Hello! So I'm not going to lie, this chapter is mostly self-indulgence on my part. I love writing scenes for the boys and since Pete threw in the GSE flavoured towel, I don't get to do them anymore so I thought, sod it, I'll do the perhaps unadvisable and write the stag party chapter. Although what happens right at the end sets up what happens next and it gets a tad more interesting after that, so just...indulge me. Pretty please?! ;) I know its not brilliant, but reviews would still mean a lot even if it is to say: Signalfire, that sucked. :D Try and Enjoy! xx
Pete groaned quietly into his pillow, the taste of whatever the hell it was he had drank last night still in his mouth. The arm draped over his chest twitched slightly and he smiled, reaching down and lacing his fingers through Allie's and tugging on her hand to pull her on top of him.
Something didn't feel quite right though…frowning, Pete cracked one eye open, the light hitting his face and making him feel sick. Tilting his head back, his eyes snapped open completely when he saw Bovver asleep next to him, his arm still draped over Pete's body.
There was a snigger from the end of the bed and as Pete looked up a camera flashed, blinding him for a long moment as he squeezed the bridge of his nose trying not to pass out.
"What the fuck?" he muttered, blinking a few times until the figures at the end of the bed became visible again.
"Oi, oi lover boy," Dave laughed, holding up the camera. "Aw, mate, that's definitely one for the wedding album,"
"Oh you're 'avin a fucking bubble," he mumbled, sleepily shoving Bovver over to the other side of the bed and smacking him hard on the chest.
"Oi!" Bovver shouted, waking up suddenly and staring at his best mate angrily. "What the fuck are you playin' at? That hurt!"
"Me?" Pete shook his head. "You're the one dribbling on my shoulder and tryna cop a fucking feel,"
"Piss off," he snorted.
"What, you don't believe me?" Pete raised an eyebrow, sitting up and taking the camera off of Dave, showing the picture to Bovver who's eyes widened.
"Aw, fuck," he frowned.
"S'alright Bov," Swill grinned. "We won't tell no one,"
"'Ere, it must be living with the yank that's done it to 'im," Keith laughed loudly.
"Speaking of," Ike piped up, glancing around the room. "Where is the little fucker? I thought he was sharing a room with you, Pete,"
The blonde man simply groaned, flopping back onto the bed and pointing to the balcony where Matt was asleep on the floor, a couple of over turned chairs surrounding him where he had obviously fallen when he'd passed out.
Swill laughed and raised the camera again, taking a picture and then rapping on the glass loud enough to wake the scrawny American from his alcohol induced coma.
"Matt!" he shouted through the glass, waving manically as the blue eyed man stared back at him. "Get up, you tart, it's already gone 1!"
Climbing out of the bed, Pete stretched and rubbed the back of his neck, raising an eyebrow at the river of empty beer bottles on the floor of his once pristine hotel room.
"So what's the plan today?" Swill clapped his hands and rubbed them together eagerly, looking at the less than enthused faces around the room.
"I need food," Pete yawned, padding over towards the en suite bathroom and shaking his head when he spotted yet more beer bottles in the bath tub along with Benjamin who was slowly returning to the world of the living. "What the fuck 'appened last night?" he asked.
"You're asking the wrong man, brother," Benjamin muttered. "All I know is that sleeping with a bottle up your arse all night don't make for a good nights kip,"
"I remember being at the airport," Bovver chimed in; reaching for the bottle of coke that Ike had been drinking and taking a long sip. "And then it gets a little blurry after that,"
"Well, I reckon we get our shit together and go exploring," Dave winked.
"You mean look for pubs and fit birds, right?" Bovver narrowed his eyes at him.
"Nah," Dave shook his head. "I thought we might go visit one of them botanical garden things and 'ave a nice spot 'a lunch on the river," he laughed at the looks he got and rubbed the back of his neck. "Yes, we're going to the pub, you twat no 'urry up and get dressed," he checked his watch. "I reckon we meet down in the lobby in 'alf hour,"
Just then, Pete turned an odd shade of gray and slammed the bathroom door shut, the sound of his retching making the other boys grimace and clutch their own stomach's protectively.
"Actually, we better make it an hour,"
"Nah, nah, nah," Pete shook his head, dropping his empty pint glass down onto the table and nearly knocking it over when he reached for a full one. "You're wrong,"
"What?" Bovver raised an eyebrow. "Am I fuck! First bird I shagged was Abbie Stevens in year 12, you should fucking know, she was Rachel's mate,"
"Yeah, but…" Pete hiccupped loudly. "What you're forgetting is, I got you in there," he pointed at his mate. "You owe me,"
"Pete, you do realise that was seven years ago, right?" Bovver laughed. "And besides, I owe you fuck all, you said you was gonna set me up with her for months!"
