the holidays with our families behind us and our Australia-trip ahead there was a few weeks of down-time. No one really knew what to do so we all just hung out with each other.

We had spent the night upstairs at Danny’s flat. Drinks, videogames, take away, the usual stuff. At the end of the night, both Tom and Danny seemed to have consumed enough alcohol to make up to the Thames. With our friends in no state to go anywhere, Harry and I just dragged each of them to Danny’s bedroom and threw them on the bed before leaving the flat.

I had thought that Harry would just go home after this but he followed me into my flat as it was the most normal thing in the world. I knew what he wanted, I saw it in his eyes the whole night. But I wouldn’t let it happen. I couldn’t let it happen.

I plonked down onto the sofa and started my laptop. Harry went to my bathroom and moments later he was suddenly next to me. Really close as well. I could smell the alcohol and the traces of his aftershave on him, felt his breath on the side of my face.

“What ya doin, Doug?”
“E-mailing, writing messages, call it whatever you want.”
“With her?”
I nodded. “She just got in from her parents. Says hi and wants pictures of Tom and Danny sharing a bed to have a laugh.”
“Mmmm.” he mumbled before stating, totally random. “I’m not even going to miss her, you know. When we go to Australia.”
“Well, you better won’t. You have an own girlfriend to miss.”
“That’s what I was getting at, you idiot.”
“Harry, we’ve not even started packing. You’ll miss her when we’re over there.”
He shook his head. “Don’t think I will. I mean, you haven’t seen her since when, noon? And you’re e-mailing like there’s no tomorrow. When Tom can’t see Gi he calls her every two hours just to tell her he loves her. I can’t see myself doing anything of that.” He paused. “You’re gonna miss her when we’re Down Under?”
I thought for a moment. “A bit … I guess. Maybe not at first because I’ll be too excited. But ask me after a month.”
“You like her?”
“Sure I do.”
“No. I mean, like her.”
“It’s a bit too early to know that, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, maybe.” Another pause. “I miss you, you know.”
I snorted. “You see me every day, you loser.”
“Yeah, but like … you’re always talking about her or with her or she’s around. And even when she’s not around, she still always is because you’re so distant towards me.”
“Am I fuck distant. You’re just here with me in my flat, or aren’t you?”
“Yeah, but she is still here because you’re fucking e-mailing with her while I’m trying to have a conversation with you.”
“I’m talking to you, aren’t I? And I listen to what you say.”
“While you’re staring at the bloody laptop waiting for her to reply to whatever you said.”

It’s weird saying that because I never saw myself ever just thinking it but … Harry really started to annoy me at this moment.

“Can you just go and have some more drinks, please? Or, I dunno, go out, come back in and be normal again.” My voice rose. I couldn’t help it, I was just … argh!
“What?!”
“You fucking frustrate me at the moment.”
“I frustrate you? Look who’s bloody talking.”
“I didn’t even do anything.”
“No, how could you? You’re far too busy fussing over that little girlfriend of yours to do anything!”

By that time we were actually screaming at each other.

“Harry, I have no idea what the fuck I did. All I’m doing is write a simple e-mail and here you are almost ripping my head off about it.”
“Well, maybe that’s what you need because whoever’s head you’re carrying around right now isn’t yours. Because the Dougie I know, he would’ve shut his laptop the second I entered the room and he would lay with me on the sofa or on his bed, fully dressed, cracking jokes about Tom and Danny being drunk off their arses and he would fall asleep with me, not bothered if he wakes up using me as his pillow tomorrow morning.”

At that point, I somewhat understood. Harry saying that he was missing me, and being mad that I was e-mailing with my girlfriend. And I figured it would only be sensible to have this conversation so finally, probably to his great pleasure, I put my laptop down onto the floor. I didn’t switch it off, I just put it aside. One step at a time.

“Harry, I … I can’t. Not anymore. Not now. What we have, it had to end at some point.” I said quietly.
“Why?”
“Because I have her.”
“You’ve had me longer.”
“I’ve never had you. I’ve always almost had you. I was sick of waiting, Harry.”
“You can have me now.”
“No, I can’t have you now.”
“I’d say you can.”
“Yeah well, I say I can’t, alright?” I snapped.

I couldn’t believe it. For years I’ve been waiting, wanting, for him to say something like that to me. And now that he does, it’s not meant to go anywhere. It just can’t go anywhere.

“I never had a problem with having you and a girlfriend.”
“Yeah well, maybe that’s where we’re different. Maybe I have a problem with having you and having a girlfriend.”
“She doesn’t need to know. Izzy doesn’t know either.”
“So you want me to lie?”
“No … not lie, just … Do you think she would understand?”
“There is nothing to understand, Harry. Not anymore.”
“But why can’t there be? We’ve always been like we were until you started seeing her. Don’t you want me anymore? Am I not good enough for you?”
“You know that it’s not like that, Harry. You mean the world to me.”
“Then where’s the problem?”
“The problem is … She. She might be on the way to mean something similar to me. And until I don’t know for sure if she does or doesn’t mean anything to me … I just can’t. I don’t wanna mess something up that could turn out to be the best thing in the world for me.”
“Maybe I could be the best thing in the world for you.” He paused. “I was for a very long time.” he added quietly.

I took a deep breath, looking at the ceiling, away from him. Because I knew there was a possibility that, if I just took a look into his eyes, everything I had just said, would be forgotten. If I had looked back at him right then, the distance that I had put between us would vanish in less than a second.

“I want you both.” I uttered after a while, “I want you both so fucking much. But it won’t work just like that. It’s not fair on either of you if both you and her won’t be able to have all of me. While I’m with her a part of me would just always be with you. And while I’m with you a part of me would always be with her. And I can’t do that to you or her. I care about each of you too much. And maybe when I feel like that I shouldn’t even be with her but I just think I need to give her chance. You’ve also had your chance after all so it’s only fair.”
“And if it’s not working? You don’t know what will be in half a year.”
“It it’s not working it just wasn’t meant to be. And then I can go from there.”
“Will I still have a chance with you then?”

At that I cracked. I looked back at him. There was so much hope in his last question, I just couldn’t change it, I had to look him in the eyes when I told him.

“Out of all the people in the world, you will be the only one who will always have a chance.”

He smiled at that. A bit of a broken smile. I knew he wanted me and everything now but at the same time he knew that he couldn’t get it. At least not now. But knowing that one day he might get his chance, that made him smile.

“Will you wait?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“As my friend?”
“Yes.”
“Give it time, alright? Just time to figure things out, that’s all I need.”
“Alright.”

Harry then got up from the sofa, ready to go home. But one last thought seemed to strike him. He was contemplating with himself to say something, I could tell.

“What is it?”
“I know it maybe won’t change a thing right now and maybe it won’t ever but … you deserve to know.” He paused, taking a breath.

And then he looked at me. And not like he usually does. Right then his eyes seemed to look at me so much more intense, his look was so deep and meaningful. I knew what he was going to say, his eyes said it all. And I was fearing the words that would be leaving his lips because I knew that they had the power to change everything.

“I love you.”

And there they were. The words I had been waiting for for what seems three eternities. Now there were there, said by him, the only person who I ever wanted to hear them from for what was half my life.

But now that he had said them, I couldn’t let them touch me. I couldn’t let them in, as much as I wanted to. At least not now.

I nodded at Harry and smiled weakly before looking down at the floor, my laptop still resting by my feet.

It could have been easy. I could’ve taken the item, write a few words and just give Harry his chance right there and right then. But something about that didn’t feel right. Because there was still her and I liked her and she really deserved her chance for something more.

And suddenly I heard a click and I looked up and I saw that Harry wasn’t there anymore. But as I picked up my laptop and set it back on my legs I couldn’t help but think that maybe, one day, Harry would be there again. And then I wouldn’t let him leave.

The End

Comments are appreciated.

A/N 2: And just so you know, there is a sequel to this.

mcfly-slash ... Curiosity

Thu, 07 Feb 2008 13:47:25 GMT

so, i think i have mentioned that simple plan are the best band ever?
because last week they prove it again.
they are the best. period.
all of them. even (and especially) the diva.

buttttt .. i am ill now. i can't speak. and work pisses me off. and my dad, he really pisses me off.
my life, basically.

anyway, story?

Title: Curiosity
Author: me
Rating: PG12 (there could be a swearword here and there, but it’s clean otherwise)
Chapter: 1/1 … Standalone
Genre: Romance
Pairing: FletcherJones
Summary: I think I’d like to be you, Danny.
Disclaimer: no true
Dedication: to the_first_chibi who prompted me with ‘Curiosity’ and wanted a Flones. And here it is. And if you want to prompt me as well, you can do it here.
Author’s note: I don’t know if I’m happy with this. Apparently, I was so eager about that whole prompting-thing that I forgot that I have to write other pairings than Pudd as well, oops :)

“If you could be anyone else for one day, who would you like to be and why?” Tom read aloud from the card in his hand that he had gotten from the host of the radio show they were currently at.
“Oh, that’s a good one!” the host said, “Guys?”
“Dead or alive?” Dougie questioned.
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Then I’d like to be Steve Irwin. You know, the Crocodile Hunter. I really have a lot of respect for him, how he lived with all those animals around him and his family without being scared. If I could, I’d like to be him.”
“Nice one. Harry?”
“Oh dear, I have no idea. The Queen?”
“The Queen?” Dougie checked.
“Yeah. I wanna know what she’s up to all day.”
“Fair enough. How about you, Danny?”
“You don’t need to ask him, he’s just gonna say Springsteen.” Harry cut in.
“Well, he’s a legend, isn’t he?”
“But you always say you wanna be Springsteen. Say something else for a change.”
“Okay then. Erm … I think I’d like to be David Beckham. You know, just to see what it’s like to be so super-famous that you can’t even go to Tescos without paparazzi following you. That, and to be married to a Spice Girl.”
“Good answer. And what about yourself, Tom?”
“What, me?”
“Yeah, we’re missing your answer.”
“I thought I don’t need to answer. I asked the question.” Tom admitted, blushing slightly.
“Oh come on Tom, humour us.” Harry encouraged.
“I think …” Tom paused. “I think I’d like to be you, Danny.” Tom looked at his fellow guitarrist, blushing even harder.
Danny looked puzzled. “Me? Why’s that?”
“Dunno. Sometimes I just wanna know what goes on in your head.”
“That’s easy, seeing as it’s not that much.” Harry commented dryly, making everyone around him laugh.

Everyone apart from Tom, who tried his best to avoid Danny’s questioning eyes for the rest of the interview and for the rest of the day.

It was only when they all were at home in the evening, when Tom couldn’t escape anymore.

He had just started preparing himself some food for dinner when the doorbell rang. Tom went for the door and when he saw it was Danny outside on his porch, he wished he had pretended to not be at home.

“Ran outta food. Again.” Danny explained as he pushed past Tom into the blonde’s house, “And Dougs buggered off to Harry’s, probably for the same reason.”
“You both would starve if it wasn’t for Harry or me. Pasta alright with you?”
“As long as it’s food I’m not bothered. Need help?”
“Make some salad?”
“Sure.”

The two of them went into the kitchen where Tom continued his activities and Danny started raiding cupboards and drawers, getting everything together he needed for the salad.

For the first few minutes both went about their business in silence and Tom couldn’t help feeling that all this just seemed so … right. Him and Danny preparing dinner in the kitchen like it was the most normal thing in the world, as if it was something they did every day.

“So …” Danny suddenly spoke, “That thing you said at the radio show today …”
“What thing?”
“About you wanting to be me. Why’d you pick me?”
“I said it, I wanna know what goes on in your head. I wanna figure out the way you think, I guess.”
“Yeah, but why me? Dougs has a weirder logic than I have.”
“Dan, Dougie doesn’t even understand himself most of the time.”
“What about Harry then?”
Tom shrugged. “Harry is easy. He thinks in simple terms. Being him isn’t a challenge.”
“So you think being me is a challenge?”
“Oh god Danny, no. I didn’t mean it like that.” Tom said, panic appearing in his voice, “Of course I’m not saying being you is a challenge. I’m just … I’m curious.”
“Why? I’m one of the most normal people in the world, nothing special about me.”
“See, that’s exactly it!”
“What’s exactly what?”
“You’re always so laid-back and so humble. It seems like nothing bothers you. I just want to know how it feels to be like that. What goes on in that head of yours that makes you not worry what people say about you or not think about consequences and just live day after day, knowing that things will work out one way or another. How does that work?”
“Dunno.” Danny shrugged. “It just works, I guess. If I was constantly worrying about this or thinking about that, it’d make me insane. Life’s meant to be lived, not thought through.”
“But …” Tom stopped himself. “Nevermind.”

He turned away from Danny, drawing his attention back to the pasta cooking in front of him on the stove.

He still didn’t understand it. How Danny could be so easy-going about everything. There were so many dangers out there, especially for him. Being introverted had never been Danny’s thing, he blurted things out the second they entered his brain, not thinking what they might cause. If they were out and Danny had one drink too many, he stopped caring that there could be a journalist in the room when he pressed a random male against a club’s wall, kissing the life out of him.

“I’m just curious what it’s like to simply not care.” Tom then stated, not being able to hold his thoughts in, turning back around to Danny, “I’m curious what it’s like not to be bothered about what people think about you.”
“I am bothered about what people think of me.”
“You don’t seem it.”
“I am though. But not in the way you are, cos really, you worry too much about too many things. I mean, you’re right, I couldn’t care less about what random people say or think about me. Why should I? They just talk about me cos I’m in the band. If I was just a bloke in the pub they wouldn’t care about what I do. So why should I waste a thought on them? But when it’s people who are important to me, then I care of course.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. Mind, when I first came to meet your parents, mate, I was shitting myself.”
“Why? My parents loved you before they even met you.”
“Still, I always thought they end up hating me once they got to know me. I mean, I was the scrubby Bolton-boy who was suddenly on their doorstep, dreaming about being in a band with their son. Not really the best first impression, right? Or … when Fletch told me I had to live in the hotel with you. He almost gave me a heart attack at that.”
“But we spent plenty of time with each other before that.”
“We did but it always was with your family or James around after a while. And all of a sudden it was meant to be just you and me in a hotel room. I was worried that just the tiniest things I did could piss you off to a point where you didn’t want to be my friend anymore. And that scared me to death because you always were a different sort of friend for me. I couldn’t play football with you and random parties and getting hammered and going out on the pull weren’t your thing but you were the first of my friends who saw that there was more to me than the loud obnoxious twat from up north. And I didn’t want to fuck that up. I didn’t want to fuck up with you.” Danny paused. “It’s true, I don’t really care about most things. But what I do care about are the important things. Like you and what you think of me.” He smiled lightly, letting the happy-go-lucky side of his personality appear again. “There, I gave you an inside tour of my head.”
Tom smiled. “Thanks.”

The two continued making dinner in silence. But curiosity rose in Tom more and more. Now that Danny had started talking about his thoughts, all Tom wanted was to hear more of it, get an even deeper inside look into his friend’s head and heart. Now he wanted to know how he deeply felt about the things he had achieved with the band, if there was anything he wanted to change about himself or his life, how he thought of Dougie and Harry, how he thought and maybe felt about him, Tom.

“It’s nice being like that.” Danny suddenly stated, as if he had read Tom’s thoughts, while he got out plates from a kitchen cupboard. “Us making dinner and all that. It’s nice to be perfectly normal for once, you know. No Doug, no Harry, no Fletch, no fans, no band. Just you and me making dinner. Know what I mean?”
Tom nodded.
“I really like that we can be like that after more than four years. That we don’t get bored of each other.”
“I could never get bored of you, Danny.”
“And that’s the good thing, don’t you think? There’s still things we find out about each other every day even though we already know each other inside out. You’re still curious to find out about the way I think after more than four years. I think that’s well awesome.”
Tom nodded absent-mindedly. “Yeah … it is.”

Tom then began scooping food onto the plates Danny set out for him on the worktop, Danny’s eyes never leaving him.

“There’s one thing about you that makes me curious too, actually.” Danny said, suddenly seeming much closer to Tom.
“What is it?” Tom whispered out, the proximity to Danny making it impossible for him to speak at a normal volume.
“If I kissed you right now, what would happen?”

The question threw Tom off. He blinked a few times, not sure if Danny was just joking or if he was indeed serious. But one look deep into his friend’s eyes and he had his answer.

“Usually you don’t worry about what happens if you kiss someone.”
Danny nodded slowly, thoughtful. “But this isn’t someone, Tom. It’s you. And as I said, I don’t want to fuck up with you. And maybe kissing you will make me fuck up and I rather not kiss you, missing out on it and what could come of it, than lose you completely. I can live without having you.” He paused. “But I can’t live without you.”

