Shout out to Bowling for Soup's BFFF for giving me inspiration for this little one-shot from Ash and Gary's past. It just felt like the whole song was about them, so I had to turn it into something- and honestly? I miss writing the two of them together.

There's going to be five separate mini-chapters (53.1-53.5), and will each reveal a part of the back story we're missing. I'm hoping to have these out by next week, and be ready to have chapter 54 out the week following.

Enjoy!

Gary's POV

It started to go wrong around the third bottle of wine, I'd say- and the fact that it wasn't my usual drink, was probably the explanation behind the throbbing in my temples. Though, for the throbbing below the belt? Well, that's seemingly still present with the absence of alcohol- if the raging hard on caused by the guy kissing my neck is anything to go by, that is. Or moreover, what I want to do in response. I ran my fingers through short black hair as his mouth started its descent down my body, and I allowed my head to fall back onto the pillow in the wake of it.

I'd ended up alone last night- with my own encouragement, incidentally. The offer of a nightcap from a young lady was thrown in Ash's direction, and I very quickly made myself scarce- knowing wholeheartedly that he'd do the same for me. It was a warm night when I left them at the bar, the sky completely clear as I burst out the doors. Being a Thursday, and pushing past eleven, the streets were almost deserted, with only the whisper of traffic from the distant highway. 

I suppose I could pin this as the reason I took the long way home. That tranquillity. That stillness. That peace in the chaos of everything that is me. Though also knowing of another bar on that route- only adding an extra half hour on my journey, tops- I was rearing for a storm, and a nightcap of my own.

It was far more central than the bar I'd been in earlier that night, and was one of the few that still hosted student nights; if the garish and relentless social media invites were anything to go by. They bought out the predecessor 'Crystal' a few years back, after the owner fell into financial hardship; or, as the locals liked to gossip, owed a pretty penny to some unsavoury people. The new name, 'DIAMOND', illuminated in neon on the horizon, was like a beacon to a night yet to end; and I chuckled at the fact the new owner hadn't even bothered to change the colour.

I thanked my lucky stars that it was a late one- four AM last orders, no less- and I mentally toasted to rowdy eighteen year olds everywhere. The thrum of heavy bass called to me too, the resonance piercing on the concrete pavement, and tickling the souls of my feet as I edged closer to the dwindling line.

Yet it was here that I slipped a little further down that hill.

I was hauled back into the present by the sound of my own moan, unbeknownst I was going to do so, and I bit my lip hard to silence it. The man between my legs chuckled lowly, and I felt each vibration like a punishment. It very almost brought this to an abrupt end... almost.

So, the wine.

They had a deal that, at the time, seemed perfectly logical to take full advantage of- though two for one was a very irresponsible decision on the establishment's part, really. The music was now loud enough to drown out any voice not within an ear shot, and ordering a beverage at the heaving bar resulted in me near deafening some poor barmaid as I screamed my want for a wine in her eardrum. Her red hair was fire beneath the ruby LED's above, and the faintest smell of strawberries tickled my nose when I leaned in. I stored her lingering smile away for later, as the moment drink was in hand, I wandered to the smoking shelter to have a preview of the patrons that evening. To scope them out, so to speak.

My feet stuck to the beer-swilled floor on the walk there, and I smiled to myself in spite of it. It was a dive bar, for sure, something spawned in the 90's and never updated- not even when the new management came along. The fire-doors led straight into a wide-birth alley, with some metal fencing thrown up to block off each side- their makeshift beer garden, we'll say. My mind screamed white-trash almost on repeat, but the accepted knowledge that I, myself, were as white-trash as they come, made me feel at home.

There was seemingly as many people outside as there were inside, and a seat on one of the few tables was out of the question. One survey showed that almost the entirety of the people here were with a plus one, or a group. A group would certainly be the easier choice to try and join- playing the lonely sympathy card would almost definitely work in my favour, and I'd slot right in. Alternatively, I could gate-crash a couple- though the idea of becoming a thripple was not on my agenda for the foreseeable, and there certainly wasn't someone here worth taking a punch for, should I succeed in stealing them away from their date. However, by far, the more favourable choice, would be to find another lonesome soul in need of some attention. Someone who was desperate enough to turn out by themselves. Someone like me.

Though my options, on that front, were one.

And, well, fuck it, I'll just have a chat while I smoke, and see what's on offer back inside. That barmaid, for example... is what I said to myself.

I weaved through the crowd to the only persoon in the sea of faces stood alone. Like the naughty kid needing to sit at the back of the class out of defiance. I hadn't lit the cigarette hanging between my lips, and I intended to use the excuse as a conversation starter. 

He was stood leaning against the fencing, one knee bent and foot against the wall.

"Have you got a light, mate?" I asked him.

And it was only then that he looked up from the spot on the floor he'd seemingly been fixated on, and grey eyes settled on brown ones.

