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x_moonshine_xTitle: Behind the Mask (When the Stage Lights Go Down 2/3).
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
x_moonshine_x
Rating: PG-13 for language.
Pairing: Tony/Maxxie, Tony/OC, Maxxie/OC.
Prompt: 002. Middles.
Word count: 4,958.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Skins if you didn’t know already.
Summary: At 21, Maxxie has finally left Bristol behind to pursue a budding career as a dancer in the West End when an unexpected face from the past shows up and threatens to stir things up again.
A/N: Yes, you read that word count right, I told you everything would become clear in part 2 lol. I don't have a beta as yet, so if you find any mistakes do feel free to tell me.
Behind the Mask
Maxxie crawled from the bed of his London flat at 4am, padding down the hallway to the kitchen, and leaving the sleeping form of his boyfriend behind him curled up in the covers.
Rubbing his tired eyes with the back of his hand, he pulled open the cupboard where the coffee was kept and got up on his tiptoes to grab the jar of Nescafé from the top shelf. Rupert had decided six months ago to kit the kitchen out with state of the art cupboards from IKEA that towered several feet above him. And this was a great idea… if you were 6ft 3. Some days he really did wish he was taller.
Retrieving the jar, he sighed softly and then set about getting himself a much needed caffeine fix, leaning back against the counter as the kettle boiled. He let his eyes close and ran his fingers through his hair. Ever since Tony’s visit two nights ago, his sleeping patterns had been completely off. Well, not off as such, more along the lines of he’d not been sleeping at all and was running on pure adrenaline.
Maxxie laid his hands on the counter behind him and pulled himself up to sit there, leaning over and pouring the boiling water into a white mug. Picking it up, he closed his hands around it and tipped his head back until it hit the cupboard with a dull thud. He couldn’t wait until Sunday; at least he got a few blissful hours off from the theatre then and could try sleeping throughout the day.
Tony always managed to cause this kind of reaction when he turned up unannounced. They had more history than people knew. In the end it hadn’t simply been about sex either, feelings had begun to show and that had been the moment Tony cut and run, unable to face up to the prospect of actually caring for him.
Naturally, Maxxie despised him for it, called him a coward and every other name he could think of at the time. When they parted ways a year later, they still weren’t speaking. Tony had tried again and again to patch up their pathetic excuse for a friendship but, for once, he hadn’t given in.
Now here he was again, charming smile and boyish good looks and obviously wanting something. Tony didn’t show up without a hidden agenda. The question was, what was it this time?
Maxxie scowled down at his coffee cup and kicked out at the barstool beside him in frustration. Fucking Tony Stonem and his fucking mind games, well he could fuck right off.
‘Coffee won’t help, you know, has the opposite effect... like I told you last night.’
There was no need to look up; he knew Rupert would be stood in the doorframe, bed hair, blurry eyes and all. Maxxie couldn’t leave the bedroom for more than twenty minutes without him knowing about it. He was very big on cuddling.
‘Come back to bed and at least try to sleep?’ was the soft-spoken question that came next.
‘No,’ answered Maxxie.
And that would be the end of the conversation for the third night running.
Lolling his head over to the left, Maxxie listened to Rupert walk back down the hall, his footfalls light against the carpet. If he went back to bed they’d only end up having sex anyway and that wouldn’t help him in the slightest. He found it best not to shag his boyfriend while thinking about Tony, it always caused unwanted melodramatics. Sure, he loved him like there were no tomorrow, but the one with the blue eyes could screw things up for him without even trying.
He sniffed and then took a drink of his coffee, the bitter taste making him gag. Perhaps Tony had no ulterior motive, maybe he really did just want to make amends. It was highly unlikely of course. There was more chance of Cliff Richard having another number one single.
Finishing the contents of his mug, Maxxie slid down from the counter and popped it in the dishwasher before making his way to the spare room to grab the duvet off the bed. It looked like he’d be spending another night curled up in front of the TV with nothing but Rupert’s DVD collection for company. He was going in alphabetical order. American Beauty was next. Fucking glorious!
Flopping down on the couch after hitting play, he exhaled loudly, hiding himself away in the covers and stared at the screen.
One more night of this and he would go insane.
-
Jogging down the steps leading from the dressing room, Maxxie said his goodbyes to the stagehands hanging around near the doors, paused briefly to pull a hat onto his head and zip up his jacket, and then stepped out onto the bustling London street. The hat and jacket were a necessity unfortunately, they had been hit by a cold snap last week and as yet, there were no signs it was going to warm up anytime soon. He hated it; they had enough of this weather in winter, let alone spring as well.
Starting down the theatre lined street and towards the tube station, he pulled his iPod from his pocket and idly scrolled through the menus for something decent to listen to. Never having liked travelling alone late at night at least his music gave him some kind of company.
Thankfully he didn’t have far to go tonight, Emma had made dinner reservations at a restaurant in Covent Garden and he had an evening of eating and drinking with his favourite people to look forward to. More often than not they would have walked there together, but she had left the theatre half an hour earlier than usual, racing home to change, drop the baby off at her mother’s and pick up her fiancé, Rob.
Maxxie swept through the tube station and sat down in a middle carriage of the train, his attention firmly focused on the window opposite him. Sandwiched between a couple jabbering away in fluent Japanese he bit his tongue and blocked them out, letting the old Snow Patrol track wash over him. He’d be at his destination soon enough.
Ten minutes later and he was sprinting up the escalators, practically hopping the barriers in a bid for freedom. Rupert met him outside, leaning casually against the wall, hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans. He greeted him with the usual bright smile and soft kiss.
‘Good night?’ asked Maxxie, beginning to walk with him.
‘Old lady came onto me, asked me when I got off and if I wanted to join her at the Savoy when I did.’
‘Why are you here with me then?’ he couldn’t help the light-hearted jibe.
Rupert worked in Covent Garden at one of the more family friendly restaurants. He wore a black fitted shirt, highly polished brogues, flirted with all the women and received at least ten phone numbers a week. To Maxxie’s knowledge, he’d only ever called one of them; a ninety-year-old by the name of Agnes who came in every Tuesday night for a chat. They talked on the phone every Sunday afternoon now, too.
