Here's To Us ; a Game of Thrones AU RPF
Title: Here's To Us
Characters: Richard Madden, Kit Harington, Gethin Anthony, Finn Jones, Alfie Allen
Fandom: Game of Thrones AU RPF
Summary: Sometimes, it feels like they're in a movie. It's a cross between Skins and the Hangover, except no one's laughing. Except maybe Alfie.
Pairings: Kit/Emilia, Gethin/Finn, (onesided)Richard/Kit
Leaning his head against the cold wall, tinsel tickling the back of his neck, Gethin stares, unseeing, at the door of the cafe. His hand reaches blindly for the bottle of sparkling water he ordered nearly an hour previous. “Well you look like shit,” comes a voice from beside him, causing the drunken man to jump. Finn grins down, his eyes twinkling wickedly as he takes a seat across from his friend. “You're still drunk aren't you?” Gethin smiles, ruffling his hair and tilting his head to one side. “Still drunk then.” The young student laughs before unscrewing the bottle of sparkling water his friend is struggling so much with. “Gwen, baby, full English, yeah?”
“When did you get here?” Gethin asks, a sleepy drunken smile which he reserves only for Finn crossing his face. “And why do I have a picture of you in a Santa hat and little else as my phone wallpaper?” Finn grabs the phone, which has been left on the grimy table and chuckles when he sees the picture.
“I don't know but I look pretty good.” Gwen, the cafe owner, watches them intently before turning to begin cooking. She had seen stranger sights than Gethin Anthony drunk at eleven o'clock - most of which included one or more of his friends - but she couldnt help but watch with a mild fascination. “So where are the rest?”
It takes Gethin a while to register Finn's words, originally believing his younger friend to mean the rest of the pictures. “Well,” he begins slowly, taking his water back. “It's only eleven so... Kit is still apologising to Emilia, Richard is in a cab on his way here and...you're a better man than I if you can contact Alfie at this time...”
Finn waits for a moment before shrugging his shoulders, seemingly accepting this as a valid response. “Have you been to bed yet?” he asks, watching his friend intently. The ruffled hair and bleary eyes tells him otherwise, yet he still asks.
“He's been here since opening,” Gwen calls over her shoulder. “Propped up against the door, reeking of booze and calling me 'Gwenny' if you must know...” She turns to face them once more and Finn is glad to see she's smiling. “He still hasn't eaten anything. Maybe you can convince him...”
“He'll eat when he's ready,” Gethin snaps, his head whipping around to face Gwen. His eyes are narrowed and, instantly, he regrets moving so fast, his head pounding.
“Talking about yourself in third person? What are you - an actor? My, my, Richard will be proud,” Finn smirks, drawing Gethin's attention back to him.
Time seems to pass slowly for Gethin as Finn jokes and japes, calling across the cafe to Gwen, with whom he has established quite the relationship with. The older man allows his eyes to close momentarily, though he knows sleep with not come so long as Finn is around. The tinkling of the bell above the cafe door is what causes his eyes to snap open, causing him to see Richard swaggering in, still dressed in the clothes from the night before. “Where's Kit?” the struggling actor frowns upon seeing just two bodies at their usual table. Gethin rolls his eyes in response, though this is an action he is keen not to repeat as his heavy lids demand to close. “Any of you heard from Alfie?”
“Gethin, here, has been here since seven this morning,” Finn replies, ignoring both of his friend's questions. “That,” he laughs, “Is more of a pressing matter for me than where Kit or Alfie are.” Gethin chuckles and leans his head on his own shoulder, his lips curving into a child-like smile. “Where did you go between four and seven o'clock?” asks the youngest member of the group, taking an unnaturally serious tone.
“What's it matter?” asks Richard, phone in hand as he rushes out a text to Kit, demanding he hurries to the cafe. “You never care when me or Alfie go missing for a few hours.” Finn shrugs, his eyes boring into Gethin. It's not uncommon for Alfie and Richard to 'go missing' for a few hours - in fact, it's almost common place - but Gethin is normally by Finn's side the entire night. It unnerves him to think that Gethin has been with someone else, though the two are hardly in a committed relationship.
“So where did you go?” asks Finn, having hoped that Richard would be of more help.
“I think me and Kit went for food,” Gethin replies, though he knows its not true. “Maybe.”
“Wrong,” says Richard, looking up from his phone. “You didn't leave with Kit. The last I saw you, you were doing tequila shots at the bar while Nik held a bucket in case you were sick...”
“Stupid bastard,” Gethin laughs. “That's Alfie and Kit who vomit. I'm much classier than that.” His dramatic air puts Richard to shame and Finn finds himself laughing.
“So, if you weren't with Kit, you definitely weren't with either of us and there is no chance in hell that you were with Alfie at the end of the night... Who were you with?”
“Well,” he begins slowly. “I did go for food. That greasy Indian place that gave you food poisoning... I got a kebab. It wasn't very nice.” Silence falls between the three and Richard and Finn stare on, waiting for him to continue. “Then...I went a walk.”
Richard and Finn speak at the same time, now, Richard questioning 'where?' while Finn demands to know 'who with?'