Tom sighed at that, letting Danny’s words soothe him for a moment, bringing the butterflies that had started a riot inside his belly after Danny had asked him that question to a rest. He still looked deeply into Danny’s eyes, seeing all the unanswered questions mixed with the worry and the fear of rejection. For the first time in four years, Danny was an open book to Tom, letting him read all his emotions.

Tom smiled. “I think you don’t need to be curious any longer.”

The End

Comments are appreciated.

mcfly-slash ... Happy Birthday

Wed, 30 Jan 2008 16:45:03 GMT

oh my god, simple plan.
i actually forgot about their awesomeness.
camden takeover was the best in history .. probably the only one as well.
three gigs in one day are actually do-able. it's just the day after that's killing.
all in all it was fun though.
and in april they're touring. and i'll see them in glasgow on my birthday!
try to beat that, life. i fucking challenge you!
i'll miss out on the harry-thon though. shame. i wanted to go as a cheerleader and blow doug away.

whatevs, trevs. i do bring a new story as well. happiness all around it seems.

Title: Happy Birthday
Author: me
Rating: NC 17
Chapter: 1/1 … Standalone
Genre: Porn, Smut, Boysex … call it whichever
Pairing: PoynterJones
Summary: “It’s not a happy birthday yet.”
Disclaimer: not true *shakes head violently*
Dedication: to the very evil Star star55 who prompted me with ‘Birthday’ and who I hate for this because she said something along the lines of wanting smut and no trace of Pudd. At all.
Author’s note: So, apparently just because I started on the porn, that’s what I have to do now. Great.
And if you want to prompt me, you can do it here.

“God, I really hate you guys sometimes. Was all that really necessary? A simple phone call to my mum would’ve been enough. Now the whole world will think you lot like using me as your slave.” Dougie complained as he wriggled out of the ropes that had him trapped for the last ten minutes or so.
“Well … don’t we?” Harry sniggered.
“Fuck you, straight boy.”
“You wish.”
“Eurgh, I do not!” Dougie already shuddered at the mere thought of it. “I already feel way too involved in your bed-activities because I always have to listen to you and Iz going at it. Ever heard of ‘keeping it down’?”

Their little banter was interrupted by Danny squeezing his body inbetween them, slinging his arms around both his band mates’ shoulders.

“We got your point, Dougs. No more getting tied up for you.”
“I don’t mind being tied up. You of all people should know that. The whole video-for-my-mum-with-me-tied-up-thing was what disturbed me. She won’t let me hear the end of it now.”
“You can always tell her it was our idea.”
Dougie snorted. “Yeah, because she will so believe that. In her eyes I’m the one who corrupted all of you, not the other way round. If only she knew …”
“Are you done complaining now? Because I have another little something for you.” Danny winked seductively.
“Does it involve ropes, tape, a helmet or a camera? If it does, no thank you.”
“None of it, I promise.”
“Fine. Show me then.”

Groaning in mock complaint, Dougie let his boyfriend grab him by the hand and drag him away from the scene, towards their wardrobe.

Upon entering, Dougie’s eyes fell on a birthday cake with twenty burning candles on top. He kept standing in front of the cake on the table, smiling at it fondly when he felt Danny’s arms wrap around him from behind.

“Make a wish.” Danny whispered into his ear.

Dougie bent over slightly, took a deep breath and blew out all the candles at once. He then dipped his finger right into the icing of the cake, letting it sink in before he pulled it back out. He brought the finger up and sucked it into his mouth, licking the icing off slowly.

While watching, Danny’s hold on Dougie’s waist grew stronger and he couldn’t help the moan escape him, obviously pleased with the show he got given.

With a smirk, Dougie noticed his boyfriend’s reaction. He turned his head to look at the brunette. “It’s good. Want some?”

Danny nodded and watched as Dougie dipped his finger into the cake once again, scooping a good amount of icing onto it again and raising it up towards his awaiting lips. But just inches before the digit could be taken by Danny’s lips, the short haired male moved his finger to the side, smearing the icing on his boyfriend’s cheek.

“Oops, my bad.” Dougie chuckled. “Here, let me help you.”

Dougie then turned in Danny’s embrace before getting on his toes. He brought his mouth closer to Danny’s skin and then let his tongue dart out to lick away the mess he had made, making Danny groan again.

The icing still in his mouth, Dougie then finally leaned in and pressed his lips to Danny’s, letting his tongue collide with his lover’s immediately.

Sucking on Dougie’s tongue, Danny could taste the icing and that unmistakable taste of his lover. He revelled in the sensation, holding tightly onto his boyfriend’s hips as their kiss seemed to last an eternity.

It was Dougie who brought the kiss to an end, pulling away from Danny slightly, smiling at his lover and subconciously licking his lips, savouring the taste of Danny.

“Happy birthday, Dougs.”
“It’s not a happy birthday yet.” Dougie wriggled his eyebrows.

Before Danny even had the chance to ask what the other male meant, Dougie had brought their lips together again and started to move the both of them towards the sofa in the corner of the room with cautious steps.

When Danny felt the material of the sofa at the back of his legs, he slowly sunk down onto it, taking the younger guy with him, pulling him onto his lap, their kiss never ending.

It was only when Dougie’s hands started fumbling on the hem of Danny’s shirt, that the elder pulled away.

“Dougs, we can’t. What if … Tom and Harry, they need to get changed before the gig. And we have a meet-n-greet in 20 minutes.”
“Harry’s in physio, Tom probably in catering. And as for the meet-n-greet … We’ll just have to be quick, won’t we?”

And no further complaints were allowed, made clear when Dougie pressed his lips onto Danny’s again, his fingers sliding under the material covering Danny’s upper body again. He toyed with the brunette’s nipples and let his crotch grind into Danny’s in a steady rhythm.

Danny pulled his lips away from Dougie’s and brought his fingers to the blonde’s belt buckle, tugging on it in an attempt to open it, get it off … giving him access to the area he wanted to reach. “These trousers … they need to come off.”
“Same as yours.” Dougie panted into his ear.

After much fumbling and shifting, the two men finally managed to get any offending piece of clothing away from their lower halves and the rest of their bodies. Hands were immediately drawn to needing flesh, touching and stroking, while a mixture of pants, moans, names and swear words mixed in the air.

“Danny, I … Oh God …” Dougie dropped his head to let it rest on Danny’s shoulder, trying to collect his thoughts despite the sensations the stroking motions his lover made on his arousal. “You … In me … Now!”

Danny nodded and proceeded to lay the younger male down on the sofa, making one of his legs lay on the backrest, spreading his legs in the process. His hand fell onto the floor, blindly searching for his jeans, knowing that somewhere in his pockets he had a condom. His search was made more difficult when he felt Dougie stoking his dick in rapid motions and at the same time reaching for his other hand. He brought his fingers to his lips and sucked two in immediately, swirling his tongue around the digits, covering them with saliva.

It was when Danny had finally located the condom and brought it up to eye-sight, that Dougie released fingers and guided them down towards his entrace. With fire burning in his eyes, he didn’t wait for Danny to do anything and shoved the fingers right into himself, moaning loudly as the tight ring of muscle was breached.

The brunette couldn’t help but look down at his younger lover, taking in the pleasure contorted face as Dougie held tightly onto Danny’s wrist, thrusting the, to a point unfamiliar, hand in and out of him, changing its angle ever so sligthly before he let out another moan, louder than any before and started to move the hand inside him faster and with more force.

All the sounds in his ear and the sensations caused by Dougie’s fingers running up and down his cock brought Danny into a state of mind where he was completely oblivious to everything around him. The building, the whole world even, could have collapsed right at that moment and he wouldn’t have wasted a single thought about it and long as Dougie kept making his noises and continued his movements.

The voice coming from beneath him made Danny snap out of his daydream and he blinked harshly a few times, seeing Dougie look right back up at him. And it was then that he noticed his fingers were set free again, same as his cock.

“Daniel Alan David Jones, if you won’t get inside of me this fucking instant, I’m letting my dog free on your balls!”

Shaking himself out of his revery, Danny didn’t need to be told twice. He ripped open the condom wrapper and rolled the piece of rubber onto his already leaking member, positioning himself inbetween his boyfriend’s splayed legs, lining his arousal up with Dougie’s entrance.

He slowly edged forward and let out a throaty groan as he felt the ring of muscle give way a second time. He then felt Dougie shuffle a bit, bringing his own body upwards while reaching behind Danny and pushing his hips down, meeting his own.

In a matter of seconds, Danny was buried deep into his boyfriend and the two locked gazes again. Passion was sparkling between them as Dougie gave a nod and the brunette started to move tentavely.

The tight hot heat surrounding his length was almost enough to tip Danny over the edge. His legs started to wobble so he leaned down, digging his fingers into the armrest behind Dougie’s head while he thrust in and out of his boyfriend, speed increasing by the second.

Dougie’s eyes shot open and he all but screamed his lover’s name in ecstasy as the slight change of position caused Danny’s length to run over his prostate, making him see stars in front of his eyes and fireworks explode in his stomach.

“There, Danny!” he gasped, “Right there … Oh my God … Harder … Go faster … Deeper.”

Danny obeyed, now slamming into the body under his forcefully. He let his eyes move from Dougie’s face, his eyes shut again, mouth open, hair plastered to his forehead, down to where their bodies were joined, seeing himself slide inside and out of his boyfriend’s body. And just as he was about to look back up, look at Dougie’s face again, a hand came into view, wrapping itself around the throbbing cock inbetween them, rubbing it harshly.

“Oh fuck, Dougs.” he groaned, “So close!”
Dougie just nodded, stroking himself harder and harder. “Go harder, Dan!”

A few hard thrusts and Danny felt pleasure taking him over. Tilting his head back, he let out an incoherent shout as he released his load inside the condom, his hips almost shaking in the process but not slowing down. He brought his focus back down, looking back at Dougie, seeing on his lover’s face that he also was approaching his climax. Steadying himself he brought one of his hands down, joining Dougie’s on his cock, stroking fast, the moan that left Dougie’s lips at that music to his ears.

“Shit, Danny … I’m gonna …”

The rest of the sentence was swallowed by Danny as he brought his lips upon Dougie’s again, letting their tongues battle while Dougie too was giving into his climax, coming over their joined hands.

Not being able to hold himself up just one more second, Danny heavily collapsed on Dougie, both sweaty, Dougie’s semen sticky inbetween them, but both too exhausted to care while they tried to control their breaths.

It was only when a heavy knock sounded against the door, that they both slowly proceeded to move, turning their heads towards the door.

“And you tell me to keep it down. I could hear your screams over the whole bloody corridor!” came Harry’s voice, making both men on the sofa grin at each other, “And now hurry, meet-n-greet in five! Dougie’s birthday or not, Fletch will have his head if you’re late.”

Laughing amused, the two got up from the sofa and proceeded to put their clothes back on before quickly fixing their dishevelled hair in front of the mirror.

On the way out, Dougie made a short stop at the table with his birthday cake on again, once more digging his finger into the icing.

“Never thought your wishes come true this fast after blowing out the candles.” he mused and licked the icing off his finger, before taking Danny’s outstretched hand into his and leaving the room.

The End

Comments are appreciated.

mcfly-slash ... The Scent of Smoking

Sun, 20 Jan 2008 16:56:01 GMT

mmmm .. can't think of an introduction actually.

only .. i want mcfly .. now.
the following story brought up memories i guess.

Title: The Scent of Smoking
Author: me
Rating: PG-13
Chapter: 1/1 … Standalone
Genre: ???
Pairing: PoynterJudd
Summary: If anyone ever asked me what type of scent will always make me think of you, they’d probably be surprised by the answer.
Disclaimer: not true … probably
Dedication: for ♥ Emma (orpheous87) ♥ who prompted me with ‘Scent’ and requested a Pudd and actually made me write one of my favorite pieces everrrr. So, it’s all for you, dear. And thank you sooo much for chosing this.
Author’s note: Eeeeeeee … my first prompted story, go me! Aaaand … if you wanna prompt me and basically make me your slave, you can do it here.
And for the sake of seeming like the adult I'm supposed to be … smoking is bad for you, very bad! Don’t let this story lull you into anything else.

If anyone ever asked me what type of scent will always make me think of you, they’d probably be surprised by the answer. Tom and Danny relate stinking feet back to you or that ‘rainforest-y’ smell in your lizard room. For me it’s something completely different.

It’s the scent of smoking.

If anyone near me lights a cigarette, I immediately think of you. The other day I was at a doctor’s and a guy came in. His clothes smelled of cigarettes, like he had just finished one. I had to think of you right away. Or when I buy a packet of cigarettes and open it for the first time. The scent that reaches my nose makes me smile in an instant because it’s your face that appears in front of my inner eye.

I was the first one who caught you smoking, you remember that?

It was the night before the first show of our first ever arena-tour. We were all nervous, anxious about how our fans would respond to the new mature material, the different sound of our songs. But even when we all were nervous, you were always a million times worse. You couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, couldn’t stop thinking.

I had come to see you in your room, just because. I had always felt the need to look after you. And I always was the only one you let look after you.

You were on the balcony, I could see your outlines out there. And I saw another thing. A little orange flicker of light, always moving up and down. I didn’t have to think twice, knew immediately what it was.

“Dougie fucking Poynter!”

I could see you wince and then tense. I walked out onto the balcony to stand next to you. And I had to give it to you, you didn’t try to hide the cigarette. You still held it in your hand. You didn’t look back at me though.

“And what exactly do you think you’re doing?” I demanded.

No answer. You were probably too scared to say anything. For some reason, when I didn’t approve with something you did, you really took it to heart. Whereas, when it was Tom or Danny or Tommy or Fletch, you usually didn’t care, even did it again, or more often, on purpose to wind them up.

“I’m nervous.” you finally said in a small voice, “Needed something to calm me down.”
“Danny’s downstairs at the bar.” I replied, “I’m sure he’d buy you a drink or ten.”
“Great. Then I’m gonna be hungover on what’s probably the most important gig in the band’s history. Think I’ll pass on that.” you said sarcastically and took another drag of the cigarette.

Then there was suddenly a light breeze, coming from nowhere. And I smelled it for the first time. Okay, maybe not for the first time. But if was the first time I smelled it on you. The scent of smoking. And for some reason it wasn’t disturbing. If anything, the bitter sting in my nostrils was oddly comforting.

I turned slightly to look at the red and white packet on the little table on the balcony. And then a sudden urge overcame me because next thing I knew I took a cigarette out and reached for the lighter which was placed next to the packet.

With a grin you looked back at me. “And what exactly do you think you’re doing?”

I shrugged, taking a deep drag. I had smoked before, once or twice, years ago, as a dare back in school. So far all I had was a reminder of a very bad cough after I tried to be really cool and inhaled what felt like the whole cigarette in one breath. Now it was different though. It didn’t feel like my throat was suddenly lit on fire, it was more like something was soaring down it, like a gush of wind or something. And it didn’t bother me at all.

And there we stood in silence, looking at the city streched out below us. And suddenly the whole smoking thing didn’t even seem to be an issue anymore, at least not to us. It was just another thing going on between us, another secret we shared.

“We’re gonna be in so much shit when this comes out.” you commented, a smirk evident in your voice.

===

Over the years, whenever something would nag on one of us, it was the cigarettes we turned to. It was the cigarettes that made us talk about things we normally kept hidden from the world.

We had many nights like the first. On hotel balconies, hanging out by kitchen windows, sometimes sitting on the bonnet of my car, backs leaning against the windshield, looking up at the sky. Inhaling from the little sticks between our fingers, blowing smoke into the air, talking. Just the two of us.

As you suspected in that first night, we did get in shit when we were found out. We got several earfuls each. But we didn’t care. We never did. Because the smoking, that was something that just belonged to you and me and even though we knew it was endangering our health, we couldn’t stop. We didn’t even want to stop.

The cigarettes made us face things we couldn’t face normally. We could talk about things that scared us. And at the same time, all those worries seemed to fade away with each drag we took. They became smaller and smaller until they vanished for good, just like the cigarettes between our fingers.

And also, with each and every time the cigarette’s scent surrounded you, I felt like pushed into another world. A world were it was you and me and nothing and no one else.

Just like in that one night. That first night.

===

It was that first night so many years ago I remembered when I saw you snuck outside.

Everyone seems to be around, here at your flat, celebrating yet another sucessful tour combined with your 20th birthday that was a week ago, and it’s a bit of a hen party and stag night for your mother and her fiancé. Everybody is in a happy mood, laughing, cracking jokes, enjoying to be together at one place at the same time because God knows, that doesn’t happen too often. But you were really quiet for the whole evening, for the past few days actually. Your smiles never reached your eyes, you answered questions with one or two words, weren’t caught up in conversations.

I have to say I wasn’t surprised when I saw you grab a random hoodie, putting it on, before secretly leaving your flat, remaining unnoticed by everybody else.