A well known perk of the job, flatter the old ladies and they’d be sure to give you a nice fat tip at the end of the night. It didn’t matter to them that he was as gay as a goose so long as they received the attention and had a pleasant evening. The ladies had a good time, he earned some extra cash and everybody went home happy.
The restaurant they were having dinner at was tucked away in one of the quieter areas and was also home to the best cocktails in the city. Emma usually spent Saturday nights getting giggly on their strawberry daiquiris before taking to the dance floor at the Ku Bar. She relied on Maxxie to get her in.
Although, considering her onstage routine these days, the bouncers generally didn’t take too much convincing anymore.
Taking a seat at their usual table, Maxxie picked up a menu (even though he always ordered the same thing) and leant into Rupert slightly, talking about the show in hushed tones and laying slow, languid kisses to his neck.
Emma and Rob turned up ten minutes later and the table erupted into playful banter revolving around Rob’s car trouble that afternoon. In fact, trouble was being light; the engine had dropped out of it.
They were midway through their second course when Emma’s eyes suddenly widened and she pointed across the table to Maxxie with her fork. She swallowed down her mouthful of salad, took a sip of water and then said, ‘I almost forgot to tell you, Max. That guy from the other night was hanging around looking for you again.’
Maxxie really wished he hadn’t just taken a sip of his wine because most of it ended up splattered across the tablecloth when he spat it out again. He grabbed for a napkin, dabbing desperately at the blood red stain, muttering a string of curses under his breath.
Certain he couldn’t do anymore to help the situation; he ignored Rupert’s raised eyebrows and then asked, ‘Tony was looking for me?’
‘Don’t worry, I told him you’d already left,’ she answered, cutting into her jacket potato enthusiastically and continuing to eat as though nothing untoward had happened. ‘He seemed really charming actually, really polite…’ She said all of this with a dazzling smile.
Frowning, rather putout, Maxxie poured himself a fresh glass of wine. ‘But that’s what he does, Em,’ he attempted to inform her.
She met him with a hard stare and then shook her head in disbelief, beginning to howl with laughter. ‘What? He’s nice to people? Wow, there’s a crime against humanity, call the police, please!’ she exclaimed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.
‘Forgive me for not having a clue what you’re talking about here, but who the hell’s Tony?’ interrupted Rupert a moment later, placing his knife and fork down and looking between them both.
Maxxie had almost forgotten he was sat there.
‘One of Maxxie’s old friends from Bristol,’ Emma supplied through giggles.
Downing his wine, the alcohol rendering him speechless for a second, he toyed with the stem of his glass and then muttered, ‘He is not my friend.’
‘Fine then, some guy Maxxie knows from Bristol.’
She stuck her tongue out at him.
‘Doesn’t exactly narrow it down, does it?’ teased Rob, winking.
‘And if you’re quite done teasing my boyfriend,’ said Rupert, who both looked and sounded amused, but still managed to keep his tone authoritative. ‘Get fucking eating, the chefs don’t cook all this for you lot to waste it.’
No one said anymore, the subject was dropped and conversation turned to Emma and Rob’s wedding plans by the time dessert rolled around. She exclaimed loudly about cakes, gestured emphatically over the decorations, bounced up and down in her seat when she mentioned flowers and then told anyone who looked in her direction to politely shove off.
At 1am Rob had to forcibly remove her from the chair to take her home. She protested of course, called him a party pooper and a number of other names that weren’t so good-humoured. He laughed it off, slung her over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift, flashing half the restaurant her polka dot underwear in the process, and then said, ‘We’ll be going now, enjoy the rest of your weekend, guys.’
Maxxie and Rupert decided to hang around for another drink or two before finally calling it a night and stumbling through the front door at 3am.
For the past twenty minutes Rupert had been asking questions about Tony again, teasing and taunting and ruffling Maxxie’s blonde hair while they travelled back on a night bus. He apparently found great pleasure in watching Maxxie squirm and went so far as to tell him so.
‘Leave it alone now, Rupe.’
Enough was enough.
Rupert jumped up onto the kitchen counter and grinned as he propped his feet up on the stool in front of him, hazel eyes winking mischievously. ‘Just want to know why this guy’s got your panties in such a bunch. Go on, hit me with it, I can take it,’ he declared, overdramatizing each and every word. ‘He’s an old boyfriend, right?’ He continued to grin, which only aggravated Maxxie that little bit more.
Blanching, he offered a feeble, ‘Yeah.’
Would that be considered a lie? He didn’t know. They’d never really dated; they’d just had sex a lot. An awful lot in fact. You couldn’t exactly call that a feasible relationship.
‘Is he hotter than me?’
Jesus, it was like Days of Our Lives.
Maxxie got himself a bowl of cereal and a spoon, muttered, ‘Shut up,’ and then retreated to the living room to eat his cornflakes alone. The night wasn’t supposed to have ended up this way. Any minute now Rupert would wander in and join him, playfully accusing him of sulking. He wouldn’t be far wrong either.
But he didn’t, which was highly unusual.
Ten minutes later, Maxxie returned his bowl to the kitchen to find his boyfriend sat on the counter still and nursing a large mug of black coffee between his hands. He appeared lost in thought and didn’t look up.
‘Are you coming to bed?’ he asked the question apprehensively, resting an elbow against the doorframe as he waited on a reply.
The silence that followed made him feel sick.
And then…
‘No… I think not...’
Rupert glanced his way at last, his usually pale complexion flushed slightly with pink. He let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing at his forehead with one of his hands and messing his dark hair up as he did so. Maxxie resisted the urge to go over and smooth it down for him again.
‘Maybe in a bit, Max,’ he added, forcing a small smile onto his face. ‘You go, you need your sleep.’
Maxxie knew better than to argue and did as he said, heading to the bedroom suddenly feeling strangely hallow inside.
-
It wasn’t the first time Maxxie and Rupert hadn’t seen eye to eye about something and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. The few days that followed were awkward to say the least, but they got on with it as they always did and by Wednesday night things were back to normal again.
