that something parts 4 and 5!!!
Oh yes. More fic finally typed up. Hellz yah! You get two parts today since part 4 is so short! :)
Title: That Something
Rating: Pg-13 to R depending on the section/chapter.
Characters: Darren Fletcher, Michael Carrick, Alan Smith plus any others that get added in.
Disclaimer: Don’t own obviously....they’d be running around naked if I did.
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*****
Darren fidgeted. His finger pushed the window control button, making his window slide down an inch before sliding it back up. He stared out the front windshield, eyes blank, as he listened to Alan go on about life at Newcastle.
"...and they opened this great club just last weekend down the street from my flat," he was currently saying, "Me and Milner checked it out the other day. Music’s a bit dodgy at times for me, but it was alright. Good beer, though. You might even like it. Not too strong and-" Alan glanced over. "Stop doing that. You’re gonna break my window."
Darren flushed. He removed his hand.
"Sorry."
"S’alright. Well anyway. It’s been absolutely FREEZING here lately. I mean I have to wear two pulls when I go out for a bit of a run, ya know? And the lady who lives below me keeps gettin on me for running down the stairs every morning but-hey!" He paused to take a breath and looked at Darren again. "You’re quiet today. Everything alright?"
Darren’s mind screamed ‘no’, but he ignored it. Alan seemed to be okay with him-he certainly didn’t seem to be bothered with the fact that just a few days before he’d dropped the bombshell about cheating with Michael Carrick. But he was. And he couldn’t get it out of his head.
"Fine."
"You look a bit peaky." Alan reached over and squeezed his hand. "Not feeling well?"
Darren pulled away.
"I said ‘m fine." He sighed as Alan frowned. "Sorry. Just...just tired."
He considered closing his eyes. Then maybe Alan wouldn’t keep looking at him like he was out of his mind. Or at least, he wouldn’t have to see Alan looking at him like that.
"Maybe we shouldn’t go out then."
"No. It’s okay."
Darren didn’t want to ruin Alan’s plans for the night. He tried to smile. Hopefully Alan would buy it.
"I’ll be fine after we get a drink or two."
Alan nodded. Maybe he did buy it. Darren hoped so. He thought about crossing his fingers for good luck, but stopped himself. That might look a bit weird. He settled for crossing his legs at the ankles instead.
"There’s a bar down the street from St. James’ Park. No one really goes there. We could go there instead if you’d like," Alan offered, "It will be quiet at least."
Darren nodded and Alan turned the car around. They began heading back the way they’d just come.
*****
"And Smudge says it’s alright?"
Rio nodded as Wes wrinkled his nose. Both men eyed the run-down building they were currently standing in front of, taking in the shutters falling off the lone front window and the sign (missing part a big chunk) swaying in the breeze. Wes didn’t think it looked that great, but he didn’t say another word.
"Smudge says it looks bad on the outside, but it’s okay when you get in," Rio explained, "The owner doesn’t really care. Smudge figures it keeps out a lot of people cos they don’t come here after games."
"Well, if Alan says it’s alright..." Michael muttered, rolling his eyes.
No one heard him.
"Are we going to go in then?" Wayne asked.
Rio jammed his hands in his pockets and looked around.
"Um...yah."
"Well?"
"What?"
"You’re captain when Gaz and Ry aren’t around. Shouldn’t you be the one to go in first?" Wes asked.
"Oh, erm..."
Wes and Wayne both gave him a shove on the shoulder. Rio stumbled forward and brought one hand up to steady himself against the door. He pulled back, grimacing, as paint peeled off and stuck to his hand.
"Bloody hell!"
"Oh for fuck’s sake!"
Everyone stopped and turned to stare at Nemanja. He pushed past Rio and opened the door. He walked in as everyone watched, eyes wide.
"You taught him that, didn’t you?"Cristiano accused, jabbing a finger in Rio’s chest.
The defender held up his hands.
"What makes you say that?"
"He gets all his swearing from you," Wes explained. He followed his fellow defender inside and added over his shoulder, "You ladies coming or what?"
