a/n: So... I watched T2 first, then started to read Skagboys, then got a hold of Trainspotting, then I had a dream, tried to write it down and it turned into something else entirely. It's probably not any good or makes any sense, but I wanted to write it. Enjoy!

Includes: Mild violence, homophobia, drug use, and alternating POV & phonetic Scottish.

Summary: Mark has more than one addiction that needs a fix.

TRAINSPOTTING

Fix

"Whit's it tae ye, Begars?" Mark demands belligerently in a slur of skag and alcohol. "Nae yin invited ye. It's not like Ah'd let ye at ma hole."

"Ye bastard cunt!" Franco shouts, manhandling him roughly into the wall. "Ah wouldnae want anywhere near yer hole! Ah'm nae buftie!"

"Aw, come oan, Franco." Simon tries to calm him but darent try and touch him, certainly not now. "He wasnae doing anything. It's just the skag!"

"Fuck off! Ah'll get tae ye!" Begbie sends him stumbling back against the corner of the wall and nearly down the long stretch of stairs. "Bad enough Av got the pair ay ye clotting yer veins with that shite wi ye aroond me." He squeezes Mark's scrawny neck. "Ye act the poof right in front ay me!"

Rents manages to laugh around the strong hand. "Ye chose tae watch! I didnae force ye tae anything." He laughed as is his life didn't lie in the psycho's hands.

"Christ, Rents!" Simon curses, pulling rough fingers through his bleach-blond tufty, wishing his best mate would just shut the fuck up!

"AH AM NAE BUFTIE!" Francis screams, spit flying from his mouth as he slams the boy against the wall in a fury. Mark drops onto his hands and knees in front of the man. "N Ah'm not mates with the likes ae ye!" and he boots the laddie ferociously in the ribs, sends him sprawling—then rolling head-over-arse down the stretch of stairs Simon had almost done a header down like a spastic, ginger rag doll; grunts and thumps echoing in the hall.

"Franco, whit did ye dae?!" Si shouts in horror as Mark finally makes it to the bottom, thrown against the with a loud thump, crack!, then utter silence.

Begbie grabbs fistfuls of Simon's shirt. "Yer so concerned... Who would ae thought the gadge-whore Sick Boy were a poof." He shuffles Simon until his heels are in the air, his toes at the top of the stair.

"Franco, daenae!"

"Ah'm done wit the cunt. If he nae ded now, Ah see him again—he will be." And he releases.

"Fuck!" Simon lets out a shout, wind milling, eyes huge as he teeters back.

Francis shoulders passed him just as he manages to hug the railing. At the bottom of the stair, Franco spits on Mark and gives him another boot; who emits a groan, so at least Si knows his mate is still alive.

Simon quickly scrambles down the stairs. "Rents? Mark!" he grabs his shoulder and turns him over. "Shite..." his head, his shoulder, his ankle... "Fucker!" he shouts after Franco, who is already long gone.

T1

Ah moan, airm ower ma stomach as Ah writhe in bed. The staff were set oot tae torture us! Stuck in this bed, no skag, coming off it hard, the hospital nae forthcoming tae help wi the come-doon, the selfish cunts. Hoarding it fir theyselves. The pain ay the fall bears parallel tae the forced detox.

Instead Ah have tae settle fir the speed Sick Boy managed tae sneak in, that hud the affect of making us hyper-restless n hurt maself more.

Ah was a feather, flying free oantae the breeze, now Ah'm a plastic bag whipping harshly arse-ower-arse in the wind among the shite-ridden walk and gadges feet.

Ah lay in bed, tormented by ma own body, humiliated—Ah pish n shite intae a bedbog, ma arse wiped by a bird's hand, brow mopped like a wee, helpless bairn.

Ah am a wee helpless bairn!

"Shite!" Ah am craving, itching fir aw the things that landed us in this position in the first place.

As soon as Ah can. Ah tell nae yin.

Ah push maself oantae shaky limbs. Struggle the sling off. The sweat-soaked sheets n struggle tae ma feet. Gown open wi ma arse flying free Ah make ma great escape fae this institution. The waw ma crutch.