Unfortunately for Maxxie, Wednesday night was also the night he sprained his ankle during the first half of the show and ended up getting sent home early. He didn’t have the words to express how much this ruined his day. Rupert wasn’t even at home to look after him; he had a shift at the restaurant until 1am and he’d be stuck there alone feeling sorry for himself.
In the end, Emma offered to go home with him, not having much else to do seeing as she was now partner-less.
For fifteen of the twenty minutes it took to get them home they bickered. Their choreographer, Fox, made it clear that the accident occurred because Maxxie wasn’t concentrating on the routine and then threatened to let him go if he didn’t sort his head out sharpish. Emma went spare and the argument had followed.
‘I’m going to kill you,’ she said finally, dropping her bag down onto the coffee table and glaring at him.
Maxxie collapsed onto the couch and leant down, beginning to rub at his sore ankle. He didn’t bother to grace her with a reply, she’d only complain anyway no matter what he said.
Sure enough, a second later, she threw her hands up in frustration before storming off into the kitchen to make tea.
By the time she returned (with two mugs and a plate of chocolate digestives firmly in her grip) he had dry swallowed a couple of co-codamol and was happily on his way to drug induced slumber, head buried in a mountain of squishy cushions and eyes tight shut.
‘Sit up, I’ll get the rest of your makeup off for you,’ said Emma, taking a seat on the edge of the coffee table and squirting something she’d just retrieved from her makeup bag onto some cotton wool. ‘Come on, this isn’t an excuse to doss around.’
He groaned and sat up obediently, keeping his eyes closed as she began to dab the cold lotion onto his face.
A minute passed before she spoke and when she did, she sounded unusually concerned. ‘What’s going on, Max?’ she asked softly. ‘We’re worried about you.’
‘I’m fine.’
You’re a fucking liar, you’re anything but fine!
Emma saw right through him. ‘Yeah, all right,’ she laughed. ‘Now try that again and this time you might want to try telling me the truth instead. It’s to do with him, isn’t it? Tony?’
He winced at the mention of Tony’s name. ‘You can’t tell-’
‘Rupert?’ she cut in. ’Don’t worry, I won’t.’
Another minute or so of silence followed before she settled down on the couch beside him, handed over his tea and a digestive, and then laid her head on his shoulder in wait. ‘So, start talking,’ she prompted, clearing her throat softly. ‘I’m listening.’
‘Tony’s…’ Maxxie sighed and looked away from her. He didn’t know where to even begin. ‘I tried so fucking hard to get over him, you know. I thought I was over him. But now… fuck I don’t know. He hurt me and I told myself I wasn’t going to let him do it again. He’d had his fun and fucking with me again was out of the question.’ He dropped his head down, staring into his mug. ‘And now I can’t stop fucking thinking about him and he’s ruining everything as usual, turning my life to shit.’
‘Max, look at me,’ said Emma, giving his knee a reassuring squeeze. He did as asked but felt idiotic. ‘He can only do that if you let him and you are letting him. You need to take a step back and figure out what’s best for you and don’t let him interfere.’
Sighing, he took a sip of his tea and let his eyes close a moment, allowing the warmth to consume him. ‘What if I can’t do that?’
‘Nothing comes of falling for the bad boy, Max, you always end up hurt.’ She shuffled in her seat beside him, curling her legs up beneath herself and leaning back against the cushions. ‘Rupert loves you; he’d do anything for you. Don’t let this jerk spoil it all.’
‘I don’t want him-’ Maxxie cut himself off and looked away from her, cursing.
‘Old love dies hard,’ she whispered, her gentle touch finding his hand instead and then she laced their fingers together. ‘It’s nothing to be ashamed of. We all fall for the wrong person at some point in our lives.’ She laughed then, apparently amused. ‘Richard Draycott, a 12th year and the love of my fourteen-year-old life. Now he was an idiot.’
His gaze moved back to her face and he smiled. In all the time he’d known Emma she’d only ever been besotted with Rob, it was strange to think of her being in love with anyone else.
‘He had a motorbike, looked old enough to get away with buying vodka from the offie and told me I was cute,’ she explained. ‘Course to a fourteen-year-old me, the one with the milk bottle specs and crazy hair, he was Gods gift.’ She shrugged. ‘We all do stupid things when we’re teenagers, what can I say.’
Maxxie ran his fingers idly through his hair, thinking about what he needed to do as he finished off his tea. A part of him wanted to see Tony again. Maybe if they talked things through properly it would clear his mind and he’d be able to start getting over him at long last.
‘You’re right,’ he said eventually and put his mug down.
Emma beamed. ‘I know I am,’ she replied.
Cocking an eyebrow in her direction, he laughed softly and then leant over her to pluck the cordless phone from its holder. ‘I’m calling Tony,’ he announced.
His companion’s face fell and she hurriedly inquired, ‘Do you really think that’s such a good idea?’
Maxxie shrugged, not having a lot to say in reply and continued on with his task. Tony picked up on the third ring and he sounded tired. The conversation lasted a minute at most and ended up with him agreeing to come round and saying that he’d be there in half an hour. It turned out that Tony and Sophie were in London for several weeks visiting her parents and were staying in a hotel not far from the West End. That explained the frequent visits to the theatre then.
Fifteen minutes later Rob arrived to pick up Emma. As usual he brought Luke with him and Maxxie got several undisturbed minutes to play with the baby while Emma collected her things together. She refused to leave at first, announcing that she was worried Maxxie would do something stupid, but after he reassured her for the tenth time that he wouldn’t and that he would behave himself, she reluctantly let Rob lead her out of the flat.
At 9:33pm, not that he was watching the clock or anything, the buzzer went for the second time that evening and he limped his way downstairs to let Tony inside. He opened the door and found his expected company leaning in the window of his girlfriend’s car. Maxxie managed to get a fleeting look at her before she drove away. Curly blonde hair, wearing a pink halter top and looking every inch a real life Barbie doll. Not quite what he had expected.
Upon stepping inside, Tony made a casual comment about her, saying how she was brainier than she looked. Maxxie didn’t doubt that, a dumb blonde wouldn’t have made it too far in advertising purely on looks these days.