There was much grumbling as the rest of the group slowly entered the pub. They looked around at the dimly lit billiards table in one corner, the fabric tearing off the seats of the chairs, the fog of cigar smoke that hung over the bar, and they all grimaced. One thought ran through their heads-Alan Smith, ever stylish and even a bit snobbish Alan, came here?
"Um...nice atmosphere?"
They all turned to Wes.
"You’re kidding right?"
"Oh lord..."
"Please tell me that’s not a mouse over in that corner!"
"WHERE?!"
"Shut up, Wayne! That’s not a mouse!"
Cristiano nudged Michael, his nose crinkled.
"Do you smell that?"
"No..."
"Here-" Nemanja stepped up behind them. In each hand he held a round of beers. "Is okay. Really, Rio. Tastes good!"
Rio looked doubtful, but he took a bottle nonetheless. After chugging half the bottle, he stopped for a breath.
"Tastes like...something"
"Well isn’t that a great description." Michael grabbed a bottle and took a swig as well. "Hm...well you’re right. It does taste like something..."
"Told you!"
"It tastes like a feckin beer, you idiot," Michael continued. He nodded toward a set of tables in the corner. "Shall we sit?"
Wayne glanced at Rio as they walked and shook his head.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Look, mate. You have a bottle and then tell me it doesn’t taste like something odd," Rio told him. He grabbed another bottle out of Nemanja’s hands. "Here. Have a drink, yah?"
Wayne didn’t need to be offered again. He took the bottle and took a long drink. Rio watched him, eyes wide.
"Well?"
"Tastes okay to me." Wayne took another swig. "Tastes fine, really."
Rio only shook his head. He took a seat next to Wes and watched as everyone else took long pulls from their bottles. His fingers drummed on the table, keeping a beat to the old jazz music he could barely hear about the sound of Wes cheering on Michael and Nemanja as they chugged their beers. He looked around and found a beat-up jukebox sitting to the left of the front door.
"Score!" Rio stood up and began searching his pockets for money. "I’ll be over there looking for some real music if you lads need me."
"Doubt you’ll find any rap on it," Wes laughed.
"Wanna bet?"
Rio walked away. He nodded to a couple of old men sitting at the bar. They looked like they had waved to him, but the scowl on one’s face made Rio rethink that the wave had been directed at some sort of flying insect instead. It wouldn’t surprise him if there were bugs here. He suppressed a shudder at the thought and vowed to text Alan later. Maybe they’d gone to the wrong place. Rio was sure that Alan had never been very good at giving directions in the first place.
He looked over the list of songs. Seemed the owner had a thing for Elton John. Rio chuckled. A secret man-crush maybe? He’d just picked out a half-decent Janet Jackson song and turned to walk back toward the table when the front door was flung open.
"Rio! What are you-"
"Smudge, I don’t think you were right about this place," Rio started at the same time. He shook his head. "Bit of a dive, isn’t it?"
Alan grinned.
"It’s not too bad. Forgot I gave you directions to here." He raised a hand to the bartender who immediately grabbed two bottles and walked over to the group. "Thanks, Joe. So..." He glanced around. "All the team here, then?"
Rio nodded before poking his elbow into Darren’s side.
"You left in a hurry today."
"Huh? Oh. Yah."
Darren blinked as he looked around the room. Alan was right about one thing-it was quiet.
"SMUDGE!"
He sighed at the sound of Wes Brown’s voice carrying from across the room. Well, there went the quiet part, he thought as the rest of the guys yelled out.
"Fletch! Thought you didn’t want to be seen with us mate!"
"Smudge, how’s it goin?"
"Great game, mate!"
"You really come here?"
There was, however, one voice that didn’t call out as they walked over. Darren watched as Michael raised his bottle to his lips and peered over the rim. Their eyes met and Michael smiled slightly. Curses sprang to Darren’s lips but he held them back. He hadn’t planned on being in the same place as the rest of the team-especially not Michael. Damn. He hadn’t planned on seeing Michael for the rest of the night. He glanced apprehensively at Alan, who was now currently glaring daggers. What was he going to do now?
"Alright, lads! How bout a drink to the valiant Newcastle forward who played a great game, yah?" Wes raised his bottle. "What say?"