"And I did," Pete told him evenly. "It just took a while."
"Yeah, 'cos you got distracted shagging Rachel," Bovver snorted.
"So, come on then, Dunham," Swill grinned. "What's your magic number?"
"Yeah," Ned laughed. "You're bowing out of the game now and I reckon that we as your nearest and dearest deserve to know your stats,"
Pete smirked, taking a large gulp of beer and holding up four fingers, almost choking when the boys laughed.
"Four?" Ike almost shouted. "Mate, that's weak,"
"Is that including the Sloaner, though?" Benjamin asked him, leaning forward eagerly.
"Rachel Donahue," he counted out loud. "Charlotte Rankin, Ella Jones," he grinned broadly as he held up the final finger. "Allie Harding,"
"Ella Jones?" Swill took a long drag of his cigarette and leant back in his chair. "She was the one with the…" he gestured to his chest and Pete nodded. "Yeah, I uh…I might 'ave pulled her about a month after you dumped her,"
"That's not exactly a confession mate, given I was in the room with you," Pete laughed.
"Aw, bollocks," Swill winced.
"So out of all of 'em…" Ned trailed off, raising his eyebrows.
"Aw, fucking 'ell, Allie hands down," Pete nodded.
"Yeah, but are you just saying that 'cos of all the 'love' bollocks," Bovver grimaced. "We don't care about that, mate. What we want are facts,"
"Right," Pete leant back in his chair, looking more than a little pleased with himself. "I ain't telling you lot shit, especially you," he pointed at Swill. "Because you'll end up giggling like a tart every time you see 'er,"
"Aw, come on," Swill groaned. "Dave told all of us about Lucy back when they was shagging."
Ike looked up at his mate sharply and watched as the dark haired man put his hands up in surrender.
"Mate, that's a blatant fucking lie," he shook his head.
"Come on Dunham, you soppy bastard," Ned threw a bottle cap at him. "You can't claim a bird is the best you've ever 'ad and then not tell us about 'er."
"Its just plain cruel," Swill chipped in.
"We know she used to do gymnastics," Dave pointed at him, happily steering the conversation away from his failed relationship with Ike's little sister. "So don't pretend you 'aven't got stories…"
"And I know for a fact that you've done the dirty in your classroom," Benjamin took a sip of his whiskey and grinned. "I've actually forgotten the number of times I've almost caught you two going at it,"
"Not forgetting I shared a flat with you guys," Matt chipped in. "Some of the noises I used to hear were…interesting…."
Pete grinned and took a sip of his beer again, the alcohol rushing through his head making the room start to spin.
"Alright," he grinned when the lads cheered, looking at him eagerly. "So this one night, I'm working late at the school, tryna get some shit ready for a something the next day and at about 11, Allie walks in in the tiniest-…"
"Right boys," The barmaid who had earlier introduced herself as Jo tapped Bovver on the shoulder and winked. "My boss says you can stay here for one more hour but only if you move it outside so we can start cleaning,"
"Yeah, no worries," Pete told her, grabbing as many full pints as he could and standing up.
"Oi!" Swill frowned. "Sit the fuck down and finish that story!"
"Ah, sorry lads," Pete smirked. "The moment's gone…"
"You cheeky cunt!" Ned yelled after him as he made his way out onto the balcony which overlooked the river and quickly located a table, the rest of the lads following him.
"We've got another hour," Bovver slurred, downing a shot and staring at Pete. "That means we can get at least another four rounds in,"
"Who's paying this time?" Keith frowned.
The table descended into silence, the boys slowly but surely looking towards Dave.
"Nah," he shook his head vehemently. "Yous can all go fuck yourselves, I ain't paying for shit,"
"Alright," Bovver leant back in his chair and stared out over the river. "I vote the Yank gets the next round,"
"Done," Dave shook his head.
"Hey!" Matt shouted. "Don't I get a say in this?"
"No," Bovver shook his head. "You get the drinks in…I know being a yank automatically makes you slow, but try and keep up, yeah?"
"Hey," Matt turned to look at Jo who was leaning over his shoulder picking up empty glasses. "Do me a favour, tell these guys that I'm not paying?"
"He's not paying," Jo shrugged, grinning when Matt laughed and threw his arms in the air.
"Yes!" the yank shouted happily.
"And 'ere was I thinking North London girl like you would be on our side," Bovver smirked at her. "I ain't gonna lie, it hurts."
"The reason he's not paying," Jo spoke loudly, gaining the table's attention. "Is because someone already has,"
The boys all frowned and looked around at each other, all of them shaking their heads.
