Grateful
Title: Grateful
Rating: M (Language)
Pairing: Tony/Maxxie, friendship
Author's Note: This takes place somewhere in Series 2, after the first episode, Maxxie & Tony.
As far as parties go, this one is pretty lame.
It's not Michelle's fault that I'm having a bad time, I suppose. She's done really well with the music and the food, and Chris has supplied some quality pharmaceuticals and all. I'm distracted tonight, is all.
Even dancing doesn't help. After my fifth straight song of moving on the dance floor I spot Tony sitting by himself on the couch near the window, his arms wrapped tightly around his middle. He looks as though he's trying to make himself as small as possible. An impossible task, mind you, when you're fucking six-foot-four.
Pushing my way through the crowd in Michelle's sitting room I throw myself onto the sofa beside him, giving him a bright smile.
“All right, Tone?” I ask, having to yell because of the loud music. “You've been sitting here all night!”
He shrugs, and my smile falters. I thought this would be a good idea. Try to get him back into the swing of things with a small party, just people from school and a couple of their friends. Smaller scale, you know, after the freakout he had at the last party.
“Come and have a dance with me?” I ask, leaning against his shoulder. “You love this song!"
He only shakes his head. “No thanks, mate.”
I sigh and prepare to stand when Anwar stumbles over to us. On his arm hangs a girl whose name I cannot pronounce. She's a German exchange student, and the poor thing is unlucky enough to have breasts the size of grapefruits so of course Anwar won't leave her alone.
“Ah, here they are!” Anwar exclaims, dragging her along. “Tony and Maxxie! Tony, here, got hit by a bus!”
He laughs loudly, slopping beer down his front. The girl tries to wave at Tony, but he only nods his head in return.”
“And that's Maxxie!” Anwar yells, jabbing a thumb in my direction. “He's gay!”
Wonderful, Anwar. Is that my only identifier lately? Not dancer, nor artist, not even his bloody best bloody friend in the entire universe.
The girl either doesn't hear him or doesn't understand because her eyebrows knit together in confusion. “Vut?”
Anwar leaned forward. “Gay! A queer, you know?”
She shakes her head, pointing to her ear. “I don't...”
Anwar sighs in frustration and sucks in a deep breath. “He's a faggot!”
The entire party screeches to a halt. It seems that during the brief pause in which the last song had ended and the new track was beginning everyone has heard him. Michelle and Jal are staring in disbelief, their jaws slack. Chris is fidgeting in his seat on the sofa, and Cassie is oblivious as always.
It's like ice has been poured down my back. My stomach turns violently and I feel as though I'm going to be sick right here, all over Michelle's mum's new rug.
Anwar's face falls-having realized he's messed up, perhaps-and he opens his mouth to say something a split second before Tony's fist connects with his face. His German chic-let screams as he falls back, clutching his nose in both hands. Even in the low light I can see his chin and shirt are slick with blood. Tony is standing above him, drawing his arm back for a second blow.
“Tony, no!” Michelle screams. “Stop it!”
He doesn't seem to be listening, and I barely grab his arm before he hits Anwar again. He tries to break my grip, but I pull him back, hauling him into the hallway and throw the front door open, dumping us both onto the darkened front step.
“What the fuck was that, Tone?” I demand, slamming the door shut. He jumps to the sidewalk and begins to pace, muttering under his breath. I've never seen him like this; Tony is nothing but calm and collected. He's never even yells let alone starts throwing punches in the middle of a party. That's more of Chris's department. But now, Tony's as angry and I've ever seen him.
“That shitfaced, motherfucking cunt!” he spits, whirling around to face me. “Did you hear what he called you?”
“I heard, Tony,” I reply, sighing. I sink onto the top step, resting my elbows on my knees. “He was drunk. It's not a big-“
“Don't you fucking dare say it's not a big deal!” Tony snaps, jabbing his finger in my face. “Its inexcusable! You just don't say shit like that,to anyone much less a friend! Christ!” He slams his hand against the cement wall. “He's your best friend for fuck's sake, Max! How can you let him treat you like that?”
I don't answer, leaving us to sit in silence. I choose to stare at my shoes, picking at the frayed knee of my jeans as I listen to him breathe above me. After what seems like hours he finally slumps down beside me.
“Let me see your hand,” I say, holding out my own.
“It's fine,” he replies shortly.
“I wasn't asking, Tone.”