After grabbing a couple of bottles of Fosters from the fridge they sat down in the living room and silence quickly settled, Maxxie biting on his lip and drumming his fingers against his knee uneasily.
‘Changed your mind then, did you?’ asked Tony eventually, his words monotone.
Maxxie glanced at him and then shook his head. ‘You’re the one who keeps showing up at the theatre unannounced. Can’t you take a hint?’ he shot back.
When in doubt, bicker.
‘I can take a hint. I’m not that fucking dense, Maxxie.’ Tony swallowed down a mouthful of beer and then placed the bottle down on the coffee table, clearing his throat. ‘For some fucked up reason, I wanted you to be one of the first to know that me and Soph are getting married.’
Shit, it really was turning out to be an interesting couple of weeks… and there was that hallow feeling back again.
Maxxie winced and hoped that Tony wouldn’t notice.
‘Dozy cow actually asked me,’ he continued with amusement. ‘Got down on one knee and everything, it was fucking hilarious!’
Frowning, Maxxie turned to face him, still clutching onto his beer bottle tightly. ‘How can you sit there and do that?’ he asked, perking an eyebrow. ‘Agree to marry the poor girl and then drag her name through the mud like it doesn’t matter?’
Tony nonchalantly shrugged a shoulder, smiled thoughtfully and answered, ‘Because people let me.’ He reached for his beer. ‘And don’t take the fucking moral high ground with me, Maxxie, you’re worse than the whole lot of them put together. You let me do the exact same thing to you time and time again and you took it lying down every single time.’ His eyebrows shot up and then he smirked, chuckling. ‘Literally and figuratively speaking on several occasions I might add.’
‘That’s different,’ his voice wavered slightly as he said it.
‘Is it?’ Tony tilted his head curiously. ‘Looks the same from where I’m standing.’
Maxxie stared at him defiantly.
‘Wow, good come back, ten out of ten for effort.’
‘Fuck you.’
‘Not much better, mate, should have quit while you were ahead,’ laughed Tony, taking another swig from the bottle in his hand.
And just like that, things were back to normal.
-
Hanging out of the doorway and looking up and down the street, Maxxie sighed as water dripped straight onto his head from the guttering above. He blinked and shook the droplets away. It had been raining for the past three hours and by the looks of things, it was set in for the night. He’d been convinced the weather couldn’t get any worse, but apparently he’d been very wrong.
Letting a breath go slowly, he ducked back inside the theatre, gaze moving over to the stage and the group of stagehands marching up and down with sound equipment tucked under their arms. They were all in their late teens, bone-idle and were sent from one of the local Universities to help out every now and then.
He tilted his head slightly, watching for a moment. The one with the eyeliner and the emo hair really was quite cute.
Maxxie smiled to himself and then folded his arms over his chest, leaning his head back against the wall as he waited for his taxi to show up. Perhaps the cute emo kid could be used for backup if he ever had a fall out with Rupert again. Throw several tequila slammers down his throat and insist that it was all perfectly normal, that this always happened behind the scenes. He highly doubted that the boy was gay, but alcohol could persuade even the straightest man sometimes.
Fuck, and now he was channelling Tony.
Get the guy out of your life and turn into him instead.
The sound of a horn blaring knocked Maxxie from his thoughts and he left the theatre with his mind on Tony once more. Slumping down into the back seat of the black cab, raking his fingers through his wet hair, he cursed himself for being so weak.
They’d parted ways on Wednesday night at around midnight and for the first time in weeks he had felt a big weight lifted from his shoulders. That was it; it really was all over this time. They didn’t ever have to see each other again and he didn’t care either. No more Tony, no more mind games and more importantly, no more sleepless nights.
It had worked, too, better than he expected it to.
So now he could get on with things. Throw himself into the show, commit himself to Rupert (most of the time anyway) and start enjoying every second of his life.
As the taxi pulled off Maxxie leant his forehead against the windowpane, sighing heavily and watching the city lights blur before him. It had been a long week on the whole; fighting with Rupert, putting himself out of commission for a couple of days and then, finally, seeing Tony. He couldn’t wait to get home and crawl between the sheets. He could have slept for a week.
They arrived at his flat twenty minutes later and he tossed a twenty pound note in the driver’s direction, picking up his bag from the seat beside him and hopping out of the taxi. Shouting a thank you before he swung the door shut, he turned around coming face-to-face with a rather wet looking Tony stood outside the entrance to the flat.
Shit, what happened to no more Tony?
Taking several anxious steps forward, the rain coming down in sheets around him, the words escaped before he got the chance to stop them. ‘Are you insane?!’ he exclaimed, although his voice became lost in the downpour.
Frowning, Maxxie pulled his jacket over his head in a bid to keep himself dry for at least a second and then made a dash for the door of the building. Grabbing hold of Tony’s sweater on his way, he opened the door and then dragged the older boy inside after him, slamming it closed after himself.
They both stood motionless at first, staring and dripping water all over the hall carpet. The landlord would be ecstatic.
Tony must have been out there for a while, he looked freezing and there wasn’t a dry patch anywhere on him. His hair hung bedraggled across his forehead, drops of water trickling down his face and clinging to his eyelashes, his bottom lip quivering. Ten more minutes out there and he would have been blue.
Maxxie didn’t know what to say, so he whispered the only thing that came to him, a softly spoken ‘Why?’
Shaking his head, Tony stepped closer, haphazardly shoved his hair out of his eyes and then laid his hand lightly against Maxxie’s cheek, fingers stroking his skin. The touch made him shiver, the palm of Tony’s hand so cold and his eyes automatically fell closed at the contact.
‘What are you doing?’ he whispered, sighing and turning his head away quickly, not wanting to encourage anymore than he had already.
Tony swallowed, looking frustrated, dropping his hand down to grip onto the front of Maxxie’s jacket instead. ‘I have no idea,’ he said at last, his voice cracking. ‘Fuck, Maxxie, I don’t know… I just have to, I need to…I can’t…’
And then Tony was kissing him.
No qualms, no games, no nothing; kissing him because he needed to.
And Maxxie kissed him back.
No hesitation, no argument, no nothing; kissing back because he never had mastered the art of will power all that well after all.
Who could say no to Tony Stonem?