“By myself...for the most part. I think a dog joined me at one point,” Gethin snorts and runs a hand through his hair before smiling up at Finn. “I followed the river for the most part but -”
“And what if you'd fallen in?” Richard asks - both he and Kit have spent more time in the cold, smelly water than either would have liked and knows the consequences of being drunk by the river.
“Then I'd be dead. As it is - I'm not.”
Gwen arrives by the table, placing Finn's breakfast in front of him. “I can testify he was dry as a bone when I found him,” she smiles as Finn thanks her. “What are you having, honey?” she asks Richard, who requests a black coffee until he can decide.
“So for three hours you wandered around in the dark? Alone?” the Scot asks, shaking his head. He's done many a stupid thing in the past but never alone - for the most part he has always had one of his friends by his side; usually Finn who is too buzzed on whatever he's taken to know better.
“You make it sound so seedy,” smirks Gethin, still grinning, his unfocused eyes shining. “Ah, Christopher. So good of you to show up.”
As Christopher, or rather 'Kit', takes his seat, Gethin grins; the topic of conversation switching from him to 'that bastarding tequila'. Inwardly, however, his smile begins to fade. He vaguely registers that Kit is hungover, that tequila is being blamed for his latest fight with his girlfriend and that Fat John from Finn's course had to drive him home due to his inability to stand but, while Richard and Finn react to his words, Gethin slumps to silence.
His version of the previous night's events is not as fun as Richard's, who has remained silent, nor as dramatic as Kit's, but it sure as hell didn't happen the way he claimed it did. Most of it is a blur, full of shots and flashing lights, of pounding dubstep music that makes Finn dance like he's taking a fit and of smoke blinding his vision but after the bar has closed and the air has hit him, his memories are all too clear. All too painfully clear...
“Is he even awake?” he hears Kit ask and slowly begins to focus, raising his head and becoming aware that the silly grin is still plastered all over his face. “You need to go home, mate. You're dead on your feet. Well, on your arse...” Gethin shakes his head as Gwen's shadow casts across the table, the black coffee she offers to Richard being taken by Kit. “Who even agreed to be here at this time?” Richard protests at his coffee being taken but only mildly as Gwen returns to make another cup.
“This one here,” Finn points at Gethin, who raises his hands in protest. “Called me at nine, telling me that 'Kit's been thrown out by Emilia, Alfie's dead and I need a drink'. Needless to say none of those are true...”
“First one might've been,” Richard laughs and Gethin remains silent as his friends laugh, mocking Kit for being in a sometimes-stable relationship. He never planned it - what he had with Finn. He never meant to find the pill-popping student so endearing or to wake up with his nose buried in those ridiculous curls almost every weekend. But he did. It wasn't like Kit's relationship with Emilia; there was no house to share and no 'I love you's, no fights over one or the other staying out over night and no flowers sent to rectify them. But it was there. Whatever it was.
There was some sort of unwritten rule that meant neither he nor Finn ever discussed what they were; the same rule which stopped Alfie asking 'So are you fucking him or what?' every time he got drunk and for that, Gethin was relieved. He was lucky to have Finn - why should he risk it by labelling themselves. “So what was it this time?” he hears Finn ask. “You stayed out too long? You woke up the dog? Or, my favourite, you were sick in her handbag?” And that's when sleep takes him; with his head leaning against the wall as Finn's voice takes over.
When he wakes, its to the booming voice of Alfie Allen as he takes his seat to Gethin's left. If the man has been home and showered, he certainly doesnt show signs of it and the strong stench of sweat and beer and sex exude from every pore, much to Gethin's disgust, though he knows he must smell strangely similar.
Within moments of taking his seat, Alfie has already launched into a blow-by-blow account of his version of events from the previous evening, which causes Kit and Richard to roll their eyes at each other but Finn remains silent. He never cares much for Alfie's stories - though if truth be told, none of them do - but this time he seems particularly uninterested as he watches Gethin with as much affection as he'll allow in public. The older man averts his tired eyes, trying to focus on the empty coffee cups which sit side by side in front of him. He wonders how long he must have slept for but decides against caring. Seconds later, Gwen is back by their side, taking Alfie's order and looking at Gethin with pitying eyes.
Its more than he can stand and the part-time editor gets to his feet, wobbling at first but soon steady enough to hold him. “I'm gonna go...” he mutters, managing to keep himself upright long enough to weave through the tables of the cafe.
Deja vu consumes him as a cold blast of air hits him upon opening the door and, once again, he's leaving the bar the night before, walking straight into a cloud of smoke and the smell of greasy takeaway food that makes his stomach give a growl. It's cold - even for December - and he hugs his jacket tighter to him as he makes his way towards the cab rank. The queue seems never ending and Gethin swears the couple in front of him were behind him ten minutes previous. He's about to say this when hears a voice call his name, strong and sure above the mutterings of the queue. His head whips to the side, searching for the familiar voice and he finds himself grinning as the hand grips his arm.
