Bubblewrap_fic

Mon, 04 May 2009 03:43:16 GMT

Title: Losing Control
Fandom: Panic [!] At The Disco
Pairing: GSF (established Brendon/Jon)
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: -2000.
Summary: So I said "Jon would make an awesome sub. He's just got that "in control" thing going on from him that it'd make it even hotter for him to let go and beg... Esp with somebody like Brendon, who doesn't even seem to have control over his own thoughts never mind anything else." and urawrd said "I love your mind" and then I wrote.
AN/Warnings: This is chatfic that's been padded out and rewritten. It's very much sub/dom. Perhaps eliments of non-con, seen as Jon doesn't say yes or no. No condoms or real lube is used, only saliva. I'm English and so is urawrd who beta'd it but there shouldn't be any Englishisms. I don't write porn very often but apparently it's easier when you're avoiding dressing up as a lady bird (don't ask). I think that's it so if that hasn't put you off..

--

They're sitting in the front lounge, just the four of them and a lowly volumed TV set as background noise, casually talking their way through every subject to be approached by man, woman or child when Ryan says "yeah, but Jon tops, right?" like it's an unspoken decision he and Spencer and the rest of the world have come to (it is).

Jon doesn't blush, because he's a man and he's Jon and Jon does not blush (except that his cheeks go a little pink but that could just be the heat), but he does duck his head and Brendon doesn't say anything at all. Both of these actions speak words to Ryan and Spencer, who can both read them like an open book by now. Ryan raises a doubtful eyebrow and Spencer chuckles.

Brendon rolls his eyes quickly before looking over at where Jon is laid out across the couch a few feet away and gives him A Look (forever in capitals in the heads of everybody present) and says "come here" in a dark voice.

Jon doesn't even think about it before he's up and standing in front of Brendon. He's visibly leaning in towards Brendon, and Ryan and Spencer have both gone a little wide eyed but Brendon ignores them, instead speaking in that same voice. "On your knees, hands behind your back," and Jon hesitates for maybe a second or two while he throws a nervous glance at the other two but he does it, he gets to his knees in front of Brendon and clasps his hands behind his back, head bent down a little but eyes still meeting Brendon's. Brendon strokes his fingers through Jon's hair, down over the scruff on his jaw until his fingertips meet Jon's lips, pushing in.

Ryan maybe whimpers a tiny bit at that, quietly and at the back of his throat but Spencer's clinging to his wrist, holding him in place lest he try and move. Brendon meets their eyes (both of them at the same time somehow, but that's okay, Brendon is apparently magic anyway) over Jon's head and raises an eyebrow. "What do you want him to do? He'll do anything if I tell him to. Won't you, Walker?"

Ryan doesn't say anything and Spencer doesn't mean to either, he really doesn't, but he clears his throat and then all attention is suddenly on him (all attention but Jon, because Jon is staring up at Brendon with Brendon's fingers still between his lips) so obviously instead of remaining silent he says "you should fuck him".

That's all the direction Brendon needs apparently because then he's slipping his fingers out and pushing Jon's shoulder harshly so he falls flat on his back on the floor. His hands are still behind his back, caught between his body and the floor but he keeps them there as Brendon leans down to unfasten the fly and button on Jon's pants.

He doesn't waste any time, unceremoniously pulling them down, along with the boxer shorts underneath before standing and kicking gently at Jon's inner thighs so he's forced to spread them wider.

Brendon sits back down on the couch, apparently tired of doing all the work because he's soon telling Jon "finger yourself open; two fingers, spit." Watching as Jon struggles slightly to pull his hands from under himself. "Come on, now or I'll tell them all your filthy little secrets, Jon d' you want that?"

Jon apparently doesn't want that because he barely slides his fingers into his mouth before he's pulling them back out again, slick with saliva. It looks a little awkward and probably is but Jon manages to angle himself enough to be able to slowly push his two fingers into himself.

Brendon sighs, "Louder Jon, they want to hear you," and Jon stops holding back, letting out broken moans as he works himself open.

Brendon tells him to add another finger then looks over at Spencer and Ryan. "Spence, over here."

The power he has over Jon has obviously spread and transferred over to the others because Spencer only hesitates for a second before letting go of Ryan's wrist and moving over to Brendon's side, careful to keep one eye on Jon.

"Jon, you're going to let Spence fuck you and you're not going to come, right?" Jon nods, moans again and Spencer goes wide eyed; a close imitation of Ryan that Brendon might usually comment on.

Brendon pops the button of Spencer's jeans, drags down the zip and tugs the offending denim out of the way. Spencer's hard (who wouldn't be?) and Brendon looks up at him, impressed.

Bren tugs the boxers out of the way too. "That's enough," and Jon must know he's talking to him because he pulls out his fingers, whimpering at the loss.

It takes Spencer possibly longer than it should to get on his knees between Jon's thighs, considering how desperate they both seem to be and Jon gets impatient at the wait, rolling his hips back against the carpet trying for any friction possible.

It's obvious that it's not Spencer's first time with a guy because he knows exactly how to position Jon's legs (one foot braced on the floor beside Spencer's knees, the other leg wrapped around Spencer's hips) and slicks himself with more saliva then pushes in slow enough to be gentle but hard enough for Jon to really feel it.

When Spencer's all the way in, hips against Jon's ass, Brendon says "good boy," and nobody's really certain who its meant for but Jon moans and Spencer pulls back in order to push back in.

"Ryan," Brendon begins and Ryan's dark eyes snap from the pair on the floor to Brendon. "You want to fuck his mouth? He'll take it, won't you Jonny? All the way. Right to the base and he'll still want more."

Ryan nods fast and scrambles to his feet in a fashion that, were he not so desperate, he would normally find incredibly embarrassing. Instead he rids himself of his clothes and gets to his knees, only then looking back at Brendon for instruction.

"That's ok," Brendon tells him, "over his chest," and Ryan moves, straddling Jon's chest, looking down at his wide eyes and wet lips and okay, yeah, he can admit he wants this. Ryan always thought that if this were to happen, the four of them, it'd be him on the floor with Spencer's cock in his ass and maybe Brendon pushing past his open lips. He doesn't let himself think about it often but that's how he thought it'd be.

That idea flies straight out of his head as Jon's tongue flicks over the head of his cock. He wants to test what Brendon said, about Jon taking him all the way, he wants to but he knows he's big (he's not bragging, he just is big) and Jon's on his back, hardly has a way to say no but then Jon's hands are on his hips pulling him closer, letting Ryan's cock slip between his lips until he's at least 3, 4 inches deep with Jon swallowing around him.

Ryan tries to take it slow but Jon's eager, moving his head up from the floor as much as he can in order to quicken Ryan's rhythm (in order to match that which Spencer is still constantly drumming into him). Ryan takes the rhythm and follows it even as Jon's hands drop from his hips, but then Brendon's there and he looks pissed enough that they all stop, freeze in place.

It's Jon who's in trouble though; Jon's wrists which are being grabbed and pulled above his head. Jon's hands which are being held to the floor and knelt on by Brendon as he leans down and whispers sharply "I didn't tell you that you could touch yourself, Jonathan. Don't you fucking dare come until that's my cock in your ass, do you hear me?"

Jon nods as best he can with Ryan still in his mouth and Brendon nods for them to continue. They do but Jon's eyes remain on Brendon even as Spencer's rhythm begins to get thrown off and he chokes out "Bren? Brendon, can I-" and Brendon tells him yes.

Spencer's hips slam forward and mouth drops open to emanate a noise even Ryan has never heard before in their many years of friendship and that, apparently, is all Ryan needs before he's pulling back slightly in order to come in Jon's open, waiting mouth.

Brendon lets them both have a couple of seconds to recover but that's all before he's instructing them to pull out and move, pointing them towards the couch they started the night innocently lounging on. Their limbs don't want to work but the way Brendon had said it tells them they have no option so they move quickly, turning to watch as Brendon snaps "hands and knees, now."

Jon rolls and moves, aided by Brendon's supporting hands and gets to his knees. He knows he's facing Spencer and Ryan perfectly in the position Brendon's put him in but he keeps his gaze down at the floor, letting Brendon adjust his stance until it's apparently perfect. Brendon strokes his hip even as he pushes in, still open and slick from Spencer and wow, that's Spencer's come easing the way. Even Brendon loses a little control at that.

Brendon pauses once he's all the way inside and leans forward, chest pressed completely to Jon's back until his mouth is on Jon's shoulder. He kisses once before biting down, pulling back slightly with the skin still between his teeth before finally letting it go. "Look at them. Look at them watching you. They can see every tiny twitch you make, your body begging me for more. Can hear those little noises, the little whimpers and moans. They can see how much you want it, does that scare you?"

Jon shakes his head no and Brendon bites down again quickly. "Can't hear you."

"No," Jon says and it's the first time he's spoken in so long. His voice sounds ripped open and everybody in the room knows exactly why that is.

Brendon turns his head to whisper right by Jon's ear, "You should be. They've seen this side to you now, they'll want it again but they can't have it, Jon. You're mine." Brendon straightens up again to draw back his hips and slam forward again. "Tell them what I said, Jon."

Jon whimpers again and chokes out "His. Brendon's. I. Fuck. Please." He's completely broken down now and Brendon knows it, knows not to push him any more so he strokes his side quickly before reaching to wrap his hand around Jon's cock.

"Good boy Jon, good boy. You can, you can come now, whenever you want." Brendon thrusts a little erratically, losing control of his own body even as he fights to keep control of the situation. "Come for me, Jon," and Jon does, with Brendon not far behind.

--

Fri, 16 Jan 2009 04:03:57 GMT

Prompt: Cameras
Fandom: Panic[!] At The Disco and Empires
Pairing: Jon Walker/Tom Conrad
Rating: G
AN: Myself and kelly96 were discussing the lack of Jon/Tom and decided to challenge each other. She gave me the prompt of 'cameras' and this is what I ended up writing. There's only a tiny bit of geekery (I'm a TV/media/ex-photography student, what do you expect!) but the end is coated in a thin layer of sugary fluff.

--

Jon’s been asleep for just over two hours when his cell phone buzzes where it’s trapped between his pillows and the bunk wall, waking him. There’s a grunt and a huff from above him so Jon plucks his phone out and scrambles from his bunk as quickly and as quietly as he can so as to avoid the wrath of a tired Spencer Smith.

“’llo?” Jon flops down onto the couch in the front of the bus, pulling his legs up underneath himself and resting his head against the wall.

“We’re you asleep?”

“Yeah, Tom; it’s like, 4am dude. What’s up?” Jon lets his eyes fall closed and balances his phone between his shoulder and his ear so his hands can fall down into his lap.

“Sorry, sorry, I got this idea ‘nd I wanted to talk it though.” Tom’s voice sounds raspy and under used, even over the phone; like he’s been hiding himself away in their apartment again, avoiding real life and real people in favour of guitars and pot and cameras. “I can call back tomorrow, when you wake up. Where are you anyway?”

“No man, talk to me. I don’t know, Arizona? What’s the idea?” Jon can hear movement at the other end, like Tom’s setting something down on the kitchen worktop so Jon was probably right about him not getting out much; he’s probably high on coffee. Coffee actually sounds like a good idea right about now but Jon’s comfortable and Tom’s voice is scratchy but easy to listen to from years of practice.

“Right so like a series of pictures; one a day, every day at the exact same time? It’d end up being boring shit like a mug or whatever but no arrangement or anything. Greyscale, maybe? What d’you think?”

Jon hmms, considering. “I could dig out the Pentax and join you? Home in five weeks, if you can wait that long to develop?”

Jon sits in the front lounge for another hour and a half discussing exactly what they’re going to do; exactly how they’re going to do it and for how long before telling Tom to start looking after himself properly and hanging up to go back to bed.

When he’s dragged out of his bunk in the morning (“Who the fuck was calling you at ass o’clock?” Spencer demands.) Jon forgoes a quick shower in order to shove on his flip flops and run around the other side of the bus, unlocking and climbing into the luggage bay to drag his almost empty case out. It only takes a few seconds to grab everything he needs and carefully place it all into a bag, throwing it over his back and climbing back out in time to give Zack a sheepish grin and run back inside.

He’s got to sit through a radio interview before he can have the chance to spread everything out on the back lounge. Jon's never been brilliant at loading films but he's done it enough times that it mostly comes naturally now; popping open the camera and taking the film out from its box, pulling the tip out and folding the small crease that somebody - probably Tom himself - taught him years ago would make things easier. He slides the tip of the film into the spool and lines it up, before pushing the film reel into place. He clicks to take a couple of blank pictures to make sure it’s all lined up before closing the back of the camera again and taking a few more until the counter turns to ‘0’.

His watch tells him it’s only a little after noon so he’s got a couple of hours until it’s time to take the first picture so he drapes the camera strap around his neck and scoops up the rest of the boxes of film he’s got; glad that he always brings plenty, just in case the mood takes him.

The spare films end up on the small shelf at the end of his bunk, the camera resting on his pillow until it’s needed, and he goes off in search of food.

--

He finishes the first roll after only a week and a half; wasting frames on Brendon’s dorky poses or Ryan reading with his feet tucked under Spencer’s thighs or Spencer grinning, unaware of the cameras presence. He discharges the film and loads the second, sticking the first in the shelf of the fridge before sending Tom a quick text about his progress.

--

By half way through the third week Jon’s started taking pictures of things on tour he wishes Tom were there to see. It’s still pictures of Brendon and Ryan and Spencer and even one or two of Zack and Shane; of techs Tom’s met and some that he hasn’t; of Ryan’s new guitar or a flip flop a fan asks him to sign. It’s small, ridiculous things but he wishes Tom were there to see them all the same, all causing him to go through spools of film even quicker.

--

It’s the fourth week by the time that anybody thinks to ask why the hell there are film cartridges in the fridge and that’s only because Brendon bought way too much Coke Zero and is trying to stow it away. Jon doesn’t explain, just rolls his eyes and tells Brendon to find somewhere else to put his caffeine fix.

--

When Jon lands in Chicago he goes straight to the apartment, quietly letting himself in and dumping his bags by the door. It doesn’t take him long to find Tom on his knees in front of the coffee table, angling himself and the camera in order to take the last picture. Jon picks his own camera up from where it’s looped around his neck, taking the lens cap off and setting the focus.

“I’m home,” Jon says, quietly so as not to make Tom jump. Tom turns to look at him and Jon takes a picture of the smile that spreads across his face. It’s definitely his favourite so far.

--

Thu, 01 Jan 2009 19:27:29 GMT

Title: I Constantly Thank God For My Best Friend’s Sex Tape.
Author: _princess_han_ and kelly96
Fandom: Panic[!] At The Disco.
Pairing: Brendon/Shane. (Brendon/himself)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Brendon’s always enjoyed watching himself. He likes to stand in front of a mirror when he jerks off - one hand on the bathroom sink for balance - and today would have been no different, except that the camera had been left in the living room.
AN: This can be blamed almost entirely on myself (Han) I think, because I ♥ camera geekery, but some blame should be passed onto Kelly because she enables me by writing porn when I can't find the words \o/ Happy New Year everyone!

--

Brendon might live with Shane, and he might spend more than half his time with Jon, but that doesn’t mean he knows what he’s doing with a camera so he finds himself stood at the end of the bed, trying to slide the camera (which he’s stolen from Shane while he’s out) onto the tripod (also stolen) and it will not. go. on. He presses buttons and pulls at tabs until finally (finally) there’s a click and the camera stays in place.

Turning it on is fairly easy; there’s a clearly marked button that turns to ‘play’, ‘off’ and ‘cam’ so Brendon twists it towards ‘cam’ and beams at his awesome camera skills. Next he flicks out the view finder and quietly hums to himself as he repositions the camera. He taps the built in microphone that’s sticking out of the front and grins as the symbol with the little speaker on the viewfinder flickers. (Seriously, his camera skills!)

He quickly checks to make sure the tape looks like it’s loaded correctly and hopes that it’s nothing important. The label says “junk” in Shane’s messy hand writing and a doodle of a bin that Brendon thinks he vaguely remembers drawing so he decides it’s probably fine; He can record and then go over it with random messing around and Shane probably won't even notice.

