...So this is a tad overdue! Long story short, I've had a lot going on with work and this is the first full week I've spent back in the country since my last chapter which was what...a month ago?! Between that and tech issues (thanks, Apple) about 60% of this chapter had to be re-written. But I finally got it to a stage where I was happy with it...although happy may be a strong word as I hated writing the ending. And there's worse to come so brace yourselves.
Reviews are welcome as always...in fact you'd be making my YEAR given the bitch of a hassle its been to get this chapter up and running! Read, enjoy and rest assured chapter 11 won't take a goddamn month to come because that would be truly evil giving this ending to this one.
Love, El x
"That was fucking filthy and you know it, what the fuck are you doing, ref?"
Pat Dunham glanced up at his nephew as he jumped to his feet yet again and screamed at the pitch, his indigo eyes narrowed squarely at the referee who ambled between two squabbling players, oblivious to the torrent of abuse being hurled his way.
Pat knew truthfully that Pete's outbursts, which were now at four and counting, had more to do with the showdown at the Abbey with Michael than it did the hammers. Christ, the game wasn't even that important in regards to the league, whether they won this or not they were through to the next stage. No, this was pure rage. Before he could say anything, Steve leaned forward and pulled his brother back down, ignoring the look Pete gave him as he slammed back down into his seat and instead handed him a beer.
"Keep your knickers on, son," Steve smirked. "Anymore bitch fits like that and I might 'ave to start calling you Bovver,"
Bringing the warm beer to his lips, Pete chuckled against his will, a wave of calm momentarily passing through him. Ever since he had watched his father stalk out of the pub, shoulders hunched and breathing heavy, he had felt on edge. Unlike the others, he seemed to be the only one who knew that if the history books were anything to go by, Michael Dunham didn't go quietly. Or peacefully. A few sharp words in a pub were not enough to send him into the ether never to bother anyone again. On the way in, he had excused himself long enough to make a quick call to his mother, wanting to check she was ok and more importantly that she hadn't been next on Michael's list. Relief had flooded through him when she had answered and informed him that she was at the Harding residence being force fed wine and chocolate cake by Poppy. He had laughed when she confessed to him that Allie had locked herself in her room, apparently unable to look her in the eye given this morning's events. It took three boxer short jokes courtesy of Harry for the blonde to mutter something rather unladylike before barrelling up the stairs and slamming her door.
Relenting somewhat, he had informed his mother he would stop by on his way home, noting he would probably have to thank Allie again for the what had to be the hundredth time in a week.
"It's a game," Pete shrugged. "I'm getting involved,"
"Then crack a fuckin' smile," Steve snorted. "Its football day, mate. You're in the stands watching the mighty hammers, you've got piss warm beer in your hand and your mates around you," he grinned. "If this ain't your idea of heaven then you ain't my brother,"
Pete smirked, conceding with a shrug and a gentle tap of his own plastic pint glass against his brothers. This morning seemed but a distant memory in the roar of the stadium, the boys behind him cackling and bantering through the game.
"Plus, we might 'ave got a cheeky bit of intel about what the yids 'ave planned for afterwards," Steve wiggled his eyebrows.
"The yids?" Pete laughed. "As in the firm?"
"Lower it, son," Pat leaned in, shushing them both. "We ain't trying to get nicked before we're even out the grounds,"
Steve nodded knowingly and turned back to the game whilst Pat gave Pete a wink before doing the same; it was then that Pete felt something clench in his chest. He had always known about the existence of the firms, Christ, growing up in East London, you'd have to be deaf, dumb and blind not to but he hadn't ever suspected his family were part of it. But suddenly the nights Michael and Pat would come home drunk and sporting bruised knuckles before their relationship had completely soured seemed to make sense. Recalling his father's faded Hammer's tattoo with the scar running through it from there he had 'tripped and fallen' on a broken glass, Pete found himself sweating, adrenaline pulsing through his entire body as he remembered what Pat had said to him in his kitchen the other morning.
"Trust me son, by the time you walk out of those gates, your old man will be the last thing on your mind."
Before he could even contemplate voicing any of this, the maroon side of the stadium jumped to its feet, a deafening roar crackling through the air as Bowyer swept around the pitch with his arms in the air letting him known in his dazed state that they had indeed just scored and won the game.