Just as secretly, I placed my drink somewhere and followed you after a few minutes. I checked the little table by your door where you kept your dog’s leash. It was still there so there really was only one place where you could be.

Leaving the house through the front door, I made a sharp turn and headed to the back of the house. And getting into the garden, I saw you, exactly where I knew you’d be.

The whole scenery seemed like an exact imitation of the first moment I caught you smoking. Again, all I saw was your outline in the night and a little orange flickering light moving up and down. Only this time, it wasn’t on a random hotel-balcony. This time you were sitting on top of your skate ramp.

And upon edging closer to you, I could smell it again. The chilly air of December blew the scent right down at me, immediately wrapping me in that cocoon I became so accustomed to, felt so comfortable in, so at home.

“Your hosting skills need polishing, mate. Leaving your guests alone isn’t nice.” I paused, letting the attempted joke hang in the air. “Shall I leave you alone?”
You shook your head.

I took that as an invitation and with a few swift movements I hoisted myself up to sit beside you. The scent intensified the second I was next to you. When I took a deep breath in, I could smell the wood of the ramp, the rubber of a skateboard’s wheels lingering on it, the air of an approaching winter, your perfume and shampoo and shower gel, and the scent of the cigarettes that overpowered everything with its intensity. It was intoxicating, taking me into another world again.

The familiar red and white packet was laying inbetween us, lighter on top. I took one of the cigarettes out and lit it, knowing you wouldn’t mind. We always shared anyway, have been doing so ever since we started.

“Everything seems to change tonight.” you uttered, “Mum is getting married. We finished our Greatest Hits tour. I’m suddenly 20. And in a few weeks we’ll be in Australia, recording another album.”
“Nothing bad about all that though.”
“No, it’s just … it’s just a lot coming in all at once. It’s a bit too much, it’s too crazy. I felt choked by all the things in there, needed to get out to breathe.” You motioned towards your lit window on the ground floor, pausing for a moment. “I feel like … something pulls me up from the ground, making me lose my grip on reality. And I’m going higher and higher and it doesn’t seem to stop. I’ve been pulled up ever since I was fifteen and tonight I’m the highest I’ve ever been and it’s still going on and I already can’t see where the ground is, where I came from, where it started. And everything is so … it’s so different all of a sudden. This last week was so fast-paced, it seemed like a whole year was crammed into that one week. And I keep thinking … it can’t always go on like that, right? Because at some point it has to stop, there has to be a point where I can’t get pulled up even higher. And even though I think about that moment, maybe think about it too much because it keeps me from enjoying everything that is happening, I know it will catch me off guard when it’s going to happen. I’ll be shocked to my core when everything will stop. And then … I’ll fall.”

At first, I didn’t know what to say to that. We had similar conversations before, when we had been told by Fletch that we would be releasing a Greatest Hits. But none of them had been so deep, so articulate. You had always said releasing a Greatest Hits had freaked you out, could never find other words to describe that feeling inside of you. But until that moment, on top of your skate ramp, I had no idea it had freaked you out this much.

“You’re not gonna fall, Doug.”
“How can you be so sure? If our next album flops, we’re fucked.”
“Yeah, maybe we’ll be. But at least we’ll be fucked together.”
“Don’t think so. Dan probably won’t bother as long as he’s satisfied with the album. And Tom will sulk for a day or two and then sit down and write another cheesy song about some girl he’s not able to get.”
“What about me then? Do I not count?”
“You’ve always been the strongest of us, Harry. You’ll just go, ‘fuck em, who cares?’ and that’ll be it. And you can’t always look after me, you have to live your own life.”
“Doug, my life … it includes you. You’re part of it, you’re part of me. I stopped looking after you a long time ago but that doesn’t mean I’ll just let you fall like that. I’m not gonna let it happen. You fall, I fall. Simple as that.”

After that we kept sitting in silence, finishing our cigarettes. The sounds from the party were drifting out to us. Laughter and music, everything was so close but it seemed miles away at the same time. We seemed miles away from everything. Like we always were in moments like this.

“It’s gonna be fine, Doug.” I said after a while.
“You think?”
“As long as we these …” I pointed at the packet of cigarettes inbetween us, smiling. “And as long as we have each other, it’ll always be fine.”
You nodded at that. “I’m not gonna leave.”
I shook my head. “Me neither.”

You finally seemed to relax at that. You breathed deeply in and out a few times. I could tell that, for the first time in weeks, months even, you didn’t think about getting pulled up too high or falling too deep. For the first time in months you didn’t think.

And suddenly I felt your hand resting on my thigh. And I felt it edging closer to my own hand I had trapped between my legs to keep it away from the cold. And automatically I pulled my hand out form its cofines. And our fingers entwined.

I looked back at you, your eyes immediately meeting mine, a shy smile on your face. I gave the same smile back at you.

Once more I took a deep breath and once again I smelled it. The scent of the cigarettes lingering on you, surrounding both you and me. And I thought that maybe falling wasn’t too bad, as long as I was falling with you.

The End

Comments are appreciated.

A/N 2: God, that was deep, wasn't it?

mcfly-slash ... Carve your name into my arm

Fri, 18 Jan 2008 13:37:07 GMT

mmmm .. last night i watched simple plan.
a lot.
for the first time in years.
and it was soo goooooooood.
chuck owns basically!

and now boys and girls, brace yourself.
cos you're in for something that never happened before.
i wrote porn.

Title: Carve your name into my arm
Author: me
Rating: NC 17 (oh no, you didn’t – oh yes, I sure did)
Chapter: 1/1 … Standalone
Genre: AU – Smut, Songfic
Pairing: PoynterJudd
Summary: Carve your name into my arm … instead of stressed I lie here charmed
Disclaimer: not true … I think
Dedication: all of you pervs who wanted a sequel … juddpoynter, leathlin, fatal_labyrinth, nicky1388, manuanya, iheartdougie, oh_livia1, foreverlove_xx and xnovemberainx
Warnings: (Self)Harm … I guess that’s what you could call it.
Author’s note: Okay, this is the sequel/spin-off to 'The Way Love Works'. Please bare in mind, in all the years of me writing slash (and that’s actually three years) I NEVER wrote smut. So, this is a complete first. And I hope it's at least a little bit okay.
We’re also getting to the actual songfic-point now. ‘The Way Love Works’ was meant to be a songfic until I was in the middle of writing and the whole spin-off idea came to my mind. Therefore, this is the songfic. Kind of. I don’t use the whole song, just a part of a song.
Oh … and this is really long - as usual. I really should learn to keep it shorter.

When I came home from work that one day, I immediately knew something was different. I couldn’t exactly pinpoint it, but I knew something was in the air.

The difference was that Harry was at home. Before me. And that usually didn’t happen. Ever. I always got in before he did and then I waited for him to come home and do whatever he wanted to me.

So, before I even took my key out of my pocket, the door was ripped open from the inside. I couldn’t even properly look at Harry because in a flash he had pulled me inside, slammed the door closed, pinned me against it and parted my lips with his velvety tongue. And who am I to protest really?

Our heated lip lock remained for a while until Harry pulled away. He let go of me, turned and headed back into the flat, totally casual like he hadn’t just raped my mouth ten seconds ago, making me want more immediately. Sometimes, he could be such a fucking tease.

“Hi Doug.”
“Yeah, hi to you too.”

I took off my shoes and jacket before I followed him into the flat. The TV showed some sports, volume high up so Harry could hear it in the kitchen where he apparently prepared some food.

I grabbed the remote and turned the volume down an octave as I plonked down onto our sofa. I resisted the urge to switch to a music channel as I always did first thing when I came home from work. For once I would have to live without my music and let Harry have his choice in our TV programme.

“When did you get in?”
“Dunno. Half four?”
“How come?”
“Just snuck out after the big man was gone. Come here for a sec? Need you to try something.”

I raised from the sofa and went into the kitchen. Something was sizzling in the frying pan, fish from the smell of it, while Harry stirred in a pot next to it. The light of the oven was on as well so something was baking or whatever down there too.

Harry then turned around to me, a spoon raised in mid-air. He blew on it to make it cool down before he beckoned me closer.

“Tell me if it needs more herbs.”

I closed my lips around the spoon and tried the sauce. And of course I couldn’t resist making a little bit of a show around it. I probably let my lips wrap around that spoon a second or two longer than necessary and gave Harry my best mischevious grin around it, combined with a wriggle of my eyebrows. It was only fair after he had left me high and dry at the front door earlier.

“It’s good.” I commented, “Could use a tick more salt maybe.”
Harry nodded, turning back to the stove and reaching for the packet of salt.
I hopped onto the kitchen counter, watching him. “So what’s all this for?”
“You know what day it is today, right?”
“Yeah, but you never made much fuss over the past two anniversaries. I’m just surprised, is all. Pleasantly surprised.”
Harry shrugged. “Dunno myself really. Thought three time’s a charm. I mean, three years, that’s sort of a big deal, isn’t it?”
“Have you got more surprises up your sleeve?”
“You have no idea.” He winked at me, grinning.
“I have nothing for you though. I didn’t expect we would-”
Harry cut me off, smiling at me seductively. “You’re going to return the favour later.”

His tone and smile made me inwardly fidget on my spot. The way he said it, like it was already agreed upon that I would ‘return the favour’ … I knew what he meant by it. And I really couldn’t approve more.

So, Harry and I had our dinner. Delicious, let me tell you. A nice change from the takeaway we usually had cos we never really cook much. No, let me rephrase that – he doesn’t cook much, I don’t cook, ever. Not because I don’t want to, simply because I’d probably burn our kitchen and flat down if I just tried. If we didn’t have our electric kettle, I’m sure I’d be able to burn water for tea.

Anyway, throughout our whole dinner, Harry made it damn hard for me, pun intended. He had chosen some loose fitting jeans and a very nice shirt to ‘match the occasion’, making me want to jump him there and then. He knew perfectly well how much it turned me on when he got out the fancy stuff. Okay, I do get turned on when I simply look at him but that’s beside the point.

Also, my dearest boyfriend seemed to eat agonizingly slow. I mean, I didn’t scoff down the food either but he really took his sweet time. He also had some mousse au chocolat for dessert which I would have prefered to lick off his chest. Mind, I suggested it but he just pecked my nose and set my bowl in front of me before he started eating. And eating is the wrong word … I had been teasing him earlier with that sauce-spoon, I know that, but what he was doing with his spoon was torture.

He then brought our dishes into the kitchen and actually started washing up. And that’s when I had enough. I snuck up behind him and pressed my body to his back, letting him know and feel exactly what he had done to me in the past 45 minutes.

“I think there was something about a favour that I have to return …” I purred into his ear, watching with delight as goose bumps appeared on his forearm.
“Patience is a virtue, babe.”
“I know. That’s why I’ve sat still for almost an hour. Besides, which one of us is the one who can’t get me out of my clothes fast enough?”

Harry then turned around to me, finally leaving the dishes alone. He studied my eager face for a moment or two before he leaned in to kiss me, his tongue parting my lips instantly.

“You. Bedroom. Take your top off. I’ll be there in a minute.” he whispered when we had barely pulled apart.

I did as he said and went into our bedroom, switching on my bedside lamp. I also shed myself off my t-shirt. I briefly wondered why it had to be just the top and not the rest of my clothes as well, but I was sure Harry had it all planned out anyway.

I laid down on the bed and tapped my fingers on my bare torso, resisting the urge to just let them travel southwards to ‘warm up’ already. I could hear Harry in the other rooms, shutting cupboards, switching off lights, locking the front door. He then went to the bathroom where I heard the water running for a bit.

He then decided to finally join me in the bedroom and I have to say I was disappointed when I noticed that he was still wearing all his clothes.

Without a word, he moved over to the bed and straddled me. In order to find the right and comfortable position he wriggled his ass back and forth over my groin, making me release a moan and grab his thighs. I felt myself getting aroused even more to which he only let out a light laugh.

“What a horny horny thing you are.” Harry tutted.
“As if you don’t like it.” I shot back, “So what’s the plan? Why are you still so awfully clothed?” I asked, tugging on his shirt, wanting it somewhere on the floor instead on him.
Harry swatted my hands away. “It’s about you first.”
“Is it, huh?”
“Oh yeah.”

He leaned down and let our lips meet once more. The kiss was slow and sensual, our tongues dancing around each other. He ground his crotch into mine more and more, needily swallowing all the noises I made into our joined mouths.

He then pulled away but kept his face only a few inches above mine.

“I wanna leave my mark on you.” he whispered in a voice so raw and raspy that just the sound of it automatically made me harder.
“You know you can. I’m all yours.” I replied, releasing his thighs and bringing my arms to rest behind my head, showing him that I wouldn’t stop him from whatever he wanted.
“Not like that.” Harry shook his head.

He then leaned over to his bedside cabinet, picking up something he had placed there. My eyes never left his fingers as he carefully opened a little packet and pulled out a razor blade.

“I want to mark you as mine. Forever.” he said, his eyes fixed on me while mine seemed to be drawn on the shiny object in his hands. I was too stunned to reply, too turned on by the idea. But Harry seemed to misunderstand my silence. “I can understand if you don’t want to. I mean, that’s a bit more extreme than our usual stuff but I just thought-”

Shaking myself out of my daze I brought my finger up to his lips, silencing him. I laid my arms back across my stomach, looking up at him.

“Do it. Make me yours.”
“You sure?”
I simply nodded. “Do whatever you want. Just please do something.”

Harry sat up more and studied my upper body, looking for a perfect spot. If I hadn’t been topless already, I’m sure the look he had in his eyes while doing so would have burned any fabric that had dared to cover me.

After he had looked at every inch of my chest and arms, Harry had seemingly decided where to mark me. He took my right arm and laid it down by my side, palm on the mattress, moving his own body a bit to the side so he could have an easier access while still straddling me.

“Here …” he stated, his fingers running over a part of my forearm, close to my wrist. He looked back at me, asking wordlessly for approval.
“Yeah, fine. Care to tell me what exactly you wanna do?”
Harry shook his head. “You guess. Close your eyes.”

I did as he said and closed my eyes, shuffling about a bit to find a comfortable position. Harry then leaned down and kissed me quickly one more time.

“Tell me in case I go too deep.”
“The deeper the better. You know it.” With eyes closed I let a cheeky grin creep upon my lips.
“Yeah, but if I go too deep here, it could easily kill you. So tell me, yeah?”
“Promise.”

I then heard several deep breaths leaving Harry’s lungs. He was nervous. I didn’t know why though. We had done stuff like that a million times already, no week passed when our bodies weren’t marked with bruises. But then again, we’d never had used anything that could do actual harm … like a sharp razor blade that, if it cut too deep and reached the wrong spot, could indeed kill me.

With my eyes still closed I reached my left hand out, letting it rest on Harry’s thigh again, squeezing lightly.

“Go ahead. I trust you. It’ll be fine, I’m sure.”
“Okay.”

Then I finally felt some movement. Harry took my arm into his hand again, changing its position, spreading it to the side. His thumb grazed the skin one more time before it was pulled away.

Seconds later I felt it. A first light scratching, tentative, as if testing out the water. It went in a straight line up and down.

And then suddenly came a stitch and I could feel my skin give way to the sharpness of the razor blade.

“Oh …” I moaned out.
“Too much?” Harry asked, a slight edge of panic in his voice.
“Fine.” I breathed out, “Keep going.”

Harry then resumed his task, splitting my skin with the sharp metal. He again dug the razor blade in and pulled in down in a straight line before there was another scratch and stitch and another line was drawn, this time horizontal, right next to the first one.

“This is almost like getting tattooed.” I stated, “Just without the buzzing sound of the machine.”
“How does it feel? Tell me.” Harry asked while moving the blade over my skin.
“Like heaven. It’s like … you feel your skin surrender to a completely different force. Just like getting tattooed. It doesn’t hurt it’s just … it feels raw. When you get tattooed it’s more like … you feel the vibration of the needle in the machine but you can’t exactly tell where the needle is. This is like … it’s pure. I can feel what you’re doing, where the blade is.”

Harry drew another line, straight down again.

“It’s an H!” I gasped out, realisation dawning, “That was an H. You’re writing your name.”
I could hear the smile in Harry’s voice. “Tell me how it feels. I wanna hear you.”

The only answer I had was another moan, giving into the feelings racing through my body. I really can’t explain what it was, I had lost all sense of coherent thoughts or words. My brain left my body and all I had left were my feelings.

Harry moved the razor blade further over my skin, the first scratch always careful as if to see where exactly he could dig the blade in, before he brought it back down to the beginning, scratching with more force to make the skin give way a first time. Then he’d repeat the action a few more times to get the cut deeper. And after every few movements, I felt him pad the skin with something soft, probably a tissue to wipe the blood away.

