Mick had been watching Joe from the other side of the bar all night. The way he flirted with the blonde next to him made Mick want to go up and hit him but he wouldn't actually do anything; he cared about Joe far too much to intentionally hurt him. Of course, Mick wouldn't admit he had feelings for the singer. He was a guy and it wasn't right for a guy to like another guy in that kind of way. A sudden outburst of giggles from the blonde caused Mick to roll his eyes and exhale in an annoyed fashion.

What's so funny?

He wanted another drink, but Joe was in the way, and he really wasn't in the mood to hear him sweet talking the blonde, who, in Mick's eyes, was clearly a hooker. So there he sat, alone, staring in dismay at the empty glasses on the table, wondering why Joe wasn't interested in him and silently cursing everyone and everything. Paul and Topper had vanished as soon as they entered the bar, so hanging round with them was out of the question and he was debating ditching the pub and Joe and the hooker to wander the streets for a bit.

Maybe I'll get mugged or something, that'll make the bastard worry, won't it?

He glanced up at Joe and scowled when he saw the hooker stroking his hair and whispering something in his ear.

That should be me, not her. What's so damn good about her?

All he wanted was for Joe to pay attention to him and him only, which was a little selfish, but he couldn't help it. Joe was... well, he was Joe. He'd liked Joe from the moment they met in that squat in Shepherd's Bush and the more time they spent together, the more Mick liked him. Joe had no idea, of course, but Mick didn't have the courage to tell him and he was mad at him for not understanding. He wanted to go up to him and shake him, yell at him, make him understand, but that wouldn't be fair. He'd come close to telling him a few times, but each time he'd chickened out and changed the subject, and seeing him with the hooker destroyed what little confidence he had left. Besides, he had to be careful about what he said in front of who; if certain people found out he preferred the company of other guys, he could get beaten up and even killed. Mick figured he probably shouldn't tell anyone. So Joe would never know. Not that he would feel the same, Mick was sure, but Mick kept an awful lot to himself and the one thing he felt shouldn't be kept to himself had to be if he wished to remain alive and well. Nothing changed in the next half hour; Mick was still sitting alone in a foul mood and the hooker still had her hands tangled in Joe's hair. She kept giggling, which only served to piss Mick off even more, and the familiar feeling of jealousy buried itself in the pit of his stomach when he saw Joe's hand running up and down her thigh.

Why can't I be fucking normal? Why do I have to be a fucking faggot? Maybe it's 'cos I spend too much time with other blokes... yeah, that's gotta be it. I gotta find myself a girl.

Mick then realized he'd been staring at Joe's hand rubbing the pale skin of the hooker's thigh. He tore his gaze away and found himself staring at Joe's lips around the bottle and the way he ran his free hand slowly through his hair and he felt ashamed for getting off on it. He squirmed uncomfortably and crossed his legs, begging his erection to go away. And then, finally, Joe noticed him. "Oi, Mick!" He called. "Come 'ave a drink with us!"

Not now, for fuck's sake.

Mick felt his cheeks getting hot from embarrassment. "Nah, I, uh, I'm alright 'ere." He stammered.

"What's up with you?" Joe frowned, getting off his stool and beginning to walk towards Mick.

No, oh fuck, fucking hell, not now Joe, fuck off.

Much to Mick's annoyance, the hooker followed. Quickly, he took his jacket off and threw it over his lap. Joe reached the table and frowned. "S'a bit hot in 'ere, don't ya think?" Mick asked awkwardly.

"Mick," Joe said slowly, "it's the middle of December."

Mick didn't answer, he was too busy eyeing the hooker. Joe saw him looking and pulled her in front of him. "Oh, this is Sheila." He grinned. "Sheila, this is Mick."

Sheila crouched down so her face was inches from Mick's and popped her bubblegum loudly, biting her bottom lip, where her red lipstick was smeared. "You're cute." She said in an American accent. "Almost as cute as Joey here."

Joey?

Mick looked up at Joe with a raised eyebrow and was about to chuckle and say something stupid along the lines of 'she's quite a girl' to make it seem like everything was fine when he noticed Joe had red lipstick round his mouth and along his jaw. "You got some stuff..." He mumbled, gesturing to his own mouth.

Joe wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and chuckled when he saw red lipstick on it. Mick could barely smell the alcohol on his breath. Joe wasn't drunk, which meant one thing only; he wasn't just fucking around with Sheila. Someone called across the bar to Sheila, saying they had to go.

Thank fuck.

Sheila leaned into Joe and grabbed the collar of his shirt, dragging him down and kissing him roughly. Joe kissed her back enthusiastically, running his hands under the thin piece of cloth barely covering her that could hardly be called a t-shirt. "Joey baby, I gotta go." She breathed, sucking at his neck.

Mick turned away, his stomach feeling like it had been knotted and his eyes burning from the tears that were forming in the corners. "I love you." Joe said, and all Mick could do was stare at the wall and try not to break down.

A strange pressure built up in his chest as the breath left his lungs and he was empty, unable to feel anything other than jealousy. He swallowed and got up. "I- I need to- toilet." He decided, heading for the toilets.

"Mick!" Joe called, but Mick ignored him and pushed through the crowd and into the toilets.

Inside, he only had a few seconds to himself before Joe burst in, Sheila following him. "What are you doing?" Joe asked.

Mick sighed. "I wanna take a piss, is that alright?"

Sheila giggled that annoying giggle of hers and Mick turned to her. "You ain't supposed to be in 'ere!"

