AN: It's all so damn complicated! I blame me…argh, I hateme. For those of you who don't hate me, take a minute to go R&R my new Tony/Tea fic "The Tightening of Screws" please.

Warnings: Language, lemon (kinda)

Disclaimer: I don't own "Skins".

Chapter Nine
Should Have Been You

Tony's hands are on Michelle, roving across her body, but his eyes are on Tea. She's dancing with some girl, nameless and unimportant. An unfamiliar burning settles his chest, and he doesn't like it. Michelle's hand travels up his arm to his neck and brings his head down to press her lips against his. This kiss is lazy and distracted, and he wants frenzied and desperate.

He closes his eyes, tries to ignore that fire in his chest, but all he sees is Tea dancing behind his eyelids. He growls with disgust at himself for allowing this simple arrangement to invade his life. He tears his lips away from Michelle's. She looks at him all hurt and annoyed, so he smirks and whispers in her ear, "I just need a drink, Nips." before disappearing. A strong drink. Maybe more than one. The vodka burns like acid, but it doesn't help dislodge the pain he has yet to name.

Tea watches him bolt from Michelle's kiss and she has to go make fun of him. It's what she does. "Getting bored?" And, god, that came out a hell of a lot more flirty than she'd meant.

His eyes rise to meet hers and suddenly the burning is gone because she's here with him instead of there with her. A smirk twists his lips. "Well, I can think of more interesting things, and people, to do..."

"Sorry, Tones. Got plans tonight. Hot, stacked, kinda slutty."

"Suits you then, Muffy."

"Suits me to the ground, brother."

"Did he just call you 'Muffy'?" Abbud interrupts. And when the hell had he gotten there? Tea realizes she should really start paying closer attention to these things now that she's having an affair and all. And how fucked up does that sound?

"Yep. Sure did, 'bbud." Tony shrugs it off. They're friends. Friends can have nicknames for each other. It means nothing. A brief moment of affection that doesn't need to be explained. Even as he's explaining it to himself. "Muff muncher and all."

"Still a dick, Tones."

"You love it."

"Whatever. I've gots to find my lady." And Tea's disappearing back into the chaos of the party and the burning is back and Tony is just staring after her like some sort of lost puppy. He blinks quickly, rapidly, clears his mind of stupid thoughts. Like how she tastes, or the feel of her hands on his skin, or how the softest little moan he's ever heard sounds dripping from her lips.

"Dude, you think she'd let me watch?"

"Not a chance in hell, buddy." Tony sneers because that will never happen. "Now, to quote a hot lesbian, I've gots to find my lady."

"There you are." Michelle greets him before shoving her tongue down his throat. Her effort is almost desperate, sloppy. Drunk. It would appear that he wasn't the only one drinking while he was away. "Missed you."

"Didn't miss me enough, you're still fully clothed." Tony smirks, because this is what he's good at. Being that guy. Belittle Michelle, bed her, find another random screw. This is what he does.

"So lets go somewhere, uh, more private."

"Sure, Nips."

She frowns at the name, but follows without complaint as he pulls her towards the stairs. Tea's there, her tongue lost in the mouth of the girl he doesn't know but suddenly hates. The burn flares up painfully, and it just hurts.

Tony blatantly stares for a moment before Michelle is pulling on him again, her lips against his ear. "Come on, Tony..." She trails her hands over him, but she's the last thing on his mind. He's frozen; the concept of motion is foreign. "Tony." Michelle is whining in his ear and he's trying to remember that his hot girlfriend wants to do something desperate and slutty to keep him, and he should be taking full advantage of that.

But he's not. He watching Tea tongue this girl, and he knows, he knows, that it should be him instead. He's feeling Michelle pressed against him and wishing it's Tea. And this is so fucked up because they're bene-friends, not lovers, and they can screw around if they want. It's just sex.

Or, at least, that's all it was supposed to be.

Tony closes his eyes, reminds himself that he's the king, and he's faltering, and drags Michelle up the stairs. His kisses are harsh, bordering just this side of violent, but she mistakes his rage for passion and kisses back just as hard.

He's sliding his hands over her body, ripping off clothes that only get in the way, and she feels wrong beneath him. The sounds, the moans sliding off her tongue, aren't the right ones. They're easy and much too loud; he wants soft whimpers pulled from reluctant lips. She tastes like vanilla body lotion and glitter, sticking to his tongue and making him sick even as he moves in her. She calls out his name again and again, but he just wants harsh pants and harsher curses.

For the first time since he decided Michelle was the only straight girl hot enough to stand at his side, Tony doesn't come. He tries. Thrusting hard and fast, trying to drown out her soft and replace it with Tea's harsh. But it doesn't work, and he hates that he's lost control of this situation so completely.

He pulls out, rips off the condom he hadn't needed, and gets out of the bed. Michelle looks up at him, drunk and satisfied and tired. "I'm going to party a bit more, Nips. You sleep it off."

"Don't call me Nips..." She slurs at him before her eyes close and she's dead to the world.

Tony rolls his eyes, wonders what the fuck he was thinking when he asked her to be his girlfriend. How he had thought for even a second that she could be the queen beside his king, when it was so obviously supposed to be Tea. He curses his impatience, his need to cement the throne inside his mind as quickly as possible. He had settled for the best straight option. He should have waited for the best option. He should have waited for his match. He should have waited for Tea.