So this is new! I've had this idea in my head for years and thought I'd finally see how it goes. If people hate it then I won't bother carrying on with it but if you like it, please let me know.

Just to note, Intervals is still my main focus and I'll be updating it regularly so don't panic, I'm not abandoning it, this is just an experiment of sorts :) Please read and review, it makes me a very happy bunny.

September 2003

"This place is a shit hole."

Pete Dunham smirked from where he was pinning the last of his posters to the wall, picking out the remnants of blu-tac from under his fingernails and using it to secure the paper.

"I give it a week before you're home,"

"Cheers, Bov," he laughed. "Good to have you on side as usual,"

Picking up one of my few cardboard boxes that he'd managed to empty, he chucked it at the grumpy looking man in the corner, almost knocking him off the edge of the bed.

Given Pete was more or less the only friend Stuart Boverington had, it was no surprise that he hadn't exactly been jumping for joy at the thought of him moving to the poncy part of London just to get a degree he'd never use. Who gave a fuck about history, anyway?

Grabbing another bottle of Corona out of the half empty case on the floor, Pete used his teeth to loosen the cap before taking a long sip and looking around. The first Dunham man to get into University; not bad going, especially considering he'd spent most of his life not being able to do anything right. In the eyes of his old man, at least. Steve, his older brother had always been the golden boy, the one most likely to follow in Daddy's footsteps.

Snorting at the memory of his last night at home in which Steve had stumbled in barely conscious, his eye socket swollen and oozing blood, he had to wonder why.

"I'm just saying, mate," Bovver shrugged snatching the bottle from his hands and downing most of the beer in one. "Even Steve thinks this is a fucking daft idea,"

"Well Steve ain't here, is he mate?" Pete asked him in a mocking tone. "None of 'em are, and to be honest, I'm fucking happy as a clown about it."

Catching the look on his old friend's face, he sighed, resting against the wall and looking out onto the campus green. Bovver had never been phased by school, even when they were kids. He had never seen the point in sitting there day after day when he could be out playing footie and earning the old pound here and there. For a while, Pete had admired him for it and even thought about life in the same light. That was until his Dad died.

And suddenly it all became clear. People who chose that life, they didn't live, they just existed. His Dad's existence had consisted of drinking, fighting and beating the shit out of Pete and sometimes his Mum. But never Steve. Glancing down at the scar on his hand, one of the many he had acquired in his time at home, he gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, fighting to keep his temper in check.

Steve hadn't said a word to him when he got his exam results. First in his class in history, English and sport.

But it still paled in comparison to being the Major of the GSE. Everything did. But that wasn't for long.

Pete had only been to a few meets so far, his brother making a point of humiliating him at every single one; at the last one between the GSE and the Yids, Steve had even socked him one on purpose, claiming during the fight everyone looked the same.

Pete knew damn well that wasn't the case; it was all to prove a point. And as much as he loved his brother, he wasn't the only one with a point to prove.

"Bov, nothing's gonna change, mate," Pete told him honestly. "I'm 'ere for most of the week, I'll be back at home on the weekends. We can go out down the Abbey, see the Hammers..."

Leaning down, he clapped the scruffy dark haired man on the shoulder and smirked.

"Trust me, mate, there's nothing gonna get in the way of us getting into the GSE." he nodded firmly. "Nothing."

"How many fucking shoes do you need?"

Allie Harding lifted her head from the stack of clothes she was trying desperately to fit into the tiny wardrobe in her room and bit back a laugh.

"I brought the bare essentials," she shrugged evenly.

Picking up what looked like a spiked torture device and squinting at the words "Christian Louboutin", Harry Harding shook his head and tossed it back into the large box, more than willing to give up for the time being.

"I'll bet," he snorted. "Are we having pizza or what?"