“Gethin! Gethin!” Finn sounds frantic and it takes Gethin a moment to realise that he's not back at the cab rank, that its Finn who's grabbing his arm, his other hand coming to rest on Gethin's face, cupping his cheek and chin. “Where are you going? What's the matter with you?” The younger man tugs Gethin's face to stare into his eyes. “Have you taken something?” Gethin shakes his head, having a strict rule against using drugs. He's never used recreationally, though Finn is notorious for it yet the student still checks his pupils, hoping to find an excuse for his friend's strange behaviour.
“I'm so sorry,” Gethin whispers, shaking his head. He raises a hand to cover Finn's before tugging it from his face. “So, so sorry...”
“For what? For getting in this state?” Finn laughs as he shakes his head, his chestnut curls falling into his eyes. “Could be worse - you could have woke me up in the middle of the night, tried to fuck me and fell asleep half-way...” he tries to joke, though Gethin frowns and he's not sure the older man heard Kit's story after all. “Geth, what is it?” Finn's eyes are wide as he grips onto Gethin's arm almost painfully.
The older man stares at him, hating himself more than he ever thought possible. For a split second, Finn reminds him of a child, his lips parted and his eyes screaming in helplessness. “I never meant to...” he says as way of explanation; his only defence.
“Never meant to what?”
Gethin can feel his friends staring from inside the cafe and in the back of his mind he knows Kit will be telling Richard to 'stop being a dick' and not to stare and Alfie will be making up some ridiculous story about what's happening that usually involves threesomes or mothers or copious amounts of drugs. “Last night... I... I wasn't alone,” he says, trying to stay calm. He knows his words are slurring, that they have been all morning, but he tries to steady himself, swallowing hard before continuing. “I just...I never meant to.”
He watches as Finn's Adam's apple bobs up and down before the young man releases his grip on his arm. “Is that it?” he laughs, though even in Gethin's state it sounds unnatural and humor-less. “Fuck's sake Gethin, you had me worried...” But he still sounds worried and when Gethin reaches up to push a stray curl from Finn's eyes, he stills.
“I'm sorry,” he repeats over and over, wanting his friend-cum-lover to say something, to yell at him or to punch him. He'd prefer the punch, if truth be told, but neither comes.
“Geth,” Finn says, nudging himself out of Gethin's reach as he begins to head back towards the cafe. “Go home. Go to bed. Phone me when you wake up. And don't worry about it.” There's a pregnant pause between the two before he adds, “It's not like we're married or anything.”
And, as Finn returns to the cafe, Gethin's certain that he knows what heartbreak feels like.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He smells it before opening his eyes and, almost instantly, his mouth begins to water. Stretching an arm out to his side, Richard becomes all too aware that he is not in his own bed, nor did he sleep alone, though the other side of the bed now lays empty. The out of work actor pushes himself into a seated position, his eyes scanning the nondescript room as he attempts to recall the previous evening's conquest. There is little to give it away in the room, with its cream walls and dark covers though he does remember two possibilities; a tall, willowy brunette who had bit him when he kissed her and a man of Finn's height though he claimed to be much older... After pushing back the covers and inspecting the skin of his unmarked chest, he rules out the brunette and the strong, most definitely female smell of vanilla which fills the room determines which sex his entertainment for the evening had been.
As he runs a hand through his hair, still thick with product from the night before, the gravity of the situation hits him harder than it previously has done and he throws the covers entirely from his body. Alone in the room from the night before while a woman makes him breakfast is not a position he wants to be in. Women who make bacon for their one-night stands are not the type of women Richard associates himself with. Breakfast means conversation and conversation means... Richard baulks at the thought and instantly decides it will have to be a window escape, though he's unsure of whether this is possible or not. He makes for the window, grabbing his discarded boxers as he goes and instantly thinks twice of it - it's much too high. No, he'll have to do this like a man. Once he's firmly in his boxers, the Scotsman retrieves his jeans and shirt, pulling them on as he sits on the edge of the bed. In his pocket, as expected are his empty wallet, his keys and his cell phone. Well, he thinks to himself, at least she didn't rob me...
Allowing himself a moment before he attempts to find his shoes, Richard checks his cell phone to see he has one missed call and a resultant voicemail from Kit, an illegible text from Gethin which he assumes to be something about an Indian takeaway and another text from an unknown number which simply reads 'Call Me x'. He stuffs the phone into his pocket and begins his search for the shoes, finding them both scattered by the door. He has just finished pulling on his second shoe when the he hears the footsteps on the stairs and begins to hold his breath. He knows he should have been quicker and now he's going to be force to make awkward conversation with a woman he plans on never seeing again...
When the door opens, Richard smiles, his hands stuffed in his pocket as a woman enters. Dressed in an over sized t-shirt and clutching a cup of tea in one had, a bacon sandwich in the other, Richard gauges her to be ages with his mother though he notes that his mother has never looked half as attractive as she does. The woman pauses for a second, cocking her head to one said and smiles, “Oh, you're awake,” she says simply before moving swiftly past him and climbing into the side of the bed she had previously vacated, placing her cup of tea on the bedside table. “Are you just going to stand there all day? It's just... my husband should be home soon and you don't seem like you'd be able to fend him off...” She smiles as she speaks, leading Richard to believe she's joking but, when she takes a bite of her breakfast and turns back to face him, her eyes urging him to leave, he doesn't hang around to find out. “If you ever want to do this again - you've got my number. It's under 'Lena'.” She calls as the bedroom door swings closed behind him.
