Gally entered the bar alone. The loud music drowning out all rational thought.

Out the corner of his eye, he noticed someone sat at the corner of the bar under the lights. Blonde hair in a short ponytail wearing a checked shirt. They slid down from the seat to reveal skinny jeans and black boots.

The person turned. Newt.

Gally had never seen him dressed like that before. He looked different, good different.

He bought himself a beer and pulled up a chair in a dark corner, watching as Newt left the bar with a tray of drinks, returning minutes later to the same spot.

Thomas would have called it stalking. He just called it observing. He pulled the hood of his sweatshirt over his head and leant back in the chair, resting heavy black boots on the table.

The rest of the group were in a corner booth, huddled around a round table. He had spotted them as he came in.

Brenda had joined them, sitting next to Alby. Theresa turned up with some blonde guy whose name began with A or something. They had been drawing on Minho's cast, the accident still the main conversation. The looks directed at him cold enough to freeze hell.

Anyhow, Newt was far more interesting. He downed half the beer and kept watching.

Newt had been approached a few times as he waited at the bar, but he nicely batted them away.

But there was one. A well muscled guy with bright red hair who was clearly not taking no for an answer. Gally moved his chair closer, still in the shadows, but close enough to hear.

"Are you sure you don't want to join us?"

"I'm here with my friends. Thanks for the offer though."

"I have a friend who would really like meet you."

This time the voice was insistent, the man touched Newt on the arm and held on. Newt tried to wrench his arm away.

"I think you should take you hand off me."

Gally had heard calm and collected Newt before, but this time it was different. Dangerous.

"What could a skinny kid like you do to me."

"Plenty, I assure you."

"I could pick you up and carry you out of here." The man's voice was no louder than a whisper.

"Newt, I've been waiting for you. What's taking so long?"

Gally stepped from the shadows. He spoke, before he had properly engaged his brain. Acting purely on instinct.

He put his arm casually around the blonde's shoulders and guided him away. Ignoring the glare from Newt's admirer and from Newt himself.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Newt grabbed Gally's hand and twisted it away, bending his wrist unnaturally in the process.

Gally stepped back holding his wrist.

"Don't I get a thank you." He said smirked.

"No, you dumb shuck. I had that handled." he spat those words."

He looked at Gally's wrist.

"You should get some ice on that." He said, before walking away.

Gally looked down, it was beginning to turn an unpleasant purple. He watched Newt's retreating back as he returned to the bar.

A familiar burn of anger that he had not felt in a long time flared in his brain. The guy had always been able to drive him crazy. Maybe Thomas was right, maybe they would always be like that.

Newt sat at at the bar and stared at the bottles on glass shelves. He released his hair from it's ponytail, and twiddled a few strands around his fingers, before putting it back up again.

What had just happened? Gally wasn't the same, something about him wasn't right.

He'd seen it earlier, but not paid proper attention. Too wrapped up in desperately wishing not to have feelings for him anymore.

Maybe he couldn't do it. Maybe he should leave right now.

He looked towards the door, towards his friends. It made his heart tighten in regret, that he had missed so much from one action. One that felt like such a good idea at the time.

He had missed the wet Sunday afternoons on Tommy's sofa, eating spaghetti and watching some penguin documentary. Nights out at the bar, movie nights, everything.

He took a deep breath. Maybe he overreacted just a little at the rescue. He was just annoyed at himself, it wasn't Gally's fault.

Newt smiled to himself.

He had done that stupid smirk, the one he affected when he knew he was being really irritating, the one that had always got to him.

The stupid obsession with cold shoes and nature documentaries. The guy who always refused to help him cheat at poker, who was fun and eclectic and sarcastic.

Someone he had tried for the past year to forget. The problem was he couldn't.

A woman appeared in front of him, he hadn't even noticed her. She held a half full bottle of Tequila. He could get through the night, but he couldn't do it sober.

Gally watched as the blonde downed shot after shot until eight glasses were upside down on the bar. Maybe this new Newt with the kung-fu moves and the skinny jeans could hold his drink better.

This Newt tried to get off the chair and toppled sideways. Grabbing the top of the bar stool to steady himself and stay upright.

He had his answer and this time Newt was on his own. He couldn't be bothered with this version.

His Newt would not have resorted to bad language and violence. When did he learn how to defend himself like that?

Those feelings that never really went away, he would make them go away.

He would join the others and let them call him a shank and a shuck face and anything else they could think of, until they felt better.

Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He balled his uninjured hand into a fist and pivoted round to face who it was.

"You." Newt's eyes were unfocused as he poked Gally in the chest with a long finger. All the words came tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them, like the shots were talking for him. "It had to be you, didn't it?"

"You're drunk, Newton." Gally snapped

"Slim it Galileo." He prodded harder.

His voice so soft, Gally had to strain to hear him over the music.

"I still love you, you bloody psycho. I just couldn't be around you anymore, not if you couldn't trust me."

Gally raised an eyebrow, surprised at the declaration.

"Tommy is so pissed at me right now. It's all my fault." he said sadly

"I'm pissed at you too."

Newt's face clouded.

"Tommy has a right to be pissed at me, hell everyone at that bloody table has. But, you" He poked Gally with his finger again as he said the last word "You don't. You don't have any right. You had no right to rescue me. You have no right to me, no right to this." He indicated to his body with flourish. "No right to make me feel anything. No right to make me want you."

Feeling bold, he stepped closer, eyes in line with Gally's clavicle. Newt went up on his tiptoes and breathed right by his ear.

"No right at all."

The words felt indecent as he said them, personal. They made Gally shiver.

Newt moved away, only to be grabbed back by one hand on the front of his shirt.

Then they were kissing. In the middle of the room.

Neither of them worked out why or how it happened. Not really caring to. It was like a reflex action. Muscle memory.

They were not over. They had never been over.

They ignored the hooting and whistling from their friends who were in direct line of sight.

"Get a room." Minho yelled over the music.

"Not again. Dumb shucks." Thomas hissed, just loud enough for his friends to hear.

They broke apart.

"I would really like to do that again. Newt whispered in Gally's ear. "But, if you Hulk out on anyone, I will hurt you and then I will leave"

"It wasn't you I didn't trust, it was everybody else."

"Are you still so suspicious?"

"Maybe." Gally shrugged

Newt laughed, too drunk at that moment to care, then pulled Gally down to kiss him again, pulling back when he heard more shouting.