mcfly-slash ... From Dawn til Dusk
woooooop!
i just booked some stuff for in less than a week.
cos i'm seeing manuanya, oh_mumble, armillarysphere and evolia and a few friends from scotland.
and i'm seeing doug and harry and tom and danny aka mcfly
and i'm seeing my friend zara afterwards.
and i'll spend some time in a plane and at an airport and in trains.
and i'll basically will get out of this shithole that is my hometown and away from the hellhole that is my workplace.
but first, i'm bringing a story, yes?
Title: From Dawn til Dusk
Author: me
Rating: PG13
Chapter: 1/1 … Standalone
Genre: Comedy, Fluff
Pairing: PoynterJudd
Summary: Some days are just not meant to be perfect. Or good. Or at least normal.
Word count: 3,683
Disclaimer: Lies! I suppose.
Dedication: to ♥ Manu (manuanya) ♥ who not only prompted me with ‘Dawn’, requesting a Pudd, but who I also randomly met the other day and who I had an awesome night with, filled with laughter and booze and fags and Dougie and Pudd and annoyance and weird men and one line out of this story ;) She’s basically awesome, actually. Hope you like this, you crazy chicken.
Author’s note: I needed and wanted to write some Pudd again. And this just came about after I thought back of the day Manu and me met and four hours after I was done and smiling like the Cheshire Cat.
Some days are just not meant to be perfect. Or good. Or at least normal.
You just know when those days happen. Your alarm goes off even though it doesn’t need to since it’s your day off to begin with. But the alarm is set in your phone and you forgot to disable it the previous night. So you kill the alarm and the phone somehow lands on the floor with an odd noise. You open your eyes and you immediately know that you better not get out of bed because the day will be a mess if you do. So you wanna get back to sleep because it’s way too early to get up, but because the bloody alarm was so persistent, it’s still ringing in your ear and you can’t go back to sleep, no matter how hard you try. So you might as well get up, right?
And then it all happens.
You swing your legs out of bed and forgot that you had been thirsty last night and you knock over the water bottle on the floor with your feet. And of course you didn’t bother to put the cap back on the bottle in your half-sleep last night so you spill the water onto the carpet. And a bit of the water also spills over your phone that’s still laying on the floor.
You curse the day already, despite only being awake for less than five minutes. But you still wanna make the best of it so you start looking for that favorite t-shirt of yours. You look everywhere but the damn thing is just nowhere to be found. That’s when you remember. You wore it just the other day, when you were out. And you had a few too many drinks. And you had gotten sick. All over the t-shirt. And you were too busy to do laundry. So yeah, the t-shirt is still laying right outside your washing machine, probably.
That’s about the time you give up. On your mood brightening up. On the day to take a one-eighty and become better at all. It’s not going to happen anyway so why bother?
Dougie Poynter was just having a day like that. Nothing seemed to work in his favour. Nothing.At.All.
He had spilt water over his phone and carpet this morning and found his favorite t-shirt stained with vomit in front of the washing machine. Also, he was out of coffee and couldn’t find more than a few pence in his wallet when he wanted to go to buy some. Danny had taken off to go home for the weekend and Tom was somewhere with Gio so it wasn’t like he could go to theirs and ‘borrow’ their coffee.
Also, Dougie couldn’t get to Harry either. Sure, the drummer was at home but Dougie was pretty sure that he was the last person Harry wanted to see on his doorstep. The two of them had a pretty evil fight the other night. Dougie couldn’t remember what it had been about but as things heated up both of them had thrown many horrible insults at each other and this day was the fourth in a row of them not speaking to each other. Which was a record for them. They had been friends for five years, a couple for nearly two, and they fought about once a week. But they never had not spoken to each other for four days before.
Dougie was just thinking about ways to get his caffeine fix without having to leave the flat when he, for the first time, noticed the silence around him. He went into the living room to check and found out why it was so silent. Flea was laying in his corner and looked like his owner after a heavy night out.
Sure, of all days, his dog had chosen this one to be ill.
So Dougie carefully lifted the dog up and brought him outside into his car. But when he wanted to get back into his flat to grab Flea’s comfort blanket, the door had fallen closed. And, of course, Dougie had left the house-keys inside.
Muttering under his breath, Dougie decided that he would deal with the matter later, setting his main priority on his pet right now.
On the way to the vet, Dougie had to stop at every red light possible and it seemed all the people in the whole country who actually stuck to the speed limit were driving in front of him. And sure enough, Dougie had left his phone at home as well so he couldn’t even call the vet to say he was coming in today.