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
fanfic100 Little Damn Table.
.x.
Author:
x_moonshine_xRating: PG-13 for language.
Pairing: Tony/Maxxie, Tony/OC, Maxxie/OC.
Prompt: 002. Middles.
Word count: 4,958.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Skins if you didn’t know already.
Summary: At 21, Maxxie has finally left Bristol behind to pursue a budding career as a dancer in the West End when an unexpected face from the past shows up and threatens to stir things up again.
A/N: Yes, you read that word count right, I told you everything would become clear in part 2 lol. I don't have a beta as yet, so if you find any mistakes do feel free to tell me.
Behind the Mask
Maxxie crawled from the bed of his London flat at 4am, padding down the hallway to the kitchen, and leaving the sleeping form of his boyfriend behind him curled up in the covers.
Rubbing his tired eyes with the back of his hand, he pulled open the cupboard where the coffee was kept and got up on his tiptoes to grab the jar of Nescafé from the top shelf. Rupert had decided six months ago to kit the kitchen out with state of the art cupboards from IKEA that towered several feet above him. And this was a great idea… if you were 6ft 3. Some days he really did wish he was taller.
Retrieving the jar, he sighed softly and then set about getting himself a much needed caffeine fix, leaning back against the counter as the kettle boiled. He let his eyes close and ran his fingers through his hair. Ever since Tony’s visit two nights ago, his sleeping patterns had been completely off. Well, not off as such, more along the lines of he’d not been sleeping at all and was running on pure adrenaline.
Maxxie laid his hands on the counter behind him and pulled himself up to sit there, leaning over and pouring the boiling water into a white mug. Picking it up, he closed his hands around it and tipped his head back until it hit the cupboard with a dull thud. He couldn’t wait until Sunday; at least he got a few blissful hours off from the theatre then and could try sleeping throughout the day.
Tony always managed to cause this kind of reaction when he turned up unannounced. They had more history than people knew. In the end it hadn’t simply been about sex either, feelings had begun to show and that had been the moment Tony cut and run, unable to face up to the prospect of actually caring for him.
Naturally, Maxxie despised him for it, called him a coward and every other name he could think of at the time. When they parted ways a year later, they still weren’t speaking. Tony had tried again and again to patch up their pathetic excuse for a friendship but, for once, he hadn’t given in.
Now here he was again, charming smile and boyish good looks and obviously wanting something. Tony didn’t show up without a hidden agenda. The question was, what was it this time?
Maxxie scowled down at his coffee cup and kicked out at the barstool beside him in frustration. Fucking Tony Stonem and his fucking mind games, well he could fuck right off.
‘Coffee won’t help, you know, has the opposite effect... like I told you last night.’
There was no need to look up; he knew Rupert would be stood in the doorframe, bed hair, blurry eyes and all. Maxxie couldn’t leave the bedroom for more than twenty minutes without him knowing about it. He was very big on cuddling.
‘Come back to bed and at least try to sleep?’ was the soft-spoken question that came next.
‘No,’ answered Maxxie.
And that would be the end of the conversation for the third night running.
Lolling his head over to the left, Maxxie listened to Rupert walk back down the hall, his footfalls light against the carpet. If he went back to bed they’d only end up having sex anyway and that wouldn’t help him in the slightest. He found it best not to shag his boyfriend while thinking about Tony, it always caused unwanted melodramatics. Sure, he loved him like there were no tomorrow, but the one with the blue eyes could screw things up for him without even trying.
He sniffed and then took a drink of his coffee, the bitter taste making him gag. Perhaps Tony had no ulterior motive, maybe he really did just want to make amends. It was highly unlikely of course. There was more chance of Cliff Richard having another number one single.
Finishing the contents of his mug, Maxxie slid down from the counter and popped it in the dishwasher before making his way to the spare room to grab the duvet off the bed. It looked like he’d be spending another night curled up in front of the TV with nothing but Rupert’s DVD collection for company. He was going in alphabetical order. American Beauty was next. Fucking glorious!
Flopping down on the couch after hitting play, he exhaled loudly, hiding himself away in the covers and stared at the screen.
One more night of this and he would go insane.
-
Jogging down the steps leading from the dressing room, Maxxie said his goodbyes to the stagehands hanging around near the doors, paused briefly to pull a hat onto his head and zip up his jacket, and then stepped out onto the bustling London street. The hat and jacket were a necessity unfortunately, they had been hit by a cold snap last week and as yet, there were no signs it was going to warm up anytime soon. He hated it; they had enough of this weather in winter, let alone spring as well.
Starting down the theatre lined street and towards the tube station, he pulled his iPod from his pocket and idly scrolled through the menus for something decent to listen to. Never having liked travelling alone late at night at least his music gave him some kind of company.
Thankfully he didn’t have far to go tonight, Emma had made dinner reservations at a restaurant in Covent Garden and he had an evening of eating and drinking with his favourite people to look forward to. More often than not they would have walked there together, but she had left the theatre half an hour earlier than usual, racing home to change, drop the baby off at her mother’s and pick up her fiancé, Rob.
Maxxie swept through the tube station and sat down in a middle carriage of the train, his attention firmly focused on the window opposite him. Sandwiched between a couple jabbering away in fluent Japanese he bit his tongue and blocked them out, letting the old Snow Patrol track wash over him. He’d be at his destination soon enough.
Ten minutes later and he was sprinting up the escalators, practically hopping the barriers in a bid for freedom. Rupert met him outside, leaning casually against the wall, hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans. He greeted him with the usual bright smile and soft kiss.
‘Good night?’ asked Maxxie, beginning to walk with him.
‘Old lady came onto me, asked me when I got off and if I wanted to join her at the Savoy when I did.’
‘Why are you here with me then?’ he couldn’t help the light-hearted jibe.
Rupert worked in Covent Garden at one of the more family friendly restaurants. He wore a black fitted shirt, highly polished brogues, flirted with all the women and received at least ten phone numbers a week. To Maxxie’s knowledge, he’d only ever called one of them; a ninety-year-old by the name of Agnes who came in every Tuesday night for a chat. They talked on the phone every Sunday afternoon now, too.