“This feels … mmmm … this is so good. Please don’t stop, go on.” I moaned while writhing underneath him, my now prominent erection trapped right under his crotch. I bucked my hips and wriggled around, all for just a little bit of friction.

As he went on, Harry seemed to get a hang out of the whole thing. His movements became quicker, more fluent. When he reached the third letter it seemed like he was an expert already. Soft scratch - hard scratch – stitch – scratch - pad. It was like a melody, always repeating itself.

“God, I wish I could see you right now. Let me see, please?” I begged. I knew that all I had to do was to open my eyes but at the same time I knew that since Harry had told me to close my eyes I would have to keep them closed until he told me any different.
“No-uh, keep your eyes closed. Imagine it.”

And I did just that. I squeezed my eyes even more close, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in my cock and the first drips of pre-come smearing onto the inside of my boxers.

I could imagine him so perfectly. Bent over my arm, brows furrowed in concentration, his hand with the razor blade sliding over my skin again and again, his other hand holding my arm firmly in place. I could see the glint in his eyes that got more and more intensive with every line and curve he drew, never looking away from the razor blade, leaving it unattended. I could see him so perfectly well, I barely felt the movement of the blade over my skin anymore.

“Oh god, Harry please …” I panted, bucking my hips hard against his, “Please let me see. I need to see you, I need-”
Another stitch, another scratch.
“Nngh …” I moaned, “Harry, I …”

And suddenly I was cut off by his arm letting go of me, letting me know that he was done. He brought our lips together once again, penetrating my mouth with his tongue like there was no tomorrow. Immediately my arms shot up to wrap around his neck to hold his head in place, moaning into his mouth.

He changed his position again, his crotch now directly back over mine. I ground my hips up, meeting his halfway.

His lips then left mine and I could feel him lean up a bit more again. “Open your eyes, Doug.” he ordered, his breathing by now almost as heavy as mine.

I didn’t need to be asked twice. I opened my eyes, immediately locking them with Harry’s lust filled ones. His hands were on either side of my head, his hips still grounding down on mine hard, an arousal tenting his jeans. He then grabbed my arm again and raised it up so I could see what he had done.

And there, deep red against my flushed skin, I saw it. His name. Harry. Right on my arm, as if he had stamped it on there or wrote it with a red pen. It wasn’t big, could be covered with a simple sweat band, but it was there. And it was there to last.

The sight of his name there on my arm made me buck my hips upwards harder and faster, caused an all too familiar tingle race through my whole body, starting in the pit of my stomach before spreading out all over the insides of me.

By the sparkle in his eyes I could tell Harry knew how to read the signs. He ground his crotch into mine again and bent back down, bringing his mouth directly to my ear where he sucked and nibbled on the lobe, panting right into my ear, turning me on to a point where I knew there was no going back, only moving forward. Fast.

“Harry please, I need to … oh god, fuck … please, I need to … make me come.” I begged.
A few more ragged breaths, another lick to my earlobe and then finally, “Come on babe, let go. Come for me.”

Finally hearing the much needed approval, that’s just what I did. Squeezing my eyes shut, I let the pleasure overrun me, tightly gripping onto his thighs while I let out a long moan of his name, feeling my cock twitch before coating my boxers with spurts of my semen.

I wanted to stay in that state forever, refused to stop my hips from moving against his. But still, ever so slowly I felt the tingles and waves fade away and so I slowed my movements. Still breathing heavily I looked up at Harry who smiled down at me, clearly enjoying to see the effect he had on me. He was still hard but it didn’t look like he wanted to change that any time soon.

“That was … wow.” I gasped out, trying to get my ragged breaths back to normal.

I laid there for a few more moments, until my breathing was back at its usual speed. Harry still straddled me, his eyes focussed on my face, as if taking a mental photograph, moving his hips in slow circles over mine.

“Your turn now?” I asked.

I could see questions flood through Harry’s mind. He was questioning if he should do the same. He felt unsure. I knew why and I could understand it. He was used to the giving, not to the taking. I mean sure, pain was nothing new to him either but this … this was different. It’s not that he had trust issues or anything, it’s just … he simply didn’t know it. I was surrounded by stuff like that every day at work, I have a few tattoos myself. His body is untouched by all of this.

I tugged him back down, giving him a reassuring kiss. “You don’t have to do it, it’s fine.”
Harry shook his head against my lips, causing me to pull away. “No, I wanna do this. I’m just a bit … you know.”
“I promise I’ll be gentle. It’ll be over sooner than you know, just relax.”
“Is that what you tell the people coming to get a tattoo?”
“I do actually. So far it always seemed to help. As long as you keep still nothing is going to happen.”
Harry just nodded and took a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself down.

I sat up and cupped his face with my hands, kissing him with all the love I had for him. I moved slowly, forcing us to swap places until he was laid on the bed, me now straddling him. He eagerly responded to my kiss, his hips getting back into action as well, his cock still hard between us.

Slowly, my hands left his face and wandered to his shirt, opening button by button with ease. The moment I had the last one open I moved my hands back up to his shoulders to move down the piece of clothing. He sat up and wriggled his arms out of it, before grabbing the shirt and throwing it to the floor carelessly. His arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer to his chest while we remained locked by the lips.

After a minute or two of kissing, I pulled away. If we wouldn’t get this started soon, chances were we’d have to wait to our next anniversary to do this.

“Lay down, babe.” I whispered against his lips.

Taking a deep breath, he did as I told and laid down, adopting my position from earlier. And just like him earlier, I first let my eyes roam over his toned chest and arms, even though I already knew where I’d mark him.

I leaned over to the bedside cabinet, taking a new razor blade out of the packet. I also reached for the packet of tissues right next to it, pulling a few out and laying them on the mattress, right in reach.

“I’m gonna take the same spot as you, alright? You can easily cover it when you’re at work.”
Harry nodded. “Yeah, fine.”

I then left my spot, not straddling him anymore but sitting right by his side, my legs crossed. I laid his arm down by his side, palm facing the mattress.

“Easier for me.” I explained, “Like writing on paper. And leaves you free to do whatever you want.” I nodded my head towards the bulge in his jeans, smiling. “Just don’t squirm too much, unexpected movements are the last thing we need.”
Harry nodded again. “Just get on with it, will you?”

I complied, taking the razor blade between my fingers, figuring out how to hold it best to write without cutting myself. I also made a few circles in the air with my hand to ease my wrist. Other than Harry’s name which is made more of lines than curves, my name was pretty much made of curves and those, I knew, were harder to do than straight lines.

“Right, you ready?”
“Yeah.” Harry gritted out.

Looking at his face one last time, I could see that he now had his eyes squeezed tightly shut as well, expecting whatever was to come.

Just like he had done, I stroked my fingers over the place where I’d cut a few times, massaging the area slightly, trying to erase his uneasiness. Then I brought the blade to his skin and carefully drew the first line, barely meeting his skin, as if marking where I’d cut.

Taking a deep breath, I then brought the blade to the skin and added pressure. I watched the skin dip in before it gave way and the razor blade sunk in, making a little bit of blood come out of the scratch.

Harry let out a hiss, holding his breath, before releasing it again, breathing in and out in a fast rhythm.

“Alright?” I checked.
“Yeah, just came a bit unexpected, is all. Keep going, it’s fine.”
“It probably won’t get worse than this.”
“Okay yeah, whatever, just keep going.”

I moved the blade up and down in the first scratch, reassuring that it’d last and leave a mark before I moved to make the curve of the first letter of my name. As expected, it was harder to do than the simple line. I took the fingers of my other hand, stretching Harry’s skin a bit to make the blade slide easier. I wanted to make this perfect.

I padded the letter with a tissue and for a split second I looked back to Harry. He still laid there with his eyes shut, unexpected movements making them squeeze shut tighter before he relaxed his eyelids. His breathing was heavy, caused his chest to raise up and down rapidly.

“You can look, I don’t mind. It might help you to see what I’m doing. Less surprises.”
Harry shook his head violently. “I wanna experience this.”
“Then tell me, what’s the experience like?”
Harry tried to collect his words while I drew the blade over his skin. “It doesn’t … it doesn’t really feel like a cut. It’s not like when you cut yourself accidentally with a knife or on the edge of a piece of paper. This is … you feel how the blade tries to fight its way in, you feel your skin surrender, giving up. And when you pull it forward, I can feel each millimeter of movement.”
“Does it hurt?”
“No. Not at all. It’s not the best feeling in the world but it’s … it’s not that bad either. I’d thought my skin might go numb or something but I can feel it all so intensly, if I concentrate hard enough I can even see what you’re writing without looking.” He paused. “You’re just writing the O, aren’t you?”
“Yeah. Not easy to get the circle done, though.”
“You’re doing just fine, babe. Just fine.”

And then, just as I made the second half of my O, Harry let out a first low moan, making me smile automatically. He was now giving into the feeling as well, enjoying this as much as I did before. He also started moving his legs, bending his knees before bringing them back onto the mattress, not being able to keep them still. The bulge in his jeans became a bit more prominent again too.

When I was done with the letter, I couldn’t resist. I let go of his arm for a moment and used my left hand to cup his erection through his trousers, making Harry release another moan.

“Oh god, Doug … so good … keep going.”
I giggled. “I guess you have to do it yourself, babe. I need both hands on your arm.”

Harry didn’t even wait a second. His hand flew straight to his crotch, rubbing his cock through his jeans. I was so tempted to watch, see him free his hard on from the confines of his clothing and pleasure himself. But I had other things to do.

While I focussed back on the task at hand, my hand unfortunately, I heard Harry unfastening his belt, followed shortly by the sound of a zipper being pulled down. His crotch only a few inches next my hand wriggled a bit and in the corner of my eye I could see Harry’s underwear sliding down.

Harry released a contented sigh, probably at the air that now sourrounded his cock. That was followed by a low throaty moan. I took a short sideways glance again, seeing Harry fisting his hard on, starting an up-and-down movement around it.

I stopped my activity for a moment, not able to tear my eyes from the scene that presented itself basically next to my hand.

“Yeah, that’s it babe. Come on, go on.” I encouraged, trying my hardest to ignore what was happening inside my own boxers, again.
“Don’t stop, Doug. Go on. I need it, I need to feel it.”

Pulled out of my reverie by Harry’s voice, I picked up the activity on his arm, now scratching out the curve of the U, mapping it out first.

“Dig the fucking blade in!” Harry gasped out sharply.
“Easy babe.”
“Fuck easy. Just bloody do it already.”
I snorted. “Don’t ever dare to tell me again that patience is a virtue.”

And without any warning, I brought the blade to his skin, making the U in one smooth go.

“Fuck!” Harry screamed out, “Do it again, Doug!”

I looked at his face for a second again, seeing it contorted with pleasure. His head was tilted back, his eyes shut tightly, his mouth slightly open. He had never looked more open, more tempting, more beautiful.

With the picture of his face in my mind, I looked back down, making the U a bit deeper. Harry’s crotch writhed next to me, the movements of his hand on his cock now making a sound. He was coating himself with pre-come. His moans were now echoing through the room in a constant pattern.

Mustering up all my will power I worked on the final letter of my name, deciding that ‘Doug’ would have to be enough, ‘Dougie’ simply was too long. My fingers now moved with easiness and I knew exactly how much pressure was needed to make the writing last without endangering Harry’s life.

Harry was still writhing on the bed and moaning every time he released a breath while his hand moved faster up and down his length. The sounds he made were like music in my ears and it took all I had to block them out so I could focus on the writing on his arm.

Only a few moments later I was done. I looked at my handiwork one last time before releasing Harry’s hand.

As soon as Harry’s hand was free, his other hand stopped its work on his cock as well.

“Why’d you stop?” he demanded.
“Cos I’m done. Here, look.” I lifted his arm up for him to see.

Harry leaned up, resting on his elbow before he looked at his arm. His eyes were immediately drawn to my name carved into the skin. He was so mesmerised by it, looking at it like a child who saw a Christmas tree for the first time.

I took this moment of him being distracted and used it to my advantage. I leaned down and, without any announcement, took the tip of Harry’s cock between my lips.

“Oh fuck!” Harry gasped out, his head hitting against the headboard in surprise.

I shuffled over until I was inbetween Harry’s legs, my mouth never leaving its spot around Harry’s length. I looked back up at him and our eyes met, passion sparkling between us.

“Get your … get your trousers off …” he got out inbetween pants, “Touch yourself!”

Still swirling my tongue around his tip, licking and sucking, I brought one of my hands to the top of my own jeans, fumbling a bit until I could pull them and my boxers off. I moved again, so I was on all fours, steadying myself first before I wrapped a hand around myself, moaning around Harry’s cock.

Sinking back onto the mattress, Harry brought his hands to the back of my head and pushed down, making me swallow him more. I surrendered to him, surpressing the urge to gag while Harry pushed my head further down until I was deepthroating him completely.

The hand around my cock worked faster and faster, making me release moan after moan, sending vibrations around Harry’s length in my mouth. I let Harry take control, pulling my head up before pushing it back down, my tongue moving around him, sucking and licking in all the right places.

“Oh god, Doug … so close … come on, faster … come with me.”

His words chanting me on, I moved my hand around my hard on faster and faster until I couldn’t take it anymore. I was just able to nod my head quickly around Harry’s member and then I felt my orgasm approach me. And just as the first spurts of come coated my hand, I felt Harry’s cock in my mouth twitch and the familiar taste of his come started settling on my tongue.

“Fuuuuuuuuck … Doug!” Harry screamed as he released his load in my mouth while I let out a long moan around his length, coming for the second time that night.

I made sure to lick Harry absolutely clean, savouring his taste on my tongue, before I let his spent penis slip out of my lips. I then moved upwards his body until our lips met so he could taste himself in my mouth.

He broke our kiss, taking my hand into his, licking each drop of my come from my fingers, before he pulled me close, letting me collapse next to him, spooning up to me. He stretched out his arm over my waist, making me see my name on there again. I brought my own arm down as well, resting it right underneath, his name now right next to mine, before I entwined our fingers lazily.

“Happy anniversary, babe.” Harry whispered, “I love you.”
“Harry anniversary. I love you too.” was all that left my lips before I fell into a deep satisfied sleep.

Carve your name into my arm
Instead of stressed I lie here charmed

The End

Comments are appreciated. Muchly this time.

A/N 2: Song used was Placebo's 'Every you, Every me'

A/N 3: And .. totally random but I was hoping you guys can help me. I wanna make a CD for a friend but I'm missing a few songs which I can't seem to find anywhere. So if any of you have them, a download link (sendspace, megaupload) would be muchly appreciated. Songs are
~~"Drugs don't work" - The Verve (or Richard Ashcroft, I'm not too sure)~~
~~"About you now" - Sugababes~~
~~"Bubbly" - Colbie Caillat (or however she writes her name)~~
~~"Foundations" - Kate Nash~~
~~"Hot" - Avril Lavigne~~
~~"Gold Digger" - Kanye West + Jamie Foxx~~
"Like you" - Ciara + Lil Bow Wow
"Unwritten" + "Soul Mate" - Natasha Beddingfield
~~the first single of Elliot Minor .. the name has completely escaped me :-/~~
Thank youuuuuuuuu!

mcfly-slash ... The Way Love Works

Thu, 17 Jan 2008 13:21:25 GMT

eeeeee .. next week i'll go to london.
for simple plan.
gonna be funnnnnn!

before that. have this.

Title: The Way Love Works
Author: me
Rating: 15 … and we might be bordering on a slight NC 17 *gasp*
Chapter: 1/1 … Standalone
Genre: AU – Erm … I don’t really know to be honest.
Pairing: Poynter/Judd
Summary: I guess it’s just that their definition of love is different than ours.
Disclaimer: nope, not true
Author’s note: This started as a songfic. But while writing the whole songfic-thing suddenly didn’t work anymore. Shame. But I kept writing because this is entering foreign territory for me and I wanted to see if I can do it. So let’s see, shall we?

People often ask me why I let him do all this to me, why I’m staying with him even though he does all this. And I can’t blame them. If I was them, I’d ask me the same question.

But I, however, am me and therefore, I know the answer. I let him do it because I love him. And I know that he loves me too and that’s why I’m staying with him. I’m staying with him because we love each other. And love’s all we need, isn’t it?

If this was anyone else, believe me, I would have made a runner faster than you can blink. But it’s not anyone else, it’s him. It’s Harry. And that simple fact makes the whole thing different.

Our relationship can best be described as intense. It always has been. Ever since the day we met. Other couples have stories about meeting back at school, in a pub, at a party, even at work. They can sit by the fire when they’re old and tell their grandchildren every romantic detail about that first moment when they had laid eyes on each other and knew they were forever.