"To the Smudger!" Wayne and Nemanja cheered in unison.
Everyone raised their bottles as Alan grinned. He stepped closer to Darren and placed a hand on the Scot’s back. His grin widened as Michael’s eyes narrowed and his grip visibly tightened around his drink. This only served to boost Alan’s mood and he leaned in til his lips were pressed against Darren’s neck.
"Aren’t you glad we came?" he whispered into flushed skin. His hand moved in small circles across Darren’s back. "I’ve missed the team. I’ve missed you."
Darren tensed. He considered pulling away from Alan’s touch (they were around his TEAMMATES for god’s sake!), but stopped that train of thought almost immediately. He tried not to look at Michael as Alan’s lips pressed light kisses down his neck and to the collar of his shirt.
"Alan...stop." He jerked his neck away and added softly, "There are other people..."
"No one is watching."
Darren rolled his eyes. That wasn’t exactly true and Alan knew it. There were definitely one pair of eyes trained on the two. He blushed as he turned to see Rio standing next to him, a bottle of beer in one hand and an amused look on his face.
"Drink up."
Darren gladly took the drink, swallowing a good third of it greedily.
"What the-" He spat out the drink, spraying Rio, Wayne, and Wes in the process. "That beer tastes like cum!"
"I knew it tasted odd!" Rio exclaimed, pumping one fist in the air.
Everyone stared at him and Darren.
"What?"
"Figures Fletch would be the one to realize what it tasted like," Wes finally spoke with a long glance at Alan.
"What’s that supposed to mean?"
"It means" Alan told Darren as he tugged on the Scot’s arm and pulled him to an empty set of chairs, "that you’re a cum-whore."
"I-I am not-just because-"
Alan laughed.
"Relax. I’m just joking."
"It does not."
They turned to stare at Cristiano. He smacked his lips and wrinkled his nose.
"Does not taste like cum," he explained, holding his beer up, "Cum tastes more like ocean."
"How do you-wait, nevermind. I’m not even going to finish that question." Wes waved his hand and looked away. "Just forget it!"
"Aww, don’t you wanna know why Ronnie knows how cum tastes?" Alan teased. He finished his beer and poked Wes’ arm with the neck. "I’m sure it’d be a fascinating story!"
"I’m not a fuckin queer!" Wes stopped and dropped his eyes. "I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with-I know you and Fletch have your...thing, but I didn’t mean-"
"Relax."
"Put your foot in your mouth this time, Brown." Rio patted his shoulder and set his bottle on the table in front of them. "Sorry Smudge, but I can’t finish that drink. Not after Darren said it tastes like man-juice." He shook his head as Wayne and Nemanja burst into giggles. "Laugh if you want, but you’re the queers still drinking it," he informed them, "I need a real beer. The hotel’s got a bar, doesn’t it? Let’s move the party there."
"Aww, I was hoping to have another round," Wayne told him, still chuckling. He drained his bottle and stood up. "You’re right though. There is a bar at the hotel."
"Good. A chance to get plastered in front of our screaming fangirls. Fuckin lovely."
Wes rolled his eyes, but stood up as well. He ruffled Alan’s hair and danced out of the way when Alan swatted at his hands.
"Sorry bout before, mate. I’ll buy you a beer or something if you’re joining us at the hotel."
"Nah." Alan shook his head and snuck a wink at Darren. "I’m good-probably going to be busy the rest of the night."
"Oh."
"Hey, Fletch..."
Darren looked up at Cristiano’s offered hand.
"You coming?"
"If he’s a good boy."
"Aw, gross! That’s fucking disgusting, Smith!"
"Keep it in your pants til after we leave!"
"Ugh."
Darren rolled his eyes again. Slowly, he shook his head as he felt Alan’s hand slip under the table and to his knee.
"I keep door unlocked?" Nemanja offered, "Or do you have keys?"
"I’ve got mine, thanks."
"See you then."
"Later."
"Alan...see you around."
"Can’t wait to beat you again next year!"
"Shove it, Ferdinand!"
"Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do!"
"That doesn’t leave much then, Wazza."