When he rushes downstairs, a smug grin plastered across his face, he's almost certain he'll give her a call.
“So, her name was Lena and she was married?” Kit asks, his lips parted and his brow furrowed in what Richard assumes to be a look of confusion. He nods, shrugging his shoulders; Lena is not the first married woman he has taken to bed and both boys know she wont be the last. “And she made herself breakfast and kicked you out the morning after?” Richard rolls his eyes, having just finished explaining the story to his friend. “So you got fucked and chucked?” The words sound strange coming from Kit's lips and Richard tries to remember if Kit has ever had a one night stand. Not for years, since long before Emilia anyway...
“I didn't get fucked and chucked,” Richard replies haughtily, though he knows that, in all sense of the phrase, he did. “We're going to do it again.”
“Isn't that what you tell every girl you fuck and chuck?” The actor knows his friend is correct and his face flushes a little, though he pulls his third cup of coffee to his lips, doing his best to cover most of his face.
It's nearing afternoon now and Finn and Gethin have headed home after some ridiculous lovers' tiff that Finn would shed no light on. Alfie, still smelling of sex and sweat and beer from the night before, has only just left, rushing off to meet his sister and hopefully receive a loan from her. And then it was two, thinks Richard, though he's hardly complaining. He likes it when it's just Kit and himself. He always has.
He can read Kit like a book; knows what every eye roll and disapproving noise means, knows that he hates having his hair cut and that when he was seven he was unconscious for eight minutes after falling off a cow... Richard never questions what he was doing on the cow, but he knows that he fell off. And so it should come as no shock to Kit when his friend takes one look at him and sees behind the joke. “What's wrong, mate?” Richard asks, turning in his chair to face the younger man. “Normally you don't give a fuck about who or what I done the night before but that's all you've spoke about since Alfie left...” Kit's hand fidgets with his own coffee cup, cold and empty as he passes it from hand to hand. “Is it Emilia?”
It's always Emilia.
“Nah,” Kit replies, shaking his head, the cup still passing between hands. “It's me. Every time I go out with you lot I do something worse than the last time... I'm running out of ways to make it up to her.”
“Yeah I don't imagine there's a Hallmark card that says 'Sorry I Fell Asleep With My Face Between Your Thighs'. Not much of a market for it...” Richard laughs trying to ease the tension. He claps a hand on Kit's shoulder and, although he wants to do nothing that would please Emilia, he lets out a sigh. “Nice big bunch of flowers, take her out for dinner, give her a night she won't forget. She'll never mention last night again...”
Kit turns, the corner of his lip twitching as he attempts not to smile. “Right then, Romeo, and would you accept that as apology if I fell asleep while sucking you off?” He knows its a hypothetical question; that they would never... that Kit would never do that, but the thought goes straight to his groin and he has to swallow before he replies.
“If you fell asleep while trying to suck me off?” the Scot puts emphasis on the word 'you' and Kit laughs.
“If anyone fell asleep while trying to,” he corrects.
“I'd get up, get a twenty from their wallet and get a cab to yours to tell you that there might be a market for those Hallmark cards after all,” Richard laughs, a light, airy chuckle that he hopes can be heard through the cafe.
“You're an arsehole,” Kit says, shaking his head. “Now get up, we need to get Emila flowers.”
“We don't need to get her anything,” Richard replies, though he gets to his feet all the same, Kit leaving enough money to pay for their coffees as he waves goodbye to Gwen.
It's an easy silence which falls between the two boys and Richard finds himself recalling the simplest things, all of which occurred before Emilia came on the scene. It's no time to think on two fourteen year olds playing Playstation on his battered sofa, drinking from beer cans they had sneaked from the fridge, nor was it time to replay Kit's father entering the living room to find him stark naked on the sofa with only a magazine covering his modesty, a half dressed Finn passed out on the floor and Alfie curled around the dog in an awkward embrace. “It's Finn's gallery night tomorrow,” says Kit, sounding pained as he breaks the silence. “You fancy coming?” Richard scoffs. “They're not that bad...”
“You're only saying that because your mum buys his shite,” Richard replies. “I still get nightmares thinking of the one-eyed witch he made out of flowers for her. What the fuck did she have to hang that in the guest room for, anyway?”
“She hoped it would scare Alfie away,” Kit replies honestly.
“What is it with the women in your life trying to ban him from their houses?” Richard replies, keen to get away from the topic of Finn's gallery. The youngest of the group's art is too strange to be accepted by normal art-lovers and, while Kit is almost always forced to go along to his showcases with Gethin, Richard has so far managed to go to just one; something he's not keen to change.
“Emilia didn't try. She did.” And that's the end of that conversation, Richard falling flat on how to reply.
It takes a few moments before either of them speak again, the two of them making their way down the street in silence. Richard wants to stop at the nearest supermarket or garage and get flowers from there but Kit fixes him with a steely glare when he halts outside and the actor scowls in return, shuffling his feet as they head to the only florist either of them know.