He thinks he’s just about ready really (he knows he’s heard Shane and Jon discuss white balance and focus and God knows what else but his skills aren’t that good) so he finds the ‘rec’ button with its little red dot and presses it before moving towards the bed.

Brendon’s always enjoyed watching himself. He likes to stand in front of a mirror when he jerks off - one hand on the bathroom sink for balance - and today would have been no different, except that the camera had been left in the living room and. Well, it seemed like a good idea when it first occurred to him. He’d had to go into Shane’s room for the tripod, but that had been propped up behind his door, so it wasn’t like Brendon was stealing. He barely even had to go through Shane’s things to find the tape, after all.

It’s only going to be for him, though. He knows that, so he blows a kiss at the camera and pulls his t-shirt over his head. The cool air hits him right away and he feels his nipples harden. He shivers. Yeah, he thinks, it’s still a good idea.

He lies back on the bed, and slides his thumbs into the waistband of his jeans. He pushes them down his legs and kicks them off as smoothly as possible. It might be only for him, but he still wants to look good. His underwear follows quickly afterwards, and then he’s completely naked on the bed. The camera is still pointing at him and he’s already starting to harden from just the thought of it.

Brendon slides a hand down his body and strokes himself lightly. It only takes a minute or so before he’s completely hard and really starting to get into it. He gives the camera one last look - as smoldering and seductive as possible - then closes his eyes, focusing on the way his hand feels against himself. He brings it up and licks across his palm, then closes it back around his cock, hissing at the touch.

He never really has a set fantasy when he jerks off, just plenty of hot images and thoughts - everything from his exes to crappy but awesome porn that he’s seen. Brendon lets himself think about them in a random order, almost like they’re assaulting his mind. It works though, and soon the tip of his cock is leaking, so he moves his hand up and spreads the pre-come down to the base and back up again, closing his hand a little tighter around the head.

His eyes are still closed, but he knows the camera is there and he can’t help but let out a moan at the thought. Being the good little Mormon son means that he never got the opportunity to send naked pictures to his boy/girlfriend of the time so, in his head, he’s making up for lost time. For some reason, the fact that he’s effectively sending the tape to himself is an amazingly hot idea. He knows that it shouldn’t be, but he’s a little busy right then, so he throws the thought aside and concentrates.

Brendon reaches down and cups his balls. He groans, then brings two fingers up to his mouth and sucks hard on them, getting them as wet as possible, then slides them down to his hole. He circles around it for a moment, then slides one finger in. He doesn’t normally do this, but there’s a camera right there, and he’s always wondered what this looks like outside of porn. After a few thrusts of his finger, he pushes a second in alongside it. It’s tight and burns a little, but it’s a good burn, so he just speeds up and groans loudly, turning his head to try muffling the sound in the pillow.

He curls his fingers and they brush over the sensitive spot inside him, making him cry out and arch his hips up off the bed. For a second, he doesn’t know whether to push up into his hand or back onto his fingers, so he throws all thoughts of rhythm out of his head and does what feels good. This involves thrusting up into his hand - which is moving faster as every second passes - and trying to get his fingers to press against his prostate again. He manages it a few times and feels his stomach start to tighten. His hand speeds up again, and soon he’s coming over it and his stomach, moaning louder than he normally would because hi, camera. Brendon is nothing if not a showman.

After a few minutes, his legs are working well enough for him to crawl to the end of the bed, reach out and press the button with the little red dot again. The camera beeps to signify the end of the recording and he grins. Seriously, his camera skills are amazing.

--

Shane’s just fucking around - where fucking around amounts to basically sitting in the middle of a field on his own with a camera, a tripod and a bunch of new filters - when he finds the footage. He’s just recorded some test footage using the pink gradient and white mist filters and is hunched over the camera to watch it back. He’s only got two battery packs on him so he’s watching through the view finder but then. Then he rewinds too far back and there’s Brendon on screen. Naked.

Shane panics, thinks maybe that he’s seeing things so rewinds back again but no, no that really was Brendon naked and um. Yeah, that’s Brendon jerking off. Fuck.

There’s no way at all that his movements could be called slick but thankfully he’s alone so nobody sees when Shane scrambles to dig his headphones from his camera bag and shoves them into the side of the camera before sliding the headphones over his ears.

He rewinds back even further, until Brendon disappears, then flicks out the screen, takes a deep breath and presses play.

At first there's just the bed, then there's a Brendon - a fully clothed Brendon - and that's okay because Shane is used to coping with how good a fully clothed Brendon looks but then Brendon's dragging his t-shirt over his head. Still okay because Brendon takes his top off too much for Shane to not be used to it.

Then the pants and boxers go and Shane is officially in a field getting really fucking hard over his best friend.

Shane watches in silence, listening intently to Brendon’s harsh breathing and moaning (and Jesus, is that going to be etched into Shane’s brain now) and if Shane weren’t in public right now - no matter how secluded, it’s still public and just, no - he’d have his hand in his pants because he’s really, really turned on right now and--

And then there are misted fields. There are fucking fields and Brendon hasn’t come yet and Shane is going to kill himself. Why the fucking hell did he not watch the tape back before recording some fucking fields?!

He blinks once. Twice. Then once more just for luck before turning off and packing away the equipment as fast as he can. He’s back in the car with the engine started within 60seconds. That’s probably a record.

--

Shane shucks his equipment by the door and calls out Brendon’s name. He doesn’t wait for a reply before going straight to the living room, where Brendon is slouched on the couch. “’s up?”

“Have you been using my camera?”

Brendon tilts his head back as far as the back of the couch will let him, rolling his eyes back so that he can see an upside down version of Shane. “No?”

“Okay,” Shane walks further into the room, sitting on the arm of the couch and waiting for Brendon to roll his head to face him again. “Let me rephrase that; I’ve seen the video. Or part of it, anyway.”

Brendon’s head snaps up and his eyes go wide. “I- What? How? I recorded over it!”

Shane tugs the small tape from his jacket pocket and holds it up between two fingers. “Want a bet?”

Before he can think twice Shane grabs Brendon’s wrist and tugs him up from his seat, dragging him along the corridor to his bedroom. He works fast; setting up his laptop with a tape deck and loading the tape. He gets the footage in place, full screen on the laptop, and turns back towards the bed.

Brendon is perched on the end chewing on his bottom lip. Shane hits play and his teeth dig deeper. Maybe his camera skills aren’t that good after all, because there he is, blowing a kiss and taking off his t-shirt. His jeans and underwear go next, and then he’s completely naked on the screen. He turns to Shane, but before he can speak Shane says, “Watch it,” with the most force Brendon has ever heard in his voice, so he turns back.

He doesn’t know why he has to watch this; he’d looked through it quickly before he ‘erased’ it, but that was mainly just to see himself come. In Brendon’s opinion, it’s the most interesting part, and he’s actually kind of sad to see that it isn’t on the tape anymore. When it gets to the fields that Shane filmed (which, really, fields? Weird), he just says, “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I thought I’d erased it but obviously not because I’m a fucking idiot that can’t even work a camera and --”

Shane cuts him off. “B,” he says, “I don’t care. I really, really don’t care, I just want to see the end of the tape.”

“But you - you taped over it,” Brendon stammers. His eyebrows are furrowed in confusion because, what?

“Yeah, but I’ve got the star of the fucking show right here, haven’t I?”

Brendon turns then, and he wonders if his face looks as shocked as he feels. He doubts it, because yeah, his face is really expressive, but it isn’t that expressive. “What?”

Shane doesn’t tell him to turn back again. He sits up and crawls towards him instead, and Brendon can see that his pants are tighter than normal and wow, Brendon thinks, he did that. To Shane. He did that to Shane. “I watched that in the middle of a field this morning, B. I watched you jerk off while I was sat in the middle of a field, and it was really fucking hard to not do the same.”

“But --”

“You see,” Shane says, because apparently interrupting Brendon is the new in-thing, “I got to where I started filming, and I didn’t feel angry. I wasn’t annoyed that you stole my camera, or that you used it to film yourself jerking off. I was just sad.”

“Sad? Why would you be --”

“I was sad that I didn’t get to see the end. It was like, you know when you’re watching NCIS, and the power cuts out before Gibbs finds the killer? It was like that.”

Brendon nods. He isn’t sure that Shane phrased that very well, but he thinks he’s got the general idea. “I’m like a murderer then?”

“Pretty much,” Shane says. He seems to have stopped interrupting, so Brendon is happy. “A hot murderer though.”

“Hot?”

Shane punches him in the shoulder. “I think we’ve established that I think you’re hot, B. Your ego is already big enough, so shut up and take off your pants.”

Brendon laughs. “Don’t I even get a kiss first?”

Shane kisses him. He presses their lips together and falls back onto the bed, dragging Brendon with him thanks to the hand that he’s wound around the back of his neck. Brendon licks at his bottom lip, and Shane opens his mouth, pushing his tongue into Brendon’s. Brendon moans then, and he thinks that this might be the best kiss he’s ever had. Then Shane rolls them over so Brendon’s underneath him, and Brendon knows that it’s the best kiss he’s ever had.

Shane pulls back to take off his shirt, then pulls Brendon’s over his head too. He settles himself back down and they both groan when their skin presses together. They've been topless around each other before; of course they have, they live together, but this. This is new. This is awesome. They’re sweaty and hot and kissing again, and Brendon thinks that he could quite happily live in this moment forever.

Then Shane grinds down against him, and he changes his mind.

“Holy...”

Shane nods, “Yeah,” and grinds again. They both still have their jeans on, and the denim is a little rough, but taking them off means stopping, and neither of them are willing to do that. Instead, Brendon grabs Shane’s ass and pulls him closer. He groans and when Shane echoes it, he thinks, fuck yeah.

Soon, they’re thrusting against each other in earnest. Brendon’s breath is stuttering, but he’s still kissing Shane as well as he can. The slight lack of oxygen is dizzying, and he loves it. Then Shane pulls away, and Brendon finds himself chasing his mouth.

“Shane - what?”

“Wanna see,” Shane says. His arms are hooked under Brendon’s, hands over Brendon’s shoulders, and he’s watching him closely. “Wanna see you come.”

“Fuck.” Brendon’s eyes roll back into his head as he squeezes them shut and he comes, hard.

Shane follows him a few seconds later, groaning and losing his rhythm completely. He kisses Brendon once more then rolls off, lying down next to him on the bed.

--

Brendon always kind of passes out sometime soon after orgasm; it can be annoying sometimes, when what he really needs to do is grab his clothes and escape from some weirdoes flat, but other times - or well, right now - it’s awesome because it means he gets to wake up a while later with his face pressed into Shane’s neck with Shane’s hand rubbing slow circles at the small of his back.

Brendon could totally get used to this.

--

Sat, 30 Aug 2008 00:07:26 GMT

Title: Family
Fandom: Ant & Dec
Pairing: Dec/Ant/Lisa
Rating: PG [for language]
Summary: After 38 frustratingly long seconds – she counted – Lisa blurts it out. “I’m pregnant.”
AN: I've wanted to write this for a while, earlier tonight I finally put fingers to keyboard - that doesn't sound as good as pen to paper - and started writing.

--

Nobody would be surprised to find out that Dec was the first to know. Nobody who truly knew them would be surprised to find out that it was Lisa who told him.

Dec had been in Ant and Lisa’s cinema room - he often invited himself over to watch DVDs on their huge projection screen and in the end one or both of the other two would join him – when Lisa dropped down onto the arm of the chair he was settled in, draping her legs across his lap and grinning a grin that Dec knew meant something.

He pauses Finding Nemo and looks at her for a minute, trying to work it out. After 38 frustratingly long seconds – she counted – Lisa blurts it out. “I’m pregnant.”

Dec’s reaction is somewhere along the lines of “what? Fuck, seriously?” because what? Fuck, she cannot be serious? Lisa nods and Dec lets out a very undignified squeal, throwing his arms around Lisa and pulling her down into his lap. “Wow, fuck, congratulations.”

That’s when Ant appears at the door and rolls his eyes, “Lise, we were meant to tell him together.”

--

Dec’s in the spare room cluttered with his things, commonly known and referred to as ‘Dec’s room’ even though he insists it’s just one of their spare rooms, when he hears retching. He hasn’t been awake for long and it’s early so he knows Ant won’t be up yet and obviously Lisa hadn’t been drinking last night so.

He’s in the main bathroom on his knees, rubbing her back within seconds.

--

Together the three of them set out to decorate the room that is to become the nursery in Aconite Yellow. Ant sends Lisa outside after ten minutes, despite ensuring they bought non-toxic paint in the first place.

The room’s finished within two hours and Dec has paint in his hair, as well as every spec of bare skin and half of his t-shirt. He looks a mess but Ant’s worse so he gets first shower. Dec lays his head in Lisa’s lap and lets her pick at the paint while they talk until it’s his turn to wash.

--

Dec does go home. He’s there for one hour and twenty seven minutes before he gets the call asking him to please come back and distract Ant from being so damn annoying.

It’s only a five minute walk if he goes direct, fifteen if he goes by the little shop on the high street to get Lisa the lemon drizzle cake she’s always loved, getting himself an iced latte and Ant a cappuccino from Caffè Nero.

Lisa happily eats the cake in the kitchen while the two men sit on the decking at the back of the house talking. Ant’s hyped about being a dad; he’s always been maternal since the days of caring for Sarah while their mum worked. He remembers being fifteen and holding baby Emma for the first time and just thinking ’I want this’ but it wasn’t until he met Lisa that he really thought it’d happen one day.

Dec nods and knows exactly how he feels.

--

They’re all three lucky that they have flexible jobs, bending their own schedules. Lisa has three more once-a-week episodes of a talent show, doing the make-up for the three judges, before a full team comes in to take over for the big final.

The boys have few meetings planned over the next few months with the production team but some can be changed to phone conferences if needs-be so they’re not too worried.

--

“He’s started cleaning.”

“What?”

“Cleaning. It’s six in the morning, Declan, please make him stop.”

Dec would willingly go and knock Ant out and drag him to bed – the man needs more sleep, seriously – but Lisa is by now climbing under the covers of the double bed in Dec’s room and cuddling into his side.

“He’ll ware himself out.” Dec mutters through a yawn, pulling her closer and wrapping his arms around her, one palm flat out against the tiny tiny bump of her stomach, and that’s how they fall back to sleep.

--

The morning sickness starts to improve, cutting down to maybe once a week instead of every day, and then, finally, fades to an uneasy stomach until she’s eaten breakfast so Ant starts waking early in the morning so that breakfast is ready as soon as Lisa is awake. Dec jokes that she’s got Ant wrapped around her little finger but he gets pancakes or toast every morning too so he’s not exactly complaining.

--

At thirteen weeks Dec drives them both to the clinic for their first scan. Ant’s jittery and nervous while Lisa is relaxing in the passenger seat, humming along with the radio.

In the waiting room Lisa leans her forehead against Ant’s shoulder and sighs. “I really need to pee right now.”

Ant laughs and squeezes her hand.

“You can pee if you want Lise, but you’ll have to drink the water again so you may as well just wait a few more minutes, ‘kay?”

Lisa nods and shifts so her forehead is against Dec instead. “I like you better.”

“Everybody does.” Dec grins and kisses the top of her hair, just as the nurse calls out Lisa’s name.

--

Only one person can go into the office with her so Dec is forced to wait outside. He’s seen it on tv – the blue goo, the grey stick thing, the small screen – but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t give anything to be in that room right now.

Twenty minutes later the door opens and Ant and Lisa walk out of the door, thanking the nurse and holding hands. Dec’s on his feet in front of them before they’re even fully through the door and Ant hands over the sheet of pictures.

He is not going to cry, no way but this kid might be the most spectacular thing in the world and it’s not even born yet – Dec decides he definitely should not mention this to his brothers, sisters, nieces or nephews.

--

On Wednesday morning Dec drags Ant out of the house, leaving Lisa to have a girly day with a few of her friends. The two of them end up on the high street and eventually give in, going into Mothercare to look around.