It also seemed like every pet in Greater London had gotten ill on the same day and his vet was the only one in the area who was open. Upon entering the vet’s, Dougie was faced with a room full of waiting people with pet-baskets or ill animals by their feet. Dougie couldn’t find a spare seat either so he sat down on the floor, feeling much like the furry patients surrounding him.
He had almost dozed off when his name was called and he carried Flea into the doctor’s office. And for once, everything went normal when the doctor found out quickly that Flea had probably eaten something wrong. He gave him an injection of something Latin and told Dougie that the dog would be himself again by the end of the day.
Dougie went back to the front desk to pay for the treatment but was met with an apologetic look from the nurse when he handed over his credit card.
“Sorry Mister Poynter, but our card reader isn’t working today. We can only accept cash payments, I’m afraid.”
“But I … I only have a few pence on me. Can’t you … I don’t know … write a bill or something and I transfer the money. Please, my dog is ill and I’d like to get him home and not make a detour just to get to a cash-machine first.”
The nurse smiled at him. “That’s fine, Mister Poynter. I’ll print you a bill. Just take a seat, I’ll bring it over in just a minute.”
‘Just a minute’ then turned out to be almost half an hour as yet more patients came in, distracting the nurse from Dougie’s bill. And then, right when his bill was supposed to be printed, there wasn’t anymore ink in the printer which stole yet another five minutes of Dougie’s waste of a day.
On his way home Dougie decided that yes, days like that one actually did call for a detour to get to a cash machine. Just not to pay the vet. Dougie just wanted his coffee to have at least something about this day that was enjoyable.
There was a queue at the cash machine, because there was only one of the three things actually working, no surprise there, but Dougie ignored that, desperate for some Starbucks. Jogging back to his car, he noticed the woman dressed in navy blue, peeking at the number plate of the car right in front of his own. He surpressed a curse when he saw a piece of paper already tucked under his wiper upon getting closer. He snatched the paper away and was just about to unlock his car when the police woman addressed him.
“Is this your car, sir?”
No, I just wanted to see if the key in my hand fits into the lock, duh! Dougie thought to himself, but replied as politely as he could. “Yes, it is.”
“You know that you’re not allowed to park here, sir?”
“Yes and well, normally I really wouldn’t. But my dog is ill and I needed to get money to pay the vet and there wasn’t any parking space at the cash machine. And I thought I’d only be a few seconds but then there was a queue because two of three machines were out of order. And … yeah. But I’m here now and I’m gonna drive away right this instant so could you … let that one slide, maybe?” He indicated at the paper still in his hand.
“Sorry sir, I can’t do that.” the woman said sternly before writing down another number of a car, “The terms of payment are written on the back of the ticket. Have a nice day.”
“Yeah same, you stupid witch.” Dougie muttered.
“Excuse me, what was that? Would you like to add insult to a member of authority to the ticket?”
Dougie shook his head, finally unlocking the driver’s door. “No no. Have a nice day, Miss.”
The way back home was just as filled with slow drivers and red lights as the way into the city and Dougie had never been so glad to see the green and white sign of his local Starbucks.
His focus set on the wallet in his hand and the tenner that was stuck somewhere in there, Dougie paid no attention to his surroundings when he entered the Starbucks, only desperate for his coffee before finally going back home. A high-pitched squeal pulled him out of his revery though.
“Oh my god! Becky look, it’s Dougie from McFly!”
Dougie only had time to cast a short look at the clock hanging above the counter - lunch time at the local school, right about then, of fucking course! - before he was surrounded by at least 15 girls, squealing and excited and shoving papers and mobile phones into his face, taking pictures.
Deciding that getting a coffee under this circumstances was impossible, Dougie fought his way back outside, all the girls hot on his trail. So there he was, right outside the Starbucks, and the girls around him seemed to get more by the minute because each of them seemed to phone their friends, telling them to run to ‘the Starbucks around the corner from school’ because ‘Dougie from McFly is here, oh my god!’
It took about half an hour until each and every girl had gotten an autograph, a picture, a hug and whatever else they wanted from him and they all went back to school, leaving Dougie alone finally. So he turned around, ready to just get into Starbucks and get himself a bucket of vanilla frappucchino, because even the large cup wouldn’t be enough right now. He had just opened the door when immediately all the empolyees gave him dark looks, obviously not too happy about the scene he had just caused.
“Forget it.” Dougie said and left again.
Getting back into his car, Dougie just leaned back into his seat.