Darren looked up as he felt a hand on his shoulder. He stared into Michael’s eyes and slowly he felt his face heat up. Alan’s hand tightened it’s grip on his leg and he tried not to wince at the sudden pressure.
"See you later, Darren."
He managed to squeak out a quick ‘bye’ before reaching under the table and grabbing Alan’s hand.
"Ow!"
Alan glanced at him, eyes wide.
"Huh?"
"You were squeezing the life out of my leg!"
"Oh. Sorry." Alan glared at the retreating backs of his ex-teammates. "Milner was right about him..."
"What?"
"Said he was a pompous-ass overrated midfielder," Alan continued, not even aware that Darren had spoken and was now staring at him. "And that I should have kicked his ass on the field today after what he did-"
"You told James Milner about-about-"
Darren waved his hands in the air, not able to finish his sentence. Alan had told someone about how he’d slept with Michael? What the hell?
Alan nodded and turned to Darren.
"Yah. So?"
"But, but-" Darren’s mouth opened and closed. He held onto the edge of the table and stared. "But why? I mean...that’s PRIVATE, Alan!"
"I needed someone to talk to. And James is a really good listener. "Alan shrugged. "He doesn’t care if I babble or whatever."
"But you told him about-about us and Michael and..."
"Everyone knew about us already." Alan sighed and looked away. "Bout how we’ve been together for awhile."
"But why-"
"Mickey hit on me my first week here."
"Oh." Darren’s stomach flipped. "And?"
"I told him no." He sighed again. "Can we talk about something else now? My night’s been bad enough. I don’t need this shit, too."
"Sorry."
They sat in silence. Darren chewed on his bottom lip as he watched Alan. He looked over the slightly pouty pink lips and dark eyes that contrasted so much with the bleached blond hair, and sighed. He still couldn’t believe Alan had told someone (James Milner of all people!) about their relationship. Didn’t he realize how private an issue that was? And to tell him about Michael-that was going too far. And Milner was certainly wrong about Michael-he wasn’t overrated, he was a great player. And he wasn’t pompous-just confident sometimes. He had every reason to be, Darren figured. He was a great player with some of the best crosses in the league and he was quite handsome as well.
Darren groaned and squeezed his eyes shut. He was not thinking about Michael being attractive. Not when he was with Alan-with his BOYFRIEND, his mind screamed at him. He was with Alan and he loved Alan, didn’t he? Of course he did. They’d been together too long now. He wanted to be with Alan, wanted to feel Alan move against him every night, wanted to feel Alan’s lips against his.
So, why was he suddenly reminded of how Michael’s hands had felt on his bare skin?
"Fletch? Hey..."
Darren opened his eyes to see Alan leaning over the table, face just inches from his own. His hand brushed Darren’s and attempted a smile.
"You okay?"
"Yah, just..."
Darren couldn’t finish his thought. He knew Alan wouldn’t want to hear it.
Alan stared at him.
"Look, if you’re still not feeling well..."
"I’m fine, just...I don’t think..." Darren sighed. "Truthfully?"
"You don’t like that I talked to James about you, do you?"
"Well, no! It’s-it’s something private! And he knows about me and Michael and-I was DRUNK Alan! I’m sorry! I really really am and-"
Alan held up a hand.
"Stop. We don’t need to talk about this."
"Yes we do! You just don’t want to hear it!" Darren took a deep breath before slumping forward, elbows resting on the table between them. "It happened and you hate me. You can’t trust me-I know you can’t. And I-"
"Shut up, Darren."
Darren ignored the low warning tone in Alan’s voice and continued.
"I don’t blame you if you do hate me, but don’t pretend like it didn’t happen! Even if you don’t want to talk about it, it still bloody well happened!"
"Shut up!"
"No! We need to talk about this! We need to-"
Darren stopped as Alan stood up. They locked eyes as Alan stared down at him and Darren winced at the suddenly spiteful stare.
"Smudge-"
"I’m going home." Alan turned toward the door. "If you want a ride, let’s go..."
Darren sighed, but stood up. He’d thought that talking about it would help. He really had. Obviously, he’d been wrong. And he was pretty sure he’d just made an even bigger mess of things.