"Jesus Christ," Allie blew a strand of hair out of her eyes. "Pizza was a reward for helping me get settled. Bitching and moaning and trying to chat up everything that walks past the door in a skirt does not qualify as helping,"

"I beg to differ," her brother smirked, holding up the three phone numbers he had managed to score in the last half an hour.

"Harry," Allie warned him in a tone that she had inherited directly from their mother. Remembering her not for the first time that morning, Allie glanced at the photo on the windowsill; it had been the first thing she had unpacked. The woman smiled back at her warmly and her breath caught.

Time heals all, my arse, she thought bitterly.

"Alright," he conceded. "How about we go for one slice of pizza and a beer, then I'll come back and put your bookshelf up?"

"Don't forget mine," a voice piped up from the doorway. "And my new dresser,"

Snorting at Lara Knight as she waltzed into the room, all auburn waves and flowery perfume, Harry shook his head.

"You can piss right off," he told her. "I've got better things to do than be at your beck and call for the rest of the day,"

Lara flopped down on Allie's bed and smiled sweetly at him, reaching out to pat his knee.

"Oh sweetheart, now we both know that's just not true,"

Allie grinned at the red head who had been her best friend since they were 5 and in the same ballet class together; their mothers had put them together as a last resort. Allie and Lara were the only children who didn't seem to know the meaning of quiet so they became the trouble makers at the back of the hall. But at least they had each other for company.

"She has a point, brother," the blonde nodded. "And besides, you're hanging out with the two best looking girls on campus, where else do you need to be?"

"That was rhetorical," Lara warned him, sitting up and frowning at the ceiling. "What the fuck is going on up there?"

Allie sighed and rolled her eyes, reaching into one of the bigger boxes and pulling out several cushions, throwing them onto the bed with growing force as the series of bangs coming from the floor above seemed to get even louder. They'd started about 20 minutes ago and showed no sign of dying off.

"No idea," she shrugged. "Either someone is having the best sex of their life or they're dropping rocks on the floor!"

She shouted the last sentence, hoping the culprits would hear it and cease their racket but alas all she heard was the distinct sound of male laughter and then the loudest bang yet.

"Fuck!"

Harry practically jumped out of his chair, slightly concerned the ceiling might actually cave in.

"So my neighbours are going to be fun," Allie laughed.

"It's a guy," Lara told her, her golden eyes twinkling. "Maybe he's hot,"

"I doubt it," the blonde snorted, grabbing her purse and deciding that maybe now was the time for pizza after all. "Anyone who makes that much noise is going to be a total arsehole, mark my words."

"Fucking hell, easy mate!" Bovver laughed as Pete kicked the football towards him, wincing as it slammed into the wall behind him, hard enough to send a few CD's flying off of the shelf.

"Don't be such a tart," Pete laughed, balancing the ball on his foot and with a flick of his ankle, balancing it on the back of his neck. "I guarantee you we're making the least noise of anyone here,"

Noticing the slight dent in the wall that he was certain hadn't been there when he had moved in mere hours ago, he winced. Ok, maybe not.

"Saying that, maybe we should just head out for a beer," he nodded to himself. "Be rude not to."

Bovver sighed; the last thing he wanted to do was sit in some poncy university bar listening to twats in berets talking about politics and poetry and shit. But he owed it to Pete.

"You're paying," he told his friend gruffly.

"Fuck off,"

"I helped you move all your shit across London,"

"You carried one box and dropped it on the fucking stairs."

"Christ, you educated lot don't half moan, do you?"

Pete frowned at him, catching the slightly seriousness in his tone. He didn't want to fall out with Bovver, the guy was as close to him as his own brother but these little comments had to stop.

"Mate…"

"I knew I should 'ave gone to community college with the rest of the retards," a voice shouted from across the hall. "I went into the bar and you know what was on the tv? Fucking cricket! What kind of establishment is this? Hammers are playing tomorrow and if they don't show it, I'll fucking throw a tantrum like they've never seen."

Pete watched as the slightly chubby guy slammed his bedroom door and leant against it.