Characters: Richard Madden, Kit Harington, Gethin Anthony, Finn Jones, Alfie Allen
Fandom: Game of Thrones AU RPF
Summary: Sometimes, it feels like they're in a movie. It's a cross between Skins and the Hangover, except no one's laughing. Except maybe Alfie.
Pairings: Kit/Emilia, Gethin/Finn, (onesided)Richard/Kit
Leaning his head against the cold wall, tinsel tickling the back of his neck, Gethin stares, unseeing, at the door of the cafe. His hand reaches blindly for the bottle of sparkling water he ordered nearly an hour previous. “Well you look like shit,” comes a voice from beside him, causing the drunken man to jump. Finn grins down, his eyes twinkling wickedly as he takes a seat across from his friend. “You're still drunk aren't you?” Gethin smiles, ruffling his hair and tilting his head to one side. “Still drunk then.” The young student laughs before unscrewing the bottle of sparkling water his friend is struggling so much with. “Gwen, baby, full English, yeah?”
“When did you get here?” Gethin asks, a sleepy drunken smile which he reserves only for Finn crossing his face. “And why do I have a picture of you in a Santa hat and little else as my phone wallpaper?” Finn grabs the phone, which has been left on the grimy table and chuckles when he sees the picture.
“I don't know but I look pretty good.” Gwen, the cafe owner, watches them intently before turning to begin cooking. She had seen stranger sights than Gethin Anthony drunk at eleven o'clock - most of which included one or more of his friends - but she couldnt help but watch with a mild fascination. “So where are the rest?”
It takes Gethin a while to register Finn's words, originally believing his younger friend to mean the rest of the pictures. “Well,” he begins slowly, taking his water back. “It's only eleven so... Kit is still apologising to Emilia, Richard is in a cab on his way here and...you're a better man than I if you can contact Alfie at this time...”
Finn waits for a moment before shrugging his shoulders, seemingly accepting this as a valid response. “Have you been to bed yet?” he asks, watching his friend intently. The ruffled hair and bleary eyes tells him otherwise, yet he still asks.
“He's been here since opening,” Gwen calls over her shoulder. “Propped up against the door, reeking of booze and calling me 'Gwenny' if you must know...” She turns to face them once more and Finn is glad to see she's smiling. “He still hasn't eaten anything. Maybe you can convince him...”
“He'll eat when he's ready,” Gethin snaps, his head whipping around to face Gwen. His eyes are narrowed and, instantly, he regrets moving so fast, his head pounding.
“Talking about yourself in third person? What are you - an actor? My, my, Richard will be proud,” Finn smirks, drawing Gethin's attention back to him.
Time seems to pass slowly for Gethin as Finn jokes and japes, calling across the cafe to Gwen, with whom he has established quite the relationship with. The older man allows his eyes to close momentarily, though he knows sleep with not come so long as Finn is around. The tinkling of the bell above the cafe door is what causes his eyes to snap open, causing him to see Richard swaggering in, still dressed in the clothes from the night before. “Where's Kit?” the struggling actor frowns upon seeing just two bodies at their usual table. Gethin rolls his eyes in response, though this is an action he is keen not to repeat as his heavy lids demand to close. “Any of you heard from Alfie?”
“Gethin, here, has been here since seven this morning,” Finn replies, ignoring both of his friend's questions. “That,” he laughs, “Is more of a pressing matter for me than where Kit or Alfie are.” Gethin chuckles and leans his head on his own shoulder, his lips curving into a child-like smile. “Where did you go between four and seven o'clock?” asks the youngest member of the group, taking an unnaturally serious tone.
“What's it matter?” asks Richard, phone in hand as he rushes out a text to Kit, demanding he hurries to the cafe. “You never care when me or Alfie go missing for a few hours.” Finn shrugs, his eyes boring into Gethin. It's not uncommon for Alfie and Richard to 'go missing' for a few hours - in fact, it's almost common place - but Gethin is normally by Finn's side the entire night. It unnerves him to think that Gethin has been with someone else, though the two are hardly in a committed relationship.
“So where did you go?” asks Finn, having hoped that Richard would be of more help.
“I think me and Kit went for food,” Gethin replies, though he knows its not true. “Maybe.”
“Wrong,” says Richard, looking up from his phone. “You didn't leave with Kit. The last I saw you, you were doing tequila shots at the bar while Nik held a bucket in case you were sick...”
“Stupid bastard,” Gethin laughs. “That's Alfie and Kit who vomit. I'm much classier than that.” His dramatic air puts Richard to shame and Finn finds himself laughing.
“So, if you weren't with Kit, you definitely weren't with either of us and there is no chance in hell that you were with Alfie at the end of the night... Who were you with?”
“Well,” he begins slowly. “I did go for food. That greasy Indian place that gave you food poisoning... I got a kebab. It wasn't very nice.” Silence falls between the three and Richard and Finn stare on, waiting for him to continue. “Then...I went a walk.”
Richard and Finn speak at the same time, now, Richard questioning 'where?' while Finn demands to know 'who with?'