If Harry and me will ever have grandchildren, which is unlikely, seeing that none of us is actually capable of having children, we will probably have to censor our story first. A lot. Because when we met there was a lot of swearing involved instead of flying sparks, pink clouds and violins playing in the backround.

Harry and I met in traffic. And it wasn’t that he was in the car next to mine and we did some eye-fucking at a red light. No, we were involved in a car accident. Because he had been on the phone while driving and had ignored everything else around him. And one of the things around him so happened to be my car with me inside.

I was beyond pissed. The car was new, my first ever car and I had saved a long time to finally buy it. And then the fucker named Harry Judd runs his car into it because he’s on the bloody phone. So I got out of my dented car, ripped the phone (yes, he had the fucking nerve to still be on the phone even though he easily could have killed me) out of his hand and threw it the length of the street.

We started screaming at each other, added a few pushes here and there. I was pissed because he had wrecked my car, he was pissed because I had smashed his phone. Thank god, the police was there, taking our addresses for their report, keeping a safe distance between him and me, before things could get even more heated and we would end up killing each other.

But then again … things got heated. We just didn’t kill each other, at least not literally spoken.

The evening of the accident I was sitting at home, not really doing anything other than mourning over my car and adding up the money I’d have to spend on getting it fixed when there was a persistent knocking on my door.

I opened and before I could even do anything else, I was pushed backwards by Harry who slammed the door closed, pinned me against it and forcefully took me there and then. When he left the next morning, I had bruises and could barely walk, let alone sit down properly.

And that was how Harry and I began. And the way we began, we continued. And the way we continued, it’s still the way our relationship works.

Harry and I have been together for three years now. And even though saying it probably makes me sound like a soppy git, we really love each other wholeheartedly. We are everything for each other. Mainly because no one understands our relationship and all we have is each other.

My mum and my sister, they hate Harry. When I come to visit them in the summer (alone because I’m really not keen about my mum rolling her eyes when Harry turns his back towards her) and walk around with no t-shirt on in the back garden, they frown at the bruises and speak of ‘abuse’.

But it’s not abuse when you let someone do it, is it? I can’t help it that all that gentle love-making just isn’t our thing. I don’t mind pain, and neither does he. If anything, pain lets me know that I’m there and that he’s there and that we’re both there, completely there. And I can’t help it that he’s bigger and stronger than me. And I can’t do anything against the fact that my skin is just paler than his and therefore the scratches and bruises he leaves on me are just visible and the marks I leave on him just, well, aren’t.

My mum nearly got a heart attack when I helped her in the kitchen the last time I was over at hers. I had rolled the sleeves of my shirt up to not get it dirty and that’s when she saw it.

“Dougie Lee Poynter, what is that?” And she had pointed at my forearm.

I looked down, for a moment forgetting what I had there. When I saw it, my eyes sparkled.

On our last anniversary a few weeks ago, Harry had the idea to leave other sorts of marks on each other. Different ones this time, ones that wouldn’t fade away after a few days.

I had an earth shattering orgasm, making a mess inside my pants, when he had straddled me and carved his name into my arm with a razor blade.

“You just let him do this to you?” my mum questioned.
I had shrugged. “It’s cheaper than a tattoo.”

And with that our conversation was over. My mum knew that arguing with me would never get her anywhere, that I’d still stick with Harry and insist on the fact that not only I loved him but that he loved me too, which was shown with my name I had carved onto his arm with another razor blade while he brought himself off. And I just didn’t bother to tell her for the millionth time that our love was just different.

When Harry and I are in bed, or wherever else, at night, it’s intense and it’s loud and it hurts and it’s perfect. I’m always taking, he’s always giving. It’s never the other way round. Because that’s just the way we know and the way that we both need it to be. It’s the way we work.

Harry has a job in a law company. He has a boss. From Monday to Friday between 9am and 5pm there is someone who tells him what to do. Whereas I, I work in a tattoo studio. I have a boss as well but we’re laid back, he pretty much lets me do whatever I want, as long as I don’t come near the customers with a tattooing machine.

So, when Harry and me are at home, it’s roles reversed. I get submissive, he gets to be the free spirit.

I let him tie me to the bed. I let him gag me so I can’t utter a peep until he lets me. I let him thrust into me without preparing me first. I don’t come until he collapses onto me, spent, and his hand is bringing me off.

Because that’s what we both need. He needs to be in control and I need to be controlled. That’s how we are and that’s how we get and that’s how we work.

Don’t get me wrong though. We’re not one of those S&M couples. I mean, to a certain extend I think we are. But then again, it’s not that he hurts me and I just take it without doing anything. I hurt him just as much. My teeth get quite vicious when I’m aroused. Harry jokes that if he ever wants to get a piercing he just makes me grow hard and then me and my teeth can do the rest.

And it’s not that we never tried the ‘normal’ stuff either. We tried the easy way, with foreplay and all that. And that’s okay once in a while, like when one of us is just really tired or very ill and simply not in the state for anything intense or fast-paced. Then it’s just a hand job or a blow job or he actually uses lube and lets me ride him, giving at least a bit of control away, handing it to me.

Still, being nice to each other in bed is just not our thing. We don’t work like that.

The other couples that we know, the very few that know about our ways and don’t judge us for it, they always look at us in awe. Because we do hold hands and we do share little kisses and he does put his arm around me protectively. They wonder how we can be so rough to each other and still share such intimiacy with each other and be just like they are. How we can work like they work.

I guess it’s just that their definition of love is different than ours. For them love is rose petals scattered around the house and candlelit dinners and walks on the beach. For us love is passion and devotion and completely giving yourself to the other one. But unlike them, we just show all those things directly to each other and not disguise them with gestures.

Harry gets prove of my passion and devotion whenever he wants it and all I need to do is get naked, lay in bed or wherever he wants me to be and let him just have me. And Harry proves his passion and devotion to me when he gets home, throws his briefcase into the next corner, fucks my brains out and gives himself to me. Completely.

And because of all this, I didn’t ask any questions when Harry woke me up this morning and forced me into the car. I didn’t ask any questions when he pulled up outside the town hall of my hometown, reached into the glove box and threw a box into my lap. I didn’t think twice when he asked me if we were now getting married or not. I just said yes and let him drag me into the building.

We did what was necessary and signed a few papers.

And now we’re actually married which we ‘celebrated’ on the car park, in our car, leaving me with more bruises and more sore than ever. But hey, that’s just us and our love. And you know what, it works. We work.

The End

Comments are appreciated.

A/N 2: There's a sequel/spin-off to this one. Wanna read it?

A/N 3: Can anyone guess which song this was supposed to be based on?

mcfly-slash ... About Me Now

Thu, 03 Jan 2008 19:34:50 GMT

eee .. happy new year everyone!
recovered from all the hangovers? good!

so i thought .. new year .. it's time for a new fic as well.
and another one .. and another one ..
keeping it all flowing, you know.
i can have you know that i already have another standalone done with a spin-off in the making. such a busy bee i am.

and in the meantime, i shall go to uk.
but because mcfly are not doing anything, i'll see someone else.
simple plan!
my boys are backkkkkkkkkk!

anywayyyyy .. story, yes?

Title: About Me Now
Author: me
Rating: PG-13
Chapter: 1/1 … Standalone
Genre: Comedy
Pairing: Fletcher/Jones … eventually
Summary: Tom is so unloved … or so he thinks
Disclaimer: Not true. Definitely not. Apart from that thing about ‘Transylvania’ in that list. But I swear to god, I wrote the story before I knew about the list. Which maybe makes me psychic … so maybe this story is true after all. You never know with me and my abilities ;)
Dedication: my Bumface Cazza because with her I have the weirdest conversations, the biggest laughs about the silliest things and she gives me the bestest ideas. I.e. this one.
Author’s note: Right, this was supposed to be half as long as it is now … oops.

Most Fanciable Male 2007
1) Dougie Poynter - McFly
2) Danny Jones – McFly
3) Harry Judd – McFly
4) Zac Efron – High School Musical; Hairspray
5) Johnny Depp – Pirates of the Caribean
6) Orlando Bloom – Pirates of the Caribean
7) Tom Fletcher – McFly

Most Eligible Bachelor 2007
1) Dougie Poynter - McFly
2) Danny Jones – McFly
3) Orlando Bloom – Pirates of the Caribean
4) Harry Judd – McFly
5) Daniel Radcliffe – Harry Potter
6) Tom Fletcher – McFly

The Guys Us Boys Love 2007
1) Dougie Poynter - McFly
2) Danny Jones – McFly
3) Harry Judd – McFly
4) Shayne Ward
5) Tom Fletcher – McFly

“Oh fuck it, this is bollocks!”

Cursing, Tom picked up the magazines he had just flipped through and threw them away from him, across the room. He waited for them to hit the floor and hopefully rotting there even though that might have caused his nice carpet to be ruined. But the sound of paper hitting floor never came.

He looked up and saw Danny standing in the doorway, hand clasped to his chest, clutching the magazines.

“A simple ‘Hello’ would’ve been good enough, mate. Don’t ‘ave to shower me with magazines.” Danny chuckled and entered the room. “What you’re so upset about?”
Tom flailed a hand at the magazines in Danny’s grasp. “They’re full of shit!” he exclaimed.

Danny took the magazines away from his chest to take a look at them. He had the same ones laying at his flat, as they all always got a copy of a magazine send to them if they were featured or mentioned in them. He just hadn’t bothered to look through them yet. But if Tom was that upset about what was written in them, he’d probably be better off to chuck them into the bin when he came home later.

“Tom, they’re just teenie and gay-mags, of course they’re full of shit. Nothing to get all wound up over.” Danny reasoned as he plonked down onto the sofa next to his friend.
“But they’re writing the truth!”
Danny snorted. “I beg to differ.”

Groaning, Tom took the magazines away from Danny. He flicked through each of them again and when he found what he had been looking for, he opened each them on the page with the charts and laid them out onto the coffee table, urging Danny on to take a look.

Danny scanned each page intensely before looking back at Tom aplogetically. “Sorry, can’t see where the problem is.”

Tom scooted to sit next to Danny and furiously pointed at all the different charts listed on the pages. It was nearing the end of the year, therefore it was time to let the world (aka the readers) know who was best at something. Best Looking, Best Song, Best Album, Best … whatever.

“I’m apparently ugly.” Tom stated.
Danny again scanned the different charts Tom pointed at before letting out a laugh. “I told you they’re not writing the truth. Dougie’s nowhere better looking than me.”

Tom only shot Danny a look which made the northerner realise that these charts really got through to his friend. And thinking about it, he could understand it. Tom’s self-esteem had never been this high so it didn’t exactly help that he now had to read that all his band mates were obviously way more popular than he was.

“Tom, you’re not ugly, stop saying that. Here, look at that one. Best Lovesong 2007, ‘The heart never lies’ is on three!”
“Which only proves that I can write a lovesong, not that I’m good looking. And here!” Tom pointed to another list. “Best Song 2007, ‘Transylvania’ is on two! Dougie is not only prettier, he also writes better songs. No one bloody understood Tranny, not even he did!”
Danny laid a hand on Tom’s shoulder, squeezing lightly. “Tom, calm down. Those lists mean nothing. Tomorrow they’re forgotten.”
“And how about the fans? Dougie only has to blink and they faint, same as when you laugh or Harry just opens his mouth. The girls who like me only do because they think I’m ‘cute’ because I collect toys and love Disney films. No one would ever call me hot or something. And it’s not even the girls who like me in the first place, it’s their bloody mums!”
“That’s not true, Tom. Have you not read what they wrote on the fanboards or on the Myspace after the tour? They were drooling over you in that white shirt, said you should wear it all the time.”
“Yeah, cos if they see me in a t-shirt I’m not hot anymore. It’s the shirt that was sexy, not me.”
Danny sighed. “Tom, stop thinking that. So what if some teenies don’t think you’re not pretty or good looking or whatever. You’re one hell of a mate, talented and overall the nicest human being I ever met. And all that is so much more important than good looks. They’re gonna fade away eventually anyway. So now take those magazines, throw ‘em away and don’t think about that rubbish anymore. And while you’re at it, switch on the Xbox, will ya? I’m gonna go fetch us some beers.”

For the rest of the afternoon Tom and Danny were sat in Tom’s living room, playing videogames. But still, Tom couldn’t shake off the feeling that it was actually because Danny felt sorry for him and had nothing else he could come up with to make Tom feel better.

===

The next day Tom was just pottering about in his kitchen, actually in the process of ripping those disasterous magazines into pieces before throwing them away, when there was a knock at his front door.

He went to open and found himself face to face with Dougie.

“Alright, Dougs?” Tom asked when he was already on his way back to the kitchen, “Want a cup of tea?”
“No, I’m fine. Brought you some Starbucks. Figured you didn’t have your daily fix yet.” Dougie placed the white and green paper cup on the worktop next to Tom. “Did you run out of confetti?” he questioned.
“Huh? Why?”
Dougie gestured to the ripped apart magazines.
“Oh those. Nah, that’s just for the bin.”
“Are those the mags we got sent yesterday? With all the charts in?”
“Yeah. Congrats on Tranny being second for song of the year by the way. And for basically being the sexiest thing in the country.”
Dougie laughed heartily. “You don’t really believe that crap, do you? I bet my mum and nan voted about a hundred times each day. Cos I’m sure as hell not good looking or any of that sort.”

That was what made Tom stop his current activity. He looked up at Dougie who sat next to the magazines on the worktop, sipping on his own Starbucks cup.

He couldn’t believe that Dougie had just said that he wasn’t good looking. Did he even look at himself? Because even though the whole thing was a touchy subject to Tom, he couldn’t deny the fact that Dougie was a good looking guy. Girls were swooning over him and Tom could see why. The toussled hair, his smile, his fun and quirky personality … all really attracting qualities.

“You’re joking, are you?”
“No.” Dougie shook his head. “I mean, just look at me. I’m short, and for the biggest part of last year my hair looked like an eagle went wild in them. And I look like I’m 12. Hell, most of our own fans look older than me, even those who aren’t. And I definitely wouldn’t be on top of those stupid lists if people would get to know me and find out how normal I actually am. All they see is silly Dougie who doesn’t say much other than nonsense and that’s why they love me. I think I make them laugh more than I turn them on or anything like that.”
“Don’t be stupid.”
“I’m not. Just compare Danny to me. He has that rockstar aura around him so people autmatically feel drawn to him. And his personality is wicked, he only has to talk to someone for 30 seconds and they love him. Harry doesn’t even have to talk in the first place because he’s so good looking that people like him no matter what. And you …”
“What about me?”
“You’re just amazing, Tom. There are so many sides to you. You’re talented and you’re the best listener and you give the best advise and you’re so intelligent. You’re probably smarter than Danny and me and Harry put together, but you never make someone feel stupid if they don’t know something. Beauty’s only skin-deep, Tom. All this …” Dougie gestured to his own face. “That’s gonna fade sooner or later. But what’s inside there …” He prodded Tom’s chest with his finger. “That’s still there in fifty years time, that’s what people will remember you for.”
Tom looked at Dougie questioningly. “Did Danny talk to you?”
“No. Why, did he want to?”
Tom shook his head. “Nah, forget it. What are you here for anyway?”
“Nothing really. Just wanted to hang out.”
“Harry busy?”
Dougie shrugged. “Don’t know, haven’t been over to his. I was on a walk with Flea and I passed Starbucks and then I thought that we haven’t spent time with each other in ages. You know, just you and me. Harry sees me all the time, he deserves a break anyway.” he giggled. He tugged on Tom’s t-shirt. “And now come on, I wanna lay on your comfy sofa and talk with you about the world.”

A few minutes later the two band mates were in Tom’s living room. The stereo was switched on, playing something calm and mellow. Dougie was lain on the sofa, his head in Tom’s lap, looking up at the older male.

“Those lists buggered you, didn’t they?”
Tom shrugged before he absent-mindedly started to play with strands of Dougie’s hair. “They did actually.”
“Why? Lists like that are stupid and shallow anyway. They’re not even worth the paper they’re printed on. Don’t get worked up because of that, it’s not worth it.”
“I wish it was that easy.”
“Why do you care if some kids out there think you’re hot?”
“I don’t know. If I knew, I’d find a way to avoid all that, wouldn’t I?”
“You think that Danny thinks the same way as them, don’t you? That’s what really bothers you.”

At that, Tom stilled his fingers and just looked down at Dougie, not believing what he had just heard, not believing that Dougie actually could tell, that he knew even.

