are you having a good time/standalone/mcfly
Are You Having a Good Time?
1/1
Pg15
It doesn’t take long for Tom to find Danny.
Tom hears the door knob rattle all the way in his room.
He hears Harry drop his keys, can hear him cursing as he can’t seem to find them on the welcome mat. Tom has to mentally slap himself for not picking a house that has a light outside, but doesn’t get time to think on it because as soon as Harry manages to find it, the key is in the door and it’s swinging open.
Heavy footsteps are stumbling up the plush white carpet on the stairs and knuckles are banging on his door, words slur as they move through the air and into his ears.
“Tom, let me in.”
Harry doesn’t wait for a reply, just pushes the door open, almost loosing his footing, tripping through the darkness of the room until he is at the bottom of the bed. Tom hasn’t seen Harry this drunk since they were all still living together, since they were kids and really didn’t know any better.
“What are you doing?” Tom asks, voice low, even if he already knows the answer.
Harry just smirks, doesn’t say anything as he places his knees on the duvet and pulls himself closer.
“Harry-”
Tom can’t get the rest out; Harry’s lips are on his. The smell of stale beer and aftershave invade his nose and he just, he just can’t find the words to tell him to stop.
There is no hesitation, clumsy hands slide their way under Tom’s shirt, rough callused skin meeting smooth. He’s drunk - really, really drunk - Tom tells himself. They shouldn’t do this; they need to stop. Need to stop now because, because something’s not right. Something’s missing.
“Harry,” Tom pants, placing his hands on the brunette’s chest and gently pushing, “Harry, Where’s Danny?”
“I dunno,” Harry mutters, continuing his assault on Tom’s neck.
Tom just pushes him away again, a little harder this time.
“You were out with him. How do you not know where he is?”
Harry just rolls his eyes and huffs.
“I don’t remember. We were at the club then he, he…He went some where with some guy. I don’t know. I looked for him but he wasn’t there,” he says, pushing against Tom’s hands. “I wanted to find him, but then I though of you, all alone in your bed and I really wanted to come and keep you company.”
Tom pushes himself out of bed - Harry whining but his noises going ignored.
“That‘s just perfect!” he says, two feet on the ground. “I knew this was a bad idea we just should have stayed in England.”
Harry chuckles, flops back against the pillows and says, “But there are clubs in England too, Tom,” with a smile.
Tom doesn’t speak for a moment, just searches for his jeans across the floor. He finds them, hooks his fingers around the belt loops and steps in them one foot after the other as he speaks.
“Listen. Just go to sleep. I’m not arguing with a drunk.”
Harry looks up at him, questions written all over his face before he asks, “Where are you going?”
Tom doesn’t answer, just looks around and makes sure he has everything he needs to get back into the house before stepping out into the hall. He doesn’t say anything to the other man until he’s got one foot on the top stair and eyes on the front door.
“I’m going to make that Danny isn’t in a gutter somewhere is West Hollywood,” he tells Harry, a bit of malice and disappointment on his tongue.
::::
It doesn’t take long for Tom to find Danny.
He finds him, sleeping upright on a bud stopped bench; cheeks flushes and head tipped back. His sweat slicked hair hangs all over his head effortlessly; the tips of the short strands barely touch his neck, don’t even cover the large love bite right below his ear. Tom feels something - a pang of protectiveness and jealousy that runs through his veins - foreboding an argument - that’s so familiar to back home that it’s just, out of place here.
It didn’t take a detective to figure out what Danny was doing, and obviously the person didn’t even have the decency to call him a cab.
Tom hates this, really hates this, but is used to it nonetheless. Years of Danny being too drunk to function properly, of having to watch him to make sure he didn’t drown in the toilet or fall down the stairs. It was always Tom to take care of him in the morning. Give him an aspirin and a glass of water, telling him that he should drink like he does.
So it’s no surprise to Danny when a hand lands on his shoulder and gently shoves him.
“Dan.” Tom says, shaking the brunette a little, “Come on, lets get you home.”