They leave two hours later with two bags full of things that were too cute to resist. They’ve no idea if the baby will be a girl or boy but every kid needs tiny little all-in-one suits with Winnie The Pooh on and little teddy bears, right?

When they get back the house is silent and Lisa’s asleep on the sofa.

--

“Back hurts, Declan,” is her opening line when Lisa drops down beside him on the sofa, pouting.

Dec rolls his eyes and repositions, pushing her forward by her shoulders until she’s lying down. Her stomach isn’t too big yet so she can still lay on her front. He settles beside her thighs and works his hands over the muscles of her back and shoulders.

At some point Ant appears in the doorway but stands still, watching until Lisa nods and pushes up a little to kiss Dec’s palm, smiling. “Thanks.”

--

Shopping for maternity clothes also becomes something the three of them do together, purely because Dec is better at shopping and Ant refuses not to be there. It turns out that there are quite a lot of stylish maternity clothes and they go home with a car boot full of bags.

--

They’re all sitting in the cinema room at gone midnight watching Hairspray because Lisa really, really wanted to watch it and “you guys can’t leave me, I’m pregnant!” when she squirms in her seat and says “stop bloody moving.”

The boys both stare at her until Dec says “baby McP is moving and you didn’t tell us?”

Suddenly they’re both laying their hands over her stomach, trying to find movement so Lisa moves them both to the right place and waits. The rest of the movie is forgotten as they all three sit with their hands entwined on Lisa’s stomach.

--

For the second scan they manage to convince the nurse to let both of them inside and Dec’s almost vibrating with excitement.

Ant and Lisa had decided (after three weeks of discussion) that they didn’t want to find out the sex. Dec is secretly glad because seeing the small white blob of a foetus on the screen is already enough to bring tears to his eyes.

--

Lisa starts to have trouble sleeping right through the night so the boys (after a silent conversation of eyebrow quirks, head tilts and shoulder shrugs) decide to take it in turn to sit up with her.

Technically, Ant insists, it’s his job but Dec’s always been as much a part of their marriage as either Ant or Lisa so if he stumbles down the stairs in the middle of the night to find Dec and Lisa wrapped around each other on the sofa, he covers them in a blanket and doesn’t say a word.

--

Lisa’s younger sister stays with them for the weekend and it gives Ant and Dec plenty of opportunity to buy the cot and changing units and furniture for the nursery that the three of them had found online.

They get both the ‘fun at the zoo’ and ‘little one’ bedding and accessories sets that all three of them had been unable to chose between before buying even more clothes and toys.

--

Before the forth antenatal class Ant takes Dec into the kitchen and gives him the baby journal they’ve been keeping. There’s a serious look on his face and Dec thinks, hopes he’s reading it right. “You- I-”

“Go Deckers, don’t want to be late, do you?”

Dec grins and hugs Ant tight before rushing off to find Lisa, guiding her out to the car.

--

“Mam!”

“Declan Joseph, why haven’t I heard from you yet this week?”

Dec stutters over a reply, apologising and explaining himself out of the situation until his mum is mollified and he can tell her about the class. Anne’s had seven children and has even more grandchildren but she listens as Dec reels off the information about water births and deep breathing they’d been told.

When he’s slowing to a stop Anne mentions that Dominic and Daniel are over for dinner and Dominic wants to talk to his uncle.

“Hey Dom, did Gran make you eat your carrots?” Dom is the eldest of Dec’s nephews at nine years old and Dec remembers when Patricia had been pregnant with him; he never thought anything would compare but this is different. This is Ant and Lisa.

“I like carrots, Uncle Dec.” Dec’s pretty sure Dominic hated carrots the last he heard. “It’s the cauliflower I hate.”

“Ugh, yeah. I used to call them white trees when I was little. Hey kid, did Gran tell you that your Auntie Lisa is having a baby?”

“Yeah! Is it a girl? I don’t want another boy cousin, Uncle Dec. Will you tell her to have a girl? Oh, Gran says I’ve got to go eat my ice cream before Danny puts his hand in it. Bye, Uncle Dec, tell her to have a girl!”

The dial tone sounds instead of his mother’s voice so Dec hangs up and grins at where Ant and Lisa are sitting. “Dom said you’ve got to have a girl because he doesn’t want any more boy cousins.”

Lisa grins back and nods, “I’ll do my best.”

--

Dec stirs when somebody shuffles into the bed next to him. He’s still tired so he doesn’t even try to open his eyes, just shifts over to make more room. It’s only when his arm goes around the other body that he feels the lack of baby bump.

Ant mumbles “’m making her too hot” and buries his face in Dec’s neck to go back to sleep.

When Dec wakes in the morning Lisa is sitting on the bed, legs folded chatting quietly to Ant. He wonders why they haven’t moved instead of talking quietly but the pillow beneath his head shifts and an arm tightens around his shoulders and oh, it’s probably not a pillow then.

--

In Lisa’s 35 week of pregnancy, at 5am on the Monday morning, she has her first contraction.

Ant steers Lisa to the car while Dec grabs the overnight bag from the nursery and locks the house down. Dec drives so that Ant can sit in the back with Lisa, comforting her and talking her through the contractions as they come, and Dec takes the time to ring the few people that really would kill him if they weren’t informed of the development. Ant’s mum is first, telling him off for waking her before letting him speak, then promising to be down from Newcastle in the next few days. Lisa’s parents are next, Derek seems to know what’s going on from the second he’s answered and tells Dec they’ll be there by the following afternoon.

As he hangs up on Derek they arrive at the hospital, dropping Ant and Lisa at the door and speeding off to park the car. When he gets inside Lisa’s been taken into a room with Ant clutching her hand and Dec’s asked to wait outside on the horrible plastic chairs.

Ant comes out once during the next hour, keeping Dec up to date on the progress and taking the hug and plastic cup of water Dec gives him, for the following two and a half hours it’s a maternity assistant who comes out to talk to him.

--

Dec is pacing the quiet corridor when the door to Lisa’s room opens and noise explodes out. There is so much noise from people talking and machines beeping but the only noise Dec can hear, above anything else, is the wailing of a new born baby.

When Dec looks up the midwife is smiling at him from the door way, beckoning him into the room. He knows he takes the steps but can’t remember it because suddenly he’s stood by the side of the bed looking down at a red, sweaty Lisa looking the most beautiful he’s ever seen her and Ant looking so proud he’s about to explode. And then, right at that second, a baby appears into the equation, handed over into Lisa’s arms by the maternity assistant, wrapped in a blanket.

Dec’s sure he’s meant to say something but for the first time in his life, he’s speechless. He looks at Ant again and Ant, through tears and emotion, quietly says “Dec, this is Debra Marie McPartlin. Dee, this is your Uncle Dec.”

--

Mon, 28 Jul 2008 22:59:57 GMT

Prompt: "Why haven't we done this before?"
Fandom: Panic[!] At The Disco
Pairing: Spencer/Ryan
Rating: NC-17
AN: Birthday fic for mah one and only, kelly96 . She gave me the pairing and the prompt. Er, first proper Panic fic so let me know what you think, please.

--
It’s a hotel night, which generally means Jon on the phone to Cassie, Brendon bugging Spencer, and Ryan flitting between Bren and Spencer and writing or texting somebody. So really, hotel night is pretty much the same as a night on the bus except beds! Beds and showers! Hotel nights were kind of awesome.

Tonight, however, Spencer seems to have shifted Brendon’s attention to somebody else (namely Zack, who currently had a fluffy haired lead singer hanging onto his back. Probably.) so he finds himself flopping down on to his bed (bed!) and sighing happily.

It takes him approximately four minutes to feel the eyes on him, another two to open his own and look over at Ryan. “What?”

Ryan simply shrugs, drops his sidekick onto his own bed, before flopping down next to Spencer. “So.”

Spencer closes his eyes again, rolling his shoulders as best he can with the mattress firm underneath them. “So?”

There’s a brief moment in which Spencer can hear and feel Ryan moving around before Ryan speaks again. “So. I was thinking.”

The sentence trails off and Spencer waits a few seconds in case Ryan is going to finish it before prompting, “Yeah?”

“I was thinking that I should probably do this.” and Spencer would ask ‘do what?’ but then Ryan’s lips are pressed against his own and it’s not the first time because they’ve been friends for years, there have been games of spin the bottle or whatever, but that’s all it was and this is different. There’s no crowd of giggling teenagers for one thing and Spencer is extremely glad of that.

The soft press of lips soon turns into something hotter, tongues licking and probing into each other’s mouths; Ryan leaning over for a better angle; hands tight in hair and gentle on hips, finger tips brushing bare skin where tee shirts have been pushed out of the way.

It feels slow, like they’re kissing for hours before Ryan growls under his breath and pulls back. There’s a brief scuffle that somehow ends with Ryan straddling Spencer’s hips, hands on his shoulders, pinning him to the bed and they’re both panting for breath against each other’s lips. It’s nice, Spencer’s got to admit.

“Why haven’t we done this before?”

Ryan’s reply seems to be another kiss which, okay, yeah, Spencer totally doesn’t need an answer right now.

Somewhere amidst the kissing and wandering hands their clothes seem to move to the floor in messy piles. Ryan’s lips move to Spencer’s jaw, placing light open mouthed kisses down to his collar bone where his tongue finds the dips and teeth brush the skin. Spencer tries hard not to moan but he thinks he might’ve let out a really undignified noise somewhere along the way. Ryan doesn’t stop though, just keeps on moving his mouth down Spencer’s chest and torso, and that’s the main thing.

One of Spencer’s hands grip Ryan’s shoulder, not pushing just holding, grounding them both because that’s always been his job, until Ryan mouths at the head of Spencer’s cock and he has to let go, grip onto the bed sheets instead or Ryan’s going to be left with the crescent imprints of Spencer’s finger nails on his skin and, okay, Spencer openly tips his head back and moans at the idea of marking his best friend, of seeing the marks on Ryan’s skin and knowing how they got there.

He’s kind of lost in the wet, warmth of Ryan’s mouth and loving it so when Ryan pulls back, pressing a quick closed mouth kiss to his thigh before sitting up, Spencer half moans, half whimpers at the loss.

Ryan pushes himself up onto his knees where he’s sat between Spencer’s legs and bites his lip. “Just. Stay there, don’t move.” And really, with that look in Ryan’s eyes, Spencer wouldn’t dare.

He’s only alone for twenty, maybe thirty seconds but it feels like an age until Ryan is clambering back onto the bed between Spencer’s spread legs and brandishing a small plastic wrapped bottle and a bunch of foil squares.

“I. Pete said. Well, he reminded me, it’s not like I didn’t know.” His voice isn’t quite the usual un-wavering monotone as he speaks, dropping the condoms to the bed beside Spencer’s hip and almost ripping his way through the plastic to open the lube.

“You planned this?!”

Ryan shrugs, repositioning the two of them until Spencer’s legs are together and Ryan is straddling his thighs. He grabs at Spencer’s wrist, making him hold out his hand, palm up. “Shut up, Spence, d’you want to fuck me or not?”

Spencer thinks that’s probably a stupid question but his dick twitches and yeah, he really does want to do that.

Ryan fumbles for a moment, pouring lube messily over Spencer’s fingers before closing the bottle, dropping it to the bed and leaning forward, hands either side of Spencer’s head to steady himself.

Spencer kisses Ryan’s shoulder (it’s right there!), reaching around Ryan’s body and running his slick fingertips over the cleft of Ryan’s ass. He pauses, one finger gently pressing against Ryan’s entrance and watches as Ryan takes a deep breath, bites his lip and nods.

That’s all the encouragement it takes before Spencer presses forward, slowly pushing in with one finger trying to focus on what he’s doing rather than the small noises Ryan is making where he’s hovering on his hands and knees above Spencer. The noises turn into words, asking for more and Spencer has never been able to resist giving Ryan something he wants and soon another finger joins the first, followed eventually by a third.

Ryan’s head drops, forehead against shoulder, the words “Fuck, Spence. Please. Fuck,” breathed against heated skin and Spencer nips at Ryan’s ear with his teeth as he pulls his fingers free.

“Ryan, c’mon move,” and Ryan does; pushing himself to his knees again and groping around for a condom. His fingers slip for purchase on the wrapping but eventually he’s rolling the condom onto Spencer and applying more lube.

“’kay?” Spencer nods and Ryan shuffles forward, holding himself over Spencer’s cock, hand gripped around the base.

There’s a moment of the head against his hole until Spencer’s hands find Ryan’s hips and encourages him with soft fingertips and then they’re fucked if either of them can think anything other than oh fuck as Ryan carefully pushes down and Spencer forces his hips to keep still, to not thrust up and meet Ryan half way.

They settle into a steady rhythm, Ryan fucking himself on Spencer’s cock and Spencer’s hands wander his body; hips, back, thighs and finally closing his hand around Ryan’s cock and moving his hand in time with Ryan’s thrusts.

Neither of them last long after that and it isn’t long until the room is filled with moans and cut of words as Spencer’s hips buck up and he’s coming inside Ryan with Ryan following soon after, coming over his chest.

They stay like that, catching their breath until Ryan lifts his hips and drops to Spencer’s side.

“Clean, need to, ugh.”

Ryan mumbles and nods, kissing Spencer’s jaw and Spencer sighs, “fine.”

Spencer rolls onto his side, grabs the nearest piece of clothing from the floor (Ryan’s boxer shorts) and drops them next to Ryan’s arm. “Clean, now.”

He watches for a moment as Ryan lazily swipes the cloth over himself, finally peeling his eyes away from his best friend (lover? whatever) to take care of the condom, tying it and dropping it... somewhere, before turning back to Ryan.

“So,”

“So,” Ryan shuffles closer, curling himself into Spencer’s side in the same way they’ve laid together for years. Nothing’s really changed.
--

Sat, 05 Jul 2008 16:20:41 GMT

Three drabbles/ficlets.

Title: Fanboy Fantasies.
Fandom: Panic and Fall Out Boy. McFly.
Pairing: Ryan/Pete. Dougie/Harry, Harry/?. Brendon/Jon, Brendon/?.
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Three ficlets based around three bandomers and their fanboy crushes.
Warnings: Rimming, quite a lot of swearing, crack and er, time travel.
AN: I wrote this a little while ago [like, last week maybe, IDK] but wasn't sure about the first or third. Or second, for that matter.

--
Ryan wants to make sure they get the contract from skill, musical skill, so holds himself back. He can’t help smiling when Pete looks at him for slightly too long but he’s sure to stop and look away before Spencer notices (because Spence will notice, Spencer Smith notices everything).

That’s why, however many months since their first meeting (first meeting that isn’t at the backdoor of a gig or a signing or, y’know, when Ryan isn’t being an utter dork because this guy might be his fucking idol or something.) Ryan is really, really pleased to be pinned to a bed by the older man. The pleasure is definitely showing.

Ryan gasps; Pete has him on his back, pillow under his hips, legs spread over Pete’s shoulders where he lays and Pete’s tongue. Pete’s tongue is pressing oh so perfectly against his entrance. A long, full lick before the tip presses against him again, this time breaking past the resistance a little before pulling back.

There’s a slight pattern to it, a rhythm that Ryan wishes he could concentrate on but he can’t even concentrate on stopping the series of little moans and whimpers that are falling from his lips.

A louder whimper slips out when Pete pulls back a little, kissing his inner thigh a couple of times instead. Ryan knows that Pete is teasing him; kissing and licking and nipping at any pale skin he can find, everywhere but where Ryan wants him, needs him.

“Please.” Ryan is totally not begging, he’s never begged and never will.

Pete smirks and Ryan thinks he can feel it against his thigh, “Can’t hear you, Ryan.”

Ryan makes an indiscriminate noise, half way between a whimper and a growl but then Pete shifts slightly and Ryan can almost feel Pete’s lips at the head of his cock, almost. If he thrust up slightly, a tiny, tiny bit, he could push in between Pete’s lips and fuck his mouth. He could pitch his hips forward slightly and- “Beg, Ryan. Ask for it.”

