I Miss You Judd/Jones - 1/2
Name: I Miss You
Author:
invincible_jess
Rating: 17, for language.
Part: 1/2
Pairing: JuddJones
Words: 3,472.
Summary/Prompt: Under cut.
Disclaimer: As far as I'm aware this isn't true, nor do I own McFly.
Keys to the Kingdom - Unkle
Call your number wishing I could make amends
And I'm caught in a space between my head and my face again
**
“Don’t,” Danny whispered; it was more of a plea than anything else as his eyes glazed over once again, “Please. Don’t,” his voice was barely audible over the quivering noise of his chest inflating.
“Dan, I just - can’t, anymore,” Harry was trying not to cry - he was trying to pull his lips into a tough reasonable smile but he could still feel them quivering.
“I - Harry, please,” Danny gasped, his fingers coiling around the loose material of his dark shirt as he stepped backwards away from Harry’s stiff body. “I need you,”
“No you don’t,” Harry whispered, his voice hoarse and his eyes blinking furiously as he tried to keep his tears in check, unfortunately they were racing now, laces of transparent tears curling along the crevices of his.
“I do, I promise,” Danny sobbed, his body flying forward until his chest collided with Harry’s, his head lolling against Harry’s still torso as his arms needily tangled around his body.
“You need to grow up. Not just you, me too - I just. We can’t,” Harry breathed, his arms effortlessly coiling around Danny, his fingers haphazardly looping in his curls, deeply breathing in the scent he knew he was about to miss.
Harry stifled a whimper as he hugged Danny a little tighter into his chest, before releasing him, feeling the uneven jolting beating of his own heavy heart.
“Okay Harry, whatever you say,” Danny whimpered, his eyes blasting shut as his face contorted with another flood of tears, his arms wrapping around his own body as he slowly backed away.
“Dan,” Harry’s voice creaked, his fingers coiling into small fists, the curly haired brunette halted all movement and his tear laced azure eyes bore back towards Harry’s. “I’m sorry,” he breathed, his voice hoarse as sandpaper as it flowed melodious through the crisp air.
“Me too, Harry - me too,” and then his body whipped around and he was gone, into the darkness of the night; fading into the shadows.
And Harry cried. Harry cried and he prayed that he’d done the right thing. Because the last thing he needed was to know that in saving Danny, he was hurting him even more.
***
Harry sighed as he pulled the cigarette from his lips, tossing it haphazardly to the ground before letting the back of his shoes trample it into the concrete footpath.
There was nobody around, nobody at all and the husky red sun was falling behind the small cityscape as Harry bounded along the concrete.
It had been a month. Just a month and he’d managed to ruin his life. He’d lost his job, his appetite. His sleep patterns were virtually non-existent, he just mumbled under his breath, his voice catching the jagged edges of his lungs as he breathed in and out.
He couldn’t see concern anymore, he couldn’t feel the wind, and all he could do was stare as he wandered aimlessly plucking cigarette after cigarette out of his pocket. He was broken. He felt broken. But he supposed he’d gotten what he’d asked for, he had grown up a lot. Without Danny he felt so damn old.
Harry mumbled something to himself as he tumbled onto the vibrant green grass of a deserted park, his eyes resting on the swaying swings as he breathed in deeply, waiting for the prickle of oxygen before pulling his phone out of his pocket, unconsciously dialling the same homey number.
The phone started ringing and Harry almost hung up, again. He’d be doing the same thing all month. Waiting until the phone had rung once before hanging up, craving to hear Danny’s voice as he picked up - but he couldn’t. He physically couldn’t bring himself to tell Danny that he had been wrong. More than he was just plain wrong, he was completely utterly entirely wrong and that he almost undoubtedly. He loved him - and he thought, well he thought that he wasn’t ready to take that plunge but now he knew. He knew that he wasn’t coping without Danny.
“Hello?” Danny’s thick accent groaned, the sound of a stifled yawn followed by a sleepy grunt - and Harry stopped breathing.
“Uh - hello?” Danny continued, his voice etching into Harry’s stunned brain.
“Little late for prank calls okay guys, it’s almost… three in the morning, bloody hell,” Danny groaned.
“Danny.” Harry breathed - his eyes widening as the words pressed from his lips.
“Harry?” His tone was laced with hurt and confusion, “Harry, it’s late - what’s wrong, are you okay?”
But Harry stopped breathing again, Danny’s concerned tone whisking through his blank mind.
“Harry - do you, do you need me to come and get you?” Danny’s voice choked out, a slight whimper at the other end of the line.