A well known perk of the job, flatter the old ladies and they’d be sure to give you a nice fat tip at the end of the night. It didn’t matter to them that he was as gay as a goose so long as they received the attention and had a pleasant evening. The ladies had a good time, he earned some extra cash and everybody went home happy.
The restaurant they were having dinner at was tucked away in one of the quieter areas and was also home to the best cocktails in the city. Emma usually spent Saturday nights getting giggly on their strawberry daiquiris before taking to the dance floor at the Ku Bar. She relied on Maxxie to get her in.
Although, considering her onstage routine these days, the bouncers generally didn’t take too much convincing anymore.
Taking a seat at their usual table, Maxxie picked up a menu (even though he always ordered the same thing) and leant into Rupert slightly, talking about the show in hushed tones and laying slow, languid kisses to his neck.
Emma and Rob turned up ten minutes later and the table erupted into playful banter revolving around Rob’s car trouble that afternoon. In fact, trouble was being light; the engine had dropped out of it.
They were midway through their second course when Emma’s eyes suddenly widened and she pointed across the table to Maxxie with her fork. She swallowed down her mouthful of salad, took a sip of water and then said, ‘I almost forgot to tell you, Max. That guy from the other night was hanging around looking for you again.’
Maxxie really wished he hadn’t just taken a sip of his wine because most of it ended up splattered across the tablecloth when he spat it out again. He grabbed for a napkin, dabbing desperately at the blood red stain, muttering a string of curses under his breath.
Certain he couldn’t do anymore to help the situation; he ignored Rupert’s raised eyebrows and then asked, ‘Tony was looking for me?’
‘Don’t worry, I told him you’d already left,’ she answered, cutting into her jacket potato enthusiastically and continuing to eat as though nothing untoward had happened. ‘He seemed really charming actually, really polite…’ She said all of this with a dazzling smile.
Frowning, rather putout, Maxxie poured himself a fresh glass of wine. ‘But that’s what he does, Em,’ he attempted to inform her.
She met him with a hard stare and then shook her head in disbelief, beginning to howl with laughter. ‘What? He’s nice to people? Wow, there’s a crime against humanity, call the police, please!’ she exclaimed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.
‘Forgive me for not having a clue what you’re talking about here, but who the hell’s Tony?’ interrupted Rupert a moment later, placing his knife and fork down and looking between them both.
Maxxie had almost forgotten he was sat there.
‘One of Maxxie’s old friends from Bristol,’ Emma supplied through giggles.
Downing his wine, the alcohol rendering him speechless for a second, he toyed with the stem of his glass and then muttered, ‘He is not my friend.’
‘Fine then, some guy Maxxie knows from Bristol.’
She stuck her tongue out at him.
‘Doesn’t exactly narrow it down, does it?’ teased Rob, winking.
‘And if you’re quite done teasing my boyfriend,’ said Rupert, who both looked and sounded amused, but still managed to keep his tone authoritative. ‘Get fucking eating, the chefs don’t cook all this for you lot to waste it.’
No one said anymore, the subject was dropped and conversation turned to Emma and Rob’s wedding plans by the time dessert rolled around. She exclaimed loudly about cakes, gestured emphatically over the decorations, bounced up and down in her seat when she mentioned flowers and then told anyone who looked in her direction to politely shove off.
At 1am Rob had to forcibly remove her from the chair to take her home. She protested of course, called him a party pooper and a number of other names that weren’t so good-humoured. He laughed it off, slung her over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift, flashing half the restaurant her polka dot underwear in the process, and then said, ‘We’ll be going now, enjoy the rest of your weekend, guys.’
Maxxie and Rupert decided to hang around for another drink or two before finally calling it a night and stumbling through the front door at 3am.
For the past twenty minutes Rupert had been asking questions about Tony again, teasing and taunting and ruffling Maxxie’s blonde hair while they travelled back on a night bus. He apparently found great pleasure in watching Maxxie squirm and went so far as to tell him so.
‘Leave it alone now, Rupe.’
Enough was enough.
Rupert jumped up onto the kitchen counter and grinned as he propped his feet up on the stool in front of him, hazel eyes winking mischievously. ‘Just want to know why this guy’s got your panties in such a bunch. Go on, hit me with it, I can take it,’ he declared, overdramatizing each and every word. ‘He’s an old boyfriend, right?’ He continued to grin, which only aggravated Maxxie that little bit more.
Blanching, he offered a feeble, ‘Yeah.’
Would that be considered a lie? He didn’t know. They’d never really dated; they’d just had sex a lot. An awful lot in fact. You couldn’t exactly call that a feasible relationship.
‘Is he hotter than me?’
Jesus, it was like Days of Our Lives.
Maxxie got himself a bowl of cereal and a spoon, muttered, ‘Shut up,’ and then retreated to the living room to eat his cornflakes alone. The night wasn’t supposed to have ended up this way. Any minute now Rupert would wander in and join him, playfully accusing him of sulking. He wouldn’t be far wrong either.
But he didn’t, which was highly unusual.
Ten minutes later, Maxxie returned his bowl to the kitchen to find his boyfriend sat on the counter still and nursing a large mug of black coffee between his hands. He appeared lost in thought and didn’t look up.
‘Are you coming to bed?’ he asked the question apprehensively, resting an elbow against the doorframe as he waited on a reply.
The silence that followed made him feel sick.
And then…
‘No… I think not...’
Rupert glanced his way at last, his usually pale complexion flushed slightly with pink. He let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing at his forehead with one of his hands and messing his dark hair up as he did so. Maxxie resisted the urge to go over and smooth it down for him again.
‘Maybe in a bit, Max,’ he added, forcing a small smile onto his face. ‘You go, you need your sleep.’
Maxxie knew better than to argue and did as he said, heading to the bedroom suddenly feeling strangely hallow inside.
-
It wasn’t the first time Maxxie and Rupert hadn’t seen eye to eye about something and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. The few days that followed were awkward to say the least, but they got on with it as they always did and by Wednesday night things were back to normal again.