“Fuck this fucking day!” he cursed.
He took a deep breath and sat back up, ready to start the engine and get back home when something caught his attention. Right there, underneath his wiper. Another parking ticket.
“Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!” he swore under his breath while scrolling his window down to snatch the ticket away. Holding the piece of paper in his hand, he then turned around to the backseat, looking at his dog. “I hope you realise that this is all your fault. If you weren’t a bloody animal, I’d make you get a job so you can pay for those.”
At this, Flea just raised his head, looking at his owner.
“Yeah, whatever.”
Setting on the fact that he finally had enough of this day, Dougie then started the engine, ready to get home, lock himself into his flat and not leave it before the following morning. Of course that was when he realised that he couldn’t lock himself into his flat as he had managed to lock himself out of said flat earlier.
So really, there was just one place left where Dougie could go to. The only place he had avoided going to for the past few days.
His knees were reduced to a jelly-like mess and being sick all over himself and the doormat seemed like a good idea when Dougie actually stood outside the door of Harry’s flat, Flea, who was in a much better state already, by his feet.
It took him a few minutes to actually ring the doorbell and once he had, he just wanted for Harry to open the door so he could get in, maybe nick a coffee and phone a locksmith so he could get into his flat and forget that this day ever existed.
After what seemed forever, Harry finally opened the door, indeed looking less than happy to see Dougie standing in front of him.
“I locked myself out.” Dougie started right away, “And Flea’s been ill so I had to get him to the vet. And I forgot my phone at home and I had no money and then I was stuck in traffic and got two parking tickets and there were girls all over Starbucks and the people there probably hate me now and … Look, all I need is a coffee and your phone so I can get a locksmith because my spare key is at Danny’s. But Danny is in Bolton and his spare key is at Tom’s and Tom’s away with Gio and Gio has the second key to his house and … I just want to go home.”
His expression unchanged, Harry just stepped aside, letting Dougie enter. He also grabbed the phone from the service station in the corridor and handed it to Dougie before disappearing again.
Taking note of the fact that Harry was far from pleased by this whole situation, Dougie sheepishly made his way into the living room, going for the yellow pages which were laying on the floor by the bookshelf. He looked up a few numbers and started dialling.
“Hi, erm … I locked myself out of my flat. Can I get a locksmith please? … Watford … What? Is your office in New York? … No, I didn’t mean that, sorry. … Yeah, might as well. How much will it be? … Excuse me? I don’t wanna buy the place again, I just wanna get through the front door! … Oh no, thank you, for nothing!”
Dougie was just about to throw the phone into the corner when he remembered that it wasn’t his phone and he didn’t want to give Harry another reason to be upset at him.
Just as he was thinking about Harry, the man himself entered the room, wordlessly handing Dougie a mug and a plate with a sandwich.
“You? Are a saint.” Dougie said with relief and took the mug and plate from Harry, sitting down on the sofa.
He took a bite of the sandwich before taking a sip of the coffee, smiling for the first time on the day as the liquid collided with his tongue. Releasing a contented sigh, Dougie leaned back on the sofa, closing his eyes.
“Bad day?” Harry suddenly asked from beside him, for the first time since Dougie entered the flat actually speaking to his visitor.
Dougie shook his head. “Not bad. Fucked up. All bad days in history teamed up to haunt me today. I should’ve just stayed in bed.”
“What happened?”
“Just … everything. I forgot to disable my alarm last night so of course it woke me up this morning. And I spilt water over my phone and I couldn’t wear my favorite t-shirt and then Flea was ill and I locked myself out when I brought him to the car. And the vet was filled with people and I couldn’t pay with my credit card. And I just wanted some Starbucks but I had no money so I stopped at a cash machine but there was a queue and I got a parking ticket. Then I finally got to Starbucks after fighting traffic again and it was lunch time at school and all those girls hogged me for ages. And those Starbucks-people all had sticks up their arses and their looks shot daggers at me when I went back in so I never got my coffee. And I got another parking ticket. So I wanted to go home and just forget this day ever existed but then I remembered I had no keys and with Danny and Tom not being home … And I just phoned the locksmith and they said they can send someone over by half seven tonight and it’d cost me about 150 quid because we live so far out and I yelled at them so now no one’s coming and I don’t wanna deal with it but I have to because you don’t want me here, obviously, and … everything is just fucked up.” Dougie whined.
Harry looked at him again and for the first time there was something like sympathy showing in his eyes. “You can stay here if you want. Deal with the locksmith tomorrow.”