Harry couldn’t remember how to talk anymore, his tongue was glued to the bottom of his jaw as his heart sped up, bounding between his ribs making his fingers twitch slightly. His mind slurred apologies with tears as he stumbled to retrieve any words at all.
“I’m going Harry. You’re. Well you’re making this hard, on both of us - it was you who said -” Danny’s voice stopped as it was replaced by a heavy sigh, “Goodbye Harry,”
The tone signalling that Danny had hung up continued on for a while before Harry could remember how to function again, how to breathe, how to speak.
“But I miss you,” Harry breathed into the phone, clenching his eyes so that any tears previously threatening to escape stayed put.
***
“I thought gays were meant to have more style than -” Dougie paused, his eyes narrowing as he let them run over Harry’s body once again, “Well, than whatever that is,” He pointed chuckling at Harry’s clothing, who merely pouted before collapsing onto the bed.
“Stop being so damn mopey,” Dougie sighed, ruffling the back of his hair slightly as he peered at himself in the reflection of the small mirror of the dresser in the corner of Harry’s room.
“I’m not moping,” Harry sighed, his eyes narrowing as he shook his head at the blonde.
“You are, you always are lately,” Dougie muttered coldly, “and if this doesn’t cheer you up then I don’t know what will,”
“I don’t need to screw a random to get over Danny,” Harry retorted, watching as the blonde walked into his walk in robe, throwing random items to the ground as he hunted for whatever it was he was looking for.
“Sure you do, and this!” Dougie chuckled as he threw a dressy checked shirt across the room at Harry. He followed it shortly with a plain black t-shirt and a pair of ridiculously expensive jeans Harry never wore.
Harry groaned as he flopped backwards on the bed, his back colliding with the mattress as he covered his eyes.
Dougie sighed as he strutted across the floor, his hands instinctively grabbing the bottoms of Harry’s jeans as he yanked them off in one easy swoop from the unsuspecting brunette.
“Have you been practicing that move?” Harry gasped, rearranging his boxers as his eyes widened at Dougie’s smug grin.
“Well I don’t have a job, I need something to preoccupy myself with,” he gloated.
Dougie chuckled as he nudged the newer jeans towards Harry, raising his eyes as he turned to walk back to the mirror.
Harry groaned as he rolled to press his head into the mattress, his fingers coiling in the pale sheets.
“Chop, chop,” Dougie muttered, giggling.
Harry mumbled something highly offensive as he pried himself from the sheets, sighing as he stood, pulling the jeans on.
“Fucking hell,” Harry muttered, as Dougie’s eyes snapped up from his own reflection to Harry, “Tight,”
Harry gasped as he tried to pull the jeans up - now he remembered why he never wore these jeans. They were stuck halfway up his thighs.
Dougie’s laughter filled the room as the blonde doubled over, letting one of his hands shoot out to stable himself on the dresser.
Harry growled between his clenched teeth as he tried to pry the jeans up a little more, barely moving them an inch before admitting defeat.
“Hold on,” Dougie sighed, straightening himself up as he paced towards Harry, a strange glint in his eye as he let his hands connect with the tops of Harry’s jeans.
“Why Dougie, I never knew you cared,” Harry smirked.
Dougie glared at Harry for a moment before almost forcefully yanking the jeans up his thighs. “You. Will. Wear. These. Jeans,” Dougie grunted as he pulled them up ever so slowly.
Harry rolled his eyes as Dougie finally managed to pull the jeans up to his hips, letting them hang a little low as the thick band from his underwear shot out the top. Dougie stepped back, eyeing Harry off for a moment before grunting with satisfaction of his masterpiece.
“They’ll stretch the more you wear them,” Dougie mumbled, grinning widely, “When I got these jeans I couldn’t get them on - now look at me, I can walk with ease,”
Dougie winked quickly at Harry before pointing to the shirt.
Harry threw his shirt over his head, letting it land swiftly over Dougie’s head. He chuckled at the blonde’s disgruntled squeals as he pulled the cloth off his perfectly ruined hair.
“I swear to god, Dougie - I think you’re the gay one in the room,” Harry chortled.
Dougie let a low growl leave his lips.
“How many times have I told you -”
“Don’t touch the hair,” Harry cut him off, his grin growing.
“Just fuck off - I’m here to be a nice friend, and all you want to do is mock me, it’s not like I want to go out tonight. I’m going so you can get over the oh-so-precious Danny-boy,” Dougie spat, his voice lingering sarcasm as he slouched onto the bed.
“Thanks Dougie,” Harry meekly grinned, letting his hand slam down on Dougie’s shoulder.