"Fuckin' beautiful!" Pat practically jumped onto him, ruffling his short messy blonde hair with his thick fingers and laughing. "Did you see that?"
"Oi," Steve's voice broke through the ruckus around them and both men glanced up to where he was stood, already in the isle with the rest of the lads. "We're on,"
Pete frowned at him, opening his mouth to ask him what he hell was going on when suddenly Pat grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him around, cupping his chin firmly and staring at him determinedly.
"Pete, listen to me," he spoke slowly, his voice firm and clear as droves of men shoved and pushed their way around them to the exit tunnels. "We're about to get into it and I need to know you're alright,"
"What the fuck are-…"
"It's a yes or a no," Pat shook his head. "The rest of the details can be filled in later, any questions you got, just be a good boy and shove 'em to the back of your brain until I got time to answer them. And I will, Petey. I will. But right now, I need to know you can handle yourself,"
"I got this," Pete nodded, knowing he should feel nervous but for whatever reason, he only found himself itching to get out there.
"Good lad," Pat gently patted his cheek. "Eyes up, don't stop for nothin' or no one and more than that," he smirked. "Every bit of anger you've got towards your old man, bring it to the surface. Let it loose, son. You go out there with a bit of fire in your belly and your feet won't touch the ground,"
Pete found himself grinning back, shifting from foot to foot as though he could break into a run any moment. Running into the unknown. Not the smartest move but who the hell cared at this moment? He had the boys, he had Steve and Pat. And for the first time in years, he found himself revelling in the fact that he was a Dunham.
"I have a sneaking suspicion that if you look for it, you will find that love actually is all around us,"
"Oh piss off, Hugh Grant," Allie Harding mumbled grumpily as she lay on the cloud of pillows on her bed, her cat Kermit glancing up at her with disdain before he lay his head down again and went back to napping. After an entire morning of jokes about Pete, Allie had finally tired of her brother's bullshit and retired to her bedroom where of course the fates had decided to put Love Actually on television.
Just what she needed. Two and a half hours of sexual tension and unrequited love.
Reaching over her notebooks, she grabbed hold of the black sharpie and spun it in her fingers, trying anything so she couldn't think about the fact Pete had lain in this bed with her, his warm body against hers, his arms around her. She had woken up a few times in the night to make sure she was ok, each time feeling her heart speed up when she realised that one way or another they were wrapped around one another. It had felt so normal, not odd like it should have. Being with him like that had felt right and if she was honest with herself, she hadn't slept well since.
"Snap out of it," she growled at herself as her thoughts took a stroll down What If Avenue where all sorts of scenarios involving her finding Pete awake and staring back at her then leaning into kiss her were playing 24/7. Rated 18, naturally.
"Knock, knock,"
Allie rolled her eyes at Lara's voice and didn't bother turning her head to look at her. She had been just as bad as Harry downstairs.
"I come bearing chocolate," the red head peered into the room, wary of what the reaction might be.
"What?" Allie scoffed. "For me to slather Pete in it and lick it off?"
Lara smirked and raised an eyebrow, stepping into her friend's grand bedroom and leaning against the wall.
"Hate me all you want but that thought was all you," she held her hands up. "I'm literally just here to say sorry and feed you Godiva,"
"Cookie truffle?" Allie narrowed her eyes, finally turning to look at her.
"And honeycomb," the redhead nodded, dropping the bars of chocolate onto the bed and hissing back at the cat who had for some reason hated her since they met 13 years ago. "You ok?"
"Depends," the blonde answered in a sing song voice. "Are you and my hopefully adopted brother done making sex jokes about me and Pete in front of his mother? Not to mention mine who still looks like she might start scanning my bed sheets with a black light at any given moment just to be sure,"
Lara giggled and shook her head, collapsing onto the bed next to Allie and brushing her hair gently with her fingers. The heady scent of vanilla and cinnamon coming from the array of candles strewn about the room made her feel almost instantly sleepy so she pushed one of the plush feather pillows behind her back should the urge take her. Strangely, Allie's house had always been home. Whilst she loved her scatter brained artistic mother and her rogue father, their divorce four years ago had left quite the sour note in all of their lives. And now with daddy living in France with his new little bit who happened to be a mere four years older than Lara herself, the arguments had started up again and as such the Harding mansion had become her sanctuary.