“No Harry, I … I don’t want to bother you.”
“You never cared if you bothered me before, why now?” And there was actually a slight smile showing on the drummer’s face as he said it.
Dougie faintly smiled back. “Thanks.”
“Nevermind. Hey, erm, I was just about to go do some shopping. Want me to take Flea? Give you a little bit of peace?”
“Would you?”
Harry nodded.
“God, thank you so much. You mind if I take a shower?”
“Will you just stop asking? What happened to ‘my home is your home’?”
“I didn’t think it still was after … you know …”
Harry patted Dougie’s shoulder. “Later, Doug.” he said before getting up, letting out a little whistle, Flea’s sign to follow him.
Harry had barely left the house when Dougie was already in the bathroom, letting the warm water of the shower soothe him and hopefully wash away all the leftovers from this horrible day. After he was done, he went into Harry’s bedroom, picking a sweatshirt from the wardrobe. He had no idea what Harry and him currently were but the big sweatshirts of the elder always had a comforting way about them and Dougie definitely needed some comfort right now.
Dougie then went back into the living room and switched the TV on, watching something random while he finished his sandwich and coffee. He felt exhausted too and proceeded to lay down, pulling the hood of the sweatshirt over his eyes.
When Dougie awoke again, he felt more relaxed finally. He had no idea what time it was though. The room was darker than before he fell asleep but not totally dark, so it was probably dawning now. Finally there seemed to be an end of the day.
The blonde listened up and heard sounds from the kitchen. Adjusting the sweatshirt, he got up and followed the noise, seeing that Harry was preparing dinner.
“Hi.” he croaked, standing in the doorway.
Upon hearing his voice, Harry turned around to him. “Oh hey, you’re alive! Couldn’t get you up when I came back earlier so I thought I’d just leave you to it. You probably needed the sleep, huh?”
“I sure did. Need help?” Dougie pointed at the food spread out on the kitchen counter.
“No, that’s fine. With a day like today … you might end up killing the both of us.” Harry smiled. “Oh and … Flea’s better. Taking a walk did him good, I guess?”
“The doctor gave him something, said he would be okay by tonight.”
“Yeah well, he is. By the way, phoned a locksmith for you. They couldn’t stop by tonight but they’ll be here tomorrow morning at ten and only charge you about 50 quid. You’re staying here tonight. And …” Harry pointed to a mug next to the coffee machine. “Fresh coffee, help yourself.”
Dougie smiled gratefully, pouring himself a coffee. “Thanks so much, Harry. Really. You didn’t have to do it all, though.”
“What? And have you go through another day like this one? I don’t think so.”
“Yeah but … with all the mess …”
Harry interrupted. “It’s alright.”
“No, it’s not. I’ve been a complete arsehole the other day and a whiny brat earlier.”
“Well, I’ve not been less of an arsehole. And you’re cute when you’re a whiny brat. Also, it gave me the chance to mother you without you rolling your eyes at me.”
At this Dougie actually smiled and, despite what Harry had just said, rolled his eyes at the elder. “You’re a freak.”
“You’re one to speak.”
Both men shared a smile before leaning towards each other, kissing gently, the simple gesture bringing an end to their fight.
“Just for the record, I’m sorry. About, you know, the other day.” Harry said when they pulled apart.
“Just for the record, me too.” Dougie paused, pointing a finger at the other man. “And I’m not cute!”
Harry smiled again and pecked Dougie’s nose. “Yes, you are. But don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”
Dougie shook his head at his boyfriend before getting his mug and taking a large sip.
“Ow! Fuck’ ‘ake!”
Harry turned his attention back to Dougie. “What’s the matter?”
“Burn’ my ‘ongue.”
At this, Harry could only laugh. “You know what? You’re probably better off if you not touch anything for the rest of this day.” He waved his arm into the direction of the living room. “Lay back down on the sofa or something.”
Dougie just smiled at that but didn’t leave the room. Instead he was closing in on Harry until he was standing next to him, leaning against the counter Harry was just standing at.
“What now?” the drummer asked.
“I burnt my tongue.” Dougie replied.
“Yeah. And?”
“Kiss it better?”
As a reply, Harry just laughed again. But nevertheless, he wrapped his arm around the other man’s waist and pulled him close before locking their lips together, letting their tongues clash.
Dougie wound his arms around his boyfriend’s neck, easily getting lost in their kiss, thinking to himself that, no matter how horrible a day could be, it would be alright as long as Harry was there to kiss it all better.