Ryan makes another noise at the back of his throat before, “Please, Pete. Fuck, please. Anything, I-” and then he stops because Pete flicks that perfect tongue out, swiping over the head of Ryan’s cock before dipping his head slightly and taking him into his mouth.

Pete builds a rhythm again, a pace that consists of bobbing and licking and oh, Ryan means to last longer but Pete Fucking Wentz is sucking his cock like a pro and then he’s swallowing and Ryan’s panting and decides that this really needs to happen again.

-- -- --

Dougie ends up backstage at the gig; Harry was with him but he’s peeled off to talk to the roadie who is a friend of a friend of a friend, to thank him for getting them here in the first place.

He never thought he’d say it but he’s bored. He’s at a Blink reunion gig and he’s bored. Okay, the gig hasn’t started yet; the paying fans aren’t even inside but still.

He drops down onto a black crate, pulling his legs up to cross them in front of his body, elbows on his knees, chin on his hand. He’s sat there for a while before he hears voices.

“Tom, fuck, people are- we can’t.” Dougie’s pretty sure he recognises that voice (could recognise it anywhere) so scrambles to his feet. What he sees exactly, isn’t what he’s expecting. Yes, Harry Judd is stood in front of him (well, in front of the crate that Dougie is hiding behind.) and he isn’t on his own.

Harry pulls back from Tom and Dougie can almost see the shine of his boyfriends kiss wet lips and thinks “well, this is a development.” They’ve been doing it for a while, Dougie and Harry; stolen kisses and secret blow jobs, but they’ve never talked about it so this might not be cheating, really.

Dougie finds that he doesn’t really care when Harry mutters something and leans back in to kiss Tom again (Tom Delonge, Tom De-fucking-longe.) and Tom’s hand seems to be all over Harry’s body all at once and Dougie, hiding behind a crate, watches his boyfriend (fuck buddy? Whatever.) melt in his idols hands.

At some point Dougie’s own hand finds its way inside the loose waistband of his denim cut-offs, inside the elastic waist of his Sponge Bob boxer shorts to wrap around his own cock. His fist moves slightly out of sync of Tom’s and he’s biting his lip so that Harry’s moans are the only in the air but when Harry comes in Tom’s fist, head back and mouth open, Dougie isn’t far behind.

When he opens his eyes the pair are looking at him and Dougie thinks that maybe, maybe the low grunt he’d heard second before had been from him and if that was the case then fuck, they knew he was there. He blinked and they were walking towards him leaving him with nowhere to go.

-- -- --
Brendon tries really hard to freak out about travelling in time because dude, that’s fucking amazing. It’s hard to find that fact alone awesome though when compared to the situation.

Before, in his own time, however many years in the future, he’d been on his knees in front of Jon Walker. That was great, it’d happened a lot recently, but it was awesome all the same. Now though, in 19-something, he seemed to be on his knees in front of somebody else entirely and that, that was fucking weird.

The guys hand went to Brendon’s hair, fisting but not quite pulling and Brendon swallowed, conscious that this possibly wasn’t the best head he’d given (he decided he could be let off; time travelling was probably up near the top of excuses for an off day, right?). Either way the guy seemed to be enjoying it; moaning and-

Fuck. Brendon pulled back, spitting on the floor before he’d even had time to think about it then wincing because that probably wasn’t the coolest thing to do. Quickly, Brendon pushed himself up to his feet and bit his lip. “Are you- I mean, I’ve seen pictures, you’re- fuck.”

The guy stared at him and Brendon liked to pin the far away lost look on his face to the fact he’d just been given an awesome blowjob, rather than the fact he had some weird kid stood in front of him babbling about nothing. (It wouldn’t be the first time for either, actually.)

“I er- I should go.” He doesn’t know where he should go seen as this isn’t his time zone and all, but he should definitely go somewhere that isn’t here. Here is awkward. Brendon doesn’t do awkward.

Brendon looks around, getting his bearings and smiling when he spots the door. “Right, well..” He’s half way to the door when he turns back and says “Oh hey, have you invented Mickey yet?” The guy looks even more confused so Brendon adds, “the mouse?” Still confused. “Oh well, um, bye.”

Brendon leaves before he can fuck up and mention any other of Walt’s biggest characters. Time paradox or something, right?

--

Mon, 30 Jun 2008 01:26:43 GMT

Title: A Tale Of Two Jon's.
Fandom: Crossover: Russell & Jon and Panic[!] at the Disco.
Pairing: Jon Richardson/Jon Walker.
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Jon pretty much hates it when his hotel’s clash with a random band.
AN: So, Jon Richardson is a British comedian and BBC radio 6music presenter; Jon Walker is an all round awesome dude and bassist for American band, Panic[!] at the Disco.This isn't even the first time I've paired Richardson with somebody random and it definitely isn't the first time I've paired people purely because they share a name so really, you shouldn't be suprised. I also think I have a thing for writing for the smallest target audience in the world, probably.

--
Jon pretty much hates it when his hotel’s clash with a random band. It hasn’t happened that many times and usually he can escape to his room or a bar somewhere with the other comedians but tonight. Tonight he finds himself sat at the bar downstairs at the hotel in Leeds looking over at two guys who can’t possible not be in a band; especially seen as there is a big guy standing not too far away watching like a hawk with a short fluffy haired guy draped over him and a lanky skinny guy talking about something or other. The point is one of the guys is good-looking. Not even Russell-good-looking, just (and oh God, wasn’t this such a cliché) tall, dark and very handsome.

Jon turns himself back to the bar, ordering another drink when he can catch the barmaids eye, and drowns his sorrows (there are too many good-looking men in the world that Jon really doesn’t have a chance with).

--

An indiscriminate amount of time later Jon is still in the bar and still keeps throwing looks over his shoulder at Band Guy. The main problem seems to be that Band Guy keeps looking over at him too and now that Fluffy Hair has gone off with somebody he’d spotted (and yelped at) across the lobby and Lanky has sat down and is in deep conversation with... Jon can’t think of a description of the other guy. Hips; maybe hips, because he keeps standing up and tilting them and Jon’s even getting a little distracted from Band Guy.

All of this means that Band Guy can stand up and come over to the bar without anybody really bothering.

“Hey,” Band Guy leans on the bar next to Jon and there’s a small smile before he waves the barmaid over to get a refill.

Jon waits until Band Guy looks back at him, just to make sure he had been speaking to him (he’s not that lucky. Never.) “Hey.”

“So,” Jon thinks there’s probably something else coming but he waits and nothing follows so he shrugs and says “so” back.

“I’ve probably got half an hour before Brendon gets bored and wants to go up; we can go there or to yours. Your choice.”

Jon blinks a couple of times (thinks fuck it) and nods. They both finish their drinks in one chug then silently move to the lift. Once inside Band Guy smiles properly and Jon blinks again (he really is good-looking). “Jon,” Band Guy holds his hand out and Jon knows his manners, he knows he’s supposed to shake it but how the fuck does this guy know his name? He must’ve been giving him a strange look because Band Guy asks “what?”

“How’d you know my name?”

Band Guy shakes his head and replies, “I don’t, I’m Jon.” There’s a moment’s hesitation before he adds “too.”

--

Jon thinks it should probably feel a bit fucked up moaning his own name but he’s doing well with just that, all things considered. Band Jon (his brain really won’t drop the Band, even if he isn’t saying it out loud) is on his knees, one hand on Jon’s hip holding him to the wall and the other wrapped around his own cock, pumping in time with the rhythm he’s set with his lips and tongue and-

“Jon, fuck, shit, I-” Jon fists his hand in Band Jon’s long hair and tugs slightly as warning because words can’t, won’t, don’t work right now. Band Jon seems to get the message pulling back slightly to work his tongue around the head of Jon’s cock and that’s just about it before he’s coming over the guys tongue and lips and chin.

It’s seconds before Band Jon’s own head tips back a little and he comes in his own fist, grunting low at the back of his throat in what might be the hottest noise Jon has ever heard.

--

They’re cleaning up, rearranging, swapping small smiles when the door flies open and Fluffy Hair is calling out “Jon, did you come up he- ooh.” And Jon maybe wants the ground to swallow him a little bit.
--

Fri, 20 Jun 2008 01:25:14 GMT

Title: Sleep.
Fandom: McFly.
Pairing: Doug/Tom
Rating: PG [for language[
Summary: The thing is, he can’t sleep.
AN: I decided I hadn't posted any fic in a while so I asked Kelly for a prompt. I then ignored the prompt and wrote this. I fail quite a lot but hey, it's fic and she said it's good enough to post anyway.

--
The thing is, he can’t sleep. It’s not a big deal; not for him, not for the guys because it’s been over a year and a half since he last slept properly; a full night with no disturbance. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t even notice it too much anymore until Dougie starts creeping into his bed and sharing whispered conversations that trail off into sleep, for both of them and oh, sleeping is actually pretty awesome. He thinks it might be slightly fucked up that the only time he can sleep is wrapped around one of his best friends. (Waking up with your best friends cock pressed hard and ready into your thigh, that’s pretty fucked too but Tom’s a casual guy, he doesn’t mention it.)

It’s worked out fine on tour so far because the bus is cold and curling up in their bunks for warmth isn’t such a strange idea; it happened right back on the first tour. It only goes wrong when Harry comes in declaring “hotel night!” and rooms are split.

Early on in their band career they’d worked out that it was best for Tom and Danny to share and Harry and Dougie to share; Danny’s a heavy sleeper and doesn’t get woken by Tom waking up at 3am and scribbling song lyrics in notepads or texting Gio or even humming to himself while Harry is a grumpy fucking diva if he doesn't get a perfect night’s sleep and while Doug can take his time to calm down, he’ll sleep right through.

“Dan! Dan wait!” Dougie jumps down the last two steps of the bus, one hand clinging to a hoodie and the other holding his Hurley backpack from falling off his shoulder. “Dan, do you reckon you could swap with me tonight?”

It’s such a strange request that Danny actually stops, right in the middle of the hotel car park and raises an eyebrow. “Why? You and Haz are okay, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, fine I just,” If there is one thing Dougie has never been too good at its thinking on his feet but he can get himself out of trouble; years of practice by skipping school or coming home late. “I’ve got a song I want Tom’s help on, is all.”

“Oh, well,” Danny looks over his shoulder at where Tom is talking to one of the guitar techs and nods, “yeah sure. Just tell ‘em when they’re dolling out keys.”

And that’s that. When their being given keys Dougie holds his hand out for room 217 instead of 215 and shrugs his shoulders before runskipjumping to the lifts.

“So.” Tom throws his bag down on the floor and flops down onto the single bed furthest from the door, yawning.

“So.” Dougie carefully places his own bag on the chair and sits on the end of the other bed. “Mind if I grab a shower?”

“No sure, go for it.” Tom places his arm over his face and doesn’t look up as Dougie meanders around the room then locks himself into the bathroom.

When Dougie returns, with a white hotel towel wrapped low around his hips and wet hair stuck to his neck and forehead. He knows Tom is still awake so he doesn’t even look before saying “Think I should cut my hair?”

Tom glances over and shrugs, “maybe. You like it long though.”

“’kay, cool. Think I’ll keep it. Turn over.” Tom doesn’t; Tom yawns and stays put.

“I’m dropping this towel in ten seconds whether you look away or not.” Dougie warns, pulling a pair of clean boxer shorts and a t-shirt from his bag.

Tom shrugs and yawns again, “Seen it before, can’t be bothered.”

“Lazy bastard.” Dougie grins, then drops the towel to the floor and starts on pulling the boxers on.

“Plus I’ve woken up with your cock against my back; I don’t think we can really go back on this friendship thing, even if I saw it and was disgusted and something.”

Dougie turns back, boxers now resting carefully on his hips and raises an eyebrow. “You realise you’re taking shit, don’t you?” Tom shrugs. “Bedtime, shift over.”

Tom wriggles over; at some point while Dougie had been showering Tom has moved to get changed and climb under the sheets but other than that he had been in the exact same position he’d left the elder boy in.

Dougie slips in, snuggling until he’s comfortable and the warmth of the bed and the covers and Tom are all seeping into his skin. He’s just about ready to start talking when Tom flicks the light off then quietly says, “Doug? Why’d you keep coming to me?”

Dougie shrugs and moves a little closer. “You’re Tom.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s as good as you’re getting. Move your leg.” Tom does so and Dougie moves even closer, head on Tom’s chest and arm over his waist. He says “arm” and Tom’s arm instantly works its way around his shoulders.

There’s silence for a while, for long enough that Tom thinks Doug might’ve gone to sleep but eventually Dougie says, “I love you, I love all of you but you... you’re different, you’re Tom and seeing you so wrecked from not sleeping, it kind of breaks my heart a bit.” He goes quiet again then moves his head to rest his chin on Tom’s chest and look up at the blonde. They can just about make each other out in the dark. “So sleep, ‘kay? You think you have to be strong for us all the time but for once I’m being strong for you so shut up, close your eyes and sleep.”

Tom nods, lets his other arm fall to wrap itself over Dougie so that he’s in a full hug and kisses Dougie’s forehead. “Thank you.”

It’s another hour, fifty seven minutes and twenty seconds exactly, he counted, until Tom has the courage to whisper “I love you too” and he thinks maybe, probably, Dougie is asleep but there’s a press of lips to his chest and a quiet “sleep, Tom. Tomorrow, we’ll talk.” And Tom closes his eyes, and sleep comes.
--

Sat, 03 May 2008 05:21:35 GMT

Title: Walk In The Sun.
Fandom: Russell Howard's Radio Show.
Pairing: Russell/Jon
Rating: 13 [for language]
Summary: I wonder what it's like to be loved by you, I wonder what it's like to be home.
AN: The lyrics in the summary and at the start are from Walk In The Sun by McFly, as is the title (but that one's kind of obvious, right?) I don't even know where this came from I just started writing and ended up with this. I feel like I haven't written Jossell for ages though so it's tottally a good thing.

--
I wonder what it's like to be loved by you
I wonder what it's like to be home
And I don't walk when there's a stone in my shoe
All I know that in time I'll be fine
--

Jon rings the door bell and waits, only he’s not patient so he rings it again and when there’s still no answer he decides it must be broken so knocks. There’s still no answer so he pulls his mobile phone from his pocket and speed dials #1.

“Yeah?” Russell’s sleepy voice answers.

“You were asleep?” Jon checks his watch; it’s gone midday, he doesn’t feel guilty.

Russell replies “no” and Jon rolls his eyes because it’s pretty damn obvious that he was.

“Then you’ve no excuse for not answering your door, leaving me out here in the cold. I’ve got you presents, for Christ’s sake. Let me in.” Jon ends the call and slips the phone back into his pocket, leaning leisurely against the wall beside Russell’s front door, arms crossed over his chest. When the door jerks open Jon raises an eyebrow and looks at Russell. He tries hard not to laugh, he really does, but the man is wearing his boxer shorts and a pink t-shirt and really he’s still trying to pretend he isn’t gay to most people. (Not to Jon. It’s pretty hard to pretend you’re straight to a guy you’ve groped and kissed whilst in a drunken haze. Several times.)

“Get inside you twat.” Jon says, hand firm against Russell’s chest and pushes him inside.

Russell complies, walking into his own house and drops onto his own sofa while Jon goes to his kitchen to make coffee.

Jon re-enters the room moments later and hands a mug to Russell. By way of thank you Russell says “Did you change my ringtone?”

“How? I’ve been in Spain, Russ, remember.” Jon sits himself down, dropping the carrier bag that’s been hanging obediently from his wrist onto the floor carefully.

“Oh.” Russell says, then “somebody has. I was asleep, yeah I admit it shut up,” he adds in quickly, before Jon can make a quip. “It went off and it was the can can or something, real loud and right in my ear.”

“Well don’t look at me. I wouldn’t know how even if I was in the country.”

“Oh. Okay.” There’s quite for a couple of minutes as Russell sniffs and sips his coffee and Jon kicks off his shoes. “So, what did you get me?”

“Bloody hell, Russ. Niceties first? ‘How was the holiday, Jon?’ or ‘Have a good time, Jon?’ not fucking, where’s my present, gimmie, gimmie, gimmie.” Even as he complains Jon picks up the carrier bag and pulls out a buddle of newspapers (which are Spanish, Russell finds later when he tries to read them and just ends up adding ‘e-o’ onto the end of English words, making the story up himself). It’s about the size of a football, but not so round.