Sheila blinked and popped her bubblegum again. "Aw don't be shy Micky, I've seen it all before." She winked.

Micky... Only Joe is allowed to call me Micky.

Joe must have sensed that Mick was upset because he told Sheila to wait outside. "You gonna tell me what's up?" He asked when they were alone.

"Why don't you go off with Sheila?" Mick snapped, a lot harsher than he intended. "You sure as 'ell didn't care about me when you 'ad your 'ands all over 'er."

Joe opened him mouth several times but no words came out. In the end, he said the three words he would regret for the rest of his life. "You jealous, Micky?"

A surge of anger burst through Mick's veins and he clenched his fists. "No." He growled, but it was plainly obvious that he was.

Joe chuckled behind him and put his hand on his shoulder. That was when Mick lost it. He shoved Joe backwards, tears blurring his eyesight. "Why'd you suddenly care, huh?" He demanded.

Joe, startled by Mick's sudden outburst, was lost for words. "Mick, I... I was only... I didn't mean..." He trailed off while Mick wiped his eyes on his sleeve.

"Ya know what?" Mick snarled. "I don't give a shit what you do. You can go off and catch God knows what from that hooker, I don't give a shit. Just go."

Joe stepped forwards but Mick shoved him again, this time hard enough for him to fall backwards and land in a heap on the filthy floor. "JUST GO!" Mick cried.

Joe stared at Mick, hurt and confused, before getting to his feet. He opened his mouth to say something but he didn't get very far as Mick smacked him in the mouth. For a few seconds, Joe looked like he might strangle Mick, but instead he turned and left. Mick waited for the door to swing shut before letting out a sob and throwing a punch at the wall, which only served to make his knuckles bleed. A few minutes later, he kicked the door open and returned to the noisiness of the bar. Sheila was running her hands all over Joe again, but it looked like Joe wasn't really paying attention. He had a distant look in his eyes and Sheila kept asking him what was wrong. He had a cut on his lip where Mick had hit him and the blood had dripped down his chin and onto his shirt. "Joey, baby, what happened?" Sheila whined.

"Nothin', just slipped on the floor."

He caught sight of Mick and he narrowed his eyes. Sheila also saw Mick and put two and two together. "He did it, didn't he?"

"No." Joe replied quickly. "Mick's got nothing to do with this, he didn't do anything."

Mick sighed inwardly as Sheila stormed over to him. "Why did you hit him?" She demanded.

"S'none of your business." Mick muttered as Joe appeared behind her.

"Come on, leave it." He pleaded, trying to drag her away.

Sheila turned around and planted a kiss on Joe's lips. Joe pushed her away. "Let me sort this out." He said.

"Aw, Joey baby, I don't want you getting hurt!"

For fuck's sake, stop with the 'Joey baby'.

Sheila reluctantly left Joe alone and he and Mick went out the back and stood in the alley behind the bar. "What?" Mick mumbled.

"I'm sorry." Joe said sincerely, putting his arm round Mick's shoulders. "I didn't know."

Mick didn't reply, just stared at the floor, scraping his shoe through broken glass and splintered bits of wood. Joe moved in front of him and placed against the wall on either side of him. Mick couldn't help but look up and soon, Joe's lips were on his and their tongues were in each other's mouths. Joe's hands moved so one of them was on Mick's back and the other was in his hair. Mick moaned in approval when Joe thrust his hand into his pants. Suddenly, the door of the bar swung open and they didn't have time to break apart before someone walked out. Joe quickly removed his hand from Mick's pants and they both froze. The guy who had walked out was tall, taller than Mick, and twice as wide as most people.

Fuck, I'm fucked, we're fucked.

But instead of beating them up, like Mick assumed he was going to, he held his hands up and backed away. "I didn't see nothin', alright?"

Mick and Joe both let out a shaky breath and hurried inside before he changed his mind. Sheila flung herself at Joe the first chance she got and Mick was shocked to see Joe didn't push her away. Instead, he embraced her and kissed her. Mick didn't listen to what they were saying, he couldn't, he felt like everything had just... stopped.

Did that mean anything to him? Is he just fucking with my head?

"You bastard." Mick hissed when Joe stopped kissing Sheila long enough to look at him.

Before Joe could say anything, Mick swung his fist up and hit Joe in the side of the head. It didn't seem to botherhim, though. "Lemme explain!" He pleaded, but Mick had already barged through the group of people gathered in front of the door and out into the cold, night air.

He stumbled into someone outside and it just so happened to be Paul. "Where 'ave ya been all night?" He inquired, but he saw Mick's glossy eyes and trembling bottom lip and raised his eyebrows. "What's up?"

Mick shook his head. "Don't worry."

He began to walk off but the door opening again and Paul's exclamation of "Joe!" stopped him. He whipped around and saw Joe glaring at him. "Would ya let me fuckin' explain?" He yelled, shoving Mick backwards.

Paul stepped back, startled, as Mick dived on Joe and they began kicking and punching each other on the floor. Mick managed to get on top of Joe and punched him several times wherever he could reach before someone grabbed the back of his t-shirt and Paul was demanding to know what was happening. "He's a fuckin' bastard!" Mick screamed at Joe, lurching forwards but Paul kept a firm hold on him.

Joe got up off the floor and wiped blood from his nose. "He's jealous." He sneered. "All 'cos I was talkin' to-"

He was cut off as Mick pushed past him and walked off down the street, disappearing into an alley.