The End
Comments are appreciated
i just booked some stuff for in less than a week.
cos i'm seeing manuanya, oh_mumble, armillarysphere and evolia and a few friends from scotland.
and i'm seeing doug and harry and tom and danny aka mcfly
and i'm seeing my friend zara afterwards.
and i'll spend some time in a plane and at an airport and in trains.
and i'll basically will get out of this shithole that is my hometown and away from the hellhole that is my workplace.
but first, i'm bringing a story, yes?
Title: From Dawn til Dusk
Author: me
Rating: PG13
Chapter: 1/1 … Standalone
Genre: Comedy, Fluff
Pairing: PoynterJudd
Summary: Some days are just not meant to be perfect. Or good. Or at least normal.
Word count: 3,683
Disclaimer: Lies! I suppose.
Dedication: to ♥ Manu (manuanya) ♥ who not only prompted me with ‘Dawn’, requesting a Pudd, but who I also randomly met the other day and who I had an awesome night with, filled with laughter and booze and fags and Dougie and Pudd and annoyance and weird men and one line out of this story ;) She’s basically awesome, actually. Hope you like this, you crazy chicken.
Author’s note: I needed and wanted to write some Pudd again. And this just came about after I thought back of the day Manu and me met and four hours after I was done and smiling like the Cheshire Cat.
Some days are just not meant to be perfect. Or good. Or at least normal.
You just know when those days happen. Your alarm goes off even though it doesn’t need to since it’s your day off to begin with. But the alarm is set in your phone and you forgot to disable it the previous night. So you kill the alarm and the phone somehow lands on the floor with an odd noise. You open your eyes and you immediately know that you better not get out of bed because the day will be a mess if you do. So you wanna get back to sleep because it’s way too early to get up, but because the bloody alarm was so persistent, it’s still ringing in your ear and you can’t go back to sleep, no matter how hard you try. So you might as well get up, right?
And then it all happens.
You swing your legs out of bed and forgot that you had been thirsty last night and you knock over the water bottle on the floor with your feet. And of course you didn’t bother to put the cap back on the bottle in your half-sleep last night so you spill the water onto the carpet. And a bit of the water also spills over your phone that’s still laying on the floor.
You curse the day already, despite only being awake for less than five minutes. But you still wanna make the best of it so you start looking for that favorite t-shirt of yours. You look everywhere but the damn thing is just nowhere to be found. That’s when you remember. You wore it just the other day, when you were out. And you had a few too many drinks. And you had gotten sick. All over the t-shirt. And you were too busy to do laundry. So yeah, the t-shirt is still laying right outside your washing machine, probably.
That’s about the time you give up. On your mood brightening up. On the day to take a one-eighty and become better at all. It’s not going to happen anyway so why bother?
Dougie Poynter was just having a day like that. Nothing seemed to work in his favour. Nothing.At.All.
He had spilt water over his phone and carpet this morning and found his favorite t-shirt stained with vomit in front of the washing machine. Also, he was out of coffee and couldn’t find more than a few pence in his wallet when he wanted to go to buy some. Danny had taken off to go home for the weekend and Tom was somewhere with Gio so it wasn’t like he could go to theirs and ‘borrow’ their coffee.
Also, Dougie couldn’t get to Harry either. Sure, the drummer was at home but Dougie was pretty sure that he was the last person Harry wanted to see on his doorstep. The two of them had a pretty evil fight the other night. Dougie couldn’t remember what it had been about but as things heated up both of them had thrown many horrible insults at each other and this day was the fourth in a row of them not speaking to each other. Which was a record for them. They had been friends for five years, a couple for nearly two, and they fought about once a week. But they never had not spoken to each other for four days before.
Dougie was just thinking about ways to get his caffeine fix without having to leave the flat when he, for the first time, noticed the silence around him. He went into the living room to check and found out why it was so silent. Flea was laying in his corner and looked like his owner after a heavy night out.
Sure, of all days, his dog had chosen this one to be ill.
So Dougie carefully lifted the dog up and brought him outside into his car. But when he wanted to get back into his flat to grab Flea’s comfort blanket, the door had fallen closed. And, of course, Dougie had left the house-keys inside.
Muttering under his breath, Dougie decided that he would deal with the matter later, setting his main priority on his pet right now.
On the way to the vet, Dougie had to stop at every red light possible and it seemed all the people in the whole country who actually stuck to the speed limit were driving in front of him. And sure enough, Dougie had left his phone at home as well so he couldn’t even call the vet to say he was coming in today.