Dougie let a high pitched groan linger around the room before he stood up again, charging towards the mirror.
***
Harry had his head pressed against the top of the sticky bar, his hands slamming down on the bench to get the attention of the barkeeper who automatically passed him another beer.
“Rough night?” the barkeeper muttered as he placed the beer beside Harry’s clenched fist.
“Something like that,” Harry muttered coldly, his eyes flickering over to the dance-floor of the nightclub to see Dougie pressed up against some blonde girl, his hands ruthlessly groping over her body as they shimmied against the deep dirty bass-lines.
“That your girl?” The barman muttered, trying to match his eyes to where Harry was staring.
“Nah, I came with that guy,” Harry muttered, placing his head down on the bar again.
“Oh I’m - I assumed -” the man stumbled.
“I mean, I’m not with him,” Harry chuckled, “Gay though,”
The barman just chortled slightly as he shoved another glass towards Harry, an almost uneasy smile on his lips.
“It’s on the house, mate. And good luck with the guy you’re forgetting,” he whispered, winking at Harry was he waltzed back up the bar to hand another guy a tall glass of beer.
Harry sighed as he pulled the glass to his lips, letting the amber liquid flow down his throat before he flopped forward onto the bar again, his cheek resting on his arm as he let his eyes linger on the dance floor; watching the mixture of moving bodies.
Then, without warning he could feel a familiar burning overtaking his body; a strange feeling that something dramatic had changed. A gut feeling that something was different, so vivid that his eyes scowered around the room searching for Dougie in an almost panicked state.
And then he noticed why, the familiar bob of a thick head of brunette curls caught his eye. That familiar sway of the hips and a clash of vibrant cerulean eyes. And there was Danny.
He was swinging his hips lowly in time with the drums, his fingers coiled around the waist of a stout brunette in a short skirt, their eyes locked, and a dumbstruck grin plastered all over his face as he moved awkwardly against the heavy music.
Harry didn’t want to stare, he wanted more than anything to just run because. Well because that just hurt. But he couldn’t tear himself away from the low bass-lines flowing through Danny’s gyrating body as he shimmied across the dance-floor rather clumsily - he’d probably had too much to drink. But Harry still thought it was sexy. Too sexy to ignore.
And then he looked up. Danny looked up from the brunette and with a confused grimace his eyes smashed against Harry’s, his body jolting to a halt as his lips sealed themselves together, his face automatically clearing of all previous emotion.
Harry didn’t know what to do. He wanted to run. He wanted to run to him, from him, he wanted to kiss him, to push him aside. He just wanted him.
Then after what felt like an awkward forever, Danny’s eyes drifted hurtfully to the ground beneath Harry’s feet, his body still frozen in the blur of dancers and grinding bodies.
Harry blinked and he was running, his feet heavily padding along the hard floors as he fought the tears that were entwining themselves in his eyelashes. His hands shot out to push the swinging door (the first one he saw) and the thud of the music vanished.
The bathrooms were grimy, and it was a little disgusting, but Harry’s eyes were unfocused as he pushed past a guy pressing a girl against the tiled wall as he headed for the furthest cubicle. He muffled a cry as he slid the door shut after himself, pushing the lid of the toilet down before collapsing onto it.
This wasn’t meant to be happening. Danny wasn’t meant to look so god-damn happy while Harry was stuck in a wallowing circle of pity, cursing himself for breaking it off with the one man he could almost love. For pushing him away in the hope that neither of them would get hurt in the long run, although so far it just seemed like Harry was hurting enough for the both of them in the past, present and future.
His head fell into his hands, his eyes still trying to contain the salty tears that were building up when the noise of the door opening made his head pick up again.
There was the distorted sound of the too-loud music blasting through the small opening, bouncing off the tiled surfaces almost like a subway.
“Harry?” he called; and Harry could almost feel his heart tearing in two. “Harry, I know you’re in here,”
Danny sighed, and Harry could just imagine him running his fingers through his curls. That same adorable way that he always did that when he was stressing.
“Harry.” His voice was more demanding now and his footsteps were echoing along the crevices in the walls, through the graffiti stains and dried paper wads.
“I’m here,” Harry breathed, his voice barely audible but he knew Danny heard him.
There was a dull thud as Harry could only imagine as Danny’s head made contact with the door of the cubicle. His fingers were coiling over the top of the door and Harry picked his knees up to press them against his chest, watching his finger tips curl - trying to remember how they felt against his cheeks.
“Harry,” Danny sighed.
“It was Dougie’s idea,” Harry muttered defensively.
“What was?” Danny asked, his tone laced with confusion, his fingers twitching slightly - tightening around the top of the door.