"Don't fucking look at me," Pete laughed. "As if I'd pay for the beers at my own stag do," he shook his head. "I didn't bring you lot along because you're pretty, y'know."
"Yeah, well someone 'ad to come make sure you ladies get home alright,"
The entire table turned and stared at Steve Dunham was he stepped out onto the balcony, his suitcase still in his hand.
"Ay, ay bruv!" Pete laughed, standing up and stumbling over, hugging the older man and leaning on him for support.
"Fuck me," Steve laughed, clapping him on the back. "You drink the whole bar or what?"
Pete belched in reply, laughing when Steve grimaced and shoved him backwards before throwing an arm around his shoulders and steering both of them back towards the table.
"What you doing out 'ere anyway?" Pete grinned, taking a seat and reaching for his beer, frowning when Steve moved it out of the way.
"Oh come on mate," he laughed. "My little brother's walking the plank and you reckon I'd miss the chance to see you get pissed out your tree and make a twat of yourself?"
"Piss off," Pete mumbled. "I can hold my own,"
"Yeah, we'll see." Steve slapped him on the back of the head playfully and sat down next to Bovver, taking a long sip of Pete's beer which he had stolen. "So ladies," he winked, looking around at them. "What was that I 'eard about Harding being a former gymnast?"
"Mate, can we sit down for a minute or something?" Pete breathed, stopping and resting against a wall. "My legs killin' me,"
"Like fuck it is," Steve laughed. "You're just not used to walking without the aid of alcohol."
Despite the humour in his voice, he relented and led his brother over to a nearby bench, collapsing down onto it and looking up at the swiftly darkening sky. It was their last night in Prague and so they'd left the boys getting ready for the final big night out to take a quick walk while they were still in the sound frame of mind to actually admire the beauty of the city.
"So how you feeling?" Steve cleared his throat.
"S'alright," Pete shrugged, rubbing his knee. "It just gets like this sometimes,"
"Not the knee you twat," he laughed. "I meant the wedding,"
"Ah," Pete smirked, sitting up straight and leaning back against the bench. "I'm not worried," he narrowed his eyes. "Or should I be? You were shitting a brick the week before you married Shannon,"
"Yeah and look how that turned out," Steve rolled his eyes. "Nah, I don't think you've got anything to be nervous about mate; she's an amazing girl,"
Pete smiled at him and they fell into an unusually comfortable silence; both of them staring out across the clear, calm river listening to the sound of the city around them.
"I don't actually think I ever told you that I was sorry," Pete stared down at his slightly scuffed trainers. "About everything that happened with Shannon,"
"Don't worry about it, Pete," Steve shook his head. "It's all sorted now,"
"Yeah, but-…"
"Pete," Steve turned and faced his brother, meeting his bright blue eyes and shaking his head again. "Mate, this weekend ain't about me or Shannon, alright?" he nudged him. "It's about you, so just…shut up and sort yourself out so we can get to the pub,"
"Aw, Steve," Pete groaned. "Mate, I'm not gonna lie, I'm not sure if I can take any more alcohol, I mean…I puked up something that looked suspiciously like an internal organ this morning…"
"Oh believe me, little brother," Steve laughed. "You won't be complaining once we get in there,"
"Why?" Pete frowned. "What is it? As long as its not a strip joint…"
Catching the look on his brother's face, Pete groaned again and banged his head back against the bench.
"Steve…"
"Oh fucking come off it," the older man laughed, standing up and grabbing him by the collar. "In about 8 days you'll be condemning yourself to a life of only seeing one woman naked," he shook his head when Pete started to talk. "You can bitch all you want about how you love 'er but no bloke is that fucking noble so just be a good girl and follow me,"
A group of younger looking blokes, probably a year or two younger than Pete at any rate, swept past them, the taller one at the front making a point of smacking into Steve's shoulder.
"Oi, watch it grandpa," he snapped making the rest of the boys snicker.
Steve raised an eyebrow at Pete who merely shrugged in return.
"You fancy repeatin' that for me, sunshine?" Steve called. "It might just be my hearing aid on the blink but I didn't quite catch that,"
"That wasn't an invite to start a conversation," the bloke shouted back, drawing a few stares from people walking alongside the river. "If you're looking for a nice toyboy, you might wanna try the other side of town,"
"Oh and you know this for a fact, do ya?" Steve laughed when the lad looked slightly uncomfortable, knowing he had been humiliated.
"I ain't really in the mood for wasting my time on a silly old man and his Hammer cunt of a boyfriend," he gestured towards Pete who looked down at his West Ham hoodie and frowned.