It also seemed like every pet in Greater London had gotten ill on the same day and his vet was the only one in the area who was open. Upon entering the vet’s, Dougie was faced with a room full of waiting people with pet-baskets or ill animals by their feet. Dougie couldn’t find a spare seat either so he sat down on the floor, feeling much like the furry patients surrounding him.
He had almost dozed off when his name was called and he carried Flea into the doctor’s office. And for once, everything went normal when the doctor found out quickly that Flea had probably eaten something wrong. He gave him an injection of something Latin and told Dougie that the dog would be himself again by the end of the day.
Dougie went back to the front desk to pay for the treatment but was met with an apologetic look from the nurse when he handed over his credit card.
“Sorry Mister Poynter, but our card reader isn’t working today. We can only accept cash payments, I’m afraid.”
“But I … I only have a few pence on me. Can’t you … I don’t know … write a bill or something and I transfer the money. Please, my dog is ill and I’d like to get him home and not make a detour just to get to a cash-machine first.”
The nurse smiled at him. “That’s fine, Mister Poynter. I’ll print you a bill. Just take a seat, I’ll bring it over in just a minute.”
‘Just a minute’ then turned out to be almost half an hour as yet more patients came in, distracting the nurse from Dougie’s bill. And then, right when his bill was supposed to be printed, there wasn’t anymore ink in the printer which stole yet another five minutes of Dougie’s waste of a day.
On his way home Dougie decided that yes, days like that one actually did call for a detour to get to a cash machine. Just not to pay the vet. Dougie just wanted his coffee to have at least something about this day that was enjoyable.
There was a queue at the cash machine, because there was only one of the three things actually working, no surprise there, but Dougie ignored that, desperate for some Starbucks. Jogging back to his car, he noticed the woman dressed in navy blue, peeking at the number plate of the car right in front of his own. He surpressed a curse when he saw a piece of paper already tucked under his wiper upon getting closer. He snatched the paper away and was just about to unlock his car when the police woman addressed him.
“Is this your car, sir?”
No, I just wanted to see if the key in my hand fits into the lock, duh! Dougie thought to himself, but replied as politely as he could. “Yes, it is.”
“You know that you’re not allowed to park here, sir?”
“Yes and well, normally I really wouldn’t. But my dog is ill and I needed to get money to pay the vet and there wasn’t any parking space at the cash machine. And I thought I’d only be a few seconds but then there was a queue because two of three machines were out of order. And … yeah. But I’m here now and I’m gonna drive away right this instant so could you … let that one slide, maybe?” He indicated at the paper still in his hand.
“Sorry sir, I can’t do that.” the woman said sternly before writing down another number of a car, “The terms of payment are written on the back of the ticket. Have a nice day.”
“Yeah same, you stupid witch.” Dougie muttered.
“Excuse me, what was that? Would you like to add insult to a member of authority to the ticket?”
Dougie shook his head, finally unlocking the driver’s door. “No no. Have a nice day, Miss.”
The way back home was just as filled with slow drivers and red lights as the way into the city and Dougie had never been so glad to see the green and white sign of his local Starbucks.
His focus set on the wallet in his hand and the tenner that was stuck somewhere in there, Dougie paid no attention to his surroundings when he entered the Starbucks, only desperate for his coffee before finally going back home. A high-pitched squeal pulled him out of his revery though.
“Oh my god! Becky look, it’s Dougie from McFly!”
Dougie only had time to cast a short look at the clock hanging above the counter - lunch time at the local school, right about then, of fucking course! - before he was surrounded by at least 15 girls, squealing and excited and shoving papers and mobile phones into his face, taking pictures.
Deciding that getting a coffee under this circumstances was impossible, Dougie fought his way back outside, all the girls hot on his trail. So there he was, right outside the Starbucks, and the girls around him seemed to get more by the minute because each of them seemed to phone their friends, telling them to run to ‘the Starbucks around the corner from school’ because ‘Dougie from McFly is here, oh my god!’
It took about half an hour until each and every girl had gotten an autograph, a picture, a hug and whatever else they wanted from him and they all went back to school, leaving Dougie alone finally. So he turned around, ready to just get into Starbucks and get himself a bucket of vanilla frappucchino, because even the large cup wouldn’t be enough right now. He had just opened the door when immediately all the empolyees gave him dark looks, obviously not too happy about the scene he had just caused.
“Forget it.” Dougie said and left again.
Getting back into his car, Dougie just leaned back into his seat.