“Knew you’d find me.” he tells the blonde, eyes not even opening. And a freckled hand lays itself on top of his own. Tom gives a sigh, knowing that he should be pissed, he should but. But it’s Danny.
“Let’s go.” and it’s a surprising authoritative tone that takes over his voice. “Get up.”
They walk a staggered pace, it’s all Danny can manage to get back home without falling. They go slow, Tom’s arm around his waist, letting most of the weight rest on him. It’s not something that is exactly comfortable but it beats the alternative of dragging him, besides it’s only a few blocks.
::::
Tom finally gets Danny into bed. He is already passed out by the time his head hit’s the pillow, mumbling something that sounded like “love you, Tom.” but one couldn’t be sure. It may have just been what he wanted to hear at the time.
As gently as he can he pulls the worn trainers off his feet, dropping them to the floor. He unbuttons the jeans, undoes the zipper, and pulls them over his hips. Danny doesn’t even notice, too deep in his post-drink stupor , to feel anything.
And it’ll be the same routine in the morning as always, aspirin, glass of water, same old lecture that will go in one ear and out the other. Danny will still go and get pissed, stumble home at 4 in the morning or not at all and Tom will have to go out again and look for him, all the while praying that he is fine, safe, and that he will be able to put him back together when it’s all over. All the while fighting off drunk, horny Harry.
He knows that Harry only shows affection out of desperation. A rushed fuck in the dead of night or when he stuck out at the bar. He knows and if the instant gratification aspect wasn’t so amazing he might complain. But he still keeps his mouth shut, even when he’s not the one that he wants.
What he wants is currently snoring, face down on his pillow, not knowing or caring about the trouble that he caused tonight, nor in another night that he pulls these little stunts. But won’t tell him that it hurts him to see him like this. Won’t say that it kills him to be worried every day that something will happen to him. He won’t say a word. Tom will stay up all night to make sure that Danny is fine. Just in case he needs something .
And to wish that he was what Danny wanted to , instead of the liquor.
1/1
Pg15
It doesn’t take long for Tom to find Danny.
Tom hears the door knob rattle all the way in his room.
He hears Harry drop his keys, can hear him cursing as he can’t seem to find them on the welcome mat. Tom has to mentally slap himself for not picking a house that has a light outside, but doesn’t get time to think on it because as soon as Harry manages to find it, the key is in the door and it’s swinging open.
Heavy footsteps are stumbling up the plush white carpet on the stairs and knuckles are banging on his door, words slur as they move through the air and into his ears.
“Tom, let me in.”
Harry doesn’t wait for a reply, just pushes the door open, almost loosing his footing, tripping through the darkness of the room until he is at the bottom of the bed. Tom hasn’t seen Harry this drunk since they were all still living together, since they were kids and really didn’t know any better.
“What are you doing?” Tom asks, voice low, even if he already knows the answer.
Harry just smirks, doesn’t say anything as he places his knees on the duvet and pulls himself closer.
“Harry-”
Tom can’t get the rest out; Harry’s lips are on his. The smell of stale beer and aftershave invade his nose and he just, he just can’t find the words to tell him to stop.
There is no hesitation, clumsy hands slide their way under Tom’s shirt, rough callused skin meeting smooth. He’s drunk - really, really drunk - Tom tells himself. They shouldn’t do this; they need to stop. Need to stop now because, because something’s not right. Something’s missing.
“Harry,” Tom pants, placing his hands on the brunette’s chest and gently pushing, “Harry, Where’s Danny?”
“I dunno,” Harry mutters, continuing his assault on Tom’s neck.
Tom just pushes him away again, a little harder this time.
“You were out with him. How do you not know where he is?”
Harry just rolls his eyes and huffs.
“I don’t remember. We were at the club then he, he…He went some where with some guy. I don’t know. I looked for him but he wasn’t there,” he says, pushing against Tom’s hands. “I wanted to find him, but then I though of you, all alone in your bed and I really wanted to come and keep you company.”
