Bob felt the nausea settle thick in the pit of his stomach.
Felt the tears run hot down his cheeks.
He had dreamed of this. Dreamed of this so many times he had lost count.
It was the one fantasy he allowed himself as he hid his feelings away in the closet. Always trying to respect his friends boundaries even in the confines of his own mind. If One Two knew what Bob wanted to do to him he would hate it. Hate him.
Even now after he had come out and his surly friend had grudgingly accepted that his best mate had the hots for him, because there was a difference between knowing another guy fancied you and knowing they wanted to do terrible depraved things to you, and now that he was out the young Englishman couldn't help but feel a deep sense of guilt whenever he allowed himself to indulge in any such dirty fantasy. Paranoid that somehow One Two would know. Would see the guilt on his face the next morning and be disgusted with him all over again. So Bob forced himself not to want.
Forced himself to think of anyone else when he was alone at night, hand moving urgently beneath the sheets. Forced himself to focus on whatever willing partner had agreed to share his bed and never wonder what it would be like if a certain charming Scotsman was there with him instead.
Sometimes when they were hanging out he might allow himself to imagine reaching over and linking their fingers. Might sometimes remember fondly the feel of strong arms around him as they had swayed together on a dance floor that awful night when he thought he was going away and his friend had, after an overdramatic but thankfully brief freak out, agreed to put aside his heterosexual reservations and give him one minor taste of what he wanted as a send off. Innocent stuff. Nothing explicit. Nothing that would get him in too much trouble.
But this one thing. This one naughty little daydream was the only one he still occasionally allowed himself.
Now here he was, his deepest darkest dream coming true.
It was the worst moment of his life.
Bob wasn't sure what he had done to give it away.
What had clued the fuckers in.
The job had gone tits up almost immediately. Their contact had screwed them over and in no time at all two thirds of the wild bunch were tied to chairs in a fucking basement with three smug looking pricks grinning down at them. Thank God Mumbles had got away. At least as far as Bob was aware.
Maybe he had looked too concerned as One Two moaned in pain as he came to.
Maybe he had struggled too violently when the ugly bastard pointed a gun at the Scots head.
Maybe he had done any number of things to give himself up but whatever he did it ended with a far too pleased grin staring down at him where he struggled against his bonds.
"What's wrong pretty boy? You fancy him of sumthin?"
Bob glared and grit his teeth against the gag in his mouth. Too frantic to pretend he wasn't utterly terrified for his friend right then. They knew. Someway, somehow they knew he loved him. Loved him as more than just a friend.
"And what about you hey Braveheart?" One of the others laughed "You feel as much concern for pretty here as he does fer you?"
If looks could kill One Two would have melted that fucker where he stood but unfortunately for the two captives glaring was all they could do.
"What would you do hu?" The ugly one asked, eyes trained on Bob as a gun was pressed to One Two's temple. "What would you do to protect your friend?"
Unable to answer Bob just continued to hold that stare, meeting it dead on with all his anger.
"Would you swallow a cock to keep him from eatin a bullet?"
Deep breaths around the gag body shaking with rage. Ugly held his stare, cocky smirk still in place.
The gun at One Two's head was pressed closer. A warning.
Panic surging, Bob strained against his bonds. Thrashing in terror, head nodding frantically.
Yes! Yes! Anything. Anything you want. Just fucking leave him alone!
His eyes said what his mouth couldn't and ugly's smirk grew.
"Well of course you fuckin would. Fucking Queen. You'd suck a cock for the fun of it wouldn't ya? Not a big ask really is it?"
Dark eyes moved forward until they were level with his, stank breath gusting over his face. Thin lips sneering spitefully "Question is though, what would he, do for you?"
Bobs eyes widened in horror at the implication.
No no no no no. Not One Two. I'll do what you want. Whatever you want. Just don't touch him. Don't you fucking touch him!
He tried to say it. Tried to scream it. Arms chaffing on the bonds and tears burning down his cheeks.
Where Bob was struggling violently against his bonds One Two remained still, a picture of calm danger as he glared daggers at their captives, eyes promising all sorts of torment should he ever get free.
When the Scotsman's gag was untied he wasted no time aiming a vicious bite at the fingers pulling the fabric away, missing by mere millimetres as the hand shot back. A slap that would have made Archie proud was all the reward he got for the effort.
"What would you do hu fucker?" The skinny one asked, bouncing on his toes to the left of ugly. The gun that had previously been at One Two's head now firmly pressed to Bobs "What would you do to save your friend? Would you suck on this?" He leered, grabbing at his own cock obscenely through his trousers and letting out a happy cackle at the look of disgust on One Twos face.
"You dirty fucking bastard!"
Bob flinched as though he'd been struck. The memory of those exact word being directed at him not too long ago making bile rise in his throat. His best friend admitting to wanting him and three twisted thugs threatening to rape him whilst he's tied to a chair. Same words. Same furious tone.
Is this how One Two saw him?
Is this what he really heard that night as Bob stared him down and summoned every bit of courage he had to admit 'I want you'
The gun dug harder into his skull and he felt rather than heard the click as the trigger was cocked.