“Fuck this fucking day!” he cursed.
He took a deep breath and sat back up, ready to start the engine and get back home when something caught his attention. Right there, underneath his wiper. Another parking ticket.
“Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!” he swore under his breath while scrolling his window down to snatch the ticket away. Holding the piece of paper in his hand, he then turned around to the backseat, looking at his dog. “I hope you realise that this is all your fault. If you weren’t a bloody animal, I’d make you get a job so you can pay for those.”
At this, Flea just raised his head, looking at his owner.
“Yeah, whatever.”
Setting on the fact that he finally had enough of this day, Dougie then started the engine, ready to get home, lock himself into his flat and not leave it before the following morning. Of course that was when he realised that he couldn’t lock himself into his flat as he had managed to lock himself out of said flat earlier.
So really, there was just one place left where Dougie could go to. The only place he had avoided going to for the past few days.
His knees were reduced to a jelly-like mess and being sick all over himself and the doormat seemed like a good idea when Dougie actually stood outside the door of Harry’s flat, Flea, who was in a much better state already, by his feet.
It took him a few minutes to actually ring the doorbell and once he had, he just wanted for Harry to open the door so he could get in, maybe nick a coffee and phone a locksmith so he could get into his flat and forget that this day ever existed.
After what seemed forever, Harry finally opened the door, indeed looking less than happy to see Dougie standing in front of him.
“I locked myself out.” Dougie started right away, “And Flea’s been ill so I had to get him to the vet. And I forgot my phone at home and I had no money and then I was stuck in traffic and got two parking tickets and there were girls all over Starbucks and the people there probably hate me now and … Look, all I need is a coffee and your phone so I can get a locksmith because my spare key is at Danny’s. But Danny is in Bolton and his spare key is at Tom’s and Tom’s away with Gio and Gio has the second key to his house and … I just want to go home.”
His expression unchanged, Harry just stepped aside, letting Dougie enter. He also grabbed the phone from the service station in the corridor and handed it to Dougie before disappearing again.
Taking note of the fact that Harry was far from pleased by this whole situation, Dougie sheepishly made his way into the living room, going for the yellow pages which were laying on the floor by the bookshelf. He looked up a few numbers and started dialling.
“Hi, erm … I locked myself out of my flat. Can I get a locksmith please? … Watford … What? Is your office in New York? … No, I didn’t mean that, sorry. … Yeah, might as well. How much will it be? … Excuse me? I don’t wanna buy the place again, I just wanna get through the front door! … Oh no, thank you, for nothing!”
Dougie was just about to throw the phone into the corner when he remembered that it wasn’t his phone and he didn’t want to give Harry another reason to be upset at him.
Just as he was thinking about Harry, the man himself entered the room, wordlessly handing Dougie a mug and a plate with a sandwich.
“You? Are a saint.” Dougie said with relief and took the mug and plate from Harry, sitting down on the sofa.
He took a bite of the sandwich before taking a sip of the coffee, smiling for the first time on the day as the liquid collided with his tongue. Releasing a contented sigh, Dougie leaned back on the sofa, closing his eyes.
“Bad day?” Harry suddenly asked from beside him, for the first time since Dougie entered the flat actually speaking to his visitor.
Dougie shook his head. “Not bad. Fucked up. All bad days in history teamed up to haunt me today. I should’ve just stayed in bed.”
“What happened?”
“Just … everything. I forgot to disable my alarm last night so of course it woke me up this morning. And I spilt water over my phone and I couldn’t wear my favorite t-shirt and then Flea was ill and I locked myself out when I brought him to the car. And the vet was filled with people and I couldn’t pay with my credit card. And I just wanted some Starbucks but I had no money so I stopped at a cash machine but there was a queue and I got a parking ticket. Then I finally got to Starbucks after fighting traffic again and it was lunch time at school and all those girls hogged me for ages. And those Starbucks-people all had sticks up their arses and their looks shot daggers at me when I went back in so I never got my coffee. And I got another parking ticket. So I wanted to go home and just forget this day ever existed but then I remembered I had no keys and with Danny and Tom not being home … And I just phoned the locksmith and they said they can send someone over by half seven tonight and it’d cost me about 150 quid because we live so far out and I yelled at them so now no one’s coming and I don’t wanna deal with it but I have to because you don’t want me here, obviously, and … everything is just fucked up.” Dougie whined.
Harry looked at him again and for the first time there was something like sympathy showing in his eyes. “You can stay here if you want. Deal with the locksmith tomorrow.”