Russell pulls at the papers and it’s not quite perfect enough for the wrapping to be Jon’s work so he must’ve got the guy in the shop to do it for him. Once the papers gone he laughs, actually laughs because in his hand is a small straw donkey.

“Thanks love, that’s going right in the middle of the mantelpiece.”

“You don’t have a mantelpiece, Russ.”

“Table then, shut up. Come on then, how was it?”

“Now, honest truth or the truth I’ll tell mum or Fordie or Adam?”

Russell hesitates, like he’s really thinking about it before nodding once and turning to Jon. (He knows Jon, he knows both versions of the story. Honest truth: “Fucking hated it.” Half truth: “Yeah, it was alright. Good booze and good food. Got to use my Spanish a bit.” So really the question is can he put up with Jon’s rant about how crap it was. Ultimately he finds Jon’s rants hilarious so he answers;) “One hundred percent honest truth please, sir.”

“It was actually really good” Jon says, nodding and Russell looks at him through wide eyes and somehow knows that it really is the honest truth.

“Fuck, really? What happened?”

“I,” and this is what Jon came over to tell Russell, really. He only got back into the country late last night but he couldn’t not tell Russell, they’re best mates (they’ve groped and kissed whilst in a drunken haze) so he can’t keep it from him. “I sort of, well, I met somebody.”

Russell almost spits his mouthful of coffee out (almost. Instead he just dribbles it down his chin and nice pink t-shirt) because in all the years he has known Jon he’s never really seen him with somebody (well there have been a couple of times and Jon did have that girlfriend a couple of years ago, for about a month, but even Russell could see that that wasn’t going to work).

“Fuck, mate, wow.” That’s pretty much the best sentence he can formulate right now, really he is in shock.

“Yeah.” Jon chews his bottom lip a little before adding, “I just thought I’d tell you.”

“Why? I mean, it’s just a holiday romance or whatever, yeah? Back here, you’ll never see her again.” He sees the way that Jon’s eyes quickly flick away, to the floor or window or anywhere but Russell’s face. “Oh, him, okay.”

Russell stands then. “Anyway, I’ve got a gig tonight, I should probably get ready and set off if I want to get there in time.”

Jon stands too and nods, knows when his best friend is trying to get rid of him and deep down he probably understands. Russell’s gay, always has been so him copping off with guys is fine but Jon, Jon’s only ever had Russell so yeah, Russell can be a bit jealous and possessive.

Jon moves to the door, pauses and looks over his shoulder. “I just got sick of waiting, Russell. It’s been months since you even kissed me and, well, I can’t hang around forever. Call me, yeah?” With that he turns and leaves and Russell is alone, clutching a small straw donkey in his hand.
--

Wed, 23 Apr 2008 15:47:57 GMT

Title: Morning Glory.
Fandom: McFly.
Pairing: Doug/Harry
Rating: NC-17
Summary: “You know the effect sleeping naked with you has on me..”
AN: I wrote this a while ago for Gemma (juddpoynter ) because she wrote me some gorgeous Dougie/Matt Willis. It's fairly short (less than 500words) but tis smutty.

--
Dougie ran his finger tips slowly up and down Harry’s chest, watching the small chain of reactions play across his sleeping boyfriends face. Carefully he leant down and pressed a gentle kiss to the drummers collarbone before stroking his hair back from his face and whispering, “Haz, time to wake up.”

Harry merely mumbled “Sleep. Gerroff.” and turned his head away, pushing his cheek into the soft, blue pillowcase.

Dougie tried again; this time kissing Harry’s neck before whispering, “Tom’ll be here in ten minutes to wake us up.”

Harry moaned softly then turned his head back to face Dougie, frowning but cracking open one eye. “Then why’re we ‘wake now?”

The blond flashed him a grin and Harry closed his eye again, groaning. “Dougie Poynter, it is ten to six in the morning, you cannot be horny!”

As if to prove him wrong Dougie leant over again to trail kisses along Harry’s collar bone, up his neck, across his jaw and finally to his lips. “You know the effect sleeping naked with you has on me..”

“Doug,” Harry paused momentarily to kiss Dougie back before breaking the kiss and resting their foreheads together to continue, “We always sleep naked together.”

“Exactly!” With that, Dougie pushed the bedcovers from their bodies and kicked a leg over Harry, straddling his hips. “I’ve been waiting ten minutes already!”

“Ten whole minutes Doug? You’re a fucking martyr!” Harry grinned up at his boyfriend, slipping his hand around the younger mans neck and pulling him down into another heated kiss. As Dougie leant down, into the kiss twin erections met, sliding and grinding against each other as well as two horny but still fairly sleepy young men could.

Both men groaned as Dougie pushed his hand between their bodies, taking both of their cocks into his fist and moving as best he could. Together they built up a rhythm with hands and hips moving perfectly together until Doug bit down on Harry’s neck, coming over fingers and stomachs and thighs, until Harry’s head sunk back against the pillowcase, mouth agape with loud moans and his own come mixed with Dougs.

They laid together, Harry’s hands stroking Dougie’s back as they both came down, until the door opened.

“Har- Oh for, Jesus you two, cover the fuck up when you know I’m coming in here! Get out of bed or I’m sending Dan in.” Tom turned on the spot shaking his head and closing the door behind him.

Dougie looked from the door to Harry and grinned. “Fancy waiting?”
--

Fri, 18 Apr 2008 01:21:49 GMT

Title: Cold Winter Nights.
Fandom: McFly.
Pairing: Dougie/Danny. [Mentions of Doug/Harry]
Rating: 13 [or something].
Summary: It’s become their secret ritual, late on cold winter nights..
AN: Would you believe me if I said this was inspired by kittens? Well it was. Kelly96 has two new kittens (Pugs and Danny [Actual ♥] and they are currently curled up in a box together with a jumper and a hot water bottle. From that grew this fic.

--
It’s become their secret ritual, late on cold winter nights Danny will descend the stair case, pass the locked up, dark studio and knock quietly at Dougie’s door. His quilt will be tightly wrapped around his shoulders and there’s a hot water bottle somewhere against his body and when Dougie opens the door, he has matching bed hair and a not too different quilt wrapped around his body.

They’ve done it so many times now that it almost feels normal to curl up in one bed or the other, as close as they can get without crawling into each other’s skin; two quilts wrapped around both of their bodies and a hot water bottle wedged in between their chests.

They lay and talk and it’s during these chats that Dougie discovers that Danny isn’t as stupid as he makes out and Danny discovers that Dougie can indeed be serious sometimes. They give each other advice that they’d only take from each other; that they’d only take at the dead of night, surrounded by warmth and each other.

It’s almost like they take it in turns, who comes to who’s door swapping by night or by week. One night, when it’s Dougie’s turn and by 1am there isn’t a knock, Danny leaves the quilt and leaves the hot water bottle and pads down the stairs, shivers and goose bumps covering his body almost immediately. When he’s standing at Dougie’s front door he can make out voices, make out Dougie’s laughter and Harry’s drunken voice. Danny turns and climbs the stairs again, slipping back into his bed that won’t warm up, no matter what.

He thinks it’s his ears tricking him at first, an hour later when he hears a gentle tapping but he stands anyway, quilt right up around himself and when he opens the door Dougie is there, with his quilt. Neither speaks; Danny just turns and walks to his room, leaving the door open for Dougie to follow, and he does.

They curl up together, as usual but there’s silence and Dan still feels cold.

“Doug?”

Dougie shifts slightly against Danny’s chest where he’s snuggled himself up and murmers, “Hmm?”

“I heard Harry.”

“Hmm.”

“I heard him downstairs, with you.”

“Yeah. He was drunk.”

“Oh.” Silence. “I didn’t hear him leave.”

“He hasn’t.”

“Oh.” Silence. “Why’d he come to you?”

“Drunk.”

“So you said.” Hesitation. “What did he want?”

“To come, mostly.”

“Oh... and, um, did he?” Danny shifts, moves his arm from where it’s been rested around Dougie’s waist but Dougie grabs it and pulls it back, nodding against his chest.

“Yeah, he did.”

Silence falls again and this time neither really knows how to disturb it so instead they lay still, listening to their own breathing, until;

“Doug?”

“Hmm?”

“Why does he come to you?”

“Tom’s got Gio; you’ve turned him down before; I don’t mind. I’m the only one single and willing, I guess.”

Danny shifts again, this time so that he can see Dougie’s face. “What if you weren’t though?”

“What?” Dougie rests his chin against Danny’s chest and looks up at him, straight into his eyes.

“Single. Willing. Whatever. What if somebody else asked? Is it just Haz?”

“Dunno. You know I’m gay Dan, I’m just happy to get my rocks off every now and then.”

Danny sighs and looks away, towards the ceiling above them and bites his lip. “Would you stop? If I asked you, if I told you I didn’t want you to do that anymore.”

“Are you asking?”

“I might be.”

“Then ask.”

“Stop Doug. Please?”

“Look at me.”

Danny drags his eye line from the ceiling to Dougie, slightly scared what he’s going to see there.

“Again.”

“Stop,” Danny repeats quietly, “He’ll hurt you Doug, and when he hurts you it’ll fucking break your heart and I don’t think I could cope with that.”

Dougie shuffles up the bed; head level with Danny’s on the pillow and presses their lips together. When he pulls back their both grinning and he takes the chance to get comfortable again before yawning.

“You only had to ask.”
--

Wed, 16 Apr 2008 00:54:38 GMT

Title: "They Grow Up So Fast"
Fandom: Crossover - McFly/Busted.
Pairing: Tom/James.
Rating: G.
Summary: Matt's helping James prepare for his first date with Tom..

--
“Jimmy?”

“Just a sec.”

James rushes out of the room and Matt sits patiently on the other mans bed, watching the doorway and waiting. It’s only a couple of minutes before James walks back into the room, looking around as he does.

“Matt, my black shirt; where is it?”

Matt thinks for a minute, leaning back with his hands flat on the mattress behind him. “Wash basket, I think; that or the living room floor.”

“Fuck. What ‘m I going to wear now?”

Matt jumps up from his place on the bed, grabs James by the shoulders and pushes him down onto the bed before moving to the wardrobe. He looks through it for a few seconds before pulling out a shirt and holding it up. “Wear this one; the fit of it makes your arse look good.”

James took the shirt and put it on, mumbling “How am I the gay one?” while inspecting himself in the mirror (and really, this shirt did tail off perfectly just above his backside). “This looks okay?”

“Fabulous darling,” Matt replied, in the campest possible voice. Seeing that his joking doesn’t seem to be calming James down at all Matt caught his friend by the shoulders and squeezed gently. “Mate, you look fine; Tom’s seen you straight off stage, covered in sweat and stinking of shit.” James’ face fell a little and Matt sighed, “He thinks you’re gorgeous Jimmy, he wouldn’t have asked you out if he didn’t. Now shut up and sort your hair out, it looks a mess.”

James panicked and instantly span on the spot, staying in front of the mirror until the door bell rang downstairs. “Oh fuck; that’s him, isn’t it? Shit Matt, I’m not ready!”

Matt shook his head and climbed off the bed, where he’d settled back to watch his best friend fuss. “I’ll get it, he can wait downstairs and I’ll talk to him then you can make your big entrance but don’t keep him waiting!”

With that Matt ran from the room, down the staircase and to the front door. He opened it just as Tom raised his hand to knock again and grinned at the younger man. “Alright? James is being a girl, he’ll be down in a few.” He steps back and lets Tom walk in and he can tell from the way the blond is chewing on his bottom lip that he’s just as nervous as James is, and looking him up and down he can see that Tom has made just as much effort as James has and really, they probably are a perfect match.

Matt’s just about to offer Tom a drink of something from James’ fridge when the man himself clears his throat, informing them that he’s joined them.

The two blonds smile and look at each other, neither actually talking until Matt huffs and speaks loudly, “Say hello or something Jimmy, Jesus.”

“Hi.” It’s about all James can say and he really wants to shout at himself for being so nervous; this is Tom, for Christ’s sake! They’ve spent endless nights sitting up together writing and drinking and gaming but this is their first date, their first meal at a proper restaurant with just the two of them.

“Right, I can’t stand this any longer; go or you’ll miss your table.” Matt gives them both a brief hug before pushing them out of the door, watching as they walk to Tom’s car (a quick call of “talk!” before the doors slam closed).

He closes James’ front door and walks to the living room, dropping down onto the sofa and flicking on the TV, talking to himself as he does.

“They grow up so fast.”
--

Mon, 14 Apr 2008 17:45:24 GMT

Title: Dan of the Dead. [oho, I'm so origional]
Fandom: Crossover - McFly/Busted.
Pairing: Danny/(zombie!)Matt.
Rating: 18.
Summary: There's a zombie virus spreading through the country and McFly and Busted are trying to get to safety...
Warning(s): Zombies, death, sex, slight necrophilia; I think that is about it.
AN: This is entirely kelly96's fault. I can't remember how or why she got me writing it at 4am last night, but she did. It's also juddpoynter's fault because I wasn't going to post it but she's convinced me. Please do read the warnings!
AN2: Seen as this is McFly/Busted I'll use this as a chance to pimp my new comm, mcbusted_slash, a slash comm for McFly and Busted crossovers. Go join!

--
Danny ignored the tears that slowly fell from his eyes, instead focusing on tightening of ropes and careful movements. “Please Matt, shh.” Danny stroked Matt’s cheek gently, careful as the other boys head flew to the side. “If they hear you, they’ll kill you Matt; I can’t let them do that. Shh.”

Once each knot had been tied securely Danny pressed a kiss to Matt’s forehead. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Danny didn’t know how it’d happened; the seven of them were together at the McFly house when the news reports had started (“This is a news flash from the BBC. A virus is sweeping the nation. Doctors have advised everybody to stay indoors and to keep well away from anybody infected. Carriers of the virus are said to have a greying complexion and loss of vocal patterns. Please, stay away, they are dangerous”). They’d laughed it off but Tom had locked the doors anyway, before putting on a DVD. Half way through the film the window smashes and this.. thing comes climbing into the room, closely followed by numerous others. Several things all happen at once; Dougie screams and clings to Harry, Tom grabs at everybody so they’re all huddled together and slowly they move to the door; their only escape.

Then suddenly Matt is screaming in agony and one of the things have got him and they all grab onto him and pull until they’ve got him safely back, and they get outside, to their cars, to two cars and drive. The radio is giving constant updates on safe areas and that’s where they’re heading; a shopping mall that is said to be barricaded by humans; living humans.
Danny doesn’t take any notice though because Matt is laid out with his head in Danny’s lap and he’s clinging to his arm, not letting any of them see but Danny knows, he knows that his boyfriend has been injured or bitten or something and that’s never a good thing in films.

They arrive at the shopping centre and get the cars as near to the doors as they can. Charlie helps Danny to half carry, half drag Matt to the doors and the people inside must’ve been watching them come or something because as they get there the doors open and they’re inside; safe.

Introductions are made, there are a range of people but there’s one woman who tells them about her husband (“One of those things, they got him” She sobs openly, “I saw it bite his neck and rip his arm off and now he’s one of them.”). Danny panics because that’s what he was worrying about most. He tells them he’s going to find somewhere for Matt to lay down (“It’s just shock guys, he’s fine! They didn’t break skin!”) and helps his boyfriend to a store directly above where everybody is gathered where there is a bed.

Matt had already started to turn pale and Danny managed to convince him to let him see. There was blood; not a lot, but some.

Enough.

Before Matt had had any other option Danny had walked away, returning moments later with his hands behind his back. Luckily Matt was dozing and Danny’s job was easier. He used curtain ties he’d found in the third isle along to tie Matt’s hands to the bed head, another he slipped into Matt’s mouth before tying at the side. (That’s when Matt woke up and began to panic, trying to scream and trash around in the bed but) Danny tied his feet to the bottom of the bed and began to cry.
“I had to Matt, if you turn, when you turn, you’re going to try and kill us.” Danny carefully positioned himself next to Matt, stroking his hand over the body he knew so well. “I love you Matt, I’ve never told you before and I just want you to know before you.. before you go. We’re not the kind of guys to say it I guess, not normally but this isn’t normal is it? ‘s not every day your boyfriend is bitten by some kind of Zombie or something..”