"You do realise your Mama Harding is merely guilty of being the first to mention what we've all been thinking for years," Lara countered.
"Seriously, we're getting into this again?" Allie cried, flinging an arm over her eyes dramatically. "I did not have sex with Pete,"
"I know you didn't," Lara laughed. "But 'I didn't' and 'I don't want to' are two very different things,"
Allie snorted and pushed herself upright, shrieking when her friend grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her back down so that her head was on her knees. Lara's fingers went back to toying with the long, soft strands, her whiskey coloured eyes sparkling with the grin she was trying to hard to suppress.
"We're friends," Allie mumbled, not particularly willing to look her in the eye much longer. Lara had known her too long to be fooled.
"So you don't think he's hot?" the red head pursed her lips.
"Well...I haven't actually thought about..." Allie bit her lip and then frowned. "Wait...do you!?"
"Fuck yes!" Lara laughed. "Jesus, woman. I'm not blind! It was like the guy hit sixteen and then bam! All bets were off," she leaned down so she could peer into Allie's rich green eyes and smirked. "The puberty Gods did well with that boy,"
"He's not ugly," Allie conceded, ignoring the strange feeling in her stomach that felt oddly like a pang of jealousy. She knew that Lara was head over heels for Harry for some unfathomable reason but the idea of her...of any girl looking at Pete that way. It just didn't sit right. "He's...I don't know, he's Pete!"
She uncapped the sharpie she was still twirling between her fingers and hitched her camisole up, gently sketching the beginnings of a ladybird onto her hip; remembering her father's threat to replicate any tattoo she decided to get on his own body, she smirked and rolled her eyes. As if she should expect anything less from Richard Harding.
"The night he stayed...it wasn't about that," she spoke quietly, focusing on her handiwork instead. "He was so hurt and I don't mean physically. He's always been my superhero, you know? Always the overprotective pain in the arse who I could count on for anything. To see him break like that," she felt her eyes sting and shook her head as though trying to shift the images of Pete crying and clinging to her, bloodied and torn from her mind. But she knew deep down they would be with her forever. "I honestly think I could've given him a naked lap dance and he would have..."
"What's this about naked lap dancing?"
Both women jumped and turned towards the doorway where Harry Harding was stood with his usual arrogant yet loveable smirk, a box of chocolates in his hand.
"Ah, I see Red get on there before me," he gestured to the bed and threw his box down next to Allie's foot, scrunching his nose up when he saw his sister was seemingly drawing on her own hip. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Planning my tattoo," she answered, sticking her tongue out in concentration. Apparently drawing a ladybird upside down was harder than she had considered it might be.
"You do remember old man Harding's tattoo policy, don't you?" he raised an eyebrow.
"No more than you do, Mr I-got-the-Chinese-symbol-for-'dumpling'-tattooed-on-my-arse-in-Croatia," Allie told him in a sing song voice.
"You told me it was the symbol for warrior," Lara frowned, drawing a huge grin from Harry and a look of utter disgust from Allie.
"Sweet Jesus," the blonde sat up, covering her ears. "I can't be dealing with this! Out! Both of you!"
"What?" Her brother laughed, winking at Lara as he grabbed Allie's feet and used them to hurl her legs up and down as though he were shaking out a doormat. "Just because you and Dunham are stuck in a weird Dawson's Creek style whirlwind of sexual frustration doesn't mean the rest of us aren't allowed to get any,"
"Harry," Lara giggled, throwing herself down the bed and slapping his hands away from his sister's legs. "Shit off, will you? This is girl talk,"
"You don't think I can be sensitive?" he quirked an eyebrow.
"In certain spots you can be," she shot back, rolling her eyes as Allie made a loud gagging noise.
"That's it!" the blonde, shoved her hard enough to send her off of the bed and onto the plush rug beneath. "Both of you get out, let me eat my chocolate and perv over Andrew Lincoln in peace."
"Alright, fine," her brother laughed, reaching down and dragging Lara to her feet, throwing both arms around her shoulders from behind and grinning at his baby sister as she pouted. "But you're going to have to face facts one day, Allie Cat. You can't ignore it forever,"
"This unholy union of yours will never have my blessing," she narrowed her eyes at them, tearing into one of the chocolate bars and taking a huge bite. To hell with ladylike.