"No, I use these special self-lighting cigarettes, you see."

I laughed, despite the jibe. Low and deep. Cockiness was a hard trait to pull off. Arrogance, even harder. I wanted to hit him already.

"Let me rephrase... Could I borrow your lighter please?'

He stood up to his full height then. And a piece of my ego shattered, noticing that I was nose height, at best. He reached into the pocket of black jeans, far too tight for him, and retrieved a tattered clipper.

"Too cheap to splash for a new one?" I asked, just as my fingertips brushed the tarnished metal, silently hoping he'd retaliate.

He chose not to hand it over, instead sparking it between us, though I hadn't even realised he'd moved close enough to do so. He smiled then, amused, the left side of his mouth rising more than the right. But waited until the cigarette was lit and I'd taken the first drag to reply.

"Why leave behind the thing that allows the habit?"

It was my turn to smile then, but more out of morbid curiosity, than anything else. A retaliation, indeed.

"Because I know kind strangers, such as yourself, will graciously offer a helping hand."

His dark hair was tousled, and effortlessly brushed aside, with strays falling onto his forehead from the accommodating angle he had to look at me with. I wanted to hit him even more.

"So, you're a like a damsel in distress?"

I scoffed at his reply, though I was surprised to find no malice there. He toed his discarded tab-end into the gravel at his feet, and I waited to see his next move before replying. Though, I was even more surprised to see him take another smoke from the pack in his pocket and proceed to light it- seemingly to continue whatever this exchange was. He held my eye, waiting with that same level of patience for my response to his part-mocking question.

That intrigued me. And, god, do I love to be intrigued.

"Well, I'm certainly perpetually distressed- Though, I can't say there's been many princes falling at my feet lately..."

His eyebrow rose subtly at the statement. The statement that was very much just a joke. A joke. Yet his curiosity lingered, and he would not look away for a second.

"Is that a complaint?"

It made me pause- visibly- the cigarette pausing midway to my mouth, and he looked positively smug because of it.

"More a running commentary on my inability to pull off a tiara."

I couldn't not look at his mouth when he smiled at my reply.

The back and forth continued far too easily. Far too teasingly. He was quick-witted, and easily kept up- in a way that both challenged and kept me on my toes. He'd snagged a table when a small group rushed inside at the sound of a beloved song of theirs, and I was grateful to rest my tired feet as the time passed 02:45, but more grateful I hadn't spent the evening alone. I incidentally, still wanted to hit the guy- personified conceit tends to have that effect- but given how he wore it? I was hardly complaining.

Any thoughts of the fiery barmaid had been abandoned long ago, and I'd graciously accepted my night's end would be a quick wank and falling fully clothed atop the duvet. I'd enjoyed this. Enjoyed talking shit with him. Enjoyed being the punchline to his jokes.

He looked at me then, over the rim of his glass, stormy eyes glossy from a drink too many, and my insides got hotter- in spite of the cooling night air.

"So, Gary," he said to me, placing emphasis on the name, having already mocked it for being too ordinary to suit me. "What do you want to do?"

If I had to guess, I believe the line of questioning was verging on finding out what I had planned in the future, workwise. An easy conversation to have with a stranger. After all, I'd already learnt the same detail about him, having asked. But my mind didn't go there when he put the same to me. It didn't think of work. It didn't think of hopes and dreams as I grow older. It thought of here and now. It thought of immediate future. It thought of in that very moment.

And I pondered it. I truly thought about it. My mind whirring as I took in the details of his stubbled jawline, the strong hand gripping the glass in his grasp, and the shirt rolled up to elbows revealing tattooed forearms. My mouth ran dry, and the heat was enough to make a lesser man rip his own skin off.

He smirked at my silence; having took far too long to reply, and it prompted him to ask again:

"What do you want to do?"

And I realised, somewhere around biting my lip in response to the smirk, and being unable to tear my eyes away from it, I didn't just want to punch the look off his face- I wanted to kiss it. 

So, I replied:

"You."

Wandering hands caused my eyes to snap open, the postered bedroom ceiling above coming briefly into focus, and my grip tightened on the back of his hair; hips involuntarily bucking upwards. Yet this time, he indeed brought it to its end, and it felt too good to give a fuck about the string of grunts that escaped my mouth in the wake of it. He certainly didn't complain about them in the early hours of the morning, either.

Al, as I learnt his name to be, required no convincing to come home with me; confessing he'd thought that had been my intention since the get-go, if my terrible flirting was anything to go by- and given, I did, in fact, have my own lighter.

The moment we'd gotten out of the cab, and clicked closed the bedroom door, I found myself slammed against it, and a hungry mouth desperately sought out mine. I felt clumsy in my actions, not having the experience in this particular scenario, and I blindly reached for something I know to be a winner in my book- and really, how different can they be? The fabric of his jeans caused friction, and he growled against my neck as my hands continued to explore, and it surprised me how much his strength turned me on. He exhaled heavily against my temple as my mouth formed paths along his throat and neck, and he rocked his hips entirely against me when I bit down.