“By myself...for the most part. I think a dog joined me at one point,” Gethin snorts and runs a hand through his hair before smiling up at Finn. “I followed the river for the most part but -”
“And what if you'd fallen in?” Richard asks - both he and Kit have spent more time in the cold, smelly water than either would have liked and knows the consequences of being drunk by the river.
“Then I'd be dead. As it is - I'm not.”
Gwen arrives by the table, placing Finn's breakfast in front of him. “I can testify he was dry as a bone when I found him,” she smiles as Finn thanks her. “What are you having, honey?” she asks Richard, who requests a black coffee until he can decide.
“So for three hours you wandered around in the dark? Alone?” the Scot asks, shaking his head. He's done many a stupid thing in the past but never alone - for the most part he has always had one of his friends by his side; usually Finn who is too buzzed on whatever he's taken to know better.
“You make it sound so seedy,” smirks Gethin, still grinning, his unfocused eyes shining. “Ah, Christopher. So good of you to show up.”
As Christopher, or rather 'Kit', takes his seat, Gethin grins; the topic of conversation switching from him to 'that bastarding tequila'. Inwardly, however, his smile begins to fade. He vaguely registers that Kit is hungover, that tequila is being blamed for his latest fight with his girlfriend and that Fat John from Finn's course had to drive him home due to his inability to stand but, while Richard and Finn react to his words, Gethin slumps to silence.
His version of the previous night's events is not as fun as Richard's, who has remained silent, nor as dramatic as Kit's, but it sure as hell didn't happen the way he claimed it did. Most of it is a blur, full of shots and flashing lights, of pounding dubstep music that makes Finn dance like he's taking a fit and of smoke blinding his vision but after the bar has closed and the air has hit him, his memories are all too clear. All too painfully clear...
“Is he even awake?” he hears Kit ask and slowly begins to focus, raising his head and becoming aware that the silly grin is still plastered all over his face. “You need to go home, mate. You're dead on your feet. Well, on your arse...” Gethin shakes his head as Gwen's shadow casts across the table, the black coffee she offers to Richard being taken by Kit. “Who even agreed to be here at this time?” Richard protests at his coffee being taken but only mildly as Gwen returns to make another cup.
“This one here,” Finn points at Gethin, who raises his hands in protest. “Called me at nine, telling me that 'Kit's been thrown out by Emilia, Alfie's dead and I need a drink'. Needless to say none of those are true...”
“First one might've been,” Richard laughs and Gethin remains silent as his friends laugh, mocking Kit for being in a sometimes-stable relationship. He never planned it - what he had with Finn. He never meant to find the pill-popping student so endearing or to wake up with his nose buried in those ridiculous curls almost every weekend. But he did. It wasn't like Kit's relationship with Emilia; there was no house to share and no 'I love you's, no fights over one or the other staying out over night and no flowers sent to rectify them. But it was there. Whatever it was.
There was some sort of unwritten rule that meant neither he nor Finn ever discussed what they were; the same rule which stopped Alfie asking 'So are you fucking him or what?' every time he got drunk and for that, Gethin was relieved. He was lucky to have Finn - why should he risk it by labelling themselves. “So what was it this time?” he hears Finn ask. “You stayed out too long? You woke up the dog? Or, my favourite, you were sick in her handbag?” And that's when sleep takes him; with his head leaning against the wall as Finn's voice takes over.
When he wakes, its to the booming voice of Alfie Allen as he takes his seat to Gethin's left. If the man has been home and showered, he certainly doesnt show signs of it and the strong stench of sweat and beer and sex exude from every pore, much to Gethin's disgust, though he knows he must smell strangely similar.
Within moments of taking his seat, Alfie has already launched into a blow-by-blow account of his version of events from the previous evening, which causes Kit and Richard to roll their eyes at each other but Finn remains silent. He never cares much for Alfie's stories - though if truth be told, none of them do - but this time he seems particularly uninterested as he watches Gethin with as much affection as he'll allow in public. The older man averts his tired eyes, trying to focus on the empty coffee cups which sit side by side in front of him. He wonders how long he must have slept for but decides against caring. Seconds later, Gwen is back by their side, taking Alfie's order and looking at Gethin with pitying eyes.
Its more than he can stand and the part-time editor gets to his feet, wobbling at first but soon steady enough to hold him. “I'm gonna go...” he mutters, managing to keep himself upright long enough to weave through the tables of the cafe.
Deja vu consumes him as a cold blast of air hits him upon opening the door and, once again, he's leaving the bar the night before, walking straight into a cloud of smoke and the smell of greasy takeaway food that makes his stomach give a growl. It's cold - even for December - and he hugs his jacket tighter to him as he makes his way towards the cab rank. The queue seems never ending and Gethin swears the couple in front of him were behind him ten minutes previous. He's about to say this when hears a voice call his name, strong and sure above the mutterings of the queue. His head whips to the side, searching for the familiar voice and he finds himself grinning as the hand grips his arm.