“Coming here - I’m not like, following you,”
“I know. It’s not that, I just. I don’t understand,” Danny groaned, an aggravated sigh meeting Harry’s slouched shoulders.
Harry tightened his arms around his knee’s in the fear that his jeans would rebel against his position and fling his legs back out straight, his heart-rate increasing as Danny’s fingers disappeared.
The sound of the cubicle door next to Harry’s opening rustled through the stiff dusty air. There was the brief sound of Danny struggling to scamper up onto the toilet seat (Harry had assumed right, he’d had one too many drinks). Then Danny’s head was bobbing over the wooden frame, staring down at Harry.
“Don’t understand what?” Harry muttered, shrugging as he glanced up at Danny, immediately wishing he hadn’t, feeling the swarm of self-consciously tugging at his shirt for a moment before he stood, backing towards the wall behind him.
He was just as perfect as he always was. His hair was amazing, even though Harry knew he had been self-consciously running his fingers through it every few minutes. His eyes were gleaming almost ominously down at Harry. And he just looked. So perfect it made Harry’s heart swell.
“You look nice, tonight - Dougie dress you?” Danny chuckled.
“Don’t understand what?” Harry repeated, he knew that his tone was harsher than it needed to be - but he was expecting all hell to break loose. He was waiting for Danny to tell him to fuck off, to get out of his life. That he never wanted to see him again, and he really didn’t want that.
“Us. You,” Danny sighed, and his fingers coiled through his hair, his eyes clenching as he lips pouted ever-so slightly.
“Welcome to the club,” Harry groaned, letting his feet hit the floor as Danny rose a little higher, jumping slightly as one of his legs came swinging down across the barrier between the cubicles.
Danny slid elegantly (which was a surprise) onto the grimy tiles, his chest barely centimetres from Harry’s and Harry could feel his hot and heavy breath against his cheeks.
“I would have opened the door, if you had of asked,” Harry breathed, his eyes blasted open as he stared into Danny’s.
Danny let out a contorted noise somewhere between a giggle and a grunt before his body shot forward, slamming against Harry’s as he stumbled backwards half a step, his back pressed against the dirty wall, Danny’s lips pinned against his own, and his hands trapping Harry against the wall.
It took a split second for Danny to pry Harry’s mouth open, to let his tongue wander lustfully along Harry’s bottom teeth for a moment. For Danny’s hands to find Harry’s hips and their bodies to fit perfectly into each others crevices, a solved puzzle.
“I missed you,” Harry grunted between Danny’s lips.
Harry groaned subconsciously into Danny’s mouth, his hands quivering as he slid them under Danny’s shirt, groping around his lower-back, letting his hands linger on his arse for a moment. He missed this. He missed him so damn much.
Danny threw his head back and Harry’s lips began nipping along the bare flesh of his neck, moaning slightly against his skin. He missed that too, the groans that fled between Danny’s lips when he touched his neck.
“You were with a girl,” Harry gasped, pulling his lips away from Danny’s neck as his eyes widened.
“Gay,” Danny muttered, leaning in to capture Harry’s bottom lip between his own.
“But you were with a girl!” Harry gasped as Danny’s hands moved downwards towards his crouch, groping his ruthlessly through his too tight jeans.
“Fucks sake, I’m gay,” Danny moaned as he leant forward to attach his lips to Harry’s neck, leaving small pink love-bites along his flesh.
Then Danny thrust forward, their hips gyrating together with the low hum of the music still managing to flood through the small gap at the bottom of the bathroom door. Danny’s hands were still groping at Harry who was moaning as he pressed his spine against the cool tiles, feeling the thin layer of sweat drape his pasty skin.
“Fuck,” Harry hissed, letting his hands wander down Danny’s chest until he came to the top of his jeans, struggling slightly to undo the fly before he met their lips again.
Then Danny froze, his body pulling away from Harry’s as his eyes opened as a classic dear in the headlights moment.
Harry gasped, slightly out of breath as he blinked at Danny, his arms dropping to his sides.
Danny took a step backwards, his back pressing against the other wall of the small cubicle, his hands dropping from Harry’s chest as they shuffled into his pockets, and his eyes nervously dropped to the ground.
“I can’t do this,” Danny breathed, his body spinning towards the door as his shaky hands fumbled at the lock for a moment before yanking the door open with force.
“What? Danny, don’t do this - please,” Harry gawked, his heart tearing itself apart in between his ribs.
Danny threw Harry a disgruntled look over his shoulder, his body slouching forward as he began to run.
Then he was gone, whisked away again - fading into the distance of the gyrating bass-lines.