The lead up happened very quickly. Desperate. Raw. Real. It had me panting for more, more, more. Whilst the main event was everything I hadn't known I wanted. Hadn't known I was missing.

It dawned on me, somewhere in the middle of this newly discovered desire, that Al, resembled someone else I know. In both looks and mannerisms, in fact- though the thought was fleeting, and disappeared entirely with the sound of my name with his voice, with that gravel.

Knocking from my front door interrupted my post-orgasm daze, and I felt about ready to throttle whoever had the audacity to bother me now of all times. Evident that my brain was not in full coherency, already sitting himself up, Al offered:

"Want me to get that?"

I smirked at him, shirtless, in all his masculine glory, and it was instinctive to grab the scruff of his neck to pull his mouth back into mine. It was a crashing of teeth, and probably a bit too much much tongue, but he moaned in response to it anyway.

"I want to do this, actually."

I felt him smile against my lips, and he sighed as his forehead rested against mine. But he placed a strong hand in the centre of my chest, and easily pushed me back to where I lay. He trotted to the closed curtains to peak outside, and my eyes automatically traced the contours of his back with each movement.

Curtain caught between two fingers, he glanced back at me over his shoulder.

"Any other boyfriends I should be aware of, Gary?"

Given the sheer amusement in his tone, I replied:

"Thousands."

He whistled for dramatic effect.

"It's the dimples, pretty boy..." and he winked at me. "But, in all seriousness- will I get my head kicked in if I answer this door?"

I chuckled at the question, imagining the scenario running through Al's head, but already being 99% sure who was knocking me out of bed.

"That depends on who it is... Surprisingly I don't have an ability to see through walls."

He motioned with his hand, "About yay big... Black hair... Relatively good looking."

And I burst out laughing at the last detail. Relatively. Relatively. Oh, Al- that made my day.

"Depending on what mood he's in... You're probably safe from a beating."

He looked highly unimpressed with my vagueness, but I was far too giddy to even pretend to care. Though when he reached for one of my shirts on the way out the door, and I told him to not be so ridiculous in bothering to get dressed, he listened anyway- and of course I admired the marks I'd left as he walked away, for good measure.

But I was up, tiptoeing to the top of the stairs mere seconds after he left- desperate to eavesdrop on the exchange. Wanting to hear his reaction. 

When the front door opened after Al's wrestle with the dodgy keys, there was silence. Painful silence. But Al broke it first.

"Morning," he said, so nonchalant, that I almost choked on my laugh.

Ash's reply came quickly- though true to his nature, sounded composed as ever- albeit blundering his first word.

"Erm... morning."

"Are you looking for Gary?"

"Gary... Yes, Gary... I didn't hear from him last night, and just wanted to check in... I'm assuming he's here?"

"He is."

"Is he conscious?"

That made Al chuckle, "Somewhat."

"Right... Just tell him Ash came round—"

But I cut him off anyway, and I shouted down the stairs:

"—Oh, just whack the fucking kettle on, Ketchum... We'll have a brew."

*           *          *

Ash, of course, made the tea- I never did master the art of brewing- or moreover cared enough to. I'd kissed Al hard enough to make him stumble when I banished him upstairs for a shower- not at all watching for my counterpart's reaction- but noticing anyway. Which, incidentally, was the same look he gave me whenever a girl was hanging off my face.

Cup in hand, we sat on the rusty chairs in the yard, the morning sun warming everything it touched. I didn't have the energy, nor care to get dressed; instead, sporting boxers, and the socks I refused to take off.

Ash was watching me silently, taking an occasional sip from the steaming mug. He looked younger in the sun, I noted. More care free. The more I stared, the more he fidgeted, and the more he fidgeted, the more I dragged it out.

When I lit a cigarette, having still provided no explanation, he exploded- albeit calmly.

"Care to share, Gary?"

I cocked my head slightly, as though in deep thought, and respectfully responded on a shrug:

"Reckon I enjoy both..." Because really, that's all there was to it.

He subtly nodded his head in understanding. Like some other details suddenly made more sense- though I didn't care enough to ask what they were. I was just here and now, and that's all that mattered anyway. So, he calmly took another sip from his cup and lit his own cigarette.

"Always were greedy, Gar."

I felt settled in my bones. Like I had a true sense of belonging. Of being understood in a world that never understands.

"I'm aiming for a home-run here... How old is Calem's brother again?"

Ash laughed outright, and shoved my knee with the toe of his trainer.

"Calem doesn't have a brother, Gary."

"Well, what about his, Dad?" 

I hope it scratched the same itch reading it as it did for me writing it! 

Chapter 53.2 will be coming soon!