Pain cracking in ma bone anew, Ah'm forced to walk ma way to Montgomery St. Even skagged oot n disgusting Ah cood always git a cab; but clean, in withdrawal, looking an escapee the bastards zoom by! Not like Ah hud the fund tae pay them by.

Finally Ah am up the stairs that Franco used tae dae us in n am weak n shaky against the door—a pathetic cunt. "Simon." Ah croak. Ah call when the handle daesnae give. "Let us in." Ah bang oan the door. "Si!" ma voice climbs as a gust briefly lifts us, ma pain vanishes fir an instant before Ah'm in decline again, the door ma only support.

"Awrite, ye bastard." Ah hear Simon curse through the door. "Doing ye a favour—!" he opens the door n Ah aw but fall intae my mate's airms. "Rents, whit the fuck ur ye daeing out?" he shoots a look oot intae the hall ower us, "Git in here, ye look like a crazy cunt escaped fae a mental hospice. Cannae have gadges thinking shite about us!" Simon hauls us in the bedsit, kicking the door closed. He throws us oantae the mattress.

Ah moan at the rough handling, curling up oan my side pitifully.

Si looks doon at us with disgust. I would tae but luckily Ah daenae have tae lookit maself aw the time. "Whit ur ye daeing here?"

"They were holding oot oan us." Ah say. "Ah'm in agony. Help us oot, Si. Give us a fix?" Ah plea, looking up at him imploringly through clumped ginger eyelashes.

"Yer such a pathetic, wee cunt, Marko." Sick Boy has no sympathy fir us, annoyed. "Who sais Ah got any gear?"

"Daenae hold oot on us now." Ah say, nae caring if Ah sound the needy whore. Ah wasnae specific with ma requested fix.

"Yer pathetic," he repeats, but he leaves n returns tae us. Ah watch through blurry eyes as he cooks us a hit at the couch.

"Yer the best, Si." Ah smile at him.

Simon shakes his heid, concentrating oan his task. "Ye never could finish."

"Aw, Sicks." Ah'm petulant n whinny. "Ah'm suffering here."

"Ye stupid codger." Si rose fae the couch with a filled needle and pulls his belt free. "Why am Ah mates with such contemptible creature?" he puts his socked foot oan ma good shoulder n presses us oantae ma back—Ah go more than willing.

"Ah kent aw yer secrets n tells nae soul. Yin daenae be judge ay yin who canny be ju-"

"Shut yer blathering mouth." Simon telt us, coming doon tae straddle ma hips n Ah do. He carefully holds the needle between his white teeth n loops his broon belt around ma airm.

Ah smile beautifully up at him as he strikes up a vein tae the surface at the crease ay ma elbow. "Yer the best, Si." Ma words cut short as the belt-end is put between ma teeth.

Ah vibrate beneath him with anticipation n need as the needle tip breaks ma thin skin. Ma essence pulls back intae the mix, before ma body is flush wi its Europhobia.

Ah gasp, ma teeth release the leather n ma body is splashed through—enveloped in the soft caress ay heroin as it floods ma wasted body. Ah sink further intae the mattress.

Sick Boy leans ower us. Watches as Ah become the feather oan the wind fae the grounded, tumbling plastic bag.

The aches of ma fall aw but melt away, along wi ma skag withdrawal. But thaire is still an addiction that needs tae be addressed...

Simon grasps ma ginger tuft by the roots, cranking ma heid back as Ah groan low. "Fuck Franco, yer ma Rent Boy—n Ah just paid ye. Where's ma service?" N his lips crush against mine n Ah moan intae his mouth as Ah rub ma crotch against his. "Better." Si concedes, raising slightly n pulling ma loose gown up ma belly. "But ye can dae more, Ah ken." He unbuttons his jeans.

A stupit happy grin oan ma coupon, Ah reach fir his prick eagerly. Feeling powerful as Ah fly oan high as it fattens up in ma stroking palm n Ah hear a low groan from his lips, ma own twitching tae life.

Heroin wasnae the only fix Ah had need tae obtain.

f

TRAINSPOTTING

So, my original thought was Mark gets hurt while clean, but has no coverage for drugs, he wants to hold out but Simon scores some gear and gives him a hit even though Mark wants to stay clean.

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