"Nah, I know, I just…alright, fucking hell! …Sorry. Yeah, bye mum."

Glancing at the two men staring at him with a mixture of amusement and intrigue, Swill shoved his phone in his pocket and smirked.

"Any chance I can convince you that was my missus who works for Victoria's Secret?"

Pete laughed, slightly surprised when he saw Bovver doing the same. Sociable wasn't exactly Bovver's style.

"Fair play for trying, mate," Pete smirked, leaning forward. "They seriously showing cricket in the union?"

Swill eyed the two men warily, they didn't look like the posh type but you couldn't be too sure at University. He'd learned that the hard way when the long haired blonde in the elevator with the decent arse had turned out to be called Mike.

"If you want to talk stumps and runs, I ain't your girl," he informed them. "Footie or if I'm drunk enough, rugby…and tennis." He smirked. "That Kournikova bird is fit as fuck,"

"You're safe on that front, mate," Pete told him. "Hammers boys, through and through."

At that, the young man's face lit up and he reached out, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Well fuck me, 'bout time I met someone normal in this shit heap," he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and shoved one in his mouth, holding out his hand. "Sim…-Swill." He caught himself. "Swill,"

Not questioning the nickname, Pete shook his hand and laughed.

"Pete Dunham," he cocked his head in Bovver's direction. "This miserable fuck is Bovver."

"Dunham?" Swill raised his eyebrows. "Well fuck me, that don't half ring a bell."

Lowering his voice, he met Pete's blue eyes seriously.

"As in…Stevie Dunham's brother?"

Snorting, Pete shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck tiredly. Trust Steve's reputation to follow him here of all places.

"You're a true Hammer then, yeah?" Pete nodded.

"'Till I die," Swill grinned, yanking his shirt aside and revealing the edge of a West Ham crest on his chest.

"Christ," Bovver stepped forward and clapped him on the shoulder. "I think this calls for a beer, don't you son?"

Pete raised an eyebrow, not wanting to mention that his tone had suddenly changed. Whatever it took to get his best mate to stop sulking like a bird, he was fine with.

They started down the hallway, navigating the onslaught of students carting boxes and suitcases up the narrow staircase. Reaching the landing, he glanced out of the window and grinned at his new home for the next 3 years, noting the small group of girls sunbathing next to the fountain.

Oh yeah, he could do this.

"Alyssa Harding, will you hurry your perky arse up!" a voice rang out, silencing most of the hallway. "There are cosmos to be had,"

"Posh birds," Bovver muttered from behind him. "See what you're in for, Dunham?"

Looking the auburn haired girl up and down, Pete smirked. He didn't think that was necessarily a bad thing. Girls certainly didn't look like that down the Abbey.

"Indoor voice," a sweet sounding voice hissed from inside the room. "I've been here 5 hours, I really don't want people knowing about my arse,"

"We're at uni," the red head frowned. "What fun are the next few years going to be if that's your attitude?"

A laugh rang out and Pete couldn't help the smile that spread across his face; slowing down, determined to see what this girl –and her arse- looked like, he frowned when Bovver shoved him forward unceremoniously.

"Watch it, son," Pete told him, stepping around the girl in the hallway and heading down the next flight of stairs. Bovver ignored him and carried on talking to Swill about next week's match between Hammers and United. Truth be told it was playing on his mind as well, but he was slightly distracted at the moment.

Catching sight of a flash of blonde hair, Pete craned his neck, hoping to get a glance of her before they reached the second landing, but no such luck.

Oh well, he thought to himself, no loss. There were plenty of girls here, its not like he had to go for the first one he saw.

But still, something bothered him. Like why despite spending the rest of evening in the pub watching footie, meeting one of Swill's mates and realizing they all had more in common than they had first thought, he couldn't get her laugh out of his head.

Next chapter...guess who bumps into each other? ;) I'm so nervous about this so please be gentle with your reviews. Lots of love x