“No Harry, I … I don’t want to bother you.”
“You never cared if you bothered me before, why now?” And there was actually a slight smile showing on the drummer’s face as he said it.
Dougie faintly smiled back. “Thanks.”
“Nevermind. Hey, erm, I was just about to go do some shopping. Want me to take Flea? Give you a little bit of peace?”
“Would you?”
Harry nodded.
“God, thank you so much. You mind if I take a shower?”
“Will you just stop asking? What happened to ‘my home is your home’?”
“I didn’t think it still was after … you know …”
Harry patted Dougie’s shoulder. “Later, Doug.” he said before getting up, letting out a little whistle, Flea’s sign to follow him.
Harry had barely left the house when Dougie was already in the bathroom, letting the warm water of the shower soothe him and hopefully wash away all the leftovers from this horrible day. After he was done, he went into Harry’s bedroom, picking a sweatshirt from the wardrobe. He had no idea what Harry and him currently were but the big sweatshirts of the elder always had a comforting way about them and Dougie definitely needed some comfort right now.
Dougie then went back into the living room and switched the TV on, watching something random while he finished his sandwich and coffee. He felt exhausted too and proceeded to lay down, pulling the hood of the sweatshirt over his eyes.
When Dougie awoke again, he felt more relaxed finally. He had no idea what time it was though. The room was darker than before he fell asleep but not totally dark, so it was probably dawning now. Finally there seemed to be an end of the day.
The blonde listened up and heard sounds from the kitchen. Adjusting the sweatshirt, he got up and followed the noise, seeing that Harry was preparing dinner.
“Hi.” he croaked, standing in the doorway.
Upon hearing his voice, Harry turned around to him. “Oh hey, you’re alive! Couldn’t get you up when I came back earlier so I thought I’d just leave you to it. You probably needed the sleep, huh?”
“I sure did. Need help?” Dougie pointed at the food spread out on the kitchen counter.
“No, that’s fine. With a day like today … you might end up killing the both of us.” Harry smiled. “Oh and … Flea’s better. Taking a walk did him good, I guess?”
“The doctor gave him something, said he would be okay by tonight.”
“Yeah well, he is. By the way, phoned a locksmith for you. They couldn’t stop by tonight but they’ll be here tomorrow morning at ten and only charge you about 50 quid. You’re staying here tonight. And …” Harry pointed to a mug next to the coffee machine. “Fresh coffee, help yourself.”
Dougie smiled gratefully, pouring himself a coffee. “Thanks so much, Harry. Really. You didn’t have to do it all, though.”
“What? And have you go through another day like this one? I don’t think so.”
“Yeah but … with all the mess …”
Harry interrupted. “It’s alright.”
“No, it’s not. I’ve been a complete arsehole the other day and a whiny brat earlier.”
“Well, I’ve not been less of an arsehole. And you’re cute when you’re a whiny brat. Also, it gave me the chance to mother you without you rolling your eyes at me.”
At this Dougie actually smiled and, despite what Harry had just said, rolled his eyes at the elder. “You’re a freak.”
“You’re one to speak.”
Both men shared a smile before leaning towards each other, kissing gently, the simple gesture bringing an end to their fight.
“Just for the record, I’m sorry. About, you know, the other day.” Harry said when they pulled apart.
“Just for the record, me too.” Dougie paused, pointing a finger at the other man. “And I’m not cute!”
Harry smiled again and pecked Dougie’s nose. “Yes, you are. But don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”
Dougie shook his head at his boyfriend before getting his mug and taking a large sip.
“Ow! Fuck’ ‘ake!”
Harry turned his attention back to Dougie. “What’s the matter?”
“Burn’ my ‘ongue.”
At this, Harry could only laugh. “You know what? You’re probably better off if you not touch anything for the rest of this day.” He waved his arm into the direction of the living room. “Lay back down on the sofa or something.”
Dougie just smiled at that but didn’t leave the room. Instead he was closing in on Harry until he was standing next to him, leaning against the counter Harry was just standing at.
“What now?” the drummer asked.
“I burnt my tongue.” Dougie replied.
“Yeah. And?”
“Kiss it better?”
As a reply, Harry just laughed again. But nevertheless, he wrapped his arm around the other man’s waist and pulled him close before locking their lips together, letting their tongues clash.
Dougie wound his arms around his boyfriend’s neck, easily getting lost in their kiss, thinking to himself that, no matter how horrible a day could be, it would be alright as long as Harry was there to kiss it all better.
The End
Comments are appreciated