He glares at me with those deep blue eyes, but I fix him with a glare that I seem to have picked up from my mother. Finally he huffs and rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”
Gingerly taking his left hand in mine, I turn it over to look at the knuckles. “There's blood, but I think its mostly Anwar's. Can you move your fingers?”
He wiggles them.
“Good,” I say, running my thumb over his knuckles as lightly as I can. “I don't think they're broken. Your hand is just going to be sore in the morning. How do you expect your parents to keep letting me take you out if you keep getting roughed up, huh?”
The corners of his mouth twitch. There we go.
Keeping his hand in mine, I look at him. “You really shouldn't have hit him, you know that, right?”
Tony opens his mouth to protest, but I continued speaking, not allowing any interruption. “You can't just punch someone out because they call me something foul, Tone. You have to trust that I can take care of myself. I've done a pretty good job of it up until now, don't you think?”
He nods once, staring into his lap. “I know. It's just...”
I lean sideways, nudging his shoulder. “What is it?”
“You took care of me after I got flattened by that bus,” he explains.
“It wasn't a problem,” I reply hastily. “Anyone would have-“
“But they didn't!” Tony snaps. Something in his face changes, and the color of his eyes darkens. “No one fucking did anything for me except for you. You visited me every day in the hospital, you dragged me around Bristol after I got out. You fucking taught me how to write for fuck's sake! You're my best friend, Maxxie, so sometimes....I feel like I have to return the favor, you know?”
I smile. “Be that as it may, Tony, I can't have you punching out every git who calls me a name. You'd have to attack half of the entire city if you wanted to do that.”
“Not funny.”
“You're right it's not,” I reply, nodding. “But hey, you know what? Even thought I can't exactly condone what you did, I can't say that I didn't appreciate it on some level. So, thanks, I guess. For defending my honor or some shit like that.”
He nods and takes back his hand, rubbing it.
“Next time, though, when I need a knight in shining armor, I'll ask for one, alright?” I ask, smiling.
He narrows his eyes and gives me a side-long glance. “Do I have to gay you now?”
“Fuck off!” I laugh, jumping to my feet. I hold out a hand for his good one and pull him upright as well. “Now let's blow this Popsicle stand. I'm fucking hungry.”
Tony laughs and follows me down the sidewalk.
Rating: M (Language)
Pairing: Tony/Maxxie, friendship
Author's Note: This takes place somewhere in Series 2, after the first episode, Maxxie & Tony.
As far as parties go, this one is pretty lame.
It's not Michelle's fault that I'm having a bad time, I suppose. She's done really well with the music and the food, and Chris has supplied some quality pharmaceuticals and all. I'm distracted tonight, is all.
Even dancing doesn't help. After my fifth straight song of moving on the dance floor I spot Tony sitting by himself on the couch near the window, his arms wrapped tightly around his middle. He looks as though he's trying to make himself as small as possible. An impossible task, mind you, when you're fucking six-foot-four.
Pushing my way through the crowd in Michelle's sitting room I throw myself onto the sofa beside him, giving him a bright smile.
“All right, Tone?” I ask, having to yell because of the loud music. “You've been sitting here all night!”
He shrugs, and my smile falters. I thought this would be a good idea. Try to get him back into the swing of things with a small party, just people from school and a couple of their friends. Smaller scale, you know, after the freakout he had at the last party.
“Come and have a dance with me?” I ask, leaning against his shoulder. “You love this song!"
He only shakes his head. “No thanks, mate.”
I sigh and prepare to stand when Anwar stumbles over to us. On his arm hangs a girl whose name I cannot pronounce. She's a German exchange student, and the poor thing is unlucky enough to have breasts the size of grapefruits so of course Anwar won't leave her alone.
“Ah, here they are!” Anwar exclaims, dragging her along. “Tony and Maxxie! Tony, here, got hit by a bus!”
He laughs loudly, slopping beer down his front. The girl tries to wave at Tony, but he only nods his head in return.”
“And that's Maxxie!” Anwar yells, jabbing a thumb in my direction. “He's gay!”
Wonderful, Anwar. Is that my only identifier lately? Not dancer, nor artist, not even his bloody best bloody friend in the entire universe.
The girl either doesn't hear him or doesn't understand because her eyebrows knit together in confusion. “Vut?”
Anwar leaned forward. “Gay! A queer, you know?”
She shakes her head, pointing to her ear. “I don't...”
Anwar sighs in frustration and sucks in a deep breath. “He's a faggot!”