“Just call me observing.” Dougie said with a smile.
“Does Danny know?”
“He has no idea. It’s just me, I haven’t even told Harry. So it’s true? You like Danny.”
Tom nodded. “Am I that obvious?”
“No, don’t worry. It’s just … You remember when we watched the DVD for the first time? When Danny sang his part of ‘The heart never lies’ your reaction kinda gave you away. Normally you hide it really well. That was just one weak moment, I reckon.”
“What did I do?”
“You smiled that certain smile. I can’t really describe it. It’s that smile people have when they see something they really love.”
“Great.” Tom muttered sarcastically, “I have a smile that reveals my silly crush on Danny.”
Dougie smiled. “It’s not just a silly crush though, isn’t it? If it was you wouldn’t be worried what he thinks of all those hottie-lists.”
“Can you blame me though? I mean, look at all the people he pulled. Each and every one of them was sickenly attractive. Boys same as girls. I literally pale in comparison to them.”
“That’s nonsense, Tom. I mean yes, they did look good. But apart from Olivia Danny never dated anyone for longer than a few weeks. And why was that? Because he realised that just good looks are not really getting him anywhere.”
“What about Olivia then? He was with her for ages. And she was pretty.”
“You don’t see her anywhere near him these days though, do you?”

To that, Tom had no answer. Because Dougie was right. Danny had split up with Olivia in the middle of the last tour, never giving anyone a reason for it. But then again, Tom couldn’t quite believe that her looks had anything to do with it. It could have been anything for all he knew. She could have cheated, he could have found someone new (and sickenly good looking of course), they could have grown apart or Danny was getting bored as usual. But if there was one thing Tom was sure of, it was the fact that if Olivia hadn’t been that good looking, Danny wouldn’t have stayed with her for this long.

“Tom, Danny gives a flying fuck about those lists. He may be shallow but he’s not that shallow. You really should stop worrying. Besides, you do look good. I really like the hair. And when you’re on stage, looking all passionate and stuff … man, you’re oozing sex-appeal. Or … you know that bit in our MTV tour-thing, when you’re in front of the mirror with Harry. That look you had in your eyes almost made me forget that I was supposed to look at Harry.”
“I’ll tell him you said that.”
Dougie laughed. “Go ahead. He always says that a bit of window shopping can’t hurt as long as we unwrap the goodies at home. Get hungry while being out but eat at home.”
“Nice metaphors. Your man’s creative.”
Dougie pulled a face. “Don’t say that.”
“Say what?”
“That he’s ‘my man’.”
“Isn’t he?”
“Ask him. I don’t know anymore.” Dougie sighed.
“Where’s all this coming from? I thought this … whatever you and Harry have … I thought it was something.”
“Maybe, maybe not. It’s just … Harry never looks at me like you look at Danny.”
“Oh, now I look as well? I thought I just smiled once.”
“You do both. The smile was just more obvious and made me notice the looks.”
“Have you talked about that with Harry?”
“What, that you shoot looks at Danny and that you have the lovey-dovey smile when he sings?”
“Idiot!” Tom slapped Dougie’s shoulder. “I meant that other thing.”
“How can I talk about it with him? You just said it yourself, whatever him and I have, it doesn’t even have a name. So how can I ask him why he never gets a smile on his face when he watches me sing? I bet he doesn’t even notice things like that. He just doesn’t pay attention. That’s another thing I like about you by the way. You’re really attentive. You notice the smallest things, the tiny changes in people’s behaviour. And then you talk to them and you wanna make them feel better. You’d actually be the perfect boyfriend …” Dougie trailed off, a dreamy smile on his face.
“Dougs, are you … are you flirting with me?”
“I’m just saying. Things would be a lot easier if I had fallen for you.”
“Stop saying things like that. You love Harry.”
“But he doesn’t love me, to him I’m just … a human sextoy or something. Why should I still bother trying to make him fall for me? Not like it’s gonna happen.”
“Talk to him.” Tom advised, “First and foremost he’s your friend. Let him know what’s going on in your head. Maybe he notices more than you think.”
“Can I shoot that right back at you?”
“Huh?”
“Practice what you preach. Talk to Danny.”
“I have. He told me to not be stupid and then we ended up in front of the Xbox for hours. And he came up with all that ‘Beauty is only skin-deep’ stuff as well. Which only proves that he doesn’t think I’m good looking. Because when did personality ever played the main role for Danny Jones?”
“Tom, will you finally stop that? Why are your looks so important to you? No one else seems to care about these fucking lists but you. Why is that?”
“Well, why would you, Danny and Harry care? You’re usually the Top 3, whereas I find myself somewhere below 5.”
“So fucking what Tom? These lists mean less than nothing.”
“They mean a fucking lot, Dougs. Because they’re true!”
“They’re not true!”
“Are too. I mean, look at it like this. You and Harry have each other, however fucked up your whole situation is. Danny had Olivia and god knows who else. I don’t have anyone and I didn’t have anyone in ages. No one is interested in me because I am a boring ugly geeky loser.”
“That’s what you think?”
Tom looked down at Dougie and nodded.
Dougie sighed and got up from the sofa. He walked towards the doorway before turning around once more. “If that’s what you really think, I can’t help you. Believe me Tom, I wish I could. I wish you’d look at yourself and see what I can see. But if you can’t love yourself, how are other people supposed to love you?”

And then Dougie walked through the door and moments later Tom heard the front door close, the last words Dougie had said still sounding in his ear. And what was worse was the fact that he knew Dougie was right. Looks really weren’t important and if he wasn’t able to love himself no one else could ever be able to.

Letting out a frustrated groan, Tom sunk down on the sofa and buried his head into a cushion, deep down wishing that Dougie just had stayed the stupid teenager he had been a few years ago.

===

The next day Tom still didn’t feel much better. First he had just been frustrated that he apparently was ugly and unloved by the public. Now he was also upset over the fact that his attitude had made one of his best friends angry at him. He felt that he couldn’t do anything right.

He thought that letting his feelings out in his music room might be of any help but apparently he had thought wrong again. The melodies he played all seemed wrong, out of tune. No note matched the other.

First all those charts, then Danny told him he was stupid for letting said charts have an effect on him before paying all his attention to the Xbox and his beer bottle, and now Dougie was mad at him and even his piano seemed to hate him. Now he just had to find a way to piss Harry off and the world would officially have turned against him.

As if on cue, Tom heard his front door opening, followed by heavy footsteps on the stairs leading to his music room and an angry call of his name, his full name. And the voice who called was … guess who? … Harry.

World vs Tom 10000000:0!

When Harry found Tom sitting by his piano, he just leaned against the side of the doorframe, eyeing his friend cautiously. And luckily for Tom, he suddenly seemed a whole less angry, seeing the state his older friend was in.

“What the fuck did you do to Dougie?” Harry questioned upon entering the room. He sat down next to Tom on the bench in front of the piano.
“Why?” Tom questioned.
“Because yesterday evening I spent almost two hours on calming him down. He was really upset, you know.”
“Did you make it?”
“Did I make what?”
“Could you calm him down?”
Harry shrugged. “I hope so.”
“What did you do?”
“We talked a lot, about of stuff that went on between us in the past few weeks. And I held him, if that’s what you mean. He seemed really cuddly yesterday, even when he’d fallen asleep he was still clinging to me like his life depended on it.”
“No sex?”
“Hell no! He needed comfort, not sex.”
“You should tell him that you love him, Harry. I know deep down you do.”
Harry smiled. “I told him. Just this morning actually.”
Tom managed a faint smile back. “Then you did just the right thing. That was all he needed to hear.”
“He was still upset though. Which brings me to my actual question. What did you do to him?”
“We had a bit of a fight.”
“No offense Tom, but if Dougie Poynter is sulking for longer than two hours, it might have been more than a bit of a fight.”
“He’s still sulking?”
“Yeah. Tries to hide it though. But you know him, it’s not working. He barely touched his breakfast his morning and you know he can’t eat when he’s upset. So whatever went on between you and him, it must’ve been bad. And you don’t look any better than him at the moment as well, if I might add that.”
Tom sighed. “Did you take a look at the magazines?”
“The ones we got sent?”
Tom nodded.
“Nah. Why should I be interested in whatever rubbish is written about us this month?”
“Well, there were all those charts. You know, Best Looking and Best This and Best That.”
Harry nodded, telling Tom wordlessly to continue.
“On all those best looking lists, Dougie was usually on 1, Danny on 2, you on 3. And I barely managed the Top 5. And that upset me. Still does.”
“So that’s what Dougie meant.”
“Meant with what?”
“When I asked him what was wrong with him. He was mumbling that he can’t understand why you can’t see what he sees. I didn’t understand it. Now I do.” He paused. “You’re upset because the teenie-world voted you into the Top 10 of the best looking people?”
“I … I didn’t see it like that.”
“Yeah well, you should. I mean, the 10 best looking people, that’s an achievement, isn’t it?”
“Yeah but … out of all of us, I did worst.”
“But that doesn’t stand to mean much, Tom. For fuck’s sake, Matt Damon got voted Sexiest Man Alive. You can’t really say he’s breathtaking, can you? Whether someone is good looking or not depends on whoever sees them. Generally spoken Matt Damon is the sexiest man on the planet but that doesn’t mean that every woman, or every man, automatically thinks that he is. It’s all a question of taste really. I personally never would’ve voted Matt anywhere near the sexiest man alive.”
“Because you only have eyes for Dougie.”
Harry grinned. “Yeah, that too. But seriously, just because Dougie or Danny or I got more clicks on a website or have more obsessive fans or whatever doesn’t mean that you’re not attractive. And it most definitely shouldn’t bother you to a point where you upset my boyfriend.”
“I should apologise to him.”
“You should, actually. Will you mean it?”
“Of course I’ll mean it.”
“So you’re not upset anymore because you’re not Top 5 in the best looking charts?”
At that Tom automatically squirmed in his seat.
“You can’t be serious? How can you still be upset over that? Tom, it’s just a stupid list. It doesn’t mean shit. No one’s gonna think about that next week. Hell, I bet it’s forgotten already. And besides, there are charts like that all the time and they change almost every time too.”
“But I just … I can’t stop thinking about it because deep down I always keep thinking that it’s true. I never had someone tell me that I looked hot. Never, Harry. Do you even know how that feels? You have strangers compliment you all the time. All I ever hear is that I’m talented.”
“Because you are. Would you rather be good looking than talented?”
“Yeah, sometimes I wish I was.”
“No, you don’t really. Because you know what? It actually sucks when all people see is your looks. Do you think I feel on top of the world when I read somewhere how talented you, Danny and Dougie are and I don’t get mentioned with a word? Being the pretty one is a curse because people don’t take you serious.”
“I highly doubt that, Harry. Because you’re good looking, you get attention. People listen to you automatically. I have to fight for every little bit of attention. Fuck’s sake, my talent is the only thing that keeps me in the band. I’d be fired if I lost my songwriting ability.”
“You’re important to the band, Tom. Don’t fucking dare to even think anything different.”
“Am I? Then tell me why exactly I am so important. What quality, other than me writing songs, do I bring to the band? Dougie is the good looking babyboy, Danny is the good looking rockstar, you’re the good looking posh guy. I am Tom. Plain and simple Tom.”
“You wanna know what you add to the band? Well, you’re level-headed. You have amazing instincts, always know what’s the right thing to do. Danny, Dougie and I have our heads in the clouds so often and you bring us back to the ground. You are so much more experienced than we all are. You’re half a year older than me but sometimes I feel like it’s a few years because you just know so much. If it wasn’t for you this band wouldn’t be anywhere, we wouldn’t do all the things we do because you make us focus on the most important things. You’re the one who tells us to stop partying, to not drink or smoke so much. You take care of us with so much strength, wherever you take it from each and every day. And that’s just the stuff I can think of right now. Give me a day and I can come up with a million more things.”
“And would my looks be any of those?”
“No, and I’ll you why that is. Because looks are not important. I could give you a speech like that about Doug and Danny without mentioning their looks either. Looks may be important at first, I don’t even deny that, but they’re surely not what matters in the end. I love Dougie and Danny and you and nothing of all that has to do anything with the way each of you look. And when I can look past all that, you should be able to look past that as well.”
“But … I can’t. For all my life, the way I looked seemed to made people talk. You should know … you were one of them for quite a while.”
“Because I was a snobby teen and didn’t know better. God knows I made jokes about all of you. And you know how sorry I am about all the things I said. I’m not gonna apologise again, not for things I said and apologised for years ago.”
“How nice of you.”
“I wasn’t finished. I was about to say that I’m gonna show you that there’s no need for me to apologise because there’s no problem to begin with. And now come on, get up!”

Harry got up from the bench and made to leave the room, turning around in the doorway to make sure the blonde followed him.

Reluctantly, Tom raised from his seat as well and followed Harry through his house until he found himself in front of the full length mirror of the wardrobe in his bedroom. Harry made him stand there, just facing himself while he opted to take a seat on the bed, his eyes meeting Tom’s in the mirror.

“Strip!” Harry simply ordered. Not said, ordered.
Tom span around, giving his friend a look of pure shock. “What?! Have you completely lost it?”
“There’s a point to this. And now come on, strip! And turn back around, look at yourself.”

Still not knowing what Harry’s actual goal was, Tom turned around. He knew from Dougie’s confessions (usually made when the young guy was so drunk he could barely look straight ahead) that Harry could be quite dominant, using his physical strength when it was needed, and therefore he knew better than to argue.

With shaking fingers, still under Harry’s intense gaze, Tom opened the zip of the the hoodie he was wearing, sliding it all the way down before peeling it from his arms and letting the material fall to the floor. He then slowly pulled the hem of his t-shirt up, closing his eyes when he felt the first gushes of air hitting his abdomen. Sure, Harry had seen him naked before but this situation was so much different. Tom already felt naked and he hadn’t even taken his t-shirt off yet.

“Open your eyes, Tom.” came Harry’s voice, still demanding, but also a lot more softer.
Tom shook his head, letting go of his t-shirt again, making it cover his upper body again. He turned around to look at Harry. “I can’t.” he whispered, looking down.
“You have to.”

And suddenly Harry was behind him, Tom heard his breathing right next to his ear. He gulped down the massive lump that had suddenly appeared in his throat, squeezing his eyes shut so tight it almost gave him a headache.

Tom’s heart was hammering inside his ribcage when he felt Harry’s hands snaking their way from wherever they came from to Tom’s front, his fingers lifting up the hem of Tom’s t-shirt again. Breathes left his lungs at the speed of light when the t-shirt was lifted higher and higher, exposing more and more of his chest. Without even realising he did so, he raised his arms, allowing Harry to pull the t-shirt above his head. And suddenly Harry’s hands were on his arms, sliding up and down softly and Tom could literally feel the eyes of his friend roaming up and down his body.

If this was anyone else, a very certain anyone else from Bolton with freckles and an almost unhealthy obsession with football and Bruce Springsteen actually, doing that to Tom, he would have pinned certain anyone else to his mattress five minutes ago. But the fact that this was Harry who was demanding like Tom had never experienced him before, it actually scared him a bit. Harry wasn’t really going to … or was he? But why him, Dougie was just across the road.

“Open your eyes.” Harry said again, this time directly whispered into his ear, his breath ghosting over the side of Tom’s face sending shivers all over and throughout Tom’s body.

Tom gulped, audibly this time, before opening his eyes, finding Harry’s still staring at him with all their intensity.

“No surprise Dougie’s mush for you.” he stated and chuckled, easing himself with the joke more than anything else. He then turned his head sideways to look at Harry directly. “Speaking of which, does he know what you’re doing here? Because I don’t think he’ll approve with the fact that his boyfriend is stripping his best friend in a way that could best be described as ‘seductive’.”
“I’m just proving a point here, Dougie understands.”
“What point are you proving? That you’re good at undressing people and make them feel uncomfortable, even in their own houses?”
“Look at yourself, Tom.” Harry demanded again, ignoring Tom’s question, nodding at the mirror.

And Tom did. He looked back at his reflection. And he really looked this time. But still, all he could see was his shirtless self and Harry standing behind him, his head just above Tom’s shoulder, his eyes studying him.

“What do you see?” Harry questioned.
Tom raised his eyebrows. “Us?” It came out more a question than an answer.
Harry shook his head. “Ignore me. Look at yourself. What do you see?”
“Erm …” Tom scratched his head. “I just see me. What else am I supposed to see?”

Harry let out a sigh and moved from behind Tom to stand next to him. He buried his hands in the pockets of his jeans before giving Tom the all-over look. He then turned his focus back to the mirror, again finding Tom’s eyes in the reflection.