Title: That Something
Rating: Pg-13 to R depending on the section/chapter.
Characters: Darren Fletcher, Michael Carrick, Alan Smith plus any others that get added in.
Disclaimer: Don’t own obviously....they’d be running around naked if I did.
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*****
Darren fidgeted. His finger pushed the window control button, making his window slide down an inch before sliding it back up. He stared out the front windshield, eyes blank, as he listened to Alan go on about life at Newcastle.
"...and they opened this great club just last weekend down the street from my flat," he was currently saying, "Me and Milner checked it out the other day. Music’s a bit dodgy at times for me, but it was alright. Good beer, though. You might even like it. Not too strong and-" Alan glanced over. "Stop doing that. You’re gonna break my window."
Darren flushed. He removed his hand.
"Sorry."
"S’alright. Well anyway. It’s been absolutely FREEZING here lately. I mean I have to wear two pulls when I go out for a bit of a run, ya know? And the lady who lives below me keeps gettin on me for running down the stairs every morning but-hey!" He paused to take a breath and looked at Darren again. "You’re quiet today. Everything alright?"
Darren’s mind screamed ‘no’, but he ignored it. Alan seemed to be okay with him-he certainly didn’t seem to be bothered with the fact that just a few days before he’d dropped the bombshell about cheating with Michael Carrick. But he was. And he couldn’t get it out of his head.
"Fine."
"You look a bit peaky." Alan reached over and squeezed his hand. "Not feeling well?"
Darren pulled away.
"I said ‘m fine." He sighed as Alan frowned. "Sorry. Just...just tired."
He considered closing his eyes. Then maybe Alan wouldn’t keep looking at him like he was out of his mind. Or at least, he wouldn’t have to see Alan looking at him like that.
"Maybe we shouldn’t go out then."
"No. It’s okay."
Darren didn’t want to ruin Alan’s plans for the night. He tried to smile. Hopefully Alan would buy it.
"I’ll be fine after we get a drink or two."
Alan nodded. Maybe he did buy it. Darren hoped so. He thought about crossing his fingers for good luck, but stopped himself. That might look a bit weird. He settled for crossing his legs at the ankles instead.
"There’s a bar down the street from St. James’ Park. No one really goes there. We could go there instead if you’d like," Alan offered, "It will be quiet at least."
Darren nodded and Alan turned the car around. They began heading back the way they’d just come.
*****
"And Smudge says it’s alright?"
Rio nodded as Wes wrinkled his nose. Both men eyed the run-down building they were currently standing in front of, taking in the shutters falling off the lone front window and the sign (missing part a big chunk) swaying in the breeze. Wes didn’t think it looked that great, but he didn’t say another word.
"Smudge says it looks bad on the outside, but it’s okay when you get in," Rio explained, "The owner doesn’t really care. Smudge figures it keeps out a lot of people cos they don’t come here after games."
"Well, if Alan says it’s alright..." Michael muttered, rolling his eyes.
No one heard him.
"Are we going to go in then?" Wayne asked.
Rio jammed his hands in his pockets and looked around.
"Um...yah."
"Well?"
"What?"
"You’re captain when Gaz and Ry aren’t around. Shouldn’t you be the one to go in first?" Wes asked.
"Oh, erm..."
Wes and Wayne both gave him a shove on the shoulder. Rio stumbled forward and brought one hand up to steady himself against the door. He pulled back, grimacing, as paint peeled off and stuck to his hand.
"Bloody hell!"
"Oh for fuck’s sake!"
Everyone stopped and turned to stare at Nemanja. He pushed past Rio and opened the door. He walked in as everyone watched, eyes wide.
"You taught him that, didn’t you?"Cristiano accused, jabbing a finger in Rio’s chest.
The defender held up his hands.
"What makes you say that?"
"He gets all his swearing from you," Wes explained. He followed his fellow defender inside and added over his shoulder, "You ladies coming or what?"
