FIC: Lucky (Hollyoaks, 1/1)
Title: Lucky
Rating: PG, I guess
Pairing: JP/Craig and Max/OB
Word Count
Summary: This is set around or a little ahead of the current episodes. John Paul is still upset about the end of his relationship with Craig. OB has his own angst with Max. John Paul and OB end up talking, or sort of talking. I know they don't interact on the show, but I thought this would be an interesting story and I might want to do more on this subject, how the two friendships/relationships are not as far apart as one might think. This is my first Hollyoaks story, so anything you have to say I appreciate it!
A drizzly day in Hollyoaks had meant a slow day at MOBS. Max wasn't even sure about bothering to open, but OB went ahead. He needed some time to himself, what with Clare's recent death and Max falling for Steph Dean. OB knew he should be grateful, since scatterbrained Steph was a vast improvement on that bitch from hell, but as much as he'd accepted that Max was looking for a mother figure for Tom and a wife for himself, the thought of Max with a woman still made him ache.
He had just finished wiping down the counter for the millionth time that day when he finally got a customer. John Paul McQueen. The young man - OB wasn't that much older than John Paul, but John Paul's angelic features made him seem even younger than he was - stood nervously for a few moments, pretending to study the selections. Both men seemed uneasy, which made no sense to OB, since he barely knew John Paul, but he knew what it was like to be vulnerable and alone. As John Paul began to make his exit, OB spoke up, tried to put on a professional tone.
"Can I help you with anything?"
John Paul looked startled, but his wide-eyed expression soon turned to relief.
"Sorry, didn't realize anyone wanted my business. I'm not exactly the most popular guy around these days."
Truth be told, OB didn't give a shit about any big scandal. He barely knew John Paul, or Sarah, or even Craig, but this was a small enough area that he knew all the details. Everyone in Hollyoaks had scandals, and considering how many of them had ended up with dead bodies or lengthy trials, John Paul was just a blip on the outrage radar. OB wanted to try to ease his mind, but he barely knew the boy. All he could do was smile, try to communicate his thoughts to the perceptive young McQueen. There was something so pure about John Paul, OB almost felt like the teenager could see into his soul. Fixing a smoothie had never been such a nerve-wracking practice.
As John Paul opened his wallet, a photo fell out. Courteous OB bent over to pick it up, John Paul murmuring a protest before OB's fingers gripped the small picture. John Paul and Craig Dean in a photomat with their school uniforms sloppy, ties missing, shirts untucked, arms around each other. The bright-eyed young man in that photo did not resemble the haunted creature with the clipped wings currently in front of him.
OB had a photo like that of Max and himself in some drawer somewhere. Tom had found it and humiliated them for days on end. They were wearing silly hats and doing poses no white men could get away with before the Justin Timberlake and Eminem days. They'd both had their whole lives ahead of them. OB had never fully understood why or when Max had gone from being his goofy best mate to the only person he'd ever truly loved, but he still remembered the shot of Max looking directly at the camera, and himself, OB, looking directly at Max, content, complete.
John Paul blushed, and OB reminded himself to play poker with the young McQueen sometime, he'd be rich in no time.
"Silly photos. Thought I'd cleaned out my wallet."
OB was half-listening, trying to remember what it was like back then, not even that long ago, really, but somehow a lifetime ago. Back when Max's dad Mr. C and Helen and Mandy were always around, when Max had those annoying sisters who eventually fled the country for one melodramatic reason or another. Back when Max wasn't crushed by burdens no one should have to face when they're barely out of college. Max and OB used to joke about the type of girls they fancied, but no matter how many women OB wanted, even when he managed to convince himself he'd fallen in love, he'd always seen Max as the person he would spend his days with. OB had just seen that as being mates, friends for life, until after Max's dad and Helen had died. He'd held a sobbing Max in his arms. Max who had to be strong for Tom and for Mandy and had to be the man of the family that had one by one deserted him. With Max's stubbled face imprinted against OB's neck, OB had wanted to comfort Max with his body, touch him, absorb his grief and add to his strength. He knew he wasn't gay, and if he was, then there were much fitter men he could go after than Max Cunningham. None of them, no men, no women, made OB as devastated or as happy as Max could and often did. He wanted Max, as a friend, a lover, a partner, as the man who could share all his vulnerabilities. And each day, OB died a little more knowing that could never happen. Knowing that Max would have rather shared his bed with Clare fucking Cunningham.
"You were lucky, John Paul."