“I’ll tell you what I see.” Harry started. “I’m seeing a tall lad, in his twenties, I’d say. Good body, everything is where it should be in just the right amount. You know, no big mountains of muscles, but he’s not all skin and bones either. Pale but not so pale that it looks like he’s ill or something, and it somehow strangely matches him. Toussled hair, probably blond when it grows longer but it could be a very light brown as well. With just a little bit of gel in to at least coordinate it a bit, I suppose. Looks good, shows that he cares about it but not so much that it’s annoying because it takes hours until he’s fixed it. Brown eyes, really dark, which is a bit surprising because of the tone of skin. But those eyes, they’re dark, deep and even a bit mysterious. I wonder what he thinks about. He has a nice and friendly smile. I think he’s a friendly person over all, not one bit arrogant even though he has every right to be. All in all, I can see a guy I’d definitely look at twice if he passed me on the street. If I saw him in a pub, I’d buy him a drink, flirt a bit I think, hoping he’d show interest because I think it’d be damn cool if a guy like that was interested in little old me. But, as luck would have it, I have a boyfriend who’d skin me alive and fed my balls to his pets if I did anything of that.” Now it was Harry’s turn to chuckle. “That, and only that, is what I can see right now.”

When Harry had finished his speech, Tom couldn’t help the blush that crept over his face. He looked down, not able to face the mirror any longer, not able to face Harry after all the things he had just said.

“And would you believe, even when he blushes like an idiot he still looks great.” Harry added.

And then he was suddenly leaving his side, making Tom look up again.

“And Tom?” came his voice from the doorway.
Tom looked at him.
“I didn’t just say that to make you feel better. I told you that because it’s true. And when I can see it and Dougie can see it and god knows who else can see it, it’s about damn time you see it too.”
“Yeah …” Tom mumbled.

Harry smiled at Tom, warm and friendly, all the anger from when he came over and dominance from just five minutes ago completely forgotten. And Tom actually managed an honest smile back before Harry went through the doorway and down the stairs, about to leave the house.

“Oh, and Tom?” came a final call from the staircase.
“What?” he yelled back.
“Apologise to Dougie. I don’t wanna have him moping around all week.” And then his front door fell close.

Tom let out a light laugh again and looked back straight ahead, at his own half-naked reflection in the mirror, Harry’s words still floating around in his brain.

===

The next day Tom actually felt better. He’d been on the phone with Dougie for quite a while earlier, apologising to the young guy, using every word of excuse he could come up with. And Dougie had accepted it. Probably had accepted it the second he picked up and knew Tom was on the line but the little bugger probably thought Tom should suffer for a bit. And just moments after they had hung up and Tom looked outside his living room’s window, he saw Dougie leave his place and turn for the general direction of Harry’s, of course. And for a minute or two Tom pitied Harry’s poor neighbours.

But then the past days caught up with him when he entered his kitchen. The magazines were still laying on the worktop as Tom had never finished ripping them into shreds and throwing them away. So now they were laying there, glaring at him, mocking him. And suddenly all the pain and all the insecurities were back full force.

Angrily he grabbed the magazines, not bothering to shred them and headed towards his front door, ready to throw them into the rubbish bin outside his house so he wouldn’t have to look at them again.

And just as Tom opened the door he was facing a very dumbstruck Danny who held a single red rose in his hand, the other hand raised in mid-air, probably to knock or ring the doorbell.

“Dan?” Tom questioned.
“Erm … yeah … hi.” Danny smiled at him in a way that was almost shy. But Danny and shy? Those two words were barely ever used in one sentence.
“What’s the matter?”
“Can you just listen to me? Because I need to get this out. Been standing here for bloody fifteen minutes and if I don’t say it now I think I’m never gonna do it.”
“Go ahead.”
“Iloveyou!” Danny blurted out rushed.
“You what?!”

And Tom hadn’t asked because he hadn’t understood. He understood perfectly well, he just couldn’t … understand.

“Don’t interrupt me, please Tom. This is hard enough already … I mean, difficult. Difficult, not hard.”

At this Tom just stared at Danny, wondering when his friend became weirder than Dougie. And when Danny didn’t continue and Tom thought he apparently was done with his speech, he dared to open his mouth.

“Dan, I …”
“God Fletcher, will you finally shut up and let me fucking finish this?”
Tom nodded, not even thinking about saying anything until Danny allowed him to.
“Right. Erm … I think I … no, I actually know that I … I love you, Tom. It just … well, took me a while to realise, didn’t it? But then you had those magazines and they made you so sad and I really wanted you to feel better. And that wasn’t because I didn’t want to see my mate sad or anything. I mean, at first I thought it was that but then I saw Dougie going over to yours the other day and the next day Harry was in and … I dunno, I didn’t want them to make you feel better. I mean, of course I wanted you to not be sad anymore but I didn’t want them be the reason for it. I wanted to be the reason for it. I wanted to be the one to make you feel better about yourself, and I wanted to make you smile and I wanted to pay you compliments. And then I thought that something about that couldn’t be quite right, you know. Like, this deep want to make you happy. Friends normally don’t think that way about their best mates, do they? And that was when I realised that what I feel for you pretty much isn’t the way I’d normally feel for a best mate. So long story short … I love you!”

When Danny was done with his speech, Tom just stood there on his doorstep. Stood and stared at Danny with that single red rose in his hands, his face expectant, giving the impression that whatever Tom would say next, it could either make him the happiest guy ever or shatter his world into tiny pieces.

“This would be your time to speak, actually.” Danny said after a few moments of Tom just staring at him.

What followed probably surprised both Tom and Danny. Tom simply dropped the magazines in his grip, turned on his heel and went back into his house, slamming the door closed.

Danny stood outside the door for a minute or two, looking dumbfounded at the wood, as if hoping it would magically disappear to let him inside or open to reveal Tom again who would tell him that he’d been stupid before sinking into his arms and kissing the life out of him.

When neither of two happened Danny carefully leaned against the door, trying to hear anything from the inside. And he did hear muffled sounds but couldn’t make out exact words. So Danny left his spot and walked over to the big window to his left, the window of Tom’s living room. Tom still hadn’t bought curtains so Danny had a good look at his friend who was wildly pacing back and forth through the room, his hands flying around while he animatedly spoke to his sofa or something.

Inside, Tom felt like an animal in a too tiny cage. He walked in circles in his living room while he tried to bring some order into his brain where thoughts were running wild at 100 miles a minute.

“This can’t be happening, for the love of god!” he said to no one but himself, waving his hands in the air for no particular reason. “This just can’t be happening. No way. This must be a joke. Everything that happens in the band is a joke, so why not that? I mean really, first Dougie flirts with me, then Harry comes to strip me and tell me I’m the hottest thing on the planet and now Danny surprisingly loves me? Yeah right Tom, wake up. This. Is. Not. Happening. Not really. This is all a really fucked up dream and I need to wake up. Veeeeeery soon cos this is getting creepy. Can you hear me, brain? The night is over, time to wake up. Come on!”

This really couldn’t be happening. Okay, so Danny wasn’t exactly as straight as he made the public believe he was, that was true. And he generally prefered blondes. But still. Danny was so out of Tom’s league, so out of Tom’s world. There was just no way that the brunette guitarist could ever be interested in plain old Tom Fletcher. That would be … a million steps out of his usual way.

A knock on his window interrupted Tom’s train of thoughts and he looked towards the source of the noise, seeing Danny shyly waving at him from the outside, pointing to the side where the front door was.

Tom just nodded, seeing Danny leave the window, obviously heading for the door again. He looked at the window for a few more seconds, before muttering. “I thought I said this was the perfect time to wake up.”

He then truged towards the front door and cautiously opened it. Danny was standing outside, looking uncertainly at Tom.

“Please don’t slam the door again, yeah? You really scared me there.”
“Sorry.” Tom apologised, “Wanna come in?”

Danny nodded and Tom stepped aside to let him enter. Danny slipped out of his shoes before the two of them went back into the living room where they awkwardly stood across from each other.

“So …” Tom started.
“Can you sit down, please?” Danny interrupted quickly, “It’s just … I wanna make sure that you don’t run away again.”
“I can still run away.”
“But you’d have to get up first, giving me a few seconds to stop you. Please Tom? Just listen to me, yeah? And then you can run away or do whatever you want, but please listen to me first.”
Tom sighed. “Okay.”

Tom sat down on his sofa and Danny sat down right in front of him. Any other time Tom would have scolded his friend, telling him that coffee tables were named ‘tables’ for a reason and not meant to be used as a seat but the words were literally stuck in his throat as he saw the serious look in his friend’s blue eyes.

“I know how this must look to you, Tom. I mean, here I come, telling you that I love you. When I realised it, it was a shock to me so I can only imagine what kind of shock that must be for you. But I mean, I can’t change it, can I? You can’t choose who you fall in love with, can you? But then again, even if I could’ve chosen, I probably would’ve picked you anyway.”
“Why me, Danny?” Tom asked, finally had the courage to ask, “You can have whoever you want and their friend the next day. Why would you want me?”
“Because whoever I want or their friend aren’t you. I told you this the other day. You’re just the most awesome person I know.”
“But I’m not … everyone else you went out with was … I don’t compare, I can’t compare.”
“No Tom, they can’t compare. No one would ever be able to make me stutter because I get all shy when I see them. No one could ever make me go that scary Mrs Richards down the road and ask her if I could get the prettiest rose out of her garden. You can though. When I stood outside your door earlier I was shitting it when I just thought about saying hi to you. And my palms were so sweaty when I rang on Mrs Richard’s door because no matter what everyone says, I’m sure she’d have toddlers for breakfast if only she could. But then I thought that I needed to get one of her roses, the most beautiful of them all, to make you smile and I wasn’t so scared anymore. And sometimes, when you don’t like yourself and you speak so low of yourself I just wanna hit you because you can’t be so smart and at the same time be so utterly stupid. You’re gorgeous, Tom. On the inside and on the outside. It could be the fact that you not even knowing how gorgeous you are makes you even more beautiful but I just don’t know why you can’t see it. Fuck’s sake, if I was you, I’d need an own post box for my ego because it’s simply not possible that one single person can look as stunning as you, have your talent and at the same time have the most awesome personality ever and not realise it. And I know it took me forever to see that and I know my chances are slim to none that you feel the same way but I really couldn’t have you not know how special you are. And not just to me, in general.”
“Danny, I …”
Danny shook his head, indicating that apparently he wasn’t done just yet. “And I know your looks are an issue to you, though I will never understand why, but I don’t want you to think that me saying all this was out of pity or because Dougie or Harry gave me an earful because I was so insensitive the other day. They haven’t by the way, god knows what they were up to in the past days. I truly mean everything I say, Tom. I don’t want you to think you’re ugly because you simply aren’t. Them teenies out there, they’re just blind, if you ask me. And if I could, I’d go out there right now and find each and every one of them, smack some sense into them and then make them apologise for bringing you down. Please, just ignore them and don’t believe what they say or what they make the magazines print. It’s all lies. I mean, Doug and Harry and I, we might look good. But we’re just tiny lights. You’re the one who shines.”

Danny then picked up the single red rose he had placed next to his side while he spoke to Tom. He studied it from all angles, making sure that it was as perfect as Tom deserved it to be, before handing it over to the blonde sitting on the sofa.

“I love you.” he said.

Tom took the rose and leaned back on the sofa. He looked at the flower which indeed looked like it came right out of a painting or picture. The petals were a deep red, the flower itself not fully open but not closed anymore either, blossomed in just the right way. The leaves on the stem were a healthy green and even the sharp and pointy thornes looked awfully perfect. Danny must have spent ages finding it which was probably made even harder by Mrs Richards standing right behind him the whole time, scaring the poor guy to death.

“It’s beautiful.” he muttered, completely taken by that single flower in his hand.
“Not even half as beautiful as you are.”

Tom took a deep breath before tearing his away from the flower to finally look at Danny again. His younger friend didn’t seem so nervous anymore. Instead he had a soft smile on his face which made Tom suddenly remember something Dougie had said to him just two days ago.

It’s that smile people have when they see something they really love.

And suddenly Tom had to smile as well.

“What?” Danny asked, noticing the change on Tom’s face.
“You have that smile on your face.”
“Which?”
“That lovey-dovey smile people get when they see something they really love.”
“Well, that’s what I do, right? Didn’t know there was a name for it though.”
“Dougie told me about it. Said he caught me smile like that the other day.”
“Oh …”

And Danny’s face fell. If Tom had smiled like that only recently, it must have been because he met someone. And maybe they had shut him down which in result caused Tom’s current depression. But before Danny could waste further thoughts about who had done this to ‘his’ Tom the voice of the elder brought him out of his thoughts.

“It was when we were watching the DVD. ‘The Heart Never Lies’. When you sang, apparently.”

At this, Danny just nodded dumbly for a few moments. But that was, of course, only until he caught the actual meaning behind Tom’s statement. He had had that smile as well? And he had smiled that smile while he had watched him sing? So that means that …?

“There’s no one else?” Danny finished his thought out loud.
Tom looked at him puzzled. “No, there’s not. Should there be?”
“No … sorry … it was just … when you said you had that smile the other day I thought it was because of someone else.”
“It wasn’t. It was because of you.”
“So you …”
Tom nodded. “Yeah. I love you, Danny.”
“Wow …” Danny breathed out.

For a few moments they both just sat there, Tom on the sofa, Danny in front of him on the coffee table. They both just stared at each other, as if to comprehend what just had happened and realising the actual meaning behind it.

“Could you please just kiss me or something? Cos this feels kinda weird.” Tom uttered after a while of this silent staring, his body suddenly tingling from head to toe.

Danny then smiled again before his smile broke out into a face-splitting grin. He scooted down from the coffee table, kneeling inbetween Tom’s slightly spread legs. He reached for the hem of Tom’s t-shirt, tugging slightly on it, signalling Tom to move closer.

As if pulled by an unknown force Tom scooted more towards the edge of the sofa until his arms automatically wrapped around Danny’s neck. Thanks to his position he was now taller than Danny and looked down at him, his blue eyes shining up at him.

“Nothing I’d love to do more.” Danny finally whispered out and closed the gap between them, their lips touching in a kiss.

The End

Comments are appreciated.

mcfly-slash ... December

Thu, 20 Dec 2007 14:36:10 GMT

hellooooooooo … i am back from touring, as you can guess. i've actually been back for a while now but it always takes a bit until i'm used to germany after i've been to uk (because germany sucks, uk doesn't and i'm just well weird)
in case you're wondering how the tour was. can you say wicked? i've met the boys, had an actual conversation with mister poynter and went to three pamazing gigs. apart from a bit of a downer in sheffield i really had the time of my life. pictures can be seen here.
so now i bring you my christmas-harry's birthday-fic.

Title: December
Author: the Grinch … no, not really, it’s Scrooge … no seriously, it’s me
Rating: PG-13
Chapter: 1/1 … Standalone
Genre: Romance
Pairing: Poynter/Judd
Summary: Harry doesn’t like December
Disclaimer: this isn’t true … I guess.
Dedication: EVERYONE! who's read my stuff over the past year.
Author’s note: Alright, this would be my Christmas-fic. Quite remarkable, seeing that I don’t even like Christmas. But I dunno, been gone for a while, haven’t I? I need to have you lot know I’m still alive and didn’t run off into the sunset with the Poynter himself. Also, I am so bored after the tour. After-tour-blues … I hate it. How dare they to not tour, seriously?

It’s December, again. Even more so, it’s approaching December, 23rd awfully fast. And I am nowhere near happy about that.

A lot of people get crazy in December, I suppose. Well, I know actually since my own bandmate, dearest Thomas Michael Fletcher, seems to be one of those people. But all this craziness over Christmas, it’s always been a bit beyond me. Or … not really beyond me, I guess. It was just … can you call it jealousy? I think that’s it, actually.

As soon as December is around, people go all mental. They start decorating their houses with lights and as the month passes on, you see the first places that sell Christmas trees and all that stuff. The streets and shops fill with people armed with their credit cards and lists of presents they need to buy which will cause said credit cards’ limits to max to the heavens.

With everyone being so wrapped up in the holiday itself, one thing always tends to be forgotten.

December, 23rd. The day before Christmas Eve. Which so happens to be the day when, now 22 years ago, I decided it was time to pay the world a visit. A visit that should be celebrated every year because that’s what you do when birthdays come around, don’t you? I mean, if a huge part of the world’s population is celebrating the birth of some guy who existed in the Bible, I think I don’t ask for too much if I want my brithday celebrated as well. I don’t even need the world to break out in joy because I was born, but you know, the people closest to me being happy about my birthday would be nice.

However, with my birthday basically crashing into Christmas it was apparently agreed upon that both joyful occurences should be celebrated together. And not even that is happening. It’s still Christmas that’s celebrated and not my birthday. Everyone is receiving presents, that’s one thing. My birthday dinner is turkey. When it’s any other birthday, the birthday girl or boy is getting their favorite food. But instead of Spag Bol, all I seem to get is turkey. I mean, my mum is an amazing cook but I’ve never liked turkey so much that I’d request for it. But I still get turkey because it’s Christmas. The children are all centre of attention which is natural for Christmas but shouldn’t I get at least a little bit more of attention? Because hello, Jesus is dead (if he was alive in the first place, well, that’s not on me to decide) and we’re still celebrating his birthday. I am still on the planet and no one seems to care.