Danny sat up and carefully leant down (not taking his eyes from Matt; he could turn at any moment and if Danny wasn’t careful he’d end up just the same.) covering Matt’s pale face in kisses. His hands slowly pushed up the polo shirt Matt was wearing so that he could kiss and lick his favourite patches of skin while he still had the chance. (He ignored the obvious way in which Matt’s breathing had slowed and just kept on kissing.)

Danny paused as he reached the waist band of Matt’s jeans and looked up; Matt was looking straight down at him and even if the skin was pale and beginning to blister the eyes were still Matt, still alive and full of (undying) love. Danny took a deep breath and unfastened Matt’s jeans, pushing them down as far as possible.

“Matt? If I untie your legs will you promise not to kick me? Just.. just don’t turn yet okay? Please.”

He knew it was stupid but if this was his last chance he wasn’t going to throw it away (and the look in Matt’s eyes, it was practically begging him to untie him). He slowly untied each ankle, rubbing softly at the (cold, dry) skin. Matt did as he’d asked and didn’t kick, in fact he didn’t move his legs at all, simply allowing Danny to position him into the most comfortable position possible.

Danny quickly pushed his own baggy jeans and boxer shorts down his legs, leaving them to pool on the floor before climbing back onto the bed. He looked around the store, thinking but shook his head (It’s a home ware store, home ware stores don’t sell anything he could use as lubricant and really, Matt didn’t seem to be feeling much pain anymore anyway).

He ran a finger between Matt’s buttocks, pausing for only a second before pushing in (easily, too easily un-lubricated). A second joined the first, soon joined again by another until Danny gave up even pretending that this was anything like their usual nights in bed. He positioned himself between Matt’s legs, cock in hand at the elder mans entrance and pushed in (thankful that there was still some resistance, some sign that Matt was still alive as the ring of muscle squeezed around Danny).

He built a rhythm, rocking his hips into Matt’s (ignoring the way Matt wasn’t responding at all now). It took him longer to reach orgasm than usual and only when Matt’s body suddenly trashed against the ties and cause a whole new kind of friction did he come, deep inside his boyfriends (undead) body.

Danny came down with his eyes closed (as usual), whispering random comments of sentiment to Matt (as usual) until he felt ready to pull out. As he did so his eyes opened and instantly he scrambled backwards from the bed. Matt was sitting as upright as he could in the bed with his arms twisted at odd angles still tied to the bed, head trashing as his teeth worked at the curtain tie between them. The final straw for Danny though, had been the clear white eyes, wide and unblinking.

Danny grabbed his jeans, pulling them onto his legs and hopping away from the bed all at once when suddenly a rope snapped and Matt had an arm free; swinging and grabbing for Danny until-

A loud, echoing bang.

Matt fell to the bed, prominent hole in his head unbleeding, completely motionless and Danny watched as everything seemed to happen to somebody else.

A policeman stood meters away, gun in hand.

Tom was by Danny’s side, pulling his friend to his chest and cradling him there while James and Harry went to the bed, shallow nods to each other signalling the final end to Matt’s life and all Danny could do was sit and watch as people he’d met for mere seconds downstairs pulled his boyfriends lifeless body from the bed and dragged it from the store with mumbles of getting rid and a stairway to the roof.
--

Sat, 05 Apr 2008 04:50:38 GMT

Title: A Trip To The Movies - Sequal.
Fandom: McFly.
Pairing: Dougie/Danny.
Rating: 18.
Summary: After the cinema...
AN: Star said more, I write more. I think I might buy her a whip because it seems I'm her bitch.
AN2: I think the tenses are slightly muddled but I can't quite work it out and it's nearly 6am... I hope the hot makes up for it.

--
Danny practically dragged Dougie from the cinema, ignoring the fast car chases on the screen and the strange looks from the cinema staff in the foyer. Together they move quickly along the street to the multi-storey car park Danny’s car had been left in.

They clambered into the lift, pushing the button for the 7th floor where the car was. As soon as the door slid closed Danny was on Dougie, pushing him against the metallic wall and pressing their lips together in a firm, passionate kiss which only ended as a ping sounded and a tinny voice announced “Seventh floor. Doors opening.”

They left the lift and found themselves in the car park; a few cars were scattered around at random places but neither Dougie or Danny noticed as they made their way to their car.

As soon as they were within reach, Danny pulled his keys from his pocket, fumbling to find the central locking key fob . “Fucks sake!” He growled pressing the button, only to be instantly calmed by Dougie’s lips on his neck.

Doug kissed and sucked at the exposed skin above Danny’s jacket collar before lifting his head and whispering into Dan’s ear. “Get me on that back seat or you’re going to have to have me on the bonnet of the car Danny.” The blond pushed the front of his body flat to Danny’s back, proving to his boyfriend just how turned on he was.

Danny span around on the spot, lips meeting Dougie’s immediately and kissing him like his life depended on it. Somehow while they were kissing Danny managed to turn them, to press Dougie backwards against the side of the car while his hands roamed the younger man’s body.

The brunette’s hands found the front of Dougie’s jeans, fumbling and pulling at the flies until they came open and he could push the baggy trousers down the blonde’s hips and legs. They broke apart for a couple of seconds while Dougie grinned and Danny chuckled. “And you laughed at me for going commando!”

Dougie opened his mouth to reply but found himself cut off when Danny’s lips met his own. Instead he kissed Danny back just as forcefully, ridding Danny of his own jeans.

Eventually they pulled part again, long enough to step out of the jeans that were pooled around their ankles, Danny dipping down to riffle through the contents of his pocket. When he looked back up it was to see Dougie, completely naked, sat atop the cars bonnet and there was nothing he could do to prevent the moan that escaped.

Danny moved around the car, standing between Dougie’s legs and instinctively they both knew what to do; Dougie laying back to lean against his elbows and Danny lifting his boyfriends legs on to his shoulders.

Danny raised his left hand, showing his grinning boyfriend the condom and tube of lubricant he’d pulled from his pocket. “Golden rule Dougs; always come prepared.”

Carefully, he placed the tube onto Dougie’s stomach in order to use both hands to open the condom packet and roll the protection onto his cock. He looks up again, then; eyes meeting Dougie’s and they share a smile before Doug nods just once and Danny grabs the lubricant.

He turns the cap quickly, dropping it to the floor without even thinking about how he’ll have to crawl around on the dusty, oily floor later to find it. He squeezes the tube, emptying a large blob of the clear fluid onto his fingers and uses his other hand to spread it around before pushing two fingers against Dougie’s entrance. Slow and steady his fingers enter Doug, preparing the younger man, adding a third as soon as he feel his boyfriend is ready.

It takes Dougie moaning “Hurry the fuck up!” for Danny to pull his fingers back and squeeze more lubricant onto his hand, spreading it over his cock.

One hand moves to Dougie’s hip while the other guides his cock to the blonde’s entrance and, much quicker than he had with his fingers, he pushed in. It took three long thrusts until Danny was fully inside his boyfriend.

Their loud moans echo slightly in the eerie emptiness that is the car park and the noise only grows as Danny’s hips move faster and his hand fists around Dougie’s cock.

Neither last long, Dougie coming across his own stomach and Danny’s hand as Danny’s erratic thrusts cause his cock to pound into the younger mans prostate. Dougie’s ass tightening served to push Danny over the edge coming into the condom.

After a couple of minutes of silence Danny pulled out, tying the condom and dropping it to the floor. Dougie caught his eye, then, sliding down the bonnet until he was standing centimetres from Danny. They shared a quick kiss before Dougie moved to grab his clothes from the car park floor and Danny followed him. Once they were fully dressed and Danny was walking back around the car to the driver side Dougie leant on the top of the car, looking over at something just passed Danny and said “I really hope that CCTV camera doesn’t work.”
--

Sat, 05 Apr 2008 01:01:46 GMT

Title: A Trip To The Movies.
Fandom: McFly.
Pairing: Dougie/Danny.
Rating: 18.
Summary: Danny and Dougie have a trip to the cinema...
AN: This is for the gorgeous star55 , happy birthday hun. Hope you like it, love you!

--
Dougie grabbed Danny’s hand, dragging him through the half lit cinema, up the stairs to the back row. Doug flopped down into his seat kicking his legs slightly in the aisle as Danny took the seat next to him; they’d had the choice of any seats in the whole cinema it was so empty but Danny had chosen and said he wanted to sit on an aisle (“we want to be able to run down and get hot dogs, don’t we, Doug?”).

They chattered quietly between them, despite being alone, until the film started and Danny fell into complete silence, staring at the screen.

After ten or fifteen minutes Dougie sighed and leant heavily on the armrest between them whispering to his boyfriend. “Dan, this film is shit.”

“Shh, it’s not; the story hasn’t started yet!” Danny replied in a stage whisper, not taking his eyes from the screen.

Dougie sighed again, taking a handful of sweets from Danny’s bag (receiving a quick glare from the older man) and taking the time to bite the heads off each Jellybaby.

Another twenty minutes later Dougie was yet again bored. “Dan, are you seriously still watching this? There are so many better things we could be doing..”

“Hmm? Like wh-whoa!” Danny interrupted himself, eyes going wide as an explosion went off on the large screen.

Dougie grinned, slipping his hand into Danny’s lap and squeezing his thigh gently before withdrawing and whispering innocent, “Oh sorry, I was looking for the sweets.”

Danny muttered “bastard” under his breath and fidgeted slightly in his seat.

Dougie merely grinned wider and slipped from his seat to his knees on the floor. He crawled across slightly to kneel in front of his boyfriend, ignoring the hushed “Doug! What’re you doing! Get up!” Carefully Dougie shifted the sweets from Danny’s lap, resting the packet on the floor beside his left knee, before reaching up to unzip Danny’s jeans. Once the zip and button had been unfastened Dougie looked up at Danny with a single eyebrow raised, “wow Dan, you didn’t feel the need for boxers today then?”

Danny bit his bottom lip and gulped, shaking his head slightly but not taking his eyes from his boyfriend as Dougie leant forward, pausing centimetres away from his semi-erect cock. Hot breath gently passed through the blonds parted lips, blowing against Danny’s heated skin and all thought of ever telling him to stop, telling him that this was a public place, drifted away from his thought path.

What felt like a million years, but was really just a few seconds, later Dougie bowed his head, taking the tip of Danny’s cock between his lips, swirling his tongue around twice before pulling back entirely.

Danny moaned and whimpered, hand moving straight to the back of Dougie’s head to pull him back in towards him and Dougie willingly opened his lips to take Danny into his mouth again. He alternated between quick swirls of his tongue and long, slow licks, the combination of which sent Danny’s head reeling.

When Dougie looks back up at Danny the brunette has his eyes screwed tightly closed and his head is lolling against the chair back, moans slipping from his lips not caring if anybody will come into the cinema or not.

Dougie knows the signs his boyfriend gives, can read him like a book so pulls back just in time for Danny to come in his mouth, rather than his throat. Doug pulls back and swallows twice before placing a quick kiss against Danny’s stomach where his t-shirt has ridden up. He fastens Danny’s trousers and lifts the packet of Jellybabies, climbing back into his seat and grinning at his boyfriend.

“Have I persuaded you to ditch the film and go home yet?”
--

Now with added sequal here.

Mon, 24 Mar 2008 18:49:18 GMT

Title: Jumped Up Little Pop Band.
Fandom: McFly.
Pairing: OT4.
Rating: PG - There's a fair bit of swearing.
Summary: I’m always overlooked. It’s understandable; I’m the small, cute one, the youngest. I say and do silly things without thinking so when I do have a serious idea or thought it’s over looked and I don’t get the chance to say anything.
AN: I've literally just written this; I haven't read it over because I know that if I did I'd hate it and wouldn't want to post it.

--
I’m always overlooked. It’s understandable; I’m the small, cute one, the youngest. I say and do silly things without thinking so when I do have a serious idea or thought it’s over looked and I don’t get the chance to say anything.

It winds me up sometimes, only sometimes, like when we’re sat around trying to put ideas together for a song and Tom has the lyrics and Danny is laying down an guitar riff and even Harry is having input and I have this awesome, perfect idea of how we can make it 100% better but when I open my mouth Tom simply raises an eyebrow and says “Not now Dougs, we really need to get this done” like I’m going to make a stupid joke or something, and it winds me right up.

There was a time in a bar in the middle of London, it wasn’t really my kind of place but the others wanted to go and really, I’d do anything for them. Anyway about an hour in and this guy comes up to me, starts having ago because apparently I think I’m “so fucking rock star, in your jumped up little pop band” so I stick up for myself like anybody would and tell him to fuck off. I’ve had a few drinks and I’m just fed up. It turns out this guy doesn’t like being told where to go by some jumped up pop star though so he starts swinging his fists. Well who in their right mind would stand there and let some twat beat the shit out of them for no reason? I wouldn’t, so I didn’t; I threw punches back but that’s when Danny appeared at my side grabbing my arm and dragging me away like some kid who got into a fight at school.

Once we’re outside the bar he starts telling me that it’s a really bad idea to get into a fight because the papers will get hold of it and we have a photo shoot in a couple of days and blah blah blah. He doesn’t shut up until Tom and Harry come out and join in. In the end I’m fed up of it (I’ve had alcohol, I’ve been beaten up for nothing and now I’m getting told off for it. I might be the youngest but I’m not a kid) so I shout at them,

“Shut the fuck up, guys.” and push through them. I start marching down the road like I know where I’m going, but I don’t. I don’t know this area of the city and I don’t know where I want to go, so I’m pretty lucky when they catch up with me and Tom puts his hand on my arm, just gently but it has the desired effect and I stop.

They look at me, just watching and waiting for me to explain because I think this is the first time that I’ve told all of them to fuck off and meant it.

“You treat me like a fucking kid.” There, I say it; quick and painless like a plaster on your knee. Except Danny’s face falls and Harry is chewing his lip so I know it isn’t quite painless, then Tom opens his mouth to talk and I know it’s not going to be that quick either.

“Dan was just trying to stop you starting a fight Dougs.”

Then I’m raging again because “I wasn’t fucking starting it, Tom! The guy was being a twat, he fucking punched me and you want me to not react? Well fuck right of; I’m not going to take it like that.”

They’re all silent again and I find myself calming down again; as long as they aren’t having a go, I’m fine it seems.

“Why is it one rule for you three and another for me?” It’s a simple question but that’s what’s at the core of all of this and I find myself needing an answer. “Dan gets into fights all the time, and his right hook is a hell of a lot worse than mine but you don’t drag him away; you just tell him to calm down right there and wait until he does.”

Danny flushes bright red so I turn away and walk over to a low wall at the side of the path, sitting down on it.

“You’re the youngest.” And there we go, Harry’s hit the nail on the head.

“I’m nineteen. All nineteen year olds get into fights.”

“This isn’t the normal situation though.”

“Because I’m in a ‘jumped up little pop band?”

Harry sits down heavily on the wall next to me and Tom drops down the other side, Danny hovering in front standing.

“Want an honest answer Dougs?” Tom’s voice is quiet; it’s his serious ‘I’m going to tell you something whether you like or not’ voice that he uses when Danny wants to go to a footy game but we’ve got to be up at 4 the next morning.

I nod but stare at the floor, just in case I don’t like what he says then they won’t see it in my face.

“We don’t want you to get hurt. It’s like, when we started out you were this quiet little kid who sat on the end and had to be prodded by Harry to even say anything. Then you started growing up, you got louder, came out of your shell a bit. You lost the blonde hair that covered your face, you weren’t as skinny and suddenly it was like...” Tom stops to try and think of the word but Danny supplies it,

“You got hot, Dougie. That’s what he’s trying to say; you got really fucking hot and grown up and you don’t need us as much as you used to any more, do you?”