The entire party screeches to a halt. It seems that during the brief pause in which the last song had ended and the new track was beginning everyone has heard him. Michelle and Jal are staring in disbelief, their jaws slack. Chris is fidgeting in his seat on the sofa, and Cassie is oblivious as always.
It's like ice has been poured down my back. My stomach turns violently and I feel as though I'm going to be sick right here, all over Michelle's mum's new rug.
Anwar's face falls-having realized he's messed up, perhaps-and he opens his mouth to say something a split second before Tony's fist connects with his face. His German chic-let screams as he falls back, clutching his nose in both hands. Even in the low light I can see his chin and shirt are slick with blood. Tony is standing above him, drawing his arm back for a second blow.
“Tony, no!” Michelle screams. “Stop it!”
He doesn't seem to be listening, and I barely grab his arm before he hits Anwar again. He tries to break my grip, but I pull him back, hauling him into the hallway and throw the front door open, dumping us both onto the darkened front step.
“What the fuck was that, Tone?” I demand, slamming the door shut. He jumps to the sidewalk and begins to pace, muttering under his breath. I've never seen him like this; Tony is nothing but calm and collected. He's never even yells let alone starts throwing punches in the middle of a party. That's more of Chris's department. But now, Tony's as angry and I've ever seen him.
“That shitfaced, motherfucking cunt!” he spits, whirling around to face me. “Did you hear what he called you?”
“I heard, Tony,” I reply, sighing. I sink onto the top step, resting my elbows on my knees. “He was drunk. It's not a big-“
“Don't you fucking dare say it's not a big deal!” Tony snaps, jabbing his finger in my face. “Its inexcusable! You just don't say shit like that,to anyone much less a friend! Christ!” He slams his hand against the cement wall. “He's your best friend for fuck's sake, Max! How can you let him treat you like that?”
I don't answer, leaving us to sit in silence. I choose to stare at my shoes, picking at the frayed knee of my jeans as I listen to him breathe above me. After what seems like hours he finally slumps down beside me.
“Let me see your hand,” I say, holding out my own.
“It's fine,” he replies shortly.
“I wasn't asking, Tone.”
He glares at me with those deep blue eyes, but I fix him with a glare that I seem to have picked up from my mother. Finally he huffs and rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”
Gingerly taking his left hand in mine, I turn it over to look at the knuckles. “There's blood, but I think its mostly Anwar's. Can you move your fingers?”
He wiggles them.
“Good,” I say, running my thumb over his knuckles as lightly as I can. “I don't think they're broken. Your hand is just going to be sore in the morning. How do you expect your parents to keep letting me take you out if you keep getting roughed up, huh?”
The corners of his mouth twitch. There we go.
Keeping his hand in mine, I look at him. “You really shouldn't have hit him, you know that, right?”
Tony opens his mouth to protest, but I continued speaking, not allowing any interruption. “You can't just punch someone out because they call me something foul, Tone. You have to trust that I can take care of myself. I've done a pretty good job of it up until now, don't you think?”
He nods once, staring into his lap. “I know. It's just...”
I lean sideways, nudging his shoulder. “What is it?”
“You took care of me after I got flattened by that bus,” he explains.
“It wasn't a problem,” I reply hastily. “Anyone would have-“
“But they didn't!” Tony snaps. Something in his face changes, and the color of his eyes darkens. “No one fucking did anything for me except for you. You visited me every day in the hospital, you dragged me around Bristol after I got out. You fucking taught me how to write for fuck's sake! You're my best friend, Maxxie, so sometimes....I feel like I have to return the favor, you know?”
I smile. “Be that as it may, Tony, I can't have you punching out every git who calls me a name. You'd have to attack half of the entire city if you wanted to do that.”
“Not funny.”
“You're right it's not,” I reply, nodding. “But hey, you know what? Even thought I can't exactly condone what you did, I can't say that I didn't appreciate it on some level. So, thanks, I guess. For defending my honor or some shit like that.”
He nods and takes back his hand, rubbing it.
“Next time, though, when I need a knight in shining armor, I'll ask for one, alright?” I ask, smiling.
He narrows his eyes and gives me a side-long glance. “Do I have to gay you now?”
“Fuck off!” I laugh, jumping to my feet. I hold out a hand for his good one and pull him upright as well. “Now let's blow this Popsicle stand. I'm fucking hungry.”
Tony laughs and follows me down the sidewalk.