There was much grumbling as the rest of the group slowly entered the pub. They looked around at the dimly lit billiards table in one corner, the fabric tearing off the seats of the chairs, the fog of cigar smoke that hung over the bar, and they all grimaced. One thought ran through their heads-Alan Smith, ever stylish and even a bit snobbish Alan, came here?
"Um...nice atmosphere?"
They all turned to Wes.
"You’re kidding right?"
"Oh lord..."
"Please tell me that’s not a mouse over in that corner!"
"WHERE?!"
"Shut up, Wayne! That’s not a mouse!"
Cristiano nudged Michael, his nose crinkled.
"Do you smell that?"
"No..."
"Here-" Nemanja stepped up behind them. In each hand he held a round of beers. "Is okay. Really, Rio. Tastes good!"
Rio looked doubtful, but he took a bottle nonetheless. After chugging half the bottle, he stopped for a breath.
"Tastes like...something"
"Well isn’t that a great description." Michael grabbed a bottle and took a swig as well. "Hm...well you’re right. It does taste like something..."
"Told you!"
"It tastes like a feckin beer, you idiot," Michael continued. He nodded toward a set of tables in the corner. "Shall we sit?"
Wayne glanced at Rio as they walked and shook his head.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Look, mate. You have a bottle and then tell me it doesn’t taste like something odd," Rio told him. He grabbed another bottle out of Nemanja’s hands. "Here. Have a drink, yah?"
Wayne didn’t need to be offered again. He took the bottle and took a long drink. Rio watched him, eyes wide.
"Well?"
"Tastes okay to me." Wayne took another swig. "Tastes fine, really."
Rio only shook his head. He took a seat next to Wes and watched as everyone else took long pulls from their bottles. His fingers drummed on the table, keeping a beat to the old jazz music he could barely hear about the sound of Wes cheering on Michael and Nemanja as they chugged their beers. He looked around and found a beat-up jukebox sitting to the left of the front door.
"Score!" Rio stood up and began searching his pockets for money. "I’ll be over there looking for some real music if you lads need me."
"Doubt you’ll find any rap on it," Wes laughed.
"Wanna bet?"
Rio walked away. He nodded to a couple of old men sitting at the bar. They looked like they had waved to him, but the scowl on one’s face made Rio rethink that the wave had been directed at some sort of flying insect instead. It wouldn’t surprise him if there were bugs here. He suppressed a shudder at the thought and vowed to text Alan later. Maybe they’d gone to the wrong place. Rio was sure that Alan had never been very good at giving directions in the first place.
He looked over the list of songs. Seemed the owner had a thing for Elton John. Rio chuckled. A secret man-crush maybe? He’d just picked out a half-decent Janet Jackson song and turned to walk back toward the table when the front door was flung open.
"Rio! What are you-"
"Smudge, I don’t think you were right about this place," Rio started at the same time. He shook his head. "Bit of a dive, isn’t it?"
Alan grinned.
"It’s not too bad. Forgot I gave you directions to here." He raised a hand to the bartender who immediately grabbed two bottles and walked over to the group. "Thanks, Joe. So..." He glanced around. "All the team here, then?"
Rio nodded before poking his elbow into Darren’s side.
"You left in a hurry today."
"Huh? Oh. Yah."
Darren blinked as he looked around the room. Alan was right about one thing-it was quiet.
"SMUDGE!"
He sighed at the sound of Wes Brown’s voice carrying from across the room. Well, there went the quiet part, he thought as the rest of the guys yelled out.
"Fletch! Thought you didn’t want to be seen with us mate!"
"Smudge, how’s it goin?"
"Great game, mate!"
"You really come here?"
There was, however, one voice that didn’t call out as they walked over. Darren watched as Michael raised his bottle to his lips and peered over the rim. Their eyes met and Michael smiled slightly. Curses sprang to Darren’s lips but he held them back. He hadn’t planned on being in the same place as the rest of the team-especially not Michael. Damn. He hadn’t planned on seeing Michael for the rest of the night. He glanced apprehensively at Alan, who was now currently glaring daggers. What was he going to do now?
"Alright, lads! How bout a drink to the valiant Newcastle forward who played a great game, yah?" Wes raised his bottle. "What say?"
"To the Smudger!" Wayne and Nemanja cheered in unison.
Everyone raised their bottles as Alan grinned. He stepped closer to Darren and placed a hand on the Scot’s back. His grin widened as Michael’s eyes narrowed and his grip visibly tightened around his drink. This only served to boost Alan’s mood and he leaned in til his lips were pressed against Darren’s neck.
"Aren’t you glad we came?" he whispered into flushed skin. His hand moved in small circles across Darren’s back. "I’ve missed the team. I’ve missed you."
Darren tensed. He considered pulling away from Alan’s touch (they were around his TEAMMATES for god’s sake!), but stopped that train of thought almost immediately. He tried not to look at Michael as Alan’s lips pressed light kisses down his neck and to the collar of his shirt.
"Alan...stop." He jerked his neck away and added softly, "There are other people..."
"No one is watching."
Darren rolled his eyes. That wasn’t exactly true and Alan knew it. There were definitely one pair of eyes trained on the two. He blushed as he turned to see Rio standing next to him, a bottle of beer in one hand and an amused look on his face.
"Drink up."
Darren gladly took the drink, swallowing a good third of it greedily.
"What the-" He spat out the drink, spraying Rio, Wayne, and Wes in the process. "That beer tastes like cum!"
"I knew it tasted odd!" Rio exclaimed, pumping one fist in the air.
Everyone stared at him and Darren.
"What?"
"Figures Fletch would be the one to realize what it tasted like," Wes finally spoke with a long glance at Alan.
"What’s that supposed to mean?"
"It means" Alan told Darren as he tugged on the Scot’s arm and pulled him to an empty set of chairs, "that you’re a cum-whore."
"I-I am not-just because-"
Alan laughed.
"Relax. I’m just joking."
"It does not."
They turned to stare at Cristiano. He smacked his lips and wrinkled his nose.
"Does not taste like cum," he explained, holding his beer up, "Cum tastes more like ocean."
"How do you-wait, nevermind. I’m not even going to finish that question." Wes waved his hand and looked away. "Just forget it!"
"Aww, don’t you wanna know why Ronnie knows how cum tastes?" Alan teased. He finished his beer and poked Wes’ arm with the neck. "I’m sure it’d be a fascinating story!"
"I’m not a fuckin queer!" Wes stopped and dropped his eyes. "I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with-I know you and Fletch have your...thing, but I didn’t mean-"
"Relax."
"Put your foot in your mouth this time, Brown." Rio patted his shoulder and set his bottle on the table in front of them. "Sorry Smudge, but I can’t finish that drink. Not after Darren said it tastes like man-juice." He shook his head as Wayne and Nemanja burst into giggles. "Laugh if you want, but you’re the queers still drinking it," he informed them, "I need a real beer. The hotel’s got a bar, doesn’t it? Let’s move the party there."
"Aww, I was hoping to have another round," Wayne told him, still chuckling. He drained his bottle and stood up. "You’re right though. There is a bar at the hotel."
"Good. A chance to get plastered in front of our screaming fangirls. Fuckin lovely."
Wes rolled his eyes, but stood up as well. He ruffled Alan’s hair and danced out of the way when Alan swatted at his hands.
"Sorry bout before, mate. I’ll buy you a beer or something if you’re joining us at the hotel."
"Nah." Alan shook his head and snuck a wink at Darren. "I’m good-probably going to be busy the rest of the night."
"Oh."
"Hey, Fletch..."
Darren looked up at Cristiano’s offered hand.
"You coming?"
"If he’s a good boy."
"Aw, gross! That’s fucking disgusting, Smith!"
"Keep it in your pants til after we leave!"
"Ugh."
Darren rolled his eyes again. Slowly, he shook his head as he felt Alan’s hand slip under the table and to his knee.
"I keep door unlocked?" Nemanja offered, "Or do you have keys?"
"I’ve got mine, thanks."
"See you then."
"Later."
"Alan...see you around."
"Can’t wait to beat you again next year!"
"Shove it, Ferdinand!"
"Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do!"
"That doesn’t leave much then, Wazza."