"Would you?" Ugly asked again, an edge to his voice now, a promise more than a threat.
Bob closed his eyes. Tears still falling. This was it. He was done.
At least it would be quick. Bullet to the head. There were worse ways to go.
He wished One Two wasn't here. Wished he didn't have to see this.
Maybe Mumbles would come back? Stage a rescue in time to save One Two if not Bob.
He hopes they won't grieve too long. Doesn't want them to live like that. Sad and missing him. He hopes One Two has a good life.
"YES!"
The word doesn't register. Doesn't break through the haze in his mind until One Two is screaming it out, fury and desperation bleeding into one as Bobs earlier thoughts are echoing about the room in a deep Scottish accent.
"Yes ok? Yes! I'll do wha'ever you fuckin want just don't you fuckin hurt him!"
The sob that breaks through his gag might sound like relief to the rest of the room but Bob knows it isn't as the bottom of his stomach drops out and the whole world feels wrong wrong wrong.
No One Two no, not this, not this, not for me, not you, anything but this.
He wishes they had shot him.
...
One Two's eyes promise murder as he is dragged from the chair and forced to his knees, ropes still binding his ankles and wrists preventing any leeway that he might use to fight back.
The sound of his teeth grinding together loud enough to be heard even over the blood rushing in Bob's ears.
"Alright, let's get this fuckin over with" The Scot growled out, brave as anything even in the face of what Bob was willing to bet was one of his worst nightmares.
A cruel chuckle chimed through the room. All three of the bastards clearly enjoying themselves even as none of them made any move to touch the furious man.
"Oh no" Ugly grinned "We ain't that fucking stupid. Cos you, you're just the sort of idiot to forget half way through what's at stake ere" A light tap of the gun to Bobs head emphasised exactly what was at stake "and do sumfin stupid like biting down."
Both Bob and One Two frowned in confusion at the grinning pricks.
"No" Skinny laughed "You ain't suckin us. You're gona suck your mate here"
No!
No no no no fucking no!
He thought it couldn't get worse. He thought they couldn't find any way to make this nightmare more painful but once again they found a way.
He'll never look at me the same way again.
If we even survive this, this will be the end.
Don't do it One Two. Let me die and remember me as a mate. Remember me as the man I was to you before I made that stupid fucking confession and fucked it all up. Not like this. Anything but this.
Even through the gag his agonised sobs could be heard loud and clear. Head shaking from side to side as he continued his internal mantra of no no no.
Sad eyes and a queasy smile looked up at him and it was all too much as rough hands he had dreamed of in secret and in shame pulled him free of his trousers and a soft voice that he had always loved muttered resignedly "Sorry mate"
Then there were lips wrapped around him and it was wrong so fucking wrong because he had dreamed of this.
The one thing.
The one fucking thing he had let himself have.
The one guilty little fantasy to keep him satisfied in the dark of night and it was happening.
It was happening and it was awful.
Awful because the last thing he ever wanted was to hurt his friend like this. To force him into doing something that surely made his stomach turn. To be a part of bringing every one of One Two's most paranoid fears about his friend to life when Bob had worked so hard to prove they were unfounded.
Awful because even with his eyes screwed shut he couldn't stop himself from hearing. Couldn't drown out the sound of the three bastard fuckers laughing and cheering One Two on as he did something he should never have to do.
Awful because in spite of everything he could feel himself hardening in his friends mouth.
That fucking mouth.
That mouth that smirked and smiled and frowned in just the right way all the time. That mouth he loved to watch. That mouth he had dared to let himself dream of.
Dream of doing just this.
But not like this. Anything but this.
The tears ran hot and fast down his cheeks. Head thrashing back and forth screaming no no no no no as an inexperienced but determined mouth worked him closer to the edge and an angry command from ugly or skinny or who the fuck cares told the Scotsman to drink it down.
He came without warning, the rush of it making him feel sick and hating himself as One Two did as he was told. Moments later the other man was finally dragged back and tied to his own chair again, gag back in place to stop any renewed litany of curses that might burst forth and Bob was left shaking with grief or anger or God knows what unable to believe that any of this was real.
Bob kept his head down as Skinny shoved him back into his trousers, not before giving a few rough tugs on his spent cock just out of vicious spite. Finished with their game and undecided on what they would do with their captives the three bastards rechecked their bonds to make sure they couldn't get free and left the basement in search of dinner.
Bob and One Two were left alone.
...
For a time Bobs quiet sobs were the only sound, he couldn't even remember the last time he had cried so much. Maybe never.
It took him a while to realise that the odd grunting to his left was the sound of One Two trying to talk to him through the gag, whether he was trying to comfort him, cuss him out or tell him it was all a fucking mistake Bob didn't know and didn't care. He just let the tears fall and ignored everything else, wishing he was anywhere but here.
Eventually One Two stopped trying to speak and Bobs cries fell silent though the tears still fell. They sat there in silence letting the hours tick by with no way of measuring how much time had passed. Bob thinks he might have slept for a while, or maybe just zoned out, when the sound of gunfire startled him back into alertness.