"And what is it you know about football, sweetheart?" Pete smirked.
"Only that Liverpool are better than your team of twats," he scoffed. "Now I reckon we're done 'ere, don't you?"
The lads laughed again before turning and carrying on down the cobbled path towards an ally way.
"What'd you reckon?" Steve looked at Pete, raising an eyebrow and nodding towards where the lads were fast disappearing in the distance.
"I feel a bit guilty," he shrugged with a definite smirk. "Its almost too easy, ain't it?"
"No such thing, Pete," Steve shook his head and broke into a run. "No such thing,"
"I'm forever blowing bubbles, pretty bubbles in the air…"
Pete very nearly lost his balance on the table, catching the worried looks of the lads beneath him.
His lip sting stung slightly as a result of the fight he and Steve had had with those lads earlier but the alcohol along with the adrenaline streaming through his blood and the knowledge that he was seeing Allie in less than 24 hours was fast relieving the pain.
"I still can't believe they let me keep this," Swill grinned, holding up the bra that one of the dancers had thrown at him in the strip club.
"I still can't believe you're touching it with your bare hands," Dave wrinkled his nose. "Mate, 'ave you seen the birds out 'ere…"
"Not forgetting what 'appened last time 'n all," Ike reminded him with a grin.
"You talking about when Swill almost shagged that bloke?" Steve laughed.
"Oi!" the young man shouted. "I didn't almost shag anything, alright? I thought it was a bird so I bought it a drink, that's as far as it went,"
"Yeah, yeah," Pete grinned, downing another shot before breaking into song again.
"Dunham!" Benjamin ran up behind Steve and clapped him on the shoulder. "We've officially been asked to leave," he shook his head in disgust. "What kind of bar closes at 4a.m?"
"The same kind as the ones where the waitresses feel the need to wear shirts," Swill answered, checking his pockets for money in the hopes of finding a McDonalds or something on the way back to the hotel.
"On yer 'ead, son!"
Benjamin turned just in time for the football Swill had found to hit him square in the face.
"Oh, you bastard!" he hissed, reaching down and grabbing it, spinning it on his finger. "What'd you lot say we go find ourselves a…" he hiccupped and ignored the taste of bile in his mouth. "Go find ourselves a pitch and I can kick your sorry cockney Hammer arses into the ground?"
"You cheeky fuck," Dave nodded. "Come on then,"
Benjamin grinned, holding the football out of Swill's reach as he tried to grab it back, strolling through the now empty pub and breaking into the chorus of "Blue is the Colour".
"Aw, what?" Ned groaned. "I forgot this twat as a Chelsea fan,"
"You do realise you're dangerously outnumbered, don't you pretty boy?" Dave laughed, winking at the barman and dropping his empty glass on the counter.
"Alright, if you beat me at football," Benjamin grinned. "I'll let you punch me,"
"Oh there is a fucking God!" Swill laughed. "You're Scottish and a Chelsea fan…mate, I've been waiting for this day…"
"Yeah," Pete laughed. "Come on boys," he ran over and threw his arm around Benjamin's shoulders. "Let's take this kilt wearing little bitch to school,"
"There's the prick,"
The boys turned at the sound of the loud shout echoing through the nearly empty bar. Turning, Pete smirked when he saw the boys that he and Steve had beaten the shit out of earlier, staring at them intently.
"Alright, ladies?" Pete called. "We'd love to stay and 'ave a drink with you but…" he shook his head.
"Shut the fuck up," one of the lads who Pete could have sworn wasn't with them earlier snapped, his brown eyes glowing dangerously. "Which one of you cunts is the one who broke my little brother's nose?"
"Depends," Pete shrugged, his drunkenness making him a tad bit more arrogant than he should have been. "Is he the little shit in the red shirt?"
"Yeah," the bloke answered, squaring up to Pete and glaring at the rest of the lads who Pete knew were already on guard.
"Then yeah," Pete nodded. "That'd be me, why?"
The blokes response was far from unexpected; although somewhere inbetween the thoughts of deciding upon whether or not to drunkenly call Allie and the ongoing debate between his stomach and his brain as to whether the chicken and chips he was craving would be the smart thing to do, Pete Dunham didn't quite make the connection between the fury in the man's eyes and the subtle movement of his fist pulling back.
At least not until he threw it forward straight into Pete's face, the sound of the lads shouting something echoing around his already fuzzy head before he felt himself tumble backwards into Benjamin and everything went black.
Ok, so like I said, even I wasn't overly happy with this chapter, it felt a bit...meh. So cheer me up with some nice reviews, please guys!? It might even lessen the pain of my exams...