A Broken Sixpence 12/?
Cause it's All or Nothing for me. AKA 12
He hadn’t expected the flat to look like this. It was actually, well…pretty tidy. Especially for a bloke. And Miles had even put proper curtains up unlike the stripey sheet Alex used back home. Guitars on stands, vinyl in their sleeves, and clean glasses for the wine. Clapping a hand to Al’s shoulder, Miles went into Mam mode, pointing the bathroom out and getting a clean towel for his guest.
‘Here is my most wonderful bathroom, for you to attend to that barnet. While I attend to the goods.’ And he tapped the wrap in his jeans pocket.
‘You do mean the speed, don’t you ? Not going to take advantage of me while I’m bent over the bath, eh ?’
‘You should be so lucky, you’re not so irresistible Turner.’ Clearly an untruth they could both let slide.
Alex settled into the bathroom, running the taps and sneaking a look in the wall cabinet under cover of the waster gushing. He shook at a bottle of paracetamol, noticed a new tube of Crest, and tested the razor for sharpness. ‘Fucking OWW’.
Meanwhile Miles was humming to himself, shuffling his Chelsea boots to the beat, tapping out the high hat. His hands busied themselves with tearing away the clingfilm and careful unfolding of their wrap. Miles always enjoyed this part, the expected rush to come making him feel as though he was already pumped up. Peering up, he could spot steam gusting under the bathroom door. Deciding to wait for his friend, he reached for the stereo and clicked the needle on the Small Faces. Both boys started singing along to All or Nothing as though it was written for them.