"I meant you and Dunham," he clarified, his voice losing all its humour as their eyes met. "It makes sense. Everyone else can see it except you two and its getting old. Have a word with yourself, spank your inner demons and just go for it," he smiled, his eyes shifting from her to Lara and Allie found herself unable to throw a sarcastic quip at him. The look in his eyes was one she had never seen before and it made her heart melt. God help the world, Harry Harding loved Lara Knight.
"To quote an actual doctor," he shrugged. "What's the worst that could happen?"
"Rejection," Allie answered immediately. "Public humiliation...constant awkwardness...dying alone..." her eyes widened suddenly and she glared at him. "That being said none of this actually matters because I'm not in love with him,"
"Right," Harry nodded.
"Absolutely not," Lara chimed in.
Allie stared at them a moment longer and then shook her head in disgust.
"Seriously, get the hell out of my room,"
They turned and sauntered towards the door, Harry walking backwards and clicking his fingers in Allie's direction, all heartfelt emotion gone from his handsome features, his usual arrogant smirk back.
"L...is for the way you look at me..."
"Shut up," she snapped.
"O...is for the only one I see," Lara giggled.
"Don't you freaks have anything better to do?" Allie shouted.
"V...is very, very...extranordinary...E.."
"Fuck off!" Allie half laughed, half shrieked as she chased them out, slamming the door behind them and leaning back against it, closing her eyes and ignoring the strange feeling in her stomach. It was just Lara and Harry being twats. Nothing to mull over. Christ knows if they weren't teasing her about Pete it would be something else.
"Please God let me be adopted," she whispered, massaging her temples slowly, trying to ease the ache building behind her eyes.
"I'll trade you your lot for mine," Pete's voice snapped her out of her reverie and she jumped, her eyes bolting open as she watched him drag himself over the Juliet balcony, landing in an unceremonious heap on her floor. "My dad might be a prick but if you get Steve pissed on Sambuca, he'll sing pretty much whatever you tell 'im to,"
She watched as he pulled himself up, sitting back, his arms draped over his knees, twirling the silver ring on his right hand as he smirked at her.
"I don't know how much of it you remember but his rendition of Lady Marmalade at Terry's birthday last year was fuckin' beautiful,"
His eyes met hers and Allie found herself unable to move; unable to do much of anything really. The bruises from last weekend had almost faded completely, leaving his ethereal blue eyes more prominent than ever as they bored into her. She could see the firm, hard muscles in his back and shoulders moving as he clambered to his feet and walked over to her. His long, artistic looking fingers ruffled his short dirty blonde hair as he strode through the room of pale peach and gold, looking utterly out of place but for the first time, all Allie could do was try to coax some saliva back into her desert dry mouth as she forced herself not to look over at the bed and wonder what he would look like laying on it preferably with her on top of him.
Fuck!
"What happened to your head?"
Her voice sounded squeaky and ridiculous, bursting out of her before she even realised she had spoken.
Pete stopped, frowning and then noticing the sting in his forehead; to say the fight after the match had gotten a tad out of hand would be an understatement but he had handled himself, done them all proud as Pat had told him. After eleven years being on the receiving end of his fathers hands, belt buckles, shoes and the odd building tool, a few punches from some Tottenham pussy were nothing to him. There had been men with them, stood shoulder to shoulder with him in the fray that he had never seen before but he knew whatever was happening was big. The crowd outside the stadium had parted for them as they walked out, Steve yanking his hood up as he steered Pete and the rest of the boys down into an alley, their footsteps echoing until suddenly a bottle had smashed at his feet and before he knew what was happening, he had been deep in it. Fists swinging, blood flying through the air...but unlike the fights with his father, this had felt exhilarating. Every man out there was Michael Dunham and all he had to do was close his eyes and swing.
But that didn't mean he'd come off completely unscathed.