The words just sort of fell out of OB's mouth. OB hadn't even realized he'd spoken until he saw the bewilderment in John Paul's expressive blue orbs. Surprised big eyes which soon turned to slitted, resentful scrutiny.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean? I'm lucky cause I haven't been dragged into the street and flogged?"
OB wanted to just spit out an apology. Words and eloquent speeches were never his strong point. But he kept this all inside all the time, to everyone, even to himself most of the time.
"You were lucky because you don't have to wonder. You don't have to wonder if your mate wants to be more than just a mate. You don't have to wonder how his hands feel on you, what his kisses are like, what it is to hear him say he loves you."
"All while he was telling Sarah he loved her. All while he used us both, and I let him!"
He couldn't make eye contact with John Paul, all he could do was keep wiping the counter, another wipe for every year he'd stayed quiet and every future year he would keep staying quiet.
"Yeah, maybe he was using you. Maybe you deserved better, but you didn't want better. You wanted him. He still loved you, and no matter how bad it ended, you know how that feels. His arms around you, his kisses, his love, everything he could give you. Whatever time you had him, instead of a bloody question mark dangling over your head, you were lucky."
OB had said too much, but this was likely the first and the last time he would ever say any of his deepest thoughts out loud. He finally regained the courage to look into John Paul's eyes.
John Paul understood. He smiled, and almost seemed to take pity on OB, probably relieved to feel pity for anyone but himself and the other people in his life, if only for a moment.
The rapport was broken was Max showed up to join OB behind the counter. Sensing that OB was down, he slung an arm around his friend's shoulder. OB managed a weak smile.
"Hope you'll be a repeat customer, John Paul," Max said, oblivious to the mood of the room.
John Paul just shrugged and paid for his smoothie. He didn't bother to look at OB -- he didn't need to. They understood each other.
OB suddenly realized the counter needed a fresh clean. Max, meanwhile, wanted to try out a new smoothie flavor. Before he did so, he cast a wary eye at John Paul's exiting back.
"Aren't you glad we're not kids anymore? We have enough problems as it is."
OB tensely nodded, feeling the familiar hand squeeze his shoulder. John Paul had left the photo of himself and Craig. OB just stared at the two young men, thinking about what once was, what would always be.
"Yeah, Max...we're lucky."
Rating: PG, I guess
Pairing: JP/Craig and Max/OB
Word Count
Summary: This is set around or a little ahead of the current episodes. John Paul is still upset about the end of his relationship with Craig. OB has his own angst with Max. John Paul and OB end up talking, or sort of talking. I know they don't interact on the show, but I thought this would be an interesting story and I might want to do more on this subject, how the two friendships/relationships are not as far apart as one might think. This is my first Hollyoaks story, so anything you have to say I appreciate it!
A drizzly day in Hollyoaks had meant a slow day at MOBS. Max wasn't even sure about bothering to open, but OB went ahead. He needed some time to himself, what with Clare's recent death and Max falling for Steph Dean. OB knew he should be grateful, since scatterbrained Steph was a vast improvement on that bitch from hell, but as much as he'd accepted that Max was looking for a mother figure for Tom and a wife for himself, the thought of Max with a woman still made him ache.
He had just finished wiping down the counter for the millionth time that day when he finally got a customer. John Paul McQueen. The young man - OB wasn't that much older than John Paul, but John Paul's angelic features made him seem even younger than he was - stood nervously for a few moments, pretending to study the selections. Both men seemed uneasy, which made no sense to OB, since he barely knew John Paul, but he knew what it was like to be vulnerable and alone. As John Paul began to make his exit, OB spoke up, tried to put on a professional tone.
"Can I help you with anything?"
John Paul looked startled, but his wide-eyed expression soon turned to relief.
"Sorry, didn't realize anyone wanted my business. I'm not exactly the most popular guy around these days."
Truth be told, OB didn't give a shit about any big scandal. He barely knew John Paul, or Sarah, or even Craig, but this was a small enough area that he knew all the details. Everyone in Hollyoaks had scandals, and considering how many of them had ended up with dead bodies or lengthy trials, John Paul was just a blip on the outrage radar. OB wanted to try to ease his mind, but he barely knew the boy. All he could do was smile, try to communicate his thoughts to the perceptive young McQueen. There was something so pure about John Paul, OB almost felt like the teenager could see into his soul. Fixing a smoothie had never been such a nerve-wracking practice.