Author:
invincible_jess
Rating: 17, for language.
Part: 1/2
Pairing: JuddJones
Words: 3,472.
Summary/Prompt: Under cut.
Disclaimer: As far as I'm aware this isn't true, nor do I own McFly.
Keys to the Kingdom - Unkle
Call your number wishing I could make amends
And I'm caught in a space between my head and my face again
**
“Don’t,” Danny whispered; it was more of a plea than anything else as his eyes glazed over once again, “Please. Don’t,” his voice was barely audible over the quivering noise of his chest inflating.
“Dan, I just - can’t, anymore,” Harry was trying not to cry - he was trying to pull his lips into a tough reasonable smile but he could still feel them quivering.
“I - Harry, please,” Danny gasped, his fingers coiling around the loose material of his dark shirt as he stepped backwards away from Harry’s stiff body. “I need you,”
“No you don’t,” Harry whispered, his voice hoarse and his eyes blinking furiously as he tried to keep his tears in check, unfortunately they were racing now, laces of transparent tears curling along the crevices of his.
“I do, I promise,” Danny sobbed, his body flying forward until his chest collided with Harry’s, his head lolling against Harry’s still torso as his arms needily tangled around his body.
“You need to grow up. Not just you, me too - I just. We can’t,” Harry breathed, his arms effortlessly coiling around Danny, his fingers haphazardly looping in his curls, deeply breathing in the scent he knew he was about to miss.
Harry stifled a whimper as he hugged Danny a little tighter into his chest, before releasing him, feeling the uneven jolting beating of his own heavy heart.
“Okay Harry, whatever you say,” Danny whimpered, his eyes blasting shut as his face contorted with another flood of tears, his arms wrapping around his own body as he slowly backed away.
“Dan,” Harry’s voice creaked, his fingers coiling into small fists, the curly haired brunette halted all movement and his tear laced azure eyes bore back towards Harry’s. “I’m sorry,” he breathed, his voice hoarse as sandpaper as it flowed melodious through the crisp air.
“Me too, Harry - me too,” and then his body whipped around and he was gone, into the darkness of the night; fading into the shadows.
And Harry cried. Harry cried and he prayed that he’d done the right thing. Because the last thing he needed was to know that in saving Danny, he was hurting him even more.
***
Harry sighed as he pulled the cigarette from his lips, tossing it haphazardly to the ground before letting the back of his shoes trample it into the concrete footpath.
There was nobody around, nobody at all and the husky red sun was falling behind the small cityscape as Harry bounded along the concrete.
It had been a month. Just a month and he’d managed to ruin his life. He’d lost his job, his appetite. His sleep patterns were virtually non-existent, he just mumbled under his breath, his voice catching the jagged edges of his lungs as he breathed in and out.
He couldn’t see concern anymore, he couldn’t feel the wind, and all he could do was stare as he wandered aimlessly plucking cigarette after cigarette out of his pocket. He was broken. He felt broken. But he supposed he’d gotten what he’d asked for, he had grown up a lot. Without Danny he felt so damn old.
Harry mumbled something to himself as he tumbled onto the vibrant green grass of a deserted park, his eyes resting on the swaying swings as he breathed in deeply, waiting for the prickle of oxygen before pulling his phone out of his pocket, unconsciously dialling the same homey number.
The phone started ringing and Harry almost hung up, again. He’d be doing the same thing all month. Waiting until the phone had rung once before hanging up, craving to hear Danny’s voice as he picked up - but he couldn’t. He physically couldn’t bring himself to tell Danny that he had been wrong. More than he was just plain wrong, he was completely utterly entirely wrong and that he almost undoubtedly. He loved him - and he thought, well he thought that he wasn’t ready to take that plunge but now he knew. He knew that he wasn’t coping without Danny.
“Hello?” Danny’s thick accent groaned, the sound of a stifled yawn followed by a sleepy grunt - and Harry stopped breathing.
“Uh - hello?” Danny continued, his voice etching into Harry’s stunned brain.
“Little late for prank calls okay guys, it’s almost… three in the morning, bloody hell,” Danny groaned.
“Danny.” Harry breathed - his eyes widening as the words pressed from his lips.
“Harry?” His tone was laced with hurt and confusion, “Harry, it’s late - what’s wrong, are you okay?”
But Harry stopped breathing again, Danny’s concerned tone whisking through his blank mind.
“Harry - do you, do you need me to come and get you?” Danny’s voice choked out, a slight whimper at the other end of the line.