Unfortunately for Maxxie, Wednesday night was also the night he sprained his ankle during the first half of the show and ended up getting sent home early. He didn’t have the words to express how much this ruined his day. Rupert wasn’t even at home to look after him; he had a shift at the restaurant until 1am and he’d be stuck there alone feeling sorry for himself.
In the end, Emma offered to go home with him, not having much else to do seeing as she was now partner-less.
For fifteen of the twenty minutes it took to get them home they bickered. Their choreographer, Fox, made it clear that the accident occurred because Maxxie wasn’t concentrating on the routine and then threatened to let him go if he didn’t sort his head out sharpish. Emma went spare and the argument had followed.
‘I’m going to kill you,’ she said finally, dropping her bag down onto the coffee table and glaring at him.
Maxxie collapsed onto the couch and leant down, beginning to rub at his sore ankle. He didn’t bother to grace her with a reply, she’d only complain anyway no matter what he said.
Sure enough, a second later, she threw her hands up in frustration before storming off into the kitchen to make tea.
By the time she returned (with two mugs and a plate of chocolate digestives firmly in her grip) he had dry swallowed a couple of co-codamol and was happily on his way to drug induced slumber, head buried in a mountain of squishy cushions and eyes tight shut.
‘Sit up, I’ll get the rest of your makeup off for you,’ said Emma, taking a seat on the edge of the coffee table and squirting something she’d just retrieved from her makeup bag onto some cotton wool. ‘Come on, this isn’t an excuse to doss around.’
He groaned and sat up obediently, keeping his eyes closed as she began to dab the cold lotion onto his face.
A minute passed before she spoke and when she did, she sounded unusually concerned. ‘What’s going on, Max?’ she asked softly. ‘We’re worried about you.’
‘I’m fine.’
You’re a fucking liar, you’re anything but fine!
Emma saw right through him. ‘Yeah, all right,’ she laughed. ‘Now try that again and this time you might want to try telling me the truth instead. It’s to do with him, isn’t it? Tony?’
He winced at the mention of Tony’s name. ‘You can’t tell-’
‘Rupert?’ she cut in. ’Don’t worry, I won’t.’
Another minute or so of silence followed before she settled down on the couch beside him, handed over his tea and a digestive, and then laid her head on his shoulder in wait. ‘So, start talking,’ she prompted, clearing her throat softly. ‘I’m listening.’
‘Tony’s…’ Maxxie sighed and looked away from her. He didn’t know where to even begin. ‘I tried so fucking hard to get over him, you know. I thought I was over him. But now… fuck I don’t know. He hurt me and I told myself I wasn’t going to let him do it again. He’d had his fun and fucking with me again was out of the question.’ He dropped his head down, staring into his mug. ‘And now I can’t stop fucking thinking about him and he’s ruining everything as usual, turning my life to shit.’
‘Max, look at me,’ said Emma, giving his knee a reassuring squeeze. He did as asked but felt idiotic. ‘He can only do that if you let him and you are letting him. You need to take a step back and figure out what’s best for you and don’t let him interfere.’
Sighing, he took a sip of his tea and let his eyes close a moment, allowing the warmth to consume him. ‘What if I can’t do that?’
‘Nothing comes of falling for the bad boy, Max, you always end up hurt.’ She shuffled in her seat beside him, curling her legs up beneath herself and leaning back against the cushions. ‘Rupert loves you; he’d do anything for you. Don’t let this jerk spoil it all.’
‘I don’t want him-’ Maxxie cut himself off and looked away from her, cursing.
‘Old love dies hard,’ she whispered, her gentle touch finding his hand instead and then she laced their fingers together. ‘It’s nothing to be ashamed of. We all fall for the wrong person at some point in our lives.’ She laughed then, apparently amused. ‘Richard Draycott, a 12th year and the love of my fourteen-year-old life. Now he was an idiot.’
His gaze moved back to her face and he smiled. In all the time he’d known Emma she’d only ever been besotted with Rob, it was strange to think of her being in love with anyone else.
‘He had a motorbike, looked old enough to get away with buying vodka from the offie and told me I was cute,’ she explained. ‘Course to a fourteen-year-old me, the one with the milk bottle specs and crazy hair, he was Gods gift.’ She shrugged. ‘We all do stupid things when we’re teenagers, what can I say.’
Maxxie ran his fingers idly through his hair, thinking about what he needed to do as he finished off his tea. A part of him wanted to see Tony again. Maybe if they talked things through properly it would clear his mind and he’d be able to start getting over him at long last.
‘You’re right,’ he said eventually and put his mug down.
Emma beamed. ‘I know I am,’ she replied.
Cocking an eyebrow in her direction, he laughed softly and then leant over her to pluck the cordless phone from its holder. ‘I’m calling Tony,’ he announced.
His companion’s face fell and she hurriedly inquired, ‘Do you really think that’s such a good idea?’
Maxxie shrugged, not having a lot to say in reply and continued on with his task. Tony picked up on the third ring and he sounded tired. The conversation lasted a minute at most and ended up with him agreeing to come round and saying that he’d be there in half an hour. It turned out that Tony and Sophie were in London for several weeks visiting her parents and were staying in a hotel not far from the West End. That explained the frequent visits to the theatre then.
Fifteen minutes later Rob arrived to pick up Emma. As usual he brought Luke with him and Maxxie got several undisturbed minutes to play with the baby while Emma collected her things together. She refused to leave at first, announcing that she was worried Maxxie would do something stupid, but after he reassured her for the tenth time that he wouldn’t and that he would behave himself, she reluctantly let Rob lead her out of the flat.
At 9:33pm, not that he was watching the clock or anything, the buzzer went for the second time that evening and he limped his way downstairs to let Tony inside. He opened the door and found his expected company leaning in the window of his girlfriend’s car. Maxxie managed to get a fleeting look at her before she drove away. Curly blonde hair, wearing a pink halter top and looking every inch a real life Barbie doll. Not quite what he had expected.
Upon stepping inside, Tony made a casual comment about her, saying how she was brainier than she looked. Maxxie didn’t doubt that, a dumb blonde wouldn’t have made it too far in advertising purely on looks these days.
After grabbing a couple of bottles of Fosters from the fridge they sat down in the living room and silence quickly settled, Maxxie biting on his lip and drumming his fingers against his knee uneasily.