I’m quite glad that I couldn’t find my voice then because if I had I would’ve ruined their little speech they had going on.

“We love you. We really love you and we don’t want to see you getting hurt.” Harry finishes off for them and picks my hand up with his, lacing our fingers together; he’s done it a million times before but I know that this time it means something.
I still don’t have my voice back so I squeeze his hand and chew my lip a bit until I can safely look up and not have tears in my eyes.

“Can we just go home now?” I eventually say.

“Home?”

“Toms; he’s got the biggest – ”

“If you’re going to say bed I’ll kill you.” Tom laughs, standing up.

Harry stands too, not letting go of my hand. “And if you were going to say cock then you’re sorely mistaken.”

“Eugh guys! I was going to say sofa, you horny bunch of bastards.” I stand up then and Tom throws an arm around my shoulders as we walk to the nearest taxi rank, as Danny slips his own arm around Tom’s waist and we walk in a line, all four of us; one jumped up little pop band against the world.
--

Sat, 22 Mar 2008 17:11:31 GMT

Title: All Out.
Fandom: Cross over [McFly/Radio One].
Pairing: Harry Judd/Mark "Chappers" Chapman (Happers!!).
Rating: G.
Summary: Harry checks on Chappers after an injury playing cricket...

--
Mark stirs when there is a knock at his door; the hotel room is only lit by the quick moving images on the television in the corner and sunlight filtering through the open curtains so it takes a moment or two to work out what’s going on. After another knock he climbs from the bed, still fully dressed in his jeans and t-shirt, and moves to the door. When he opens it it’s to find Harry Judd leaning on the door frame, chewing his bottom lip.

“Oh, ‘s you. Hi,” Mark’s speech is slightly slurred from sleep and pain killers but he steps back to let the younger man inside anyway. Harry hovers near the entrance way while Mark drops back onto the bed, this time sitting and rubbing his head with one hand.

“How’re you feeling?” Harry asks quietly, breaking the silence only slightly.

Mark nods, flexes his fingers a little, wincing at the pain that flashes in his nerve endings.

“Were you sleeping?”

Mark shakes his head but tiredness is evident on his face. “Just dozing really. ‘ckin hell, my fingers feel like they’re going to drop off.”

Harry steps forward then, kneeling in front of the older man. “Mind if I look? You took quite a hard blow.”

Mark holds his hand out wiggling his fingers just a little as Harry takes the hand between his own, turning it and touching the joints gently. “It should be fine, I’d say. They gave you pain killers didn’t they?” Harry looks around the room and spots the strip of tablets on the desk. He rises to his feet, grabbing the tablets and throwing them onto the bed next to Mark. “I’ll get you some water and you can take a couple more, yeah?”

Harry grabs a bottle of cold water from the small fridge tucked underneath the desk and carefully passes it to Mark, sitting down gently on the bed next to the older man. He watches as Mark takes two of the large white tablets with a gulp of water then rolls the cold bottle in his hand against bruising fingers.

They talk for a short while, taking Mark’s thoughts away from the pain and to home or the game earlier or the one they’re facing the following day, but soon Harry notices Mark’s eyelids are drooping slightly. “You should sleep.”

Mark nods and apologises. They say their goodbyes and Harry gets up to leave.

He’s just turning the door handle when Mark’s voice calls out. “Scott?” Harry looks over his shoulder at where Mark is laid out in the bed, peering through one eye, a look of confusion across his face.

Harry shakes his head, tells Mark to go to sleep and slips through the door.

Thu, 13 Mar 2008 10:13:39 GMT

Title: A Little Competition Is Good For The Soul.
Fandom: McFly.
Pairing: Jones/Judd.
Rating: 18.
Summary: Danny finds Harry a little distracted in a dressing room after a gig.
AN: I dreamt this last night, woke up and had to write it down straight away.

--
Harry is staring so hard at the spot on the floor that he doesn’t even notice when Dan walks into the room.

“Y’alright Haz?” The words snap Harry back to reality and quickly, he nods.

Danny doesn’t accept it thought, there’s something about the way that Harry is sat; eyes hard and staring, hands in his lap fidgeting, covering –

Danny blinks but can’t actually look away now that he’s spotted it. Harry’s hands are trying to cover a rather sizeable bulge in the drummers jeans and Dan knows exactly what that steely look in his eyes means, knows because he’s pretty sure he’s got it himself right now too.

Danny quietly slips the lock on the dressing room door closed before turning back to the other man.

“Fancy a little competition?” Danny’s voice is half way between playful and deadly serious, and Harry has to look up again.

Eventually, after seconds that feel like hours, he nods a quick sharp nod of the head.

Danny moves forward into the room and Harry stands. They stop when there’s a meter between them and Dan nods, fingers blindly unfastening the button and zip of his jean.

Harry follows suite, opening his jeans and pushing them, and the boxer shorts below, down slightly on his hips.

Both boys gasp slightly when the cold, fresh air hits hot, excited skin.

“Rules?” Harry breaks the silence and Danny looks up, straight into his eyes.

“Simple. Wank yourself, no touching each other; first to come gets the first round in later.”

Harry nods, agreeing to the terms and conditions set down, even as his hand strokes the soft skin and hair on his lower stomach.

They stare at each other, right into each other’s eyes before Danny lets out a grunt of impatience and grasps his own hard cock in his hand.

His fingers flex a couple of times then his whole hand moves in a quick up-down motion and a groan slips from his slightly parted lips.

That’s enough for Harry, then, who moves his own hand to heated flesh. Their eyes wander each other’s bodies as fists pump in a slightly disjointed rhythm.

Harry is mostly silent, only gasping and taking harsh, deep breathes as his chest heaves and blood pumps loudly in his ears. Danny, Harry notes, is the complete opposite; he groans and moans loud and uncontrolled but neither have the forethought to care.

The moans get louder and more drawn out as Danny nears his climax. The curly haired guitarist bites his bottom lip, holding in any additional sounds as he flicks his thumb over the swollen head of his cock and comes into his own hand.

Harry isn’t far behind; he watches the way Danny’s face contorts and sees the come in his hand spread between sticky fingers and fuck, he’s so close and –

There’s a quick knock at the door, a try at the handle and Tom’s voice calling out. “Guys? Anybody in there?”

Both boys inside the room freeze until quickly, Danny is tucking himself back into his boxer shorts, pulling himself together and wiping his hands on a nearby sweaty towel.

Harry groans, forces himself to do the same but the large bulge is even more noticeable now. He has no time to even think of covering it from view any further because Dan has crossed the room and unlocked the door.

Tom gives them a strange look, tells them he just needs to grab some things and does so before leaving the room again.

As soon as they’re alone again they look at each other. It’s milliseconds before they fly together; Danny’s hands making fast work of Harry’s jeans as their lips find each other in their first kiss; their first kiss that isn’t the result of a game of truth or dare and in front of other people.

Harry’s jeans and boxers are pushed down and Danny tears his lips away to be able to drop to his knees. He’s slow and careful, it’s the first time he’s actually done this (since high school, anyway) and he doesn’t want to screw it up.

His lips part and close around the head of Harry’s cock; slowly (Far too slowly, teasing) taking it into his mouth. He’s half way down the length when his teeth bump sensitive skin and Harry groans, trusting a hand into Danny’s hair.

Harry doesn’t last long, not after being so horny for so long and getting so fucking close only moments before. He warns Danny with mumbled words and a tug at his hair but Danny only sucks harder and hollows his cheeks. Harry grunts and bucks his hips; coming into Danny’s waiting mouth.

Danny carefully, and silently, spits into the towel that’s been hanging loosely around his neck before screwing it up and throwing it to the floor.

He gets to his feet and watches Harry’s face as he comes down slowly. When Harry’s eyes open they share a lazy smile then an even lazier kiss.

“You owe me a drink.” Harry says softly, leaning their foreheads together.

“You owe me a blow job; that was against the rules.” Danny replies with a trademark cheeky grin that Harry kisses straight from his lips.
--

Thu, 13 Mar 2008 01:38:00 GMT

Title: Gaming.
Fandom: Crossover [McFly and Radio One].
Pairing: Danny Jones/Chris Moyles. [Mones!]
Rating: G
Summary: It's Danny's birthday and he's missing home..or something.
AN: This is kelly96 's fault. She has even given me permission to say that.
AN2: This pairing is the first time I've been scared about posting fic in..ages. Be nice? Hopefully it's out of my system now.

--
Tom dropped down next to Danny where the birthday boy was sitting on a low wall, looking over towards the ocean where Dougie and Harry were messing around in the water, catching the waves and soaking up the Australian sun.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Tom looking between his three best friends and band mates before deciding to finally talk.

“Out with it.” Tom made sure to keep his gaze on Harry and Doug while he spoke, while he waited for a reply; Danny never had been brilliant at talking about emotions but as long as there was no eye contact Tom knew he’d talk if he needed it.

“Nothin’.”

“Sure?”

“Mmm.” There’s a couple of seconds of silence before Danny lets out a sigh. “I miss it.”

“’It’?” Tom raises a single eyebrow, even if Dan isn’t looking at him it’s a natural habit in these situations.

“It.” Danny repeats. “Y’know, home and... home.”

Tom nods then quietly asks. “What time is it?”

Danny replies without even looking at his watch, he’s looked often enough in the past half hour to know without looking.

“7am at home then.” Tom watched Harry push Dougie under the water then saw him disappear too as, Tom assumed, Dougie dragged him under. “Go back; listen to him on the laptop then you can get the xbox out. Those two won’t notice.”

Danny looks at him then, chewing his lip then eventually nods and grins a little. He pushes a big wet kiss to Tom’s cheek then jumps down from the wall and almost runs back to their rented apartments.

Tom watches him leave, shaking his head, wondering what exactly was going on between Danny and Moyles and their many hours of ‘gaming’.
--

Wed, 12 Mar 2008 17:20:09 GMT

Title: McPartlin Cuddles.
Fandom: Ant and Dec.
Pairing: Ant/Dec.
Rating: G
Summary: Dec's a little under the weather.
AN: I wrote this for undersea a week or so ago but forgot to post it here so here it is.

--
Ant picked up the phone receiver and put it to his ear, speaking clearly into it. “Hello?”

Silence.

“Hello? Look if somebody is there, talk or I’m hanging up.”

Silence. And then, a cough.

“Dec? Is that you?”

There’s a slight mumble at the other end of the phone line and Ant frowns.

“Declan? What’s up?”

Another cough.

“Right, if you’re not going to talk I’m coming round.” Ant put down the phone and moved to the hall way, pulling on his shoes before leaving the house and locking the door. He wandered the mere meters to his best friend’s house.

Ant knocked on the front door but entered without waiting as usual. When he walked into the front room and found Dec curled up on the sofa cocooned in his duvet, peering out with puffy blue eyes, Ant was quite glad he hadn’t waited.

“Jeez mate, you look a mess.”

Dec frowned and blinked before opening his mouth and moving his lips wordlessly.

“You’ve lost your voice? Oh bloody hell; you’ve lost your voice? Brilliant!” Ant laughed, placing a hand gently on Dec’s sweaty forehead.

Dec looked around and grabbed a pad of sticky notes and pen from the coffee table, quickly writing one word on it and holding it up to Ant. ‘Twat’.

Ant laughed and sat down on the floor beside the sofa, looking at Dec.

Dec simply pouted and snuggled further into his covers.

“Aww, you still look as gorgeous as ever though, Deckers. Now, would you prefer a cup of tea and some tissues or a world famous McPartlin Cuddle?”

Dec pretended to think for a few seconds then gestured with his hand for a cuppa.
--

Thu, 21 Feb 2008 16:48:51 GMT

Title: No Love.
Fandom: McFly.
Pairing: Poynter/Judd.
Rating: 15 - read warning.
Summary: You stand at the bedroom window, looking down at the street and waiting, thinking about how your life was supposed to be so much different.
AN: Song fic for 'No Love' by Simple Plan.
Warnings: Very angsty, violence, rape.

--
Staring out into the world across the street
You hate the way your life turned out to be
He's pulling up in the driveway and you don't make a sound
Cause you always learn to hold the things you want to say
Your always going to be afraid

You stand at the bedroom window, looking down at the street and waiting, thinking about how your life was supposed to be so much different. You were in a band, a popular band, and you fell in love; that’s supposed to be a good thing, right?

When you see his car pull into the driveway you decide the same thing you decide everyday; definitely not a good thing but there’s nothing you can do or say about it. You climb into the bed, pulling the covers up over your body as if to hide; you know you shouldn’t have to hide against somebody who is supposed to love you but still you do.

There's only hate. There's only tears. There's only pain. There is no love here. Oh so what will you do? There's only lies. There's only fears. There's only pain. There is no love here.

When he finds you in the bed his anger seems to double.

“What the fuck are you doing in bed at this time? Are you even going to fucking look for a job, Dougie?”

“I..but..” You try to speak, to say anything but you can’t get the words out through the tears that are already falling.

“Jesus, Dougie, get over this already will you! The band is over; it’s been over for five fucking years! You can’t cling onto it anymore!” He rips the covers from your body and grabs the front of your t-shirt, dragging you from the bed like you weigh nothing. You panic, then, because you know what’s coming.

He shoves you against the wall, shouting in your face that you need to grow up, that you need to get out of the house sometime, that you need to get a job and bring some money in. It’s the same thing every day, no matter where or how he finds you when he comes home.

When he’s finished shouting he throws you across the room, shouts that he’s going out and won’t be back until late.

Broken down like a mirror smashed to pieces
You learned the hard way to shut your mouth and smile
If these walls could talk they would have so much to say
Cause everytime you fight the scars are gonna heal but there never gonna go away

You sit on the floor where you’d landed; sobbing and clinging to your wrist where it’s screaming at you in pain. When you look down you see the broken shards of mirror surrounding you and know that the dull ache in your back is from hitting against it; you know how it feels, laid in the floor broken and, you know it deep down, unloved.

When he arrives home it’s nearly midnight but you’re sure to be awake and definitely not in bed. He walks into the living room where you’re sat and you can literally smell the booze from across the room. He grins in that drunken way he has, that you used to find adorable, and he makes his way over to you. He half-falls, half-drops down into your lap straddling your legs. You’d push him away but he’s stronger and fiercer and, well, he’s got alcohol on his side and that scares you so you say nothing as he kisses you and runs his fingers underneath your t-shirt. He looks at you and you force a smile, pretend you’re enjoying this when you’d rather be anywhere else.

He pulls your t-shirt over your head and latches onto one of your nipples. You tilt your head back and pretend to moan, staring at the wall and ceiling and think about all the things that have happened in this room; if only walls could talk, right?

His fingers trace one of the fresh scars on your arm where a piece of the mirror had ripped your skin, and you wince. He notices and looks up, “What?” It’s almost a growl and you can see the anger bubbling behind his eyes, waiting to burst out so you shake your head quickly and smile at him, telling him how good he is.

There's only hate. There's only tears. There's only pain. There is no love here. Oh so what will you do? There's only lies. There's only fears. There's only pain. There is no love here.

You know he doesn’t believe you but he couldn’t care less whether you’re enjoying yourself or not; he is and that’s all that matters really.

You don’t even notice when he pulls off your jeans and boxers, throwing them to the floor where they pile with his own clothes that at some point he’s striped off.

He pushes you over until you’re laid on your front on the sofa and then you force yourself to black out, to be anywhere but here, doing this. Your face is pushed into the cushions and actually, you’re glad of it because that means he won’t see the tears fall from your eyes which means he won’t punish you for it.

You’re falling, you’re screaming. You’re stuck in the same old nightmare. He's lying, you’re crying. There's nothing left to salvage. Kick the door cause this is over get me out of here.

One of his fingers finds the scar on your arm again and pushes against it, he fucking knows it’ll hurt and you can’t hold back the scream. That only angers him further; his hand fists in your hair, pulling your head out of the cushions and growling at you. You screw your eyes closed because you don’t want to see what he’s doing; you’ve seen and felt it all before.

Afterwards, when he’s laid beside you, squashed on the sofa, he stokes the skin of your back gently and whispers “I love you Dougie, you know that, don’t you?” You nod and turn away because you’re crying for the third time today and you couldn’t cope with more pain, not today.