Harry couldn’t remember how to talk anymore, his tongue was glued to the bottom of his jaw as his heart sped up, bounding between his ribs making his fingers twitch slightly. His mind slurred apologies with tears as he stumbled to retrieve any words at all.
“I’m going Harry. You’re. Well you’re making this hard, on both of us - it was you who said -” Danny’s voice stopped as it was replaced by a heavy sigh, “Goodbye Harry,”
The tone signalling that Danny had hung up continued on for a while before Harry could remember how to function again, how to breathe, how to speak.
“But I miss you,” Harry breathed into the phone, clenching his eyes so that any tears previously threatening to escape stayed put.
***
“I thought gays were meant to have more style than -” Dougie paused, his eyes narrowing as he let them run over Harry’s body once again, “Well, than whatever that is,” He pointed chuckling at Harry’s clothing, who merely pouted before collapsing onto the bed.
“Stop being so damn mopey,” Dougie sighed, ruffling the back of his hair slightly as he peered at himself in the reflection of the small mirror of the dresser in the corner of Harry’s room.
“I’m not moping,” Harry sighed, his eyes narrowing as he shook his head at the blonde.
“You are, you always are lately,” Dougie muttered coldly, “and if this doesn’t cheer you up then I don’t know what will,”
“I don’t need to screw a random to get over Danny,” Harry retorted, watching as the blonde walked into his walk in robe, throwing random items to the ground as he hunted for whatever it was he was looking for.
“Sure you do, and this!” Dougie chuckled as he threw a dressy checked shirt across the room at Harry. He followed it shortly with a plain black t-shirt and a pair of ridiculously expensive jeans Harry never wore.
Harry groaned as he flopped backwards on the bed, his back colliding with the mattress as he covered his eyes.
Dougie sighed as he strutted across the floor, his hands instinctively grabbing the bottoms of Harry’s jeans as he yanked them off in one easy swoop from the unsuspecting brunette.
“Have you been practicing that move?” Harry gasped, rearranging his boxers as his eyes widened at Dougie’s smug grin.
“Well I don’t have a job, I need something to preoccupy myself with,” he gloated.
Dougie chuckled as he nudged the newer jeans towards Harry, raising his eyes as he turned to walk back to the mirror.
Harry groaned as he rolled to press his head into the mattress, his fingers coiling in the pale sheets.
“Chop, chop,” Dougie muttered, giggling.
Harry mumbled something highly offensive as he pried himself from the sheets, sighing as he stood, pulling the jeans on.
“Fucking hell,” Harry muttered, as Dougie’s eyes snapped up from his own reflection to Harry, “Tight,”
Harry gasped as he tried to pull the jeans up - now he remembered why he never wore these jeans. They were stuck halfway up his thighs.
Dougie’s laughter filled the room as the blonde doubled over, letting one of his hands shoot out to stable himself on the dresser.
Harry growled between his clenched teeth as he tried to pry the jeans up a little more, barely moving them an inch before admitting defeat.
“Hold on,” Dougie sighed, straightening himself up as he paced towards Harry, a strange glint in his eye as he let his hands connect with the tops of Harry’s jeans.
“Why Dougie, I never knew you cared,” Harry smirked.
Dougie glared at Harry for a moment before almost forcefully yanking the jeans up his thighs. “You. Will. Wear. These. Jeans,” Dougie grunted as he pulled them up ever so slowly.
Harry rolled his eyes as Dougie finally managed to pull the jeans up to his hips, letting them hang a little low as the thick band from his underwear shot out the top. Dougie stepped back, eyeing Harry off for a moment before grunting with satisfaction of his masterpiece.
“They’ll stretch the more you wear them,” Dougie mumbled, grinning widely, “When I got these jeans I couldn’t get them on - now look at me, I can walk with ease,”
Dougie winked quickly at Harry before pointing to the shirt.
Harry threw his shirt over his head, letting it land swiftly over Dougie’s head. He chuckled at the blonde’s disgruntled squeals as he pulled the cloth off his perfectly ruined hair.
“I swear to god, Dougie - I think you’re the gay one in the room,” Harry chortled.
Dougie let a low growl leave his lips.
“How many times have I told you -”
“Don’t touch the hair,” Harry cut him off, his grin growing.
“Just fuck off - I’m here to be a nice friend, and all you want to do is mock me, it’s not like I want to go out tonight. I’m going so you can get over the oh-so-precious Danny-boy,” Dougie spat, his voice lingering sarcasm as he slouched onto the bed.
“Thanks Dougie,” Harry meekly grinned, letting his hand slam down on Dougie’s shoulder.
Dougie let a high pitched groan linger around the room before he stood up again, charging towards the mirror.