“Gethin! Gethin!” Finn sounds frantic and it takes Gethin a moment to realise that he's not back at the cab rank, that its Finn who's grabbing his arm, his other hand coming to rest on Gethin's face, cupping his cheek and chin. “Where are you going? What's the matter with you?” The younger man tugs Gethin's face to stare into his eyes. “Have you taken something?” Gethin shakes his head, having a strict rule against using drugs. He's never used recreationally, though Finn is notorious for it yet the student still checks his pupils, hoping to find an excuse for his friend's strange behaviour.
“I'm so sorry,” Gethin whispers, shaking his head. He raises a hand to cover Finn's before tugging it from his face. “So, so sorry...”
“For what? For getting in this state?” Finn laughs as he shakes his head, his chestnut curls falling into his eyes. “Could be worse - you could have woke me up in the middle of the night, tried to fuck me and fell asleep half-way...” he tries to joke, though Gethin frowns and he's not sure the older man heard Kit's story after all. “Geth, what is it?” Finn's eyes are wide as he grips onto Gethin's arm almost painfully.
The older man stares at him, hating himself more than he ever thought possible. For a split second, Finn reminds him of a child, his lips parted and his eyes screaming in helplessness. “I never meant to...” he says as way of explanation; his only defence.
“Never meant to what?”
Gethin can feel his friends staring from inside the cafe and in the back of his mind he knows Kit will be telling Richard to 'stop being a dick' and not to stare and Alfie will be making up some ridiculous story about what's happening that usually involves threesomes or mothers or copious amounts of drugs. “Last night... I... I wasn't alone,” he says, trying to stay calm. He knows his words are slurring, that they have been all morning, but he tries to steady himself, swallowing hard before continuing. “I just...I never meant to.”
He watches as Finn's Adam's apple bobs up and down before the young man releases his grip on his arm. “Is that it?” he laughs, though even in Gethin's state it sounds unnatural and humor-less. “Fuck's sake Gethin, you had me worried...” But he still sounds worried and when Gethin reaches up to push a stray curl from Finn's eyes, he stills.
“I'm sorry,” he repeats over and over, wanting his friend-cum-lover to say something, to yell at him or to punch him. He'd prefer the punch, if truth be told, but neither comes.
“Geth,” Finn says, nudging himself out of Gethin's reach as he begins to head back towards the cafe. “Go home. Go to bed. Phone me when you wake up. And don't worry about it.” There's a pregnant pause between the two before he adds, “It's not like we're married or anything.”
And, as Finn returns to the cafe, Gethin's certain that he knows what heartbreak feels like.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He smells it before opening his eyes and, almost instantly, his mouth begins to water. Stretching an arm out to his side, Richard becomes all too aware that he is not in his own bed, nor did he sleep alone, though the other side of the bed now lays empty. The out of work actor pushes himself into a seated position, his eyes scanning the nondescript room as he attempts to recall the previous evening's conquest. There is little to give it away in the room, with its cream walls and dark covers though he does remember two possibilities; a tall, willowy brunette who had bit him when he kissed her and a man of Finn's height though he claimed to be much older... After pushing back the covers and inspecting the skin of his unmarked chest, he rules out the brunette and the strong, most definitely female smell of vanilla which fills the room determines which sex his entertainment for the evening had been.
As he runs a hand through his hair, still thick with product from the night before, the gravity of the situation hits him harder than it previously has done and he throws the covers entirely from his body. Alone in the room from the night before while a woman makes him breakfast is not a position he wants to be in. Women who make bacon for their one-night stands are not the type of women Richard associates himself with. Breakfast means conversation and conversation means... Richard baulks at the thought and instantly decides it will have to be a window escape, though he's unsure of whether this is possible or not. He makes for the window, grabbing his discarded boxers as he goes and instantly thinks twice of it - it's much too high. No, he'll have to do this like a man. Once he's firmly in his boxers, the Scotsman retrieves his jeans and shirt, pulling them on as he sits on the edge of the bed. In his pocket, as expected are his empty wallet, his keys and his cell phone. Well, he thinks to himself, at least she didn't rob me...
Allowing himself a moment before he attempts to find his shoes, Richard checks his cell phone to see he has one missed call and a resultant voicemail from Kit, an illegible text from Gethin which he assumes to be something about an Indian takeaway and another text from an unknown number which simply reads 'Call Me x'. He stuffs the phone into his pocket and begins his search for the shoes, finding them both scattered by the door. He has just finished pulling on his second shoe when the he hears the footsteps on the stairs and begins to hold his breath. He knows he should have been quicker and now he's going to be force to make awkward conversation with a woman he plans on never seeing again...
When the door opens, Richard smiles, his hands stuffed in his pocket as a woman enters. Dressed in an over sized t-shirt and clutching a cup of tea in one had, a bacon sandwich in the other, Richard gauges her to be ages with his mother though he notes that his mother has never looked half as attractive as she does. The woman pauses for a second, cocking her head to one said and smiles, “Oh, you're awake,” she says simply before moving swiftly past him and climbing into the side of the bed she had previously vacated, placing her cup of tea on the bedside table. “Are you just going to stand there all day? It's just... my husband should be home soon and you don't seem like you'd be able to fend him off...” She smiles as she speaks, leading Richard to believe she's joking but, when she takes a bite of her breakfast and turns back to face him, her eyes urging him to leave, he doesn't hang around to find out. “If you ever want to do this again - you've got my number. It's under 'Lena'.” She calls as the bedroom door swings closed behind him.