You wish you had the strength to get up and walk out of this room, to get out of here because there’s nothing left here but pain, no love; but until somebody stronger realises what’s going on and stops it, you’re stuck here in this nightmare. Waiting.
--

Fri, 15 Feb 2008 01:10:06 GMT

Title: Valentines.
Fandom: Radio One.
Pairing: Scott/Chappers.
Rating: G
Summary: “Aren’t you supposed to be in Manchester?”
AN: This was written for kelly96 for Valentines as she is very much made of win.

--
Scott’s pottering around the kitchen, attempting to make breakfast or... something, just to keep himself busy really. His housemate is away for the week with his girlfriend, celebrating Valentine’s Day in the Scottish Highlands so the house is too quiet.

The knock on the front door is loud, too loud really seeing as it’s only 9am, but he goes to answer it anyway. Opening the door just a crack at first to see who it is he can’t help the grin that grows across his face. “Aren’t you supposed to be in Manchester?”

Chappers smiles, shaking his head. “Couldn’t stay away. Are you inviting me in or am I staying on the doorstep all day?”

Scott steps aside, opening the door wider and nodding. “No, come in, come in.” It’s then, with a clearer view of the other man, he spots the chocolates.

Mark follows his gaze, “Ah, yes. You’re not the type for huge bouquets of flowers or fluffy pink teddy bears so I thought these would be the safe choice. Happy Valentine’s, Scott.”

If Scott’s grin could’ve got any bigger, it would’ve done but as it was there was no way possible. “You’re an idiot.”

“Well that’s a nice way to thank somebody for travelling hundreds of miles just to see you and bring you a gift!”

“Oh shut up and kiss me.” With that Scott grabbed a fistful of the front of Mark’s shirt, pulling him closer and pressing their lips together in a fast, harsh kiss.
--

Thu, 14 Feb 2008 10:22:00 GMT

Title: You.
Fandom: McFly.
Pairing: Poynter/Judd.
Rating: 13 - for suggestion towards the end.
Summary: It's Valentines morning in the Pudd household...
AN: The lyrics are from the song 'Natalie Marie and 1cc' by The Spill Canvas. The rest of the song isn't all that romantic if I'm honest but the song came on yesterday and those lyrics struck me. Happy St Fluffy Fic Day folks.

--
When Harry first entered the kitchen late that Thursday morning he thought everything was perfectly normal; He’d left Dougie tucked up in bed, as usual waking up first and going to make his own breakfast and wait for the young blonde. It was when he lifted the kettle to fill it that he spotted a small yellow post it note.

‘You make it dry when it's raining outside’

Harry smiled, reading the note and stuck it on the front of the wall mounted cupboard at his eyelevel before moving to fill the kettle at the sink.

He found the second post it note stuck slanted on the side of the tin of teabags.

‘You warm my blood when the temperature dies’

Harry smiles again, sticking it beside the other and taking a teabag. It’s at this point that he glances across at the calendar and notices that it’s February 14th, Valentines Day; the first Valentines Day since he and Dougie had become a couple. He thought of the present hidden away upstairs where Dougie would never think to look and smiled wider. Today was going to be perfect; he’d had it planned out perfectly for weeks.

The pop of the kettle letting him know that it’d finished boiling woke him from his reverie. He poured the water straight into the mug then moved to the fridge to get the milk. As he half expected there was another yellow square on the side of the milk carton.

‘You're my crutch when it's all too hard to bare’

He peeled off the note, stroking a finger over Dougie’s carefully neat writing and sticking it next to the first two. He knew the words the next post it note would bare but he couldn’t think where exactly he would find it so instead he continued on with his tea making ritual.

Once his mug was filled to perfection he lifted it and wandered into the living room, straight over to the stereo to find the CD he knew he’d find beside it. He picked up the case and opened it, grinning; was he really so predictable that Dougie knew he’d want to listen to the song? Maybe Doug just knew him that well.

‘Without you here I could not be anywhere’

He placed the CD into the stereo, skipping to the song that Dougie had first played to him months before they’d even got together, and turning up the volume so that it’d be loud enough to hear upstairs. He lifted his mug of tea again and headed upstairs (making a stop at the kitchen to stick the fourth note beside the other three and to take a photograph of all four on his mobile phone).

When he entered the bedroom he smiled seeing his peacefully sleeping boyfriend. Harry walked over to the bed, placing his mug gently down onto the bedside table before leaning over and placing a careful kiss on Dougie’s nose.
The blonde let out a small wimper and batted Harry away with one arm, the other thrown over his eyes to block out the morning sunlight. Harry leant down again, pressing a gentle kiss to Dougie’s soft lips. There’s a soft sigh before Dougie’s eyes flutter open.

“Happy Valentines, Dougs.” Harry said after Dougie’s eyes were fully open.

Dougie lifted his head slightly from the pillow and saw the steaming tea on the side table, “You found ‘em then? Happy Valentines.”

“You knew I would.”

“It’s no excuse to break my dream though.”

Harry sat down beside the blonde on the bed and looked at him. “I’m sorry. What was happening?”

“Good stuff.” Dougie replied, turning onto his side and shuffling closer to Harry.

“Like what?” The drummers instantly fingers went to Dougie’s hair, stroking and twirling playfully.

“Just stuff... You, me.. a whole load of cherry flavoured lubricant.” Doug’s eyes closed again, as if trying to force his body back to sleep, back to the dream.

“Pervert.” Harry chuckled then added thoughtfully, “I think there’s some left, y’know.”

“Really?” It was almost comical how fast Dougie’s blue eyes shot open again.

Harry nodded, leaning down and pressing another kiss to Dougie’s lips, this time he got a response. It didn’t last long before Dougie broke away, threw back the covers to stand up and said “I’ll go get it”, before scampering out of the room.

Harry merely watched his boyfriends naked backside and bit back his grin; his plan for the day would just have to wait.
--

Tue, 12 Feb 2008 02:56:58 GMT

Title: How Do You Eat Yours?
Fandom: McFly.
Pairing: Mentions/hinted: Judd/Jones, Poynter/Judd, Everybody/Tom [OT4]
Rating: 13 - for suggestion and one or two swears I think.
Summary: Danny's purchase at a service station sure provides some entertainment on the tour bus.

--
It all starts when they take a break at some services when travelling from one gig to another; Danny wanders back onto the tour bus with a bag full of chocolates and sweets and sits himself down on the sofa to work his way through them. He takes out the chocolate egg and peels back the wrapping, rolling it between his hands to melt it a little.

Harry just walks in through the door as Danny shoves the egg into his mouth, whole. Danny somehow grins at him, mouthing the melting chocolate and biting randomly until the egg softens and folds in his mouth. He chews and swallows, the chocolate and fondant mixing in his mouth and throat then licks his lips to remove the final traces of chocolate. Harry merely stares at him, watching his Adams apple bob as he swallows then watches the pink tip of his tongue flash in and out of his mouth. There’s a smudge of chocolate to the left of Danny’s lips and Harry is really tempted to close the space to lick it off until Danny interrupts his line of thought. “There’s more in the bag if you want one, I’m gonna go find Doug.”

Harry sits himself down, watching the other man retreat to another part of the bus, and shakes his thoughts away. After a few minutes of sitting staring at the wall and thinking about that damn chocolate all over Danny’s lips and chin and.. he decides it’s the chocolate he wanted, not Danny (no way) so he takes an egg from the carrier bag his band mate had left behind.

He screws up the foil wrapping and puts it back into the carrier bag before biting the top half of the egg off. He licks the tiny remnants of fondant from the chocolate in his mouth before chewing and swallowing. He’s just dipping the tip of his finger into the remaining fondant and chocolate when Dougie walks in. Harry pauses, index finger inches from his pursed lips, dripping fondant running down the finger. “Dan’s just gone to find you.”

Dougie simply shrugs and sits down, “He’ll find me.”

Harry returns the shrug before returning his attention to the sweet, lifting his hand the remaining space and sliding his finger between his lips. His eyes drop closed, concentrating on the taste and feel and not the way that Dougie is watching him intently.

He slips his finger from his lips, eyes open, and he repeats the process, followed by licking the fondant from where it’s dribbled down to the base of his finger. It’s then that he notices the melted chocolate on his other fingers and sucks those clean too.

When there are no further traces of the white and yellow goo inside the chocolatey shell Harry bites into that, eating the rest of the sweet in three mouthfuls.
The drummer smiles at his audience of one, nodding towards the bag. “There’s a few more if you want one, they’re Dans.”

Dougie nods and reaches over for the bag, stealing an egg (and a cruchie bar for later). “I’ll just..” He trails off, standing up and moving to a different area of the bus.

After mere seconds (you don’t get long to yourself on a tour bus, not when you share it anyway) Tom finds him and gives him a funny look. “What’re you doing Dougie?”

It’s a simple enough question, one that Dougie is used to (he’s used to the tone and the accompanying face too) so he just smiles and says “Creme Egg!” taking a bowl from the microwave which, when Tom looks inside, seems to be full of a brownish goop.

Dougie proceeds to grab a spoon and stir his goop then eating it in tiny little mouthfuls.

Tom watches on perplexed, he’s heard a fair few ways to eat a Cadbury’s Creme Egg in his time (dude, that makes him sound old) but never once has he thought to melt the thing in a microwave. It occurs to him then that this is Dougie Poynter, though, and Dougie Poynter never has been the most conventional of people.

Tom shrugs and shakes his head, moving to the seating area at the back of the bus where he finds Harry and Danny (Harry’s explaining that Dougie was here but now he’s gone off elsewhere and the guitarist will just have to sit tight and wait for his return or go look again). Tom throws himself down on the sofa, about to explain that Dougie was in the kitchen doing something fucked up with a Creme Egg when the boy in question walks into the area anyway.

Harry throws the orange carrier bag at Tom. “That’s yours, we’ve all had ours.” He says by way of explanation and Tom peeks inside to find, yep, a bloody Creme Egg.
“So that’s where Doug got it.” They all nod and begin a new conversation, not paying attention as Tom unwraps the top half of his egg, leaving the foil around the bottom half so as to prevent chocolate getting on his hands.

They miss the way he nips off the top of the egg with his teeth and looks inside as if to check none of the other three have stolen his fondant. Sure that it is indeed there Tom wiggles the tip of his tongue along the rim of the hole he’s created. (That gets Dougie’s attention.)

The eldest blonde pushes his tongue in further, wiggling it slightly to melt the chocolate and create more space. (Dougie nudges Danny with his elbow who in turn goes wide eyed watching Tom.) Happy that the hole is big enough Tom returns to his licking, lapping the white fondant with a pointed tongue. (Harry looks over then, to see what the other two are staring at; Tom doesn’t even seem to have noticed that conversation has stopped.)

By the time the fondant has all been scooped out and eaten all three of his band mates are staring at him; Danny’s breath hitched, Dougie fidgeting and shifting where he sits and Harry’s hands flexing and fisting in his lap. Tom swallows the last of the chocolate then looks up and sees them all staring.

“What? What’s up?” Tom sweeps his tongue along his lips, closely followed by the tip of his thumb a smudge of white fondant from the corner of his mouth. “Have I got some on my face?”
--

Sun, 10 Feb 2008 01:55:03 GMT

Title: Not That Kind of Girl.
Fandom: McFly.
Pairing: Female!Poynter/Judd, Fletcher/Jones
Rating: G.
Summary: Dougie is a school girl, Tom is her best friend; together they're skipping PE.

--
Dougina gently dropped down onto the bench, crossing one thigh over the other and smoothing out her skirt, before turning back to her best friend, Tom, and finishing her sentence, “well obviously I told him I’m not that kind of girl.” The pair giggled. “Oh look, there’s Harry!”

Dougina waved sweetly to one of the boys on the nearest cricket pitch, who attempted to wave back quickly before settling his bat back to the floor and smacking the ball in the opposite direction.

“Did you see the look he gave you then, Dougs! He so fancies you!” Tom grinned and played with his blond hair. “Is Danny looking over?”

Dougina flashed a quick look over at the boys playing football and yep, the curly haired brunette was looking over in their direction. As soon as he noticed Dougina looking over he flashed a big grin and shouted, “Scott! Over ‘ere!”

The ball is immediately kicked over to Danny’s feet and he skilfully winds it around a defender and kicks it straight into the back of the net.

Dougina rolls her eyes and smiles at Tom, “Yeah. Showing off. Again. I don’t know what you see in him Tommie.”

“Doug, he’s gorgeous! I mean, come on, you’ve seen his smile right? And those eyes!”
Dougina looked down at her skirt and fiddled with the hem, she hated the fact that her best friend liked a guy he couldn’t have. Tom was beautiful; if he was straight he could have any girl in the school he wanted. “Tommie...”

“I know, I know. Don’t worry Dougs. Everybody knows I’ll end up living in a little bungalow at the end of yours and Harry’s garden anyway.” When Doug looked back up Tom was smiling, not quite a dimple inducing smile but Dougina didn’t feel as bad. “Anyway, Danny fancys you; the whole of year eleven know that.”

A whistle blew on the football pitch and the pair both looked over, there was a boy sat on the floor clutching his ankle. They both instantly recognised the curly mop of hair and Tom sprang to his feet. Dougina soon jumped up too and the pair went over to find out what was happening.

“What happened, sir?”

“Nothing, you two. Dougina aren’t you supposed to be limping?”

“Ah, well. I.”

“Kindly escort Mr Jones to first aid then you can come back here at lunch time and explain to me why you wrote a fake note.”

“But sir!”

“No buts, Poynter.”

Dougina sighed and started to wander off, completely forgetting about Danny. Tom, however, had remembered and helped the other boy to limp off the pitch. Danny leant heavily on Tom’s shoulder with an arm thrown over the blonds’ shoulders. Tom carefully put his arm around Danny’s waist and guided him into the building.
The three slouched in the chairs outside the first aid office, waiting for the nurse to call Danny to go inside.

“Sorry I got you into trouble, Dougie.”

Dougina shrugged, “’s not your fault is it. Wish I had Tom’s asthma excuse though.”

“Hey, it’s not an excuse! I’d play if I could!”

Dougina and Danny both laughed and Danny threw his arm back around Tom’s shoulders. “It’s ok Tom, we all know you hate football. You’re crap at it.”

“Yeah, thanks Dan; shut up.” Tom pushed Danny’s arm away and slumped even further down into his chair. At the same time the nurse came into the corridor.

“N’aww, sorry Tommie.” Danny quickly messed Tom’s hair with his hand before getting carefully to his feet and hobbling into the first aid room.

“Oh my God, Doug! Did you see that?! He put his arm around me!”

“You are such a geek, dude. Anyway I’m gonna see if I can catch Harry in his shorts again before lessons up. You stayin’ here?”

Tom thought about it for a second or two before nodding. “Make sure the casualty is okay.” They gave each other a quick hug before Dougina wandered back out to the field. She arrived just as everybody seemed to be going back towards the changing rooms. “Harry! Wait up!”

Harry turned around in the crowd to look at Dougina, smiling. “Alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just y’know, wondered if you’d heard about Danny. Youse two are mates so thought you would want to know.”

“What’s up with him?” A boy walking past clapped Harry on the back and mumbled, “Good catch out there.”

“Thanks Chappers, shame it was your ball, eh mate?”

“Yeah, somethin’ like that.” The boy walked off again leaving Harry and Dougina.

“Sorry Doug, what were you saying?”

“Danny; he fell. Bust his ankle or something, I dunno. Tom’s with him at first aid.”

“Well was it bad?”

“Probably not. I could wait around and we can go back and see him if you want?”

“Sure. I better go get changed before I get locked out. Meet you out here in five?”
Dougina smiled and nodded but Harry still didn’t turn to leave.

“Harry? You’re meant to be moving now.”

“Yeah, I should” and with that Harry turns and jogs off into the changing rooms; Dougina taking in the view of his legs and bum in the shorts as she does every week. “Oh and Harry!”

Harry, just about to open the door to the boys changing rooms, turns on the spot. “Yeah?”

“Nice arse.”
--