***
Harry had his head pressed against the top of the sticky bar, his hands slamming down on the bench to get the attention of the barkeeper who automatically passed him another beer.
“Rough night?” the barkeeper muttered as he placed the beer beside Harry’s clenched fist.
“Something like that,” Harry muttered coldly, his eyes flickering over to the dance-floor of the nightclub to see Dougie pressed up against some blonde girl, his hands ruthlessly groping over her body as they shimmied against the deep dirty bass-lines.
“That your girl?” The barman muttered, trying to match his eyes to where Harry was staring.
“Nah, I came with that guy,” Harry muttered, placing his head down on the bar again.
“Oh I’m - I assumed -” the man stumbled.
“I mean, I’m not with him,” Harry chuckled, “Gay though,”
The barman just chortled slightly as he shoved another glass towards Harry, an almost uneasy smile on his lips.
“It’s on the house, mate. And good luck with the guy you’re forgetting,” he whispered, winking at Harry was he waltzed back up the bar to hand another guy a tall glass of beer.
Harry sighed as he pulled the glass to his lips, letting the amber liquid flow down his throat before he flopped forward onto the bar again, his cheek resting on his arm as he let his eyes linger on the dance floor; watching the mixture of moving bodies.
Then, without warning he could feel a familiar burning overtaking his body; a strange feeling that something dramatic had changed. A gut feeling that something was different, so vivid that his eyes scowered around the room searching for Dougie in an almost panicked state.
And then he noticed why, the familiar bob of a thick head of brunette curls caught his eye. That familiar sway of the hips and a clash of vibrant cerulean eyes. And there was Danny.
He was swinging his hips lowly in time with the drums, his fingers coiled around the waist of a stout brunette in a short skirt, their eyes locked, and a dumbstruck grin plastered all over his face as he moved awkwardly against the heavy music.
Harry didn’t want to stare, he wanted more than anything to just run because. Well because that just hurt. But he couldn’t tear himself away from the low bass-lines flowing through Danny’s gyrating body as he shimmied across the dance-floor rather clumsily - he’d probably had too much to drink. But Harry still thought it was sexy. Too sexy to ignore.
And then he looked up. Danny looked up from the brunette and with a confused grimace his eyes smashed against Harry’s, his body jolting to a halt as his lips sealed themselves together, his face automatically clearing of all previous emotion.
Harry didn’t know what to do. He wanted to run. He wanted to run to him, from him, he wanted to kiss him, to push him aside. He just wanted him.
Then after what felt like an awkward forever, Danny’s eyes drifted hurtfully to the ground beneath Harry’s feet, his body still frozen in the blur of dancers and grinding bodies.
Harry blinked and he was running, his feet heavily padding along the hard floors as he fought the tears that were entwining themselves in his eyelashes. His hands shot out to push the swinging door (the first one he saw) and the thud of the music vanished.
The bathrooms were grimy, and it was a little disgusting, but Harry’s eyes were unfocused as he pushed past a guy pressing a girl against the tiled wall as he headed for the furthest cubicle. He muffled a cry as he slid the door shut after himself, pushing the lid of the toilet down before collapsing onto it.
This wasn’t meant to be happening. Danny wasn’t meant to look so god-damn happy while Harry was stuck in a wallowing circle of pity, cursing himself for breaking it off with the one man he could almost love. For pushing him away in the hope that neither of them would get hurt in the long run, although so far it just seemed like Harry was hurting enough for the both of them in the past, present and future.
His head fell into his hands, his eyes still trying to contain the salty tears that were building up when the noise of the door opening made his head pick up again.
There was the distorted sound of the too-loud music blasting through the small opening, bouncing off the tiled surfaces almost like a subway.
“Harry?” he called; and Harry could almost feel his heart tearing in two. “Harry, I know you’re in here,”
Danny sighed, and Harry could just imagine him running his fingers through his curls. That same adorable way that he always did that when he was stressing.
“Harry.” His voice was more demanding now and his footsteps were echoing along the crevices in the walls, through the graffiti stains and dried paper wads.
“I’m here,” Harry breathed, his voice barely audible but he knew Danny heard him.
There was a dull thud as Harry could only imagine as Danny’s head made contact with the door of the cubicle. His fingers were coiling over the top of the door and Harry picked his knees up to press them against his chest, watching his finger tips curl - trying to remember how they felt against his cheeks.
“Harry,” Danny sighed.
“It was Dougie’s idea,” Harry muttered defensively.
“What was?” Danny asked, his tone laced with confusion, his fingers twitching slightly - tightening around the top of the door.