So yeah, I am jealous, sue me. I am jealous of Christmas and Jesus because they get the attention I want to have, the attention I think I deserve. And it’s not like I can change it either, can I? I mean, usually, when you’re jealous of something someone else has you can at least work to make yourself come out on top, make yourself look better. But how are you supposed to compete with a day that is celebrated all around the world? You can’t, not a chance.

So here I am, sitting in what used to be my bedroom in my parents’ house, bored stupid and a slightly pissed off. My mum and my sister are in the kitchen, fussing over final preparations for the big Christmas dinner or wrapping up the last presents, I don’t really know. My dad and my brother are in the living room, setting up the Christmas tree, which, in good old Judd family tradition, seems to be bigger and harder to handle than the tree last year.

And no one seems to care about me. As per.

A faint buzzing sound is pulling me out of my reverie. It’s my phone which is skitting over the surface of my desk. I don’t really want to answer it. Who could it be anyway?

The whole McFly-management team called already this morning, leaving messages on the voicemail since I wasn’t even awake at that time. It was the usual birthday-wish, say hi to your family, we’ll see you next year, have some relaxing days and Merry Christmas. The standard basically.

Tom called some time before noon, putting his phone on speaker so the whole Fletcher-family could scream their ‘Happy Birthday’ at me while they’re on some tropical island to escape the cold weather. And then I passed my phone to my mum while Tom passed his phone to his mum so the two women could swap Christmas dinner recipes.

Danny called next, passing his phone to each and every member of his family while they were all gathered in the Jones’ residence in Bolton, everyone of them wishing me something along the lines of ‘Ave a good ‘un, son. Don’t be cheeky or ya won’t get anythin’ from Santa, eh?’ And Danny said he was gonna have a drink on me tonight … or afternoon, more like it. Cos that’s what Christmas is good for, isn’t it? Three days of drinking, wahey!

Last to call me was Dougie who was in a mad rush. As usual, he overslept and so he had only two hours to get his lizards over to their holiday-home, pack his things together, go on a walk with Flea and get his (and Flea’s) arse into his car to make his way over the packed motorway to get home. Basically, all I got was ‘Another year over and you’re still together. It’s not always easy but you seem to live forever. Happy birthday, you bum! Overslept, must hurry, call you later.’ and the dialling tone.

I have to admit, Dougie’s call brought my mood down a bit further. Fair enough, we never make a big fuss out of each other’s birthdays but no matter what we’re doing, touring or not touring, Dougie and I always make each other’s birthdays a bit more special. Nothing major, just little things. He’d buy me a new videogame and we’d be the first to play it all night long before Tom and Danny would get their hands on it, just him and me. I’d get him a new skateboard and he’d drag me outside in the middle of the night, and in freezing cold, to watch him while he just skated up and down the street, before we’d get back in and he’d complain to me that he’s cold. And we’d always spent the night of our birthdays talking, in person or on the phone, reflecting on what had changed in our lives since the last birthday.

This is mine and Dougie’s birthday-tradition. And I love this birthday-tradition. Okay, I love Dougie in general (and I mean that in the ‘love that leads to kinky stuff in the bedroom’ way not in the ‘best friend’ way) but that’s beside the point. Point is, that he broke the birthday-tradition when he knows exactly I’m never in my best mood at this time of year. Usually, he’s the only one who makes me smile during the holiday-season, this year he seemed too busy to do that. And he didn’t even seem to care about my feelings either.

The buzzing, that still hadn’t stopped, pulled me out of my thoughts again. Realising it wouldn’t make much sense to ignore the call since the other person would try again and again until I answered, I got up from the bed to pick up.

“Hello?”
“I. Hate. Motorways. Wish I never would’ve gotten my stupid license. I still could get Mum or Paul or Jazzie to come get me which in turn wouldn’t make me oversleep and manage everything on time.”

It’s Dougie. And just the sound of him complaining through the phoneline and I’m not feeling so bad anymore.

“You only just got in?”
“Yep. Was stuck in traffic for bloody ages. Tom could’ve written a whole album while I barely moved a fucking yard. My family says hi by the way. But they’re all busy fussing over whatever at the moment. When I got in, Mum gave me a kiss on the cheek before she disappeared into the kitchen again. I felt like, ‘Yeah, hello dearest family, I missed you too’.”
“Sounds familiar.”
“Your mum as well?”
“Mine … every mother on the planet, I suppose.”
“Got anything fancy?”
“Not until tomorrow evening.”
“What, you mean you haven’t unpacked yet?”
“Couldn’t be arsed.”
“And here I was thinking you’d punish me for the call earlier by not talking to me.” He chuckles.
“Could you get any clearer? I’ve aged another year, thinking gets harder these days.”
“I managed to squeeze a little something into your bag. By the way, in case you’re wondering where that light blue button-up is … I took it out and I plan to burn it.”
“I have you know that it was dead expensive.”
“And I have you know that it’s dead ugly. And now open your fucking bag.”

Sighing, I do as he orders and get to my bag. I clutch the phone between my ear and shoulder (which isn’t that easy with those tiny mobiles these days) and open my bag. And right on top a bright green package is literally screaming at me.

“What’s your obsession with green these days?”
“It’s the colour of nature.”
“Nature in neon light, more like it. This is hurting my eyes.”
“Then do yourself a favour and open it.”

Again, I do as he says. Which isn’t easy. Dougie isn’t exactly gifted when it comes to wrapping presents. It’s basically a lot of wrapping paper and a lot more tape. Finally I get through all the layers that seem to hold my present. And what I hold in my hands now are … He’s got to be joking.

“What is that?”
“Drumsticks, you dolt!”
“I know it’s drumsticks. But I have a fair amount of them, in case you failed to notice. No need to give me another pair.”
“You haven’t got those though. They are special.”
“In what way?”
“They glow in the dark, how freaking cool is that? And they’re made of titanium or metal or steel or something like that so they don’t break. I’ve got another four pairs at home for you. The guy in the shop told me they’re brand new on the market, built to last, so the five pairs I got you will last ages. And there’s also glow-in-the-dark-plectrums. I bought a package for me and one for each Tom and Danny cos I’m just that nice. I’ve been told Tommy Lee ordered a box of those drumsticks too. Bet’cha he uses them as sextoys or something freaky like that. Does he actually drum still?”
“Dougie?” I interrupt his rambling.
“What?”
I smile into the phone. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. But don’t you dare use them before you get back. Don’t mess with the tradition.”
“I never would.”
“Good boy. And that actually brings me to Present Number Two.”
“Present Number Two?”
“What are you doing on the 27th?”
“Lay in bed and curse the season? Throw up all the food I’ve eaten over the holidays? Be the first one to load up on booze for New Year’s?”
“Think you can squeeze in a visit to mine?”
“‘Yours’ as in?”
“My flat.”
“Thought you were staying with the family til New Year’s.”
“Change of plans. You’re coming?”
“What for?”
“I’m not telling. Yes or no, Judd. Your family or my company?”
“I think I’m gonna go with your company.”
“That’s my boy. I’ll see you at mine then, yes? Be there in the afternoon. Say, four, five-ish?”
“Okay.”
“Okay, good. And now tell me, how does it feel to be so old? 22 … when do we need to get you a wheelchair, man?”

And the rest of the night is spend talking on the phone to Dougie, re-living the past year. Dwelling in tour-memories, making fun of bandmates and useless interviewers, critisising my haircuts.

Just Dougie and me and our birthday-tradition.

While our phone call I try to pry out of Dougie what part two of my present entails of but, unlike him, he keeps it all a secret, refusing to even give me a tiny hint, no matter how often I ask him.

The call with Dougie was enough to make me smile for days. I wasn’t bothered about my little cousins shrieking about who would open their present first, every male member of my family arguing over the best parts of the turkey or the chatter of the females discussing everything in the universe. All I thought about was Dougie and our call and what he had planned.

On the night from the 26th to the 27th I could barely sleep because I was so excited. On the actual 27th I jumped out of bed when the first bit of light appeared in the morning sky. I showered, splashed on my best aftershave and made sure I looked extra nice. Just in case, of course. If he made an effort, I should do as well. If he made an effort, that is.

I left my parents’ house earlier than I probably should but I didn’t want to be late. Besides, if the streets were as packed as before Christmas, I’d better be prepared and leave early enough.

When I reached our street, it was just a quarter to four. The streets had been fairly empty so I stuck to the speed limit, avoided any shortcuts and spent some good time inside a supermarket. I wanted to be a good guest and bring something for Dougie. Only that I had no idea what. In the end I settled for the classic – a sixpack of Corona. I had no idea what Dougie had planned but beer is never going to waste anyway.

I thought that 15 minutes early couldn’t hurt much so I just marched right off to Dougie’s place. Outside the door of his flat I stopped. On his doorframe he had tucked several balloons, stating ‘Birthday Boy’ and on his doormat he had placed a big white cardbord box and a birthday card with my name on it.

Chuckling, I knelt down and picked up the card.

Open the package, do what’s required and come in. IN THAT ORDER, no cheating. xxx

Dougie Poynter is a strange individual, a very strange individual. But how can you not love this weirdo, seriously.

I lifted the lid of the package. Inside I found a party hat, a badge that matched the balloons on the door and a folded t-shirt which read ‘Special Delivery’ on the front and had my name and a 22 on the back. Laughing, I put on the t-shirt before attaching the badge to it and placing the hat on my head. I’m sure I looked absolutely ridiculous but anything for Dougie and his surprises, I suppose.

I proceeded to knock on the door when I noticed that it was open already. Carefully I pushed it open.

The flat was only dimly lit and as soon as I entered I picked up the smell of … is that … Spag Bol?

“Dougie?” I called out.
“Go through.” came his voice from somewhere.

I opened the door to his living room and let’s just say, I was well impressed. The room was decorated like for a kids’ birthday party. Balloons were all over the room, sweets and party crackers were scattered everywhere. The coffee table had been moved further towards the kitchen and in its place stood the drumkit we usually had in the studio upstairs. Dougie must have taken it apart, brought it down here and put it back together.

Only … the man himself wasn’t seen anywhere.

As if on cue a voice sounded behind me, whispering right into my ear, making me jump.

“Like it?”

I turned around and there stood Dougie who had apparently been in his bedroom getting ready. And remember I told you about not knowing if he made an effort? Well, he did. His hair was flat down against his forehead, he wore jeans, a t-shirt and a loose navy blue button-up above it. He wore one of those silly party hats as well but it did nothing to damage the breathtaking sight of him.

I blinked at him. “Wow.” I gasped, leaving it out in the open if I meant him or the way his living room was decorated. But between you and me, the second I saw him, I pretty much forgot that there was a living room in the first place.

He smiled. “I hope you brought those drumsticks. You gotta christen them later.” He motioned towards the drumkit.
“When did you do all that?”
“I brought the kit down the day before I left. The rest … today. I left home at the crack of dawn.”
“I’m impressed.”
“Thanks. Come on, wanna keep standing in the doorway? Get in.”

He ushered me into the room, taking the sixpack of beer from my grasp. Upon entering fully, the smell of Spag Bol intesified. And it smelled absoltuely delicious. No trace of anything burnt or stuff like that.

“You didn’t cook, did you?”
“Why I did, birthday boy.”
“Have you tried the result?”
“That too. And I’m still alive and all that so I guess it’s actually decent. I have no idea where we should eat though. The coffee table gave up its place for your drumkit.”
“We’ll just eat on the floor then.”
“You can’t sit on the floor at your birthday party, Harry.”
“Well, it’s my birthday, isn’t it? Can’t I do whatever I want and sit wherever I want?”
He shrugged. “I suppose …”
“Enough said, then.”

I sat down on the floor, leaning my back against the sofa while Dougie went back over into the kitchen.

“Where’s Flea?” I wondered.
“Left him at Mum’s. Jazzie’s gonna bring him when she comes over for the New Year’s party. Oh by the way, take a look behind you, will you?”

I did and noticed a wrapped item on the sofa. I reached for it and looked at it from all angles and even shook it and held my ear against it.

“It’s not gonna explode.” Dougie commented.
“That for me?”
“Well, duh! Who of us is the birthday boy?”
“Is that Birthday Present Number Two then?”
“Nope. That’s Present One-And-Three-Quarters. Present One-And-A-Quarter is the meal, Present One-And-A-Half is the party.”
“It’s not really a party though, isn’t it? It’s just you and me.”
“Are you disappointed? I thought you’d like it like that, just the two of us. It’s the tradition.” He sounded hurt.
“No, I do like it like that. Very much actually.”
He smiled. “Good. And now open the present. And before you ask … Mum wrapped it.”
“I figured.”

I carefully untied the red bow before fingering away the tape that kept the silver wrapping paper closed. When I had the package unwrapped, I looked down at a folded grey item. I unfolded it and looked down at a Zoo York hoodie. I had seen it in a shop ages ago but didn’t buy it back then because it had seemed too expensive at the time. I had changed my mind a few days later and, as luck would have it, it had been sold out. And now I was holding that exact hoodie in my hands.

Without saying a word, I got up from the floor and went over to Dougie who was busy stirring the sauce on the cooker. I enveloped him in a tight hug from behind.

“Thanks so much, Doug.”
He giggled. “I gather you like it then.”
“I love it. Thank you, thank you, thank you. How’d you get it? It was sold out so fast.”
“Danny told me you’d fallen for it when you were out shopping with him. I thought it’d be great as a birthday present so I went and got it the next day. That was obviously before I had the drumsticks. But I figured two presents wouldn’t hurt much anyway.”
“But … all the money …”
“Shut up Harry. It’s not like I can’t afford it. And now try it on, I wanna see how it looks on you.”
“After dinner, don’t wanna get it dirty with pasta sauce. Besides, my arms are kinda full at the moment.” Which was because I still held tightly onto him. He didn’t seem to mind though, he actually seemed oddly comfortable.
“Well, you have to let go. Dinner’s ready.” He turned his head and smiled at me.

Slowly I unwrapped my arms from around him. He turned around and smiled at me before grabbing two plates he had already set next to him and filled them with the food. In the meantime I took two of the beers I had brought and made my way back to my ‘seat’. Dougie followed shortly after and sat down right next to me.

Much to my surprise, the food was really good. And it surprised me even more when Dougie brought out a birthday cake for dessert. Okay, it was basically Christmas Fruit Cake from Tesco’s but he had put 22 candles on it. He had really thought of everything, it seemed. Only … there was still no trace of Birthday Present Number Two.

“You wanna get Present Number Two, don’t you?” he grinned around a mouthful of cake.
“Can you blame me? You’ve given me the perfect birthday-party with the perfect food and the perfect presents. This is the first time in my life that someone completely ignored Christmas and focussed on my birthday entirely. It’s not so much that I wanna know what Present Number Two is, I’m just curious how you wanna make all this even better than it already is.”
“Okay then.” He put his plate aside. “Sit down on the sofa and close your eyes.”
“This is not gonna … hurt, is it?”
He looked at me funny. “Well, I sure hope it won’t hurt. But we won’t find out if you don’t do it, will we?” He winked.
“Alright then.”

I moved up onto the sofa behind me. I didn’t know what to do with my arms so I just folded them losely in front of my chest. I looked at Dougie one last time and when he gave me a reassuring smile, I finally closed my eyes.

With my vision now blocked, my other senses seemed to work harder. I tried to smell something new but there wasn’t anything. My ears picked up but no sounds were heard. I almost reached out my hands to maybe grab for something that could be in front of me when pressure was applied on my thighs.

I was just about to re-open my eyes when I felt something on my lips. A light touch, not moving at all, just lingering on my lips. Was that … a kiss?

Whatever had been on my lips was removed again and seconds later Dougie whispered, “Open your eyes, Harry.”

Slowly, very slowly, I opened my eyes. I came face to face with Dougie. The weight on my thighs turned out to be him. He had shed himself of that button-up and now wore a t-shirt looking exactly like the one I had found on his doorstep earlier. And around his waist he had tied a big bow. Automatically I unfolded my arms and wrapped them around his waist while he snaked his arms around my neck.

“Happy birthday, Harry.”
“You … you’re Present Number Two?”
He nodded. “You’re not gonna … return it, are you?” he asked shyly.
I pulled him closer to me. “Not in a million years.”

I leaned up and let our lips connect once again in an actual kiss. Dougie let out a satisfied moan into my mouth and seemed to melt right into my arms. My hands slowly made their way to his front where I untied the bow of the best birthday present I had ever received.

The End

Comments are appreciated.

A/N 2: In case you're wondering who that Paul-guy is Dougie is talking about … that's his mum's boyfriend.

A/N 3: I don't know if I like this piece actually. It seems a bit … un-balanced I think.

A/N 4: