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ohsnapcracklepopfriends · 3 years ago

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To be named GGMU fic: Part three - Drunk Mancs and Karaoke Don't Mix

After way too long, I'm back with another instalment of my GGMU fic (three parts down, four to go). Sorry, it took so long, life has been insanely hectic. I just wrote this in an hour of power writing, I hope you like it. Part one and part two if you haven't read them <3

Christmas parties at Sky were generally a disaster. Not only did they usually involve a room full of people all too competitive for their own good, there was usually the presence of both alcohol and cell phones which were a dangerous combination. All of this was worse to witness sober. Jamie had made the terrible decision of being the designated driver. Gary had one rule that he’d made clear to Jamie when they first started going out together: do not put drunk Gary in a cab. Gary’s a handsy drunk with zero self-control. They both know sitting in the back of a cab with drunk Gary was a recipe for a traumatized cabbie and a couple of disastrous news articles in the morning. So Jamie had agreed to drive, and that was fine. He was fine with it, truly. Jamie watched as Gary danced around in the bar they had rented out, jumping around freely while Graeme looked on with his disapproving grimace. Jamie wished he could be dancing with him, blaming it on the alcohol.

Jamie took a sip of his apple juice--which was fucking good, okay? Back off. He swished it around in his mouth, pretending it was something stronger. He swallowed and looked up. Gary was still jumping around without a care in the world. Jamie could tell he was really drunk. Gary was a total lightweight and he’d probably had about four beers to get to this point. Jamie chuckled to himself, thinking back to the nights they’d shared together when they first started dating. They’d spent quite a few nights on the floor of Gary’s living room with a bottle of wine and a bag of crisps. Jamie treasured those nights. He treasured the moments where Gary was buzzing and less scared of his emotions, letting them just enjoy their time together without Gary’s mind spinning.

Gary looked in Jamie’s direction. His face lit up when he saw Jamie leaning against the counter. He scrambled over until he stood right up against Jamie’s shoes.

“Did you see Redders?” Gary asked in a rush. Jamie laughed at the big goofy smile on his lips. He did, in fact, see Redders. Redders had taken to the small stage in the corner after his third pint. He’d been singing away at the top of his lungs--very poorly, Jamie might add--for the past hour or so.

“I want to sing, James. Come sing with me.” He tugged at Jamie’s arm. Jamie had fallen for this trap before. Last year he’d made the mistake of joining Gary for some drunk karaoke and ended up trending on Twitter. Jamie was not a singer for a reason.

“I’m sure Redders will sing with you” Jamie offered. Gary pouted. Gary was one of those people who were easy to imagine as a child. He could see a younger Gary in the way he acted when he was tired, grumpy, stubborn, and bleary-eyed. He could see a younger Gary in the way he giggled at Jamie’s jokes. He could see a younger Gary in the way he pouted during times like this, trying to sway Jamie to agree with him. It worked more than Jamie liked to admit.

“I’ll come and watch you?” Jamie tried to bargain again. Gary nodded this time and dragged Jamie towards the stage. Jamie happily let himself be pulled along. Gary’s hand was warm and sweaty where it was clutching at Jamie’s, but Jamie didn’t mind. After playing football for that long, he couldn’t be bothered by sweat anymore. After one testimonial match, Jamie found he actually liked Gary sweaty: he liked to lick beads of sweat off of Gary’s furrowed brows and watch him shutter--but that’s a story for another time.

Jamie wished they could stay like this, Gary holding his hand tightly, tugging insistently on it every few seconds, but all too soon, they found themselves at the stage. Gary dropped his hand and hopped up onto the small, wooden platform. Redders was still on the stage, red-faced and (poorly) belting the ending to Tainted Love. The stage was so small that the two men took up most of the space. Gary reached behind Redders to grab the second microphone. He grabbed Redders by the shoulder and whispered in his ear. Redders’ amused smile made Jamie nervous: what the hell did this drunk idiot have in mind?

Redders jumped off the stage with far too much grace for someone as injury prone and drunk as Jamie knew he was. He ran over to the karaoke machine and picked their song before scurrying back onto the stage to join Gary. Jamie was confused when the guitar started and he couldn’t place it.

“I got chills--” Redders started to sing and realization set into Jamie’s mind. Oh dear god, he thought, they’re doing Grease. “--It’s electrifying!” Jamie groaned. He couldn’t help himself. There was no way this wouldn’t somehow end up on Twitter. He knew sober Gary would not find this nearly as funny if it made headlines. Jamie started scanning the crowd for people with their phones out. Thankfully, most people had either gone home or were drowning themselves at the bar, after all, what was free booze for? Jamie noticed Geoff filming out of the corner of his eye. He practically ran over to him.

“You better shape up!” Gary starting singing now. He was by no means an angel, if Jamie was honest he was pretty fucking terrible. But like everything Gary did, he sang with a fiery passion and excitement that just made it utterly endearing. Jamie loved it when Gary sang.

“Give me that,” Jamie grabbed Geoff’s phone from his hands, which was pretty easy considering how sloshed he was. He barely even protested as Jamie deleted the videos and shut off his phone because Jamie was smart and knew Geoff was too far gone to figure out how to turn it back on.

“--tooooooo my heart I must be trueeeeeeee,” Gary was dancing around on the stage and Jamie couldn’t help but take a moment to stop worrying and just admire the carefree smile of his boyfriend, so blissfully happy as he made a fool out of himself in front of all of their colleagues. Jamie noticed that Gary was staring at him. Gary then brought his hand up to point directly at him.

“You’re the one that I want! Oh! Oh! Oh! Jamie!” Oh no. Oh no. This was a complete disaster. Jamie couldn’t stop himself, he jumped up on the stage. The limited space meant he had to stand pressed against Gary. Gary just smiled up at him and shoved his microphone up to Jamie’s lips. And as much as he hated it, Jamie could never deny him anything.

“Oh yes indeed,” Jamie half-sang, half spoke. It was awkward and hard to listen to even to his own ears, but Gary beamed at him and Jamie felt a smile tugging at the edge of his lips.

And then he remembered why he got up here in the first place: not to sing, not to smile at Gary like a big, lovesick dork--no, he was here to put an end to this. He was here to take Gary home safely before any further disaster could strike just like he’d promised.

“If you’re filled with affection--” Redders started to sing again. Jamie used this opportunity to make their escape. He pried the microphone from Gary’s hands before placing it gently on the stage. He put his arm around Gary’s middle and firmly led him off the stage.

“Where are we going?” Gary asked. He was looking up at Jamie from where he was tucked against Jamie’s side. Jamie knew it was probably too intimate a position for them to hold in public but he found he was too exhausted to care.

“We’re going home, love,” Jamie said softly against Gary’s ear. Gary gave him a wicked grin and started to worm his fingers under Jamie’s jacket. Jamie pushed his arm away holding it against Gary’s side. This was not the time or place.

“You’re going to make me wait for it?” Gary asked. “That’s okay. It’ll be better when you fuck me later. I’ll be so ready. I’ll be begging for you.” Jamie let out a long breath. Fuck. Luckily, or unluckily depending on how you looked at it, they were out of the bar, walking down the street towards Jamie’s car. On the bright side, no one was close enough to hear Gary being far too drunk to care that he’s being far too loud. However, anyone could be on the street: reporters, idiots with cameras, though now Jamie is realizing that those are kind of the same thing. Jamie’s kidding, of course. He guessed he was kind of a journalist himself now. He generally thought of journalists as no-life drama vultures for the Daily Mail or worse The S*n.

Jamie was pretty used to wrangling drunk Gary into vehicles against his will, but this time was different. Gary was usually uncooperative just for the sake of being uncooperative. This trait just worsened after a few pints. That night Gary was shockingly content, though. He wasn’t argumentative or difficult, he was sweet and happy. He leaned into Jamie’s side on their walk and looked up at him like he just signed Messi for Man United (which Jamie couldn’t do obviously, and even if he could, he wouldn’t). When it came time to get into Jamie’s car, Gary went without complaint, let alone their usual wrestling match. Jamie was honestly getting kind of worried.

“Are you high?” He asked as he put the car in reverse. Jamie had never known Gary to smoke but he figured it was a possible explanation for his strange behaviour. Gary hummed in confusion.

“What?” He asked. Gary’s face was smushed against the passenger window, fogging up the glass with every breath.

“Are you okay?” Jamie rephrased his question for Gary’s scrambled brain, “you seem weird.”

“I’m not weird, James,” he said, his words even more drawn out than usual, “I’m happy.” He started humming something under his breath but it was so quiet that Jamie could not make it out over the engine. “Singing makes me happy, Jamie,” Gary said and Jamie knew. Gary was generally not as public of a singer as he had been that night, but he always loved singing. He sang in the shower, something that Jamie found entirely endearing. Jamie loved waking up in the morning to the sound of water and Gary’s slow voice. Jamie remembered Gary doing karaoke all the way back in their England days. He and Crouchy were always the most enthusiastic, though Jamie would never have guessed that until he saw it with his own eyes.

“I know,” Jamie said, “it makes me happy, too.” It was probably a little too honest but Jamie knew Gary wouldn’t notice. Even if he did notice, he wouldn’t remember it in the morning.

“Do you want me to sing to you?” And yet again, Jamie just couldn’t say no to Gary. Jamie expected more of what he’d heard at the pub: some eighties songs, maybe an NSYNC song or two (Redders loved NSYNC). He didn’t expect Gary to start happily singing Glory Glory Man United in his fucking car.

“Gary, what the hell?” Jamie protested but Gary just shushed him and kept singing. Jamie could hear his feet tapping against the mat of the car. And right when Jamie was about to smack Gary in the head, he realized something: Gary was drunk. Now obviously it didn’t take a genius to figure that out: he’d been steadily drinking since the party began and you could see the drunkenness in his red, flushed ears. But Jamie realized that Gary’s drunk brain was prone to forgetting basic, fundamental information. Like, for example, that Jamie was a Scouser.

Jamie figured that in Gary’s drunk brain, he wanted to sing a song to make Jamie happy. But like he’d forgotten that Tracey played netball on New Year the year before or that he was a right-back on one especially wild Wednesday night, he had forgotten that the song that brought his manc heart so much joy, did not spark the same happy memories for his boyfriend. He wasn’t trying to get on Jamie’s nerves and that knowledge comforted Jamie enough not to reach over and strangle him. So Jamie just let him sing and quietly suffered as he drove along. He tried to tamp down the simmering irritation the song automatically sparked in the pit of his stomach.

Mercifully for Jamie, Gary drifted off in the passenger’s seat less than ten minutes into their drive. Jamie instead drove the rest of the way to the sound of Gary’s loud snores.

#carraville #jamie carragher #gary neville #my fic

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shewantedtobeasecretgirl · 6 years ago

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Dangerous Type

Sooo... there was this writing prompt of @shadowsonoureyes ... that I really liked and I immediately started working on it... But something happened in the meantime. I think everyone who understands my username knows what I’m talking about... and I’ll probably feel weird or even guilty about writing my dumb little stories for a while, although I always tried (and keep trying) to do it as respectful as I can. Despite all these feelings I decided to finish and post this one shot, please don’t judge me because of doing it. And... as my side project called “real life” allows, I’m going back to work slowly on my “regular” fic... seeya...

Seattle, Friday, August 17th, 1990

When I stop my car opposite Central Tavern, I can already see the crowd gathering at the entrance. I agreed with Cee, my roommate on meeting each other somewhere there. It’s not difficult to spot her: being a young, aspiring artist, she always wears something extreme. And she always gets clues about the most promising gigs in town from her bohemian friends. I was still at the bureau when she called me on my office number so that I didn’t go home after my self-defense class but met her here. Normally, I don’t accompany her to these occasions but today is somehow different; that “carpe diem” vibe that strikes me once in a blue moon led me here.

“Hey, Al, what a babe!” she greets me. Gosh, I hope not many people heard that; I feel embarrassed enough in my classy “little black dress”. But you don’t really have a choice if you work at one of Seattle’s leading law firms…

“Don’t tease me, I’ve had a terrible day.” I roll my eyes as we’re heading to the bar counter. “Unbearable clients, piles of documents, impatient bosses… I can’t wait to have a blast.”

“The good girl in party mode? Finally!” she glances up at the ceiling with an exaggerated, victorious arm move. “Couldn’t you get the everyday shit out of yourself at the training?”

“Negative. Today, we worked in pairs and I had to fight against that menopausal hammer thrower… you can imagine, I spent the whole class lying on the mattress, searching for my internal organs.”

“Oh, you poor baby… You should…”

She’s cut off by an annoying teenage guy-like voice.

“This place is getting worse and worse, they already let cheap sluts in too.”

No. This too? Not today. I turn with a lightning fast move to find the owner of the voice. The first guy I spot is a tall, lanky kid leaning against the counter. He’s wearing a baseball cap with bandana and his hair down, so I can’t really see his face of the shadow of the visor, only the spaniel shape of this whole combination. A little move of his head reveals the region of his mouth and I realize he’s staring us with an obnoxious, challenging smirk. Who the fuck does he think he is?

“Excuse me???” I spit and instead of apology, I receive a short, nasal chuckle as answer. After a few seconds of blackout, the first thing I perceive is that the guy sits on the ground surrounded by lying bar stools and I feel a dull pain in my fist.

“Allison Holmes, what the fuck are you doing?” Cee screams and jumps to him. She crouches down and starts desperately examining his face.

“I… I don’t know… I probably… punched him?” I rather question than answer.

“Yes, you punched him, are you crazy?”

“Am I?” I mutter but slowly, I’m getting able again to recall what happened.

“Jesus, girls, are your conversations always that effective?” he laughs getting up leaning on Cee’s shoulder.

“Shut up, you jerk! And it’s me who should ask that, Cecilia, are you serious? He just called us sluts and you help him? You should punch him too!” I yell.

“Cool down, Al. Nobody will punch nobody, this is Stoney.” she explains and I feel my blood pressure dropping, I have to hold of the counter to prevent myself from fainting.

“Who?” I breathe although I exactly know the answer.

“Stone Gossard, from Northwest High.” she repeats. Of course. Jesus, a few minutes earlier I could have sworn this day couldn’t get worse but it can. It definitely can.

“What’s going on here, people?” I hear a male voice and as I turn back, I see a doorman approaching us, followed by a police officer. I burry my face into my palm, not that this way of hiding helps me get away with this.

“Nothing, everything’s fine, officer.” Stone answers but I wish he didn’t, his nose is bleeding and the purplish-blueish spot around his left eye doesn’t make his look better either.

“Where’s the other troublemaker? Someone reported disorderly and…”

“There’s no other troublemaker, officer. I punched myself.” Stone mimes hitting himself in the face with his fist.

“Of course, and I’m Ronald Reagan. Where is he?” the cop doesn’t let himself be tricked.

“There’s no one else, only me. You know, I’m not really satisfied with my nose, it’s kinda big, hard to miss it, I thought some intervention couldn’t hurt… but it did… Seriously, I think you deserve more complex crimes than inconsiderate self-harm at a bar… You seem to be a man of conscience, don’t waste your skills on idiots like me…”

‘Oh… well… even if I don’t believe a word from what you said, I’m sure you’re a nice kid so… I warn you, next time I won’t be that lenient.”

“There won’t be next time, officer.” he grins, knowing his tactics worked.

“I hope so. Take care of yourself, son.”

I wait until he gets out of earshot before I react anything.

“You’re familiar with talking your way out of shit, aren’t you?” I grunt.

“He’s known for his smooth-talk abilities, you’ve seen a classic Stoney performance.” Cee wraps her arm proudly around his shoulders.

“I do what I can… but do you have paper handkerchief? I’m already standing in a puddle of blood…”

“Jesus, of course…” I hand him a packet of it and try to repress my giggle as he stuffs Kleenex carefully into both of his nostrils.

“Look, I still don’t know what’s going on here but you look awful. I came by car, I’ll take you to the hospital… your nose seems to have been broken, you should see a doctor…” I offer.

“That’s the least you can do after having attacked him.” Cee agrees giving me a stern look. “I accompany you, I don’t want to leave you unsupervised.” she adds and I can’t decide if it’s only me whom she addresses with her words…

***

“Uhm… I’d pick the backseat, if you don’t mind… I want to feel safe until we get there.” Stone mumbles. I open the backdoor for him rolling my eyes but prevent myself from saying anything sarcastic. I would behave probably the same way if it was me whose nose got swollen to the size of an eggplant. Cee takes place next to him with a large packet of handkerchief we bought at the corner store in the meantime.

As I start the engine and begin to direct the car towards the closest hospital, I can’t help glancing in the rearview mirror. Stone is listening to Cee’s rambling with a straight face but his well-tamponed nose reminds me of a walrus, which makes me smile even if I feel terrible about that whole embarrassing incident. Stone Gossard. If I had a nickel for every time I’ve heard this name… Cee and him have met as old friends from time to time, Cee is even dating one of their common friend, Josh, so his name came up occasionally in our discussions… but as Cee was witnessing the hopeless episodes of my love life, these occasions got regular. Unrequited, platonic crushes, awkward dating attempts with disastrous consequences, endless ice cream and movie sessions on the couch with her… and the final conclusion was always the same: “I should introduce you to Stoney.” And this sentence was usually followed by an endless tirade about his smart, funny, handsome, talented friend who could be a perfect match for me. But her praises had exactly the opposite effect on me as intended: I refused even the thought of meeting him, the annoying superguy, who’s a musician by the way. What probably means he doesn’t know at all what to do with his life, he’s a rock guitarist in a town when there are more bands than inhabitants, he pulls espressos in a café and makes her girlfriend pay his rent. Sometimes I wondered if Cee mentioned me to him with the same idea in her head and if yes, what he might think of me… But I got these kinds of thoughts easily out of my head convincing myself about the logical fact: we wouldn’t like each other and I don’t need one more disastrous love affair.

And now we’re here. I managed to introduce myself to him in a pretty memorable way, which basically puts an end to the dilemma: I knocked him out, I can be happy if I’m not prosecuted by him, let alone go on a date with him…

“And… ahem… what’s this inside joke about cheap sluts?” I inquire to shut the voices in my head up.

“Everything began when we performed Cabaret at Northwest.” Cee begins. “I didn’t manage to earn any of the main roles so I was put in the choir that basically meant I had to play a random German prostitute. I was wearing fishnet stockings so I started calling them my “cheap slut stockings” and Stone started teasing me with it every time I was wearing them. And as you know, I’m wearing fishnet stockings today so…”

“Did you think I was serious? Or that I was talking about you? Your dress is not slutty at all… I mean, it’s a nice dress… but not slutty enough. I mean…” Stone giggles in a more nasal voice than earlier. Great, now I’m sure I broke his nose.

“I don’t know what I was thinking, I was tired and angry, okay?” I answer harshly. “Anyway, you used the plural form. Sluts…”

“She’s got two legs, for God’s sake…”

“Watch the road, Al.” Cee stops our developing debate about the grammatically correct way of calling someone a slut.

In the remaining part of our way I fume silently; I only notice after stopping the car that my hands got all sweaty, I must have gripped the steering wheel to tightly. We walk into the building and I lean my back against a pile waiting for them to arrange the registration at the counter of reception.

“What, four hours?” I hear Cee screaming.

“What happened? I approach them.

“We’ve just have been informed that the waiting time takes about four hour… which is a huge problem, since I have to get up early tomorrow, I promised Josh to accompany him to that outdoor video shooting… that can be true…” Cee whines.

“I’m a big boy, you don’t have to…” Stone clucks in.

“I can stay with him and drive him home.” I jabber and swallow hard at the end of the sentence.

“Really? That’d be great! I could even catch the bus! ” Cee grins and I start doubting in the existence of that video shooting. Whatever… I did what I did, I must take the consequences. “You’re the best!” she pulls me into a tight hug. “I’ll call you later, Stoney. Behave yourself!” she shouts back storming down the stairs.

Stone and I glance at each other with the same embarrassment for seconds that seem like an eternity until he speaks up finally.

“Uhm… I’m unbeatable at Twenty Questions.”

***

Gosh, that’s so embarrassing. We’ve been sitting here next to each other for like fifteen minutes and we’re just staring in front of ourselves. No questions have been asked yet, let alone twenty... I glance around and look desperately for excuses to leave him at least for a few minutes, I can’t stand this. A vending machine, bingo!

“Uhm… do you want to drink something?” I ask nodding towards it.

“Uhm… yup, a cola would be nice!”

Thank goodness! I walk to the machine and drop the coins into it but of course they land in the hole of change. As I lean down to fish them out I spot him staring at my direction but realizing I noticed him, he quickly turns his head in the other direction. Wait, was he checking me out? Stop Allison, you’re not a femme fatale at all, why would he…? I give a next try and this time the machine accepts the money and the can slowly moves… and gets stuck on its way. I can’t believe this. I beat with my fist a few times against the glass without any success. I try it more aggressively until I completely lose my temper and push it at full strength, using my entire body.

“Come on, work, you pile of thrash! Work!!!” I yell and finally, it reacts to my efforts. Luckily, I don’t have to fight that much for my ginger ale.

“Thanks” he smiles when I sit back next to him and hand him his drink. “To you anger issues!” he grins lifting it towards me and I can’t help reciprocating his expression.

“To your criminal introduction.” I answer as we clink our cans.

“Sooo… you’re that lawyer chick, huh?”

Great, if I ever had doubts about him having heard about me, now I can forget them. He definitely knows who I am.

“Almost. I still study and work as an intern at a law firm. I rather like to call myself an office monkey.”

“Ah. In that case, I’m not going to prosecute you. You must have a lot of slick colleagues who are ready to save your… backside.”

Am I out of my mind or did he actually emphasize the last word “that way”?

“Eheh, not really… they’d only undertake my case if I paid a shitload of money, I’m their droid, not their friend… Aaaand… you’re that rock star dude, huh?” I try to impersonate him.

“An almost-famous good-for-nothing with no band, at your service.” he lifts his baseball cap slightly.

“World famous rock band looks for a singer, lead guitarist, bassist and drummer?” I grin at him and we both start chuckling and silently smile at each other for a few second.

“Actually, you’re not far from truth. My former band… stopped existing this spring and now I’m trying to put together something new.”

“I’m said to be very talented at playing the pocket comb with parchment paper.”

“Nah, thanks, I rather need a washboard specialist.”

“I learn fast… anyway… Cee mentioned what happened with your last band… I’m really sorry about it.” I add in a lower voice and his smile evaporates immediately.

“Yeah… it was hard… but our record was released, we had to promote it not to breach our contract while we all knew it’s over… it’s crazy.”

“I know… Cee told me what happened… I don’t know much about record labels but I’m sure they are only interested in profit, no matter what happens with the band in the meantime.”

“It’s ridiculous, you haven’t even played one single note in the studio but you have already paid a shitload of money, as you said, and you have to decide with your bandmates in questions from which you don’t even have a clue. Not to mention that in our case, they try to overhype “the tragic death of the singer” situation.” he rolls his eyes while drawing air quotes with his hands.

“It’d be nice if someone helped young and unexperienced bands know their way around the business… But it’s difficult to find anyone who’s not only interested in money.”

“Right?” he agrees enthusiastically. “I wish I could have my own label and help other musicians.”

As we go on with discussing the topic, I realize he’s not that unreliable slacker I thought. On the contrary, he’s a rational, left-brained, down-to-earth guy who’s able to analyze everything without being blinded by his emotions. A lawyer brain. And Cee was right, he’s really smart, very smart and funny. It’s too bad he’s not my type. He’s cute but come on, that bandana, the baseball cap…

When the nurse calls him by his name, I glance at the clock on the wall and almost let out a scream of surprise. We’ve been talking for four and a half hour.

***

“Home, sweet home…” Stone groans stretching his arms in the air entering the kitchen of his tiny apartment that also serves as hall and living room. It’s almost 2 a.m., I offered to drive him home since public transport is basically non existing in that crazy hour. My assumption proved to be right: I did break his nose. The doctor re-tamponed his nostrils (obviously with more professional methods than Stone’s stuffing technique) and fixed it with a bandage; he also wanted to call the police seeing the nature of his injury but Stone managed to dissuade him from doing it by claiming he was attacked by an angry ape in a dark alley who also robbed his wallet. Surprisingly, he didn’t get to the psychiatry ward due to his improvised story…

“Do you need anything? Do you have enough painkillers, don’t you?” I ask although I can barely speak coherently and I feel I could fall asleep anywhere, this day is much longer than planned.

“I think I can handle pain.” he grins as he opens the cupboard that is full of alcoholic beverages.

“Whoa, I didn’t think you drink that much.” I remark and I can hear signs of disappointment in my own voice… but why do I care at all…

“I don’t. That’s why you can see the result of hoarding. I only drink beer… okay, sometimes a good, smoky whiskey can’t hurt.” he shrugs closing back the door.

“So no sex and drugs and rock and roll, right?” I smile fidgeting with the hem of my dress. I can’t believe I’ve said this, I started acting like an idiot, I should go…

“Sex and rock and roll are pretty okay to me.” he answers raising one eyebrow meaningfully. Damn, I’m blushing.

“Fuck, this headache… You did a proper job…” he presses his palm on his forehead.

“Uhm, maybe some cold poultice or ice would help. Do you have anything in the freezer?” I ask but I don’t even wait for his answer, I step to the fridge and open it. Okay, opening is a smooth expression, the door of the fridge is stuck in so I basically tear it off.

“Whoaaa… I knew you were going to try to finish the job and kill me before the sun rises.” he laughs and I realize he came nearer in the meantime so I almost managed to slap him in the face with the door.

“Ugh… do you prefer frozen peas or corn?” I inquire basically putting my face into the freezer so that he can’t see my embarrassed face. And the ice cold air maybe helps me win my normal face color back.

“Peas, please.”

As I close the fridge, I find him leaning against the counter squinting at me expectantly. I reach the package towards him but he doesn’t move. Does he want me to do it?

“You should take that cap off.” I walk to him reluctantly. He obeys and lets me cautiously remove the bandana too. I overcome the urge to dig my fingers into his thick hair and I brush one rebellious strand out of his face. He stares into my eyes for a moment, which I respond but I wish I didn’t since I find myself in the middle of some wild whirl, dazing and weakening, pulling me closer to reach those fathomless, green irises… Luckily, he closes his eyes, which pushes me back to reality and forces me to rearrange my breathing. I slowly lean closer and cool his nose area with my own breath before pressing the frozen bag against his forehead.

“Mhm, that feels good…” he moans softly as the ice meets his skin. Great. And now? I’m standing here holding frozen peas to his head… Do I have to wait in this position until they thaw out?

“Ahem… I think that’s all I could do for you so…” I clear my throat after a while and put the bag on the kitchen counter.

“Anyway, when I was sick or got some injury, my mom would give me healing kisses.” he goes on still holding those damn green eyes closed. Okay, this is ridiculous, this is the lamest pick-up line I’ve ever heard…

“Are you trying to say I should drive your mom here too?”

“Nah, that’s definitely not what I’m trying to say.” he snorts shaking his head. With still closed eyes.

“I think my job’s done here sooo…” I make an attempt to finish this awkward scene again but he’s still standing at the counter with a sassy smile.

“…sooo…?”

“…sooo… I’m sorry again, I wish you a quick recovery and... bye.” I jabber.

“Uhm… but you’re still standing in my kitchen.”

And blackout occurs again. A few seconds go by and I’m standing at the door again… but what happened in the meantime?

“I definitely feel better.” he smirks. No. Oh no. The first thing I start to remember is his scent, then the texture of his skin and I might have put my hand on his shoulder too when I pressed that short, light and most importantly, mindless peck on his face. I can’t believe I couldn’t resist, he’s not even my type, he’s only a kid...

“I really have to go.” I mutter and run out of the building not even looking back.

***

Seattle, Friday, September 1st, 1990

“Allison, are you ready with that memo?” I’m woken up by my boss calling my name.

“Ugh… I need only ten minutes and I’ll bring you.”

I glance desperately at the piles of files and documents in front of me. Okay, if I force myself to focus on work I can do it in ten minutes. Actually, I haven’t been very effective in these days… I haven’t met Stone since the incident, but Cee called him a few times to check his condition. I don’t know if he told her about what happened after she left, I guess he didn’t… but he began to send me funny messages about our first meeting through her and I responded them… so I’m not sure whether something started between us or not… his messages weren’t particularly flirtatious… but the fact he didn’t forget my name immediately and decided to stay in touch even if we haven’t seen each other in the meantime… See, Allison, that’s why you’re not able to proceed with work. You’ve sworn so many times you give up daydreaming… and you’re still doing it. You build up a romantic plotline around the first guy who smiles at you, which already implies disappointment. But he’s smart and funny and amusing… Not that they all aren’t like this for the first time… they play the attractive, sweet guy only to pick you up but slowly and surely, they always show their true colors. And he isn’t an exception either, no matter what Cee tells you. She just wants you to date him to have a company on double dates, that’s all. But Cee is a friend, she wouldn’t promote someone who doesn’t deserve it… Gah…

“Allison???”

Ugh, fuck…

…

I somehow manage to survive the day and drive home. All I want is to order a pizza, curl up on the couch and watch a good movie. But as I get home, I find Cee in the kitchen in the company of a large amount of sandwich ingredients and crackers.

“What the hell…?”

“Oh, hi Al. Would you help me? Otherwise I won’t be able to finish the food by the time the guys arrive.” she tweets.

“Guys? What are you talking about?”

“Oh, haven’t I mentioned to you we’re throwing a party tonight?” she asks innocently.

“Cee, you’re impossible, I’m tired and I don’t really want to meet anyone and you haven’t even asked me…” I grunt at her.

“Come on, Al, it’ll be a very small party. Not that “everyone should bring one more person” sort of party. Only our friends…”

“…that means…”

“Josh, Karen, Steve, Sally, Regan, Tony… and Stoney.” she adds the last name in a casual voice.

“Stone?” I squeak. “I can’t believe you invited Stone…”

“Why? He isn’t angry at you because of what happened at all… plus… the phone calls… you seemed to get on well with each other and I thought you’d be happy to see him again.”

“That’s exactly the problem!” I throw my arms in the air. “I’d be happy to see him again and that’s exactly why I can’t see him again. I don’t need one more trouble.”

“You’re crazy. Anyway, he got super psyched when I told him about the party and I don’t think it’s a coincidence. And now help finally.” she puts a knife in my hand.

I began to chop vegetables and cheese with automatic moves but my brain keeps processing. What if he’s not as handsome as I remember? What if he’ll ignore me? What if he turns out to have a girlfriend? What if he even brings his girlfriend here? What if…

I almost drop the knife by the loud knock on the door.

“I’m coming!” Cee shouts and hurries to the door. Our guests arrive with loud laughter greeting us with hugs, waving with the wine bottles they brought as contribution. Stone is the last one to enter.

“Miss Balboa.” he nods at me with a deadpan and touches his Dallas Cowboys baseball cap briefly like a real Texan cowboy would do with the brim of his hat. Following the others he takes it off and hangs in on the hook on the wall, his hair spread all over his shoulders and… I have to grasp the edge of the table since he’s truly not as handsome as I remembered. He’s much more handsome. Okay, now that he’s not wearing that ridiculous bandana and baseball cap combo and he doesn’t have purple bruises around his nose, it’s pretty obvious that he’s the most handsome guy I’ve ever met. And he’s funny. And smart. And talented. And interesting. Shit.

I follow them in the living room and settle down on the couch. As I glance at him our eyes meet for a second and I can’t help sending a little smile at him that he responds and moves towards me but Regan plops down next to me. Great. Thanks, Regan. Stone takes place right in front of me, in the armchair. During our usual social activities – talking, playing card games, teasing each other –, the well-known game begins. Stolen glances, squints, awkward moves when we accidentally touch each other while serving ourselves from the food… it’s been the same embarrassing routine since my teenage years. Did he just look at me or am I just hallucinating? Was that a smile? Is he following me with peripheral vision the same way as I do with him? Jesus, I don’t dare watch him for too long, what if he notices it… What if he told the guys about our flirtatious scene in the kitchen? What if it wasn’t our scene, only mine? What if it wasn’t flirtatious but ridiculous? But fuck, I don’t care, who cares, apart from a few, punch-related jokes with which he addressed explicitly me, he hasn’t shown any interest in me. Inviting him was the idea of the year, thanks Cee.

We quickly run out of sandwiches so I decide to provide the bunch with supplies and head to the kitchen. I open the window and lean out to fill my lungs with fresh air. I feel immediately better as if it cleared my head too, making me realize we’re not in a tragedy, it’s no big deal if he doesn’t like me.

“Don’t jump.” I hear a nasal voice from behind my back.

“Hah, funny…” I close the window with a bitter smile. I open the fridge and pile the ingredients on the table ignoring him standing aimlessly in the room. I start spreading butter on the slices of bread signaling I’m busy.

“Hey, they don’t need to be stabbed… are you angry?” he chuckles examining my moves.

“I’m not angry!” I answer in a sharp voice. “I just thought we…” I flail but due to my intense moves the knife slips out of my hand and flies right in his direction.

“Whoa, knife throwing… that’s new to me but I’m in.” he leans away laughing as the knife bounces back from the wall and falls down with a loud jangle.

“Will you help me or did you come only to crack jokes about what happened two weeks ago and about which I’m really sorry? How many times should I repeat it?”

“Hey, easy girl, I didn’t want to hurt you. And I know you’re sorry. And I don’t mind it happened at all. And please tell me in which drawer I can find the cutlery.”

I point pouting at the drawer in question and reach my hand for a clean knife but he shakes his head with a severe expression.

“Ha, did you think I let you take pointed objects in your hands after this performance? I spread the slices and you put the ham and cheese on them.” he declares undeterred and I obey shrugging. We work silently for minutes when he speaks up again. “So what did you think?”

“Huh?”

“You haven’t finished the sentence you began when trying to kill me.”

“I…” I take a deep breath before going on “I just thought you were over it.”

“I am, just as I told you a few minutes ago…”

“But you keep joking about it…”

“Hey, I joke about everything in case you hadn’t noticed it… Plus, I haven’t known you very well yet so that’s the only thing related to you I can joke about…”

“Hey!!!” I nudge him.

“’I’m just kidding… just kidding…” he giggles nudging me back.

Okay, I can’t procrastinate it, I have to come up with it to avoid misunderstandings.

“And… I hope you don’t feel bad about the other thing either…” I jabber fixing my eyes on the table.

“About what thing?”

“You know… the other thing… the embarrassing one… I mean the other embarrassing thing that happened after the first embarrassing thing.”

“Uhm…” he scratches his chin. “I’m not sure I understand what you’re talking about. I mean, I do remember one more thing from that night but that one was rather pleasant than embarrassing… no, it was considerably pleasant.”

I finally muster my courage and look up at him and our eyes linger on each other’s smiling face. It does exist. We have a thing. I wasn’t imagining it. It’s not only my fantasy. Maybe I should…

“Hey, guys, what takes you so long? Do you also butcher the pig and make the ham by your own?” Regan opens the door and peaks in putting his head in the doorway. “Oh sorry, I didn’t want to bother you…”

Thanks, Regan, again.

***

I hate this bowl. It’s so damn difficult to wash it without flooding the whole kitchen. And I hate these plates too, I’ve always hated that ugly pattern on them. And I hate these cutleries with their sticky plastic handle. Fuck, I hate everything. The dirty and disgusting dishwater gets mixed up with my teardrops, I try to wipe my eyes with my hand but it’s wet, I can’t even wipe my eyes, I hate, hate, hate…

I knew this was gonna happen. I don’t even know what I was thinking when I hoped he’s interested in me. After we had gone back to the living room, Regan sat down meaningfully in the armchair, and I took it for granted Stone would sit next to me and he did. And we talked and made each other laugh the whole evening like we’d done in the hospital and I got in that easy, happy bubble again with the guy with whom I couldn’t feel bored for a single moment… And that was it. I was hoping he’d ask me out or we agreed on meeting each other later or anything… But nothing happened. He left with the others, all he said was a short “seeya” and that’s all. It was only a flirt to him. And I rather don’t start daydreaming about him calling me later or looking for my company because it’s not gonna happen. He’s the first guy I’ve been really interested in since my latest relationship ended but obviously, he only wants me to be the girl in the bunch with whom he can flirt only not to be bored.