“Coming here - I’m not like, following you,”
“I know. It’s not that, I just. I don’t understand,” Danny groaned, an aggravated sigh meeting Harry’s slouched shoulders.
Harry tightened his arms around his knee’s in the fear that his jeans would rebel against his position and fling his legs back out straight, his heart-rate increasing as Danny’s fingers disappeared.
The sound of the cubicle door next to Harry’s opening rustled through the stiff dusty air. There was the brief sound of Danny struggling to scamper up onto the toilet seat (Harry had assumed right, he’d had one too many drinks). Then Danny’s head was bobbing over the wooden frame, staring down at Harry.
“Don’t understand what?” Harry muttered, shrugging as he glanced up at Danny, immediately wishing he hadn’t, feeling the swarm of self-consciously tugging at his shirt for a moment before he stood, backing towards the wall behind him.
He was just as perfect as he always was. His hair was amazing, even though Harry knew he had been self-consciously running his fingers through it every few minutes. His eyes were gleaming almost ominously down at Harry. And he just looked. So perfect it made Harry’s heart swell.
“You look nice, tonight - Dougie dress you?” Danny chuckled.
“Don’t understand what?” Harry repeated, he knew that his tone was harsher than it needed to be - but he was expecting all hell to break loose. He was waiting for Danny to tell him to fuck off, to get out of his life. That he never wanted to see him again, and he really didn’t want that.
“Us. You,” Danny sighed, and his fingers coiled through his hair, his eyes clenching as he lips pouted ever-so slightly.
“Welcome to the club,” Harry groaned, letting his feet hit the floor as Danny rose a little higher, jumping slightly as one of his legs came swinging down across the barrier between the cubicles.
Danny slid elegantly (which was a surprise) onto the grimy tiles, his chest barely centimetres from Harry’s and Harry could feel his hot and heavy breath against his cheeks.
“I would have opened the door, if you had of asked,” Harry breathed, his eyes blasted open as he stared into Danny’s.
Danny let out a contorted noise somewhere between a giggle and a grunt before his body shot forward, slamming against Harry’s as he stumbled backwards half a step, his back pressed against the dirty wall, Danny’s lips pinned against his own, and his hands trapping Harry against the wall.
It took a split second for Danny to pry Harry’s mouth open, to let his tongue wander lustfully along Harry’s bottom teeth for a moment. For Danny’s hands to find Harry’s hips and their bodies to fit perfectly into each others crevices, a solved puzzle.
“I missed you,” Harry grunted between Danny’s lips.
Harry groaned subconsciously into Danny’s mouth, his hands quivering as he slid them under Danny’s shirt, groping around his lower-back, letting his hands linger on his arse for a moment. He missed this. He missed him so damn much.
Danny threw his head back and Harry’s lips began nipping along the bare flesh of his neck, moaning slightly against his skin. He missed that too, the groans that fled between Danny’s lips when he touched his neck.
“You were with a girl,” Harry gasped, pulling his lips away from Danny’s neck as his eyes widened.
“Gay,” Danny muttered, leaning in to capture Harry’s bottom lip between his own.
“But you were with a girl!” Harry gasped as Danny’s hands moved downwards towards his crouch, groping his ruthlessly through his too tight jeans.
“Fucks sake, I’m gay,” Danny moaned as he leant forward to attach his lips to Harry’s neck, leaving small pink love-bites along his flesh.
Then Danny thrust forward, their hips gyrating together with the low hum of the music still managing to flood through the small gap at the bottom of the bathroom door. Danny’s hands were still groping at Harry who was moaning as he pressed his spine against the cool tiles, feeling the thin layer of sweat drape his pasty skin.
“Fuck,” Harry hissed, letting his hands wander down Danny’s chest until he came to the top of his jeans, struggling slightly to undo the fly before he met their lips again.
Then Danny froze, his body pulling away from Harry’s as his eyes opened as a classic dear in the headlights moment.
Harry gasped, slightly out of breath as he blinked at Danny, his arms dropping to his sides.
Danny took a step backwards, his back pressing against the other wall of the small cubicle, his hands dropping from Harry’s chest as they shuffled into his pockets, and his eyes nervously dropped to the ground.
“I can’t do this,” Danny breathed, his body spinning towards the door as his shaky hands fumbled at the lock for a moment before yanking the door open with force.
“What? Danny, don’t do this - please,” Harry gawked, his heart tearing itself apart in between his ribs.
Danny threw Harry a disgruntled look over his shoulder, his body slouching forward as he began to run.
Then he was gone, whisked away again - fading into the distance of the gyrating bass-lines.