Darren looked up as he felt a hand on his shoulder. He stared into Michael’s eyes and slowly he felt his face heat up. Alan’s hand tightened it’s grip on his leg and he tried not to wince at the sudden pressure.
"See you later, Darren."
He managed to squeak out a quick ‘bye’ before reaching under the table and grabbing Alan’s hand.
"Ow!"
Alan glanced at him, eyes wide.
"Huh?"
"You were squeezing the life out of my leg!"
"Oh. Sorry." Alan glared at the retreating backs of his ex-teammates. "Milner was right about him..."
"What?"
"Said he was a pompous-ass overrated midfielder," Alan continued, not even aware that Darren had spoken and was now staring at him. "And that I should have kicked his ass on the field today after what he did-"
"You told James Milner about-about-"
Darren waved his hands in the air, not able to finish his sentence. Alan had told someone about how he’d slept with Michael? What the hell?
Alan nodded and turned to Darren.
"Yah. So?"
"But, but-" Darren’s mouth opened and closed. He held onto the edge of the table and stared. "But why? I mean...that’s PRIVATE, Alan!"
"I needed someone to talk to. And James is a really good listener. "Alan shrugged. "He doesn’t care if I babble or whatever."
"But you told him about-about us and Michael and..."
"Everyone knew about us already." Alan sighed and looked away. "Bout how we’ve been together for awhile."
"But why-"
"Mickey hit on me my first week here."
"Oh." Darren’s stomach flipped. "And?"
"I told him no." He sighed again. "Can we talk about something else now? My night’s been bad enough. I don’t need this shit, too."
"Sorry."
They sat in silence. Darren chewed on his bottom lip as he watched Alan. He looked over the slightly pouty pink lips and dark eyes that contrasted so much with the bleached blond hair, and sighed. He still couldn’t believe Alan had told someone (James Milner of all people!) about their relationship. Didn’t he realize how private an issue that was? And to tell him about Michael-that was going too far. And Milner was certainly wrong about Michael-he wasn’t overrated, he was a great player. And he wasn’t pompous-just confident sometimes. He had every reason to be, Darren figured. He was a great player with some of the best crosses in the league and he was quite handsome as well.
Darren groaned and squeezed his eyes shut. He was not thinking about Michael being attractive. Not when he was with Alan-with his BOYFRIEND, his mind screamed at him. He was with Alan and he loved Alan, didn’t he? Of course he did. They’d been together too long now. He wanted to be with Alan, wanted to feel Alan move against him every night, wanted to feel Alan’s lips against his.
So, why was he suddenly reminded of how Michael’s hands had felt on his bare skin?
"Fletch? Hey..."
Darren opened his eyes to see Alan leaning over the table, face just inches from his own. His hand brushed Darren’s and attempted a smile.
"You okay?"
"Yah, just..."
Darren couldn’t finish his thought. He knew Alan wouldn’t want to hear it.
Alan stared at him.
"Look, if you’re still not feeling well..."
"I’m fine, just...I don’t think..." Darren sighed. "Truthfully?"
"You don’t like that I talked to James about you, do you?"
"Well, no! It’s-it’s something private! And he knows about me and Michael and-I was DRUNK Alan! I’m sorry! I really really am and-"
Alan held up a hand.
"Stop. We don’t need to talk about this."
"Yes we do! You just don’t want to hear it!" Darren took a deep breath before slumping forward, elbows resting on the table between them. "It happened and you hate me. You can’t trust me-I know you can’t. And I-"
"Shut up, Darren."
Darren ignored the low warning tone in Alan’s voice and continued.
"I don’t blame you if you do hate me, but don’t pretend like it didn’t happen! Even if you don’t want to talk about it, it still bloody well happened!"
"Shut up!"
"No! We need to talk about this! We need to-"
Darren stopped as Alan stood up. They locked eyes as Alan stared down at him and Darren winced at the suddenly spiteful stare.
"Smudge-"
"I’m going home." Alan turned toward the door. "If you want a ride, let’s go..."
Darren sighed, but stood up. He’d thought that talking about it would help. He really had. Obviously, he’d been wrong. And he was pretty sure he’d just made an even bigger mess of things.