‘Changed your mind then, did you?’ asked Tony eventually, his words monotone.
Maxxie glanced at him and then shook his head. ‘You’re the one who keeps showing up at the theatre unannounced. Can’t you take a hint?’ he shot back.
When in doubt, bicker.
‘I can take a hint. I’m not that fucking dense, Maxxie.’ Tony swallowed down a mouthful of beer and then placed the bottle down on the coffee table, clearing his throat. ‘For some fucked up reason, I wanted you to be one of the first to know that me and Soph are getting married.’
Shit, it really was turning out to be an interesting couple of weeks… and there was that hallow feeling back again.
Maxxie winced and hoped that Tony wouldn’t notice.
‘Dozy cow actually asked me,’ he continued with amusement. ‘Got down on one knee and everything, it was fucking hilarious!’
Frowning, Maxxie turned to face him, still clutching onto his beer bottle tightly. ‘How can you sit there and do that?’ he asked, perking an eyebrow. ‘Agree to marry the poor girl and then drag her name through the mud like it doesn’t matter?’
Tony nonchalantly shrugged a shoulder, smiled thoughtfully and answered, ‘Because people let me.’ He reached for his beer. ‘And don’t take the fucking moral high ground with me, Maxxie, you’re worse than the whole lot of them put together. You let me do the exact same thing to you time and time again and you took it lying down every single time.’ His eyebrows shot up and then he smirked, chuckling. ‘Literally and figuratively speaking on several occasions I might add.’
‘That’s different,’ his voice wavered slightly as he said it.
‘Is it?’ Tony tilted his head curiously. ‘Looks the same from where I’m standing.’
Maxxie stared at him defiantly.
‘Wow, good come back, ten out of ten for effort.’
‘Fuck you.’
‘Not much better, mate, should have quit while you were ahead,’ laughed Tony, taking another swig from the bottle in his hand.
And just like that, things were back to normal.
-
Hanging out of the doorway and looking up and down the street, Maxxie sighed as water dripped straight onto his head from the guttering above. He blinked and shook the droplets away. It had been raining for the past three hours and by the looks of things, it was set in for the night. He’d been convinced the weather couldn’t get any worse, but apparently he’d been very wrong.
Letting a breath go slowly, he ducked back inside the theatre, gaze moving over to the stage and the group of stagehands marching up and down with sound equipment tucked under their arms. They were all in their late teens, bone-idle and were sent from one of the local Universities to help out every now and then.
He tilted his head slightly, watching for a moment. The one with the eyeliner and the emo hair really was quite cute.
Maxxie smiled to himself and then folded his arms over his chest, leaning his head back against the wall as he waited for his taxi to show up. Perhaps the cute emo kid could be used for backup if he ever had a fall out with Rupert again. Throw several tequila slammers down his throat and insist that it was all perfectly normal, that this always happened behind the scenes. He highly doubted that the boy was gay, but alcohol could persuade even the straightest man sometimes.
Fuck, and now he was channelling Tony.
Get the guy out of your life and turn into him instead.
The sound of a horn blaring knocked Maxxie from his thoughts and he left the theatre with his mind on Tony once more. Slumping down into the back seat of the black cab, raking his fingers through his wet hair, he cursed himself for being so weak.
They’d parted ways on Wednesday night at around midnight and for the first time in weeks he had felt a big weight lifted from his shoulders. That was it; it really was all over this time. They didn’t ever have to see each other again and he didn’t care either. No more Tony, no more mind games and more importantly, no more sleepless nights.
It had worked, too, better than he expected it to.
So now he could get on with things. Throw himself into the show, commit himself to Rupert (most of the time anyway) and start enjoying every second of his life.
As the taxi pulled off Maxxie leant his forehead against the windowpane, sighing heavily and watching the city lights blur before him. It had been a long week on the whole; fighting with Rupert, putting himself out of commission for a couple of days and then, finally, seeing Tony. He couldn’t wait to get home and crawl between the sheets. He could have slept for a week.
They arrived at his flat twenty minutes later and he tossed a twenty pound note in the driver’s direction, picking up his bag from the seat beside him and hopping out of the taxi. Shouting a thank you before he swung the door shut, he turned around coming face-to-face with a rather wet looking Tony stood outside the entrance to the flat.
Shit, what happened to no more Tony?
Taking several anxious steps forward, the rain coming down in sheets around him, the words escaped before he got the chance to stop them. ‘Are you insane?!’ he exclaimed, although his voice became lost in the downpour.
Frowning, Maxxie pulled his jacket over his head in a bid to keep himself dry for at least a second and then made a dash for the door of the building. Grabbing hold of Tony’s sweater on his way, he opened the door and then dragged the older boy inside after him, slamming it closed after himself.
They both stood motionless at first, staring and dripping water all over the hall carpet. The landlord would be ecstatic.
Tony must have been out there for a while, he looked freezing and there wasn’t a dry patch anywhere on him. His hair hung bedraggled across his forehead, drops of water trickling down his face and clinging to his eyelashes, his bottom lip quivering. Ten more minutes out there and he would have been blue.
Maxxie didn’t know what to say, so he whispered the only thing that came to him, a softly spoken ‘Why?’
Shaking his head, Tony stepped closer, haphazardly shoved his hair out of his eyes and then laid his hand lightly against Maxxie’s cheek, fingers stroking his skin. The touch made him shiver, the palm of Tony’s hand so cold and his eyes automatically fell closed at the contact.
‘What are you doing?’ he whispered, sighing and turning his head away quickly, not wanting to encourage anymore than he had already.
Tony swallowed, looking frustrated, dropping his hand down to grip onto the front of Maxxie’s jacket instead. ‘I have no idea,’ he said at last, his voice cracking. ‘Fuck, Maxxie, I don’t know… I just have to, I need to…I can’t…’
And then Tony was kissing him.
No qualms, no games, no nothing; kissing him because he needed to.
And Maxxie kissed him back.
No hesitation, no argument, no nothing; kissing back because he never had mastered the art of will power all that well after all.
Who could say no to Tony Stonem?
fanfic100 Little Damn Table..x.