Muffled screams and shouts sounded overhead before the basement door was flying open and there was Mumbles looking chuffed to bits to find them both alive, because he didn't know, he couldn't fucking know what had gone down. He didn't know that Bobs life was over.
...
"Bob? I know you're in there. Come on Bob just open the door? Please? You haven't left your flat in days. Please just talk to me?"
Bob buried his face in the pillow and curled up in the foetal position.
Go away One Two, he begged silently, just go away and forget about me
The banging on his door got louder, the shouts more insistent.
He buried his head further and willed his friend to leave.
A crash and the sound of splintering wood told him that wasn't going to happen. Still Bob didn't move.
Desperate hands grabbed at his shoulders, turning him over, terrified eyes seeking signs of life and the Scotsman's whole body sagging with relief when they found it.
"Fucking hell Bob. Don't do that to me eh?"
Sad blue eyes stared up at One Two, barely seeing. Bob couldn't remember getting here. Couldn't remember leaving the basement, just remembered being there then being here. How long had he been here? Did it matter?
"Bob please just talk to me will you?" One Two pleaded "Mate?"
Nothing.
"I'm sorry" The words were soft, the Scottish tones light and sad. "I'm sorry for what happened. I'm sorry I made that decision for both of us. I just...I couldn't let them shot you alright? I couldn't lose you and I...I know I had no right to do that to you...to violate you like that."
The half laugh half sob that choked its way out of Bob was probably the most sound he had made in days.
One Two violate him. That was a fucking laugh.
It was a joke.
Ridiculous.
Bob shut his eyes, curling up again and willing the world away.
He was apologising. One Two apologising to him.
Why was he doing that?
Why was he playing this game?
He screwed his eyes shut and drowned out the words, instead hearing all the things One Two wasn't saying but should be.
You wanted it
You enjoyed it
Dirty fucking bastard
"I'm sorry" One Two repeated.
Bob felt his heart shatter, dragging his tongue from the roof of his mouth trying to remember how to form words "I'm sorry" He whispered.
"No I'm sorry" One Two repeated with more force.
"I'm sorry" Bob tried again. Trying to tell him. Trying to make him understand.
"No I'm fucking sorry Bob!" It was a joke Bob's mind supplied again. This sick fucking parody of that night. Both of them apologising and it was all Bobs fault. Both times. It was all him.
"I shouldn't have made that choice for you" One Two told him again oblivious to his friends internal tirade. "But I don't regret it. Even if you hate me I can't regret it. I'd fucking do it again before I ever let anyone hurt you ya hear me Bob?"
Bob was crying again now. He had thought he was done with that. Thought he had run out of tears but there they were again.
"I love you." He whispered "I fucking love you One Two. I can't hate you, would never hate you. Please don't hate me?" He pleaded.
There was a hand in his hair, stroking, soothing. "Of course I don't hate you Bob. You're my best mate"
"It's all my fault!" Bob cried out "What happened to you. It was my fault. If I just...If I wasn't..."
"Hey!" One Two grabbed his shoulders and twisted him again, trying to get the tearful man to look at him. "This was not your fault you hear me. Not for one fuckin moment. You were the one tied to a chair. If anyone is to blame its them three miserable fucking perverts that had us locked up. They did this, not you"
"It was my fault." Bob tried again. "They knew. They saw it in me. That's why they did it. That's why they made you..."
"They did it because they were fucked up bastards Bob. It had nothing to do with you. You are not to fucking blame for this"
He doesn't get it Bobs mind cried out. He still doesn't understand. I need to make him understand!
"I wanted it!" He cried out, waiting for the inevitable punch to land "I wanted you to do that for so long. I dreamed about it. In my bed and in the shower and I...I..."
"I know that Bob."
What?
"I already knew you liked me Bobski. It's not exactly a leap to guess that me blowing you would be somewhere on yer wish list. That doesn't mean you wanted what happened. I know you would never have done that. Never have done what them bastards did."
Deep shuddering breaths wracked Bobs frame as he tried to calm down, letting his friends words sooth him.
"Sure you're gay but like I said before there's nothing wrong with that. I know you're a good bloke Bob. The best I ever met. You're not like them. Never could be like them."
A firm tug dragged Bob up off the mattress and into his friends lap where One Two had positioned himself against the headboard. For the second time in his life those strong arms wrapped around him, holding him close in comfort.
This time there was no upbeat music to contrast the mood, no awkward shifting or One Two trying to pull away, no desperate fear that tomorrow they would be separated. Just One Two holding him close, rocking him back and forth in comfort, promising him that everything would be alright.
It wasn't sexual. Not in any way.
It was reassurance. Innocent and simple.
It was his best friend. Always.
It was the man he loved who didn't feel the same way but still loved him as a mate no matter what and who apparently was more Ok with the situation than Bob had realised.
It was everything he needed in that moment and more.
"We'll lay here a little longer ok? Until you're feeling a bit better, then I'll make us some food. We can stick the telly on, or the playstation or something and tomorrow we'll go down to the pub and let the lads know you're not dead ok?"
Bob huffed a laugh against his friends chest finally feeling like the world wasn't ending. "Yeah." He smiled "Thanks mate"