And Cee went with Josh to his place so I’m alone with my anger. At least I can beat my fist against the furniture and kick in chair legs as loud and strong as I can. And no one would laugh at me if I pummeled pillows. Ugh, but I’m swimming in tear and snot, I should restore my dignity at first. I walk to my jacket since I always keep a small packet of handkerchief in its pocket. And I spot that baseball cap on the hanger. He forgot to take it back… Great… Whatever, Cee can give it back to him anytime. Or what if he comes back for it? Or should I call him later or… No, stop, Allison. The guy has just ditched you and you’re already looking for excuses to see him again? And what about your dignity? If he wants the cap, he will…

I freeze as I hear a knock on the door again.

“Who’s that?” I ask loudly and try overcome the trembling in my voice.

“A dangerous criminal. Calls decent girls sluts, provokes fistfights and stabbings.” I hear a familiar nasal voice from behind the door. And I’m grinning from ear to ear again, how can he make me laugh in like two seconds every time he’s around?

“I take the risk.” I answer as I open the door for him.

“I forgot my baseball cap here.” he explains still standing in the door.

“I know, I’ve just noticed it.” I stare at him paralyzed.

“Are you okay? You’re eyes are red and swollen.” he leans closer and I lean back terrified.

“Oh, I was… I was washing the dishes and the detergent got into my eye so…

“I’ll help you.” he enters, closes the door quickly behind himself and marches in the kitchen and I can’t do anything but follow him. “I’ll do the dirty work, you dry.” he puts on the apron and throws the dish towel towards me. Since I’m still numb of surprise, it lands on my head and we both burst out in loud laughter. We start to work in the utmost harmony and I must admit, my anger evaporates in seconds to make place for this new-found comfort.

“Ugh, I’ve always wondered how delicious food can turn so quickly into alien snot due to a few drops of water.” he frowns cleaning kitchen sink with the sponge and then disappears behind my back probably to dry his hands and take off the apron.

“Actually, I’ve always thought they’re not food residues, there must be an alien base in the pipeline and they come up through the drain.” I explain drying the slotted spoon.

“Whoa, you almost put out my eyes.” he startles. “I’ll take this from you, nice try, again.” he takes the spoon out of my hand. Ouch. I didn’t notice he was standing that close behind me. Wait, why was he standing that close behind me?

“And… we’re ready… thanks for helping.” I wipe my hands in the towel hanged on the cupboard.

“You’re welcome.” he nods standing with his hands stuck deep in his pockets. “It’s late, I should let you sleep and go.” he adds but still, he makes a step towards me.

“Yeah, it’s late and I don’t want to waste your time, thanks again.” I walk closer to him too and began to examine my shoes.

What if this time I didn’t wait for the guy to make the first step? Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?

“You know, I thought, once we could…” I perk my head up and…

“OUCH!!!” we both yell as our foreheads collide with each other.

“Do you always try to kill guys who like you?” he groans pressing his palm against his head.

“I don’t… what? Who???” I stutter on the verge of fainting not because of the splitting ache in my head but due to the wild pace dictated by my heart.

“I glance a pretty girl with my friend but she punches me. We’re talking all night but she tries to knock me off with the fridge door. She touches and kisses me so softly that I nearly melt but then she runs away. I try to approach her again but she throws a knife at me. I leave my baseball cap intentionally at her place to be able to come back and stay alone with her and as I’m about to embrace her finally, she attacks me with a slotted spoon. I make an attempt to kiss her and she headbutts me. You’re a dangerous type, you know?”

“Am I?” I send a timid smile at him biting my lower lip. “You know… I only try to kill guys whom I like…” I utter slowly not taking my eyes off him.

“I want to try something, but you have to cooperate, okay? It’s extremely risky.” he explains stepping to me again, trying to keep a strict face. “First, I have to make sure you won’t make any sudden, unexpected move.” He wraps his arms around my waist pulling me closer.

“But my hands still have a clear way… that’s not safe enough… what if I put them here… like this?” I tiptoe and lace my arms around his neck.

“Excellent idea.” he mutters brushing his nose against mine.

I can’t stop smiling even when our lips finally meet in a long, light, gentle kiss caressing and tasting each other for long moments.

“I think we’re both still alive” he breaks the kiss breathing against my skin.

“I’m… I’m not sure… if I am…” I mumble between further stroking kisses.

“Actually… there’s one more thing I really want to try out with you… as for now…” he pulls away for a second. “But it’s very dangerous… we need to take more precautions…”

His one hand wanders slowly upwards on my back and his fingers end up in my hair while the other hand of his slips under my shirt to touch my bare skin.

“Precautions are important…” I whisper against his neck as I mirror his moves. He’s about to capture my lips again but this time it is me who cuts in.

“Stone?”

“Mhm?” he starts swaying with me impatiently.

“I’m so glad I punched you…” I sigh and let him pull me into a deep, greedy, relentless kiss…

#pearl jam fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #stone gossard #one shot

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