As John Paul opened his wallet, a photo fell out. Courteous OB bent over to pick it up, John Paul murmuring a protest before OB's fingers gripped the small picture. John Paul and Craig Dean in a photomat with their school uniforms sloppy, ties missing, shirts untucked, arms around each other. The bright-eyed young man in that photo did not resemble the haunted creature with the clipped wings currently in front of him.
OB had a photo like that of Max and himself in some drawer somewhere. Tom had found it and humiliated them for days on end. They were wearing silly hats and doing poses no white men could get away with before the Justin Timberlake and Eminem days. They'd both had their whole lives ahead of them. OB had never fully understood why or when Max had gone from being his goofy best mate to the only person he'd ever truly loved, but he still remembered the shot of Max looking directly at the camera, and himself, OB, looking directly at Max, content, complete.
John Paul blushed, and OB reminded himself to play poker with the young McQueen sometime, he'd be rich in no time.
"Silly photos. Thought I'd cleaned out my wallet."
OB was half-listening, trying to remember what it was like back then, not even that long ago, really, but somehow a lifetime ago. Back when Max's dad Mr. C and Helen and Mandy were always around, when Max had those annoying sisters who eventually fled the country for one melodramatic reason or another. Back when Max wasn't crushed by burdens no one should have to face when they're barely out of college. Max and OB used to joke about the type of girls they fancied, but no matter how many women OB wanted, even when he managed to convince himself he'd fallen in love, he'd always seen Max as the person he would spend his days with. OB had just seen that as being mates, friends for life, until after Max's dad and Helen had died. He'd held a sobbing Max in his arms. Max who had to be strong for Tom and for Mandy and had to be the man of the family that had one by one deserted him. With Max's stubbled face imprinted against OB's neck, OB had wanted to comfort Max with his body, touch him, absorb his grief and add to his strength. He knew he wasn't gay, and if he was, then there were much fitter men he could go after than Max Cunningham. None of them, no men, no women, made OB as devastated or as happy as Max could and often did. He wanted Max, as a friend, a lover, a partner, as the man who could share all his vulnerabilities. And each day, OB died a little more knowing that could never happen. Knowing that Max would have rather shared his bed with Clare fucking Cunningham.
"You were lucky, John Paul."
The words just sort of fell out of OB's mouth. OB hadn't even realized he'd spoken until he saw the bewilderment in John Paul's expressive blue orbs. Surprised big eyes which soon turned to slitted, resentful scrutiny.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean? I'm lucky cause I haven't been dragged into the street and flogged?"
OB wanted to just spit out an apology. Words and eloquent speeches were never his strong point. But he kept this all inside all the time, to everyone, even to himself most of the time.
"You were lucky because you don't have to wonder. You don't have to wonder if your mate wants to be more than just a mate. You don't have to wonder how his hands feel on you, what his kisses are like, what it is to hear him say he loves you."
"All while he was telling Sarah he loved her. All while he used us both, and I let him!"
He couldn't make eye contact with John Paul, all he could do was keep wiping the counter, another wipe for every year he'd stayed quiet and every future year he would keep staying quiet.
"Yeah, maybe he was using you. Maybe you deserved better, but you didn't want better. You wanted him. He still loved you, and no matter how bad it ended, you know how that feels. His arms around you, his kisses, his love, everything he could give you. Whatever time you had him, instead of a bloody question mark dangling over your head, you were lucky."
OB had said too much, but this was likely the first and the last time he would ever say any of his deepest thoughts out loud. He finally regained the courage to look into John Paul's eyes.
John Paul understood. He smiled, and almost seemed to take pity on OB, probably relieved to feel pity for anyone but himself and the other people in his life, if only for a moment.
The rapport was broken was Max showed up to join OB behind the counter. Sensing that OB was down, he slung an arm around his friend's shoulder. OB managed a weak smile.
"Hope you'll be a repeat customer, John Paul," Max said, oblivious to the mood of the room.
John Paul just shrugged and paid for his smoothie. He didn't bother to look at OB -- he didn't need to. They understood each other.
OB suddenly realized the counter needed a fresh clean. Max, meanwhile, wanted to try out a new smoothie flavor. Before he did so, he cast a wary eye at John Paul's exiting back.
"Aren't you glad we're not kids anymore? We have enough problems as it is."
OB tensely nodded, feeling the familiar hand squeeze his shoulder. John Paul had left the photo of himself and Craig. OB just stared at the two young men, thinking about what once was, what would always be.
"Yeah, Max...we're lucky."