When he rushes downstairs, a smug grin plastered across his face, he's almost certain he'll give her a call.
“So, her name was Lena and she was married?” Kit asks, his lips parted and his brow furrowed in what Richard assumes to be a look of confusion. He nods, shrugging his shoulders; Lena is not the first married woman he has taken to bed and both boys know she wont be the last. “And she made herself breakfast and kicked you out the morning after?” Richard rolls his eyes, having just finished explaining the story to his friend. “So you got fucked and chucked?” The words sound strange coming from Kit's lips and Richard tries to remember if Kit has ever had a one night stand. Not for years, since long before Emilia anyway...
“I didn't get fucked and chucked,” Richard replies haughtily, though he knows that, in all sense of the phrase, he did. “We're going to do it again.”
“Isn't that what you tell every girl you fuck and chuck?” The actor knows his friend is correct and his face flushes a little, though he pulls his third cup of coffee to his lips, doing his best to cover most of his face.
It's nearing afternoon now and Finn and Gethin have headed home after some ridiculous lovers' tiff that Finn would shed no light on. Alfie, still smelling of sex and sweat and beer from the night before, has only just left, rushing off to meet his sister and hopefully receive a loan from her. And then it was two, thinks Richard, though he's hardly complaining. He likes it when it's just Kit and himself. He always has.
He can read Kit like a book; knows what every eye roll and disapproving noise means, knows that he hates having his hair cut and that when he was seven he was unconscious for eight minutes after falling off a cow... Richard never questions what he was doing on the cow, but he knows that he fell off. And so it should come as no shock to Kit when his friend takes one look at him and sees behind the joke. “What's wrong, mate?” Richard asks, turning in his chair to face the younger man. “Normally you don't give a fuck about who or what I done the night before but that's all you've spoke about since Alfie left...” Kit's hand fidgets with his own coffee cup, cold and empty as he passes it from hand to hand. “Is it Emilia?”
It's always Emilia.
“Nah,” Kit replies, shaking his head, the cup still passing between hands. “It's me. Every time I go out with you lot I do something worse than the last time... I'm running out of ways to make it up to her.”
“Yeah I don't imagine there's a Hallmark card that says 'Sorry I Fell Asleep With My Face Between Your Thighs'. Not much of a market for it...” Richard laughs trying to ease the tension. He claps a hand on Kit's shoulder and, although he wants to do nothing that would please Emilia, he lets out a sigh. “Nice big bunch of flowers, take her out for dinner, give her a night she won't forget. She'll never mention last night again...”
Kit turns, the corner of his lip twitching as he attempts not to smile. “Right then, Romeo, and would you accept that as apology if I fell asleep while sucking you off?” He knows its a hypothetical question; that they would never... that Kit would never do that, but the thought goes straight to his groin and he has to swallow before he replies.
“If you fell asleep while trying to suck me off?” the Scot puts emphasis on the word 'you' and Kit laughs.
“If anyone fell asleep while trying to,” he corrects.
“I'd get up, get a twenty from their wallet and get a cab to yours to tell you that there might be a market for those Hallmark cards after all,” Richard laughs, a light, airy chuckle that he hopes can be heard through the cafe.
“You're an arsehole,” Kit says, shaking his head. “Now get up, we need to get Emila flowers.”
“We don't need to get her anything,” Richard replies, though he gets to his feet all the same, Kit leaving enough money to pay for their coffees as he waves goodbye to Gwen.
It's an easy silence which falls between the two boys and Richard finds himself recalling the simplest things, all of which occurred before Emilia came on the scene. It's no time to think on two fourteen year olds playing Playstation on his battered sofa, drinking from beer cans they had sneaked from the fridge, nor was it time to replay Kit's father entering the living room to find him stark naked on the sofa with only a magazine covering his modesty, a half dressed Finn passed out on the floor and Alfie curled around the dog in an awkward embrace. “It's Finn's gallery night tomorrow,” says Kit, sounding pained as he breaks the silence. “You fancy coming?” Richard scoffs. “They're not that bad...”
“You're only saying that because your mum buys his shite,” Richard replies. “I still get nightmares thinking of the one-eyed witch he made out of flowers for her. What the fuck did she have to hang that in the guest room for, anyway?”
“She hoped it would scare Alfie away,” Kit replies honestly.
“What is it with the women in your life trying to ban him from their houses?” Richard replies, keen to get away from the topic of Finn's gallery. The youngest of the group's art is too strange to be accepted by normal art-lovers and, while Kit is almost always forced to go along to his showcases with Gethin, Richard has so far managed to go to just one; something he's not keen to change.
“Emilia didn't try. She did.” And that's the end of that conversation, Richard falling flat on how to reply.
It takes a few moments before either of them speak again, the two of them making their way down the street in silence. Richard wants to stop at the nearest supermarket or garage and get flowers from there but Kit fixes him with a steely glare when he halts outside and the actor scowls in return, shuffling his feet as they head to the only florist either of them know.