Tom pushes himself out of bed - Harry whining but his noises going ignored.
“That‘s just perfect!” he says, two feet on the ground. “I knew this was a bad idea we just should have stayed in England.”
Harry chuckles, flops back against the pillows and says, “But there are clubs in England too, Tom,” with a smile.
Tom doesn’t speak for a moment, just searches for his jeans across the floor. He finds them, hooks his fingers around the belt loops and steps in them one foot after the other as he speaks.
“Listen. Just go to sleep. I’m not arguing with a drunk.”
Harry looks up at him, questions written all over his face before he asks, “Where are you going?”
Tom doesn’t answer, just looks around and makes sure he has everything he needs to get back into the house before stepping out into the hall. He doesn’t say anything to the other man until he’s got one foot on the top stair and eyes on the front door.
“I’m going to make that Danny isn’t in a gutter somewhere is West Hollywood,” he tells Harry, a bit of malice and disappointment on his tongue.
::::
It doesn’t take long for Tom to find Danny.
He finds him, sleeping upright on a bud stopped bench; cheeks flushes and head tipped back. His sweat slicked hair hangs all over his head effortlessly; the tips of the short strands barely touch his neck, don’t even cover the large love bite right below his ear. Tom feels something - a pang of protectiveness and jealousy that runs through his veins - foreboding an argument - that’s so familiar to back home that it’s just, out of place here.
It didn’t take a detective to figure out what Danny was doing, and obviously the person didn’t even have the decency to call him a cab.
Tom hates this, really hates this, but is used to it nonetheless. Years of Danny being too drunk to function properly, of having to watch him to make sure he didn’t drown in the toilet or fall down the stairs. It was always Tom to take care of him in the morning. Give him an aspirin and a glass of water, telling him that he should drink like he does.
So it’s no surprise to Danny when a hand lands on his shoulder and gently shoves him.
“Dan.” Tom says, shaking the brunette a little, “Come on, lets get you home.”
“Knew you’d find me.” he tells the blonde, eyes not even opening. And a freckled hand lays itself on top of his own. Tom gives a sigh, knowing that he should be pissed, he should but. But it’s Danny.
“Let’s go.” and it’s a surprising authoritative tone that takes over his voice. “Get up.”
They walk a staggered pace, it’s all Danny can manage to get back home without falling. They go slow, Tom’s arm around his waist, letting most of the weight rest on him. It’s not something that is exactly comfortable but it beats the alternative of dragging him, besides it’s only a few blocks.
::::
Tom finally gets Danny into bed. He is already passed out by the time his head hit’s the pillow, mumbling something that sounded like “love you, Tom.” but one couldn’t be sure. It may have just been what he wanted to hear at the time.
As gently as he can he pulls the worn trainers off his feet, dropping them to the floor. He unbuttons the jeans, undoes the zipper, and pulls them over his hips. Danny doesn’t even notice, too deep in his post-drink stupor , to feel anything.
And it’ll be the same routine in the morning as always, aspirin, glass of water, same old lecture that will go in one ear and out the other. Danny will still go and get pissed, stumble home at 4 in the morning or not at all and Tom will have to go out again and look for him, all the while praying that he is fine, safe, and that he will be able to put him back together when it’s all over. All the while fighting off drunk, horny Harry.
He knows that Harry only shows affection out of desperation. A rushed fuck in the dead of night or when he stuck out at the bar. He knows and if the instant gratification aspect wasn’t so amazing he might complain. But he still keeps his mouth shut, even when he’s not the one that he wants.
What he wants is currently snoring, face down on his pillow, not knowing or caring about the trouble that he caused tonight, nor in another night that he pulls these little stunts. But won’t tell him that it hurts him to see him like this. Won’t say that it kills him to be worried every day that something will happen to him. He won’t say a word. Tom will stay up all night to make sure that Danny is fine. Just in case he needs something .
And to wish that he was what Danny wanted to , instead of the liquor.