"I uh..." he laughed nervous. "Turns out the stands get a bit lairy when its Hammers vs. Spurs," he told her, hoping she wouldn't ask anymore questions. The last thing the poor girl needed was another reason to worry about him. "I didn't even notice it until just now,"
He walked over to her marble top dresser and peered into the three sided mirror, pulling his hair back so he could eye up the small cut. It looked deep enough to justify a butterfly strip, maybe even some glue but his veins were still buzzing with adrenaline and he found himself not caring all that much. For whatever reason when the boys had all headed to the Abbey, he had wanted nothing more than to come here. To be with her. It felt like with Pat and the boys and University, everything in his life was falling into place. The only thing with a question mark over it was Allie Harding.
And he knew the answer to that. Christ, he'd known it since he was eleven years old.
"D'you reckon is life and death?" he smirked at her in the mirror, grimacing at the blood on his finger and wiping it on his jeans.
"Isn't everything with you?" she rolled her eyes, walking over to him and pushing him down onto the vanity stool, peering down at the cut and wrinkling her nose. Close up it as much nastier than the faint tint of blood in his hair would have her believe. "Remember when we were twelve and I accidentally hit you with a tennis ball and you cried?"
"I remember you hitting me with the fuckin' racquet and knockin' me out," he laughed, shoving her gently. "And I remember the ball itself getting me right in the crown jewels, hence the fuckin' tears,"
"Still," Allie waved a hand dismissively, dabbing at the cut with a tissue from her dresser. "You have a history of overreactions,"
Pete laughed, shaking his head and thinking back to that afternoon. One minute they had been in her garden pissing about on the tennis court and the next he was blinking into the blinding sunlight as Allie, Dave, Steve and Bovver all stared down at him, blood dripping into his eyes and what felt like a knife jammed into his crotch.
"I can't actually get through your hair to clean it up," Allie pursed her lips, rocking back onto her heels and shrugging. "Looks like you're doomed,"
"Shave it then," Pete told her with a shrug.
Allie looked at him as though he was mad and giggled, shaking her head. Mr-in-the-right-light-I-look-like-Brad-Pitt wants to shave his head?
"Uh uh," she shook her head. "No way am I doing that,"
"Why not?" he asked her, ruffling his short hair and glancing in the mirror. He'd been toying with the idea after watching Fight Club but like fuck was he about to tell her that.
"Because shaving your head will not make you look like Tyler Durden," she smirked when his eyes widened and a blush crept up his neck. "I can read you like a book, Dunham,"
"Go on," he nudged her leg with his own knee and grinned boyishly up at her. "I dare ya,"
Allie bit her lip hesitantly; truth be told, she had no issue with shaving his head but after the conversation she had just had with her brother and Lara, she did have an issue with touching him. As it was her heart rate has sped up to an almost lethal level just from running her hands through his hair.
"Alright, fine!" she threw her hands up in exasperation. "I'll go and borrow Harry's clippers but I swear to God, Dunham...one word of regret and I mean one teeny tiny minute whinge about how you don't like it and..."
"Yeah, yeah," he waved her off. "Whatever you do to me won't look as shit as when you put that pink shit in the ends of your hair a few years back,"
"How dare you," Allie glared at him, lifting a scolding finger. "I looked every bit the Indie fairy princess,"
"You looked like you'd lost a battle with a bottle of fuckin' bleach and a unicorn," he laughed when he caught the grin pulling at her own full peachy lips. "Now sod off,"
She turned on her heel obediently, lifting her middle finger to him as she strode out of the room, trying her best to ignore his laughter. Pete watched her leave, his laughter catching in his throat when his eyes slid down her back to her behind, catching the tiniest bit of dark blue lace peeking out from the waistline of her jeans. His mouth instantly went dry and he found himself gripping the stool he was sat on hard enough for his knuckles to ache and turn pale with strain. Fucking hell, was she trying to torture him?
It had taken a level of self-control he didn't know he had just then not to grab onto her hips and just pull her down to him; the way her fingers had felt in his hair just made him want more. So, so much more. Scrubbing his face hard with his hands, he looked at himself in the mirror and glared.
"Get your fuckin' mind out of the gutter, Dunham," he muttered. "It's Allie. Not just some bird you can perv over,"
He heard a noise next to him and glanced down at Allie's cat, shaking his head as the Siberian looked up at him, a knowing look on his face.
"Don't give me that, mate," he groaned, picking him up and scratching his neck. "I know I'm up shit creek, I don't need you on my back n'all,"
"Explain to me again why it is the world's most unsociable cat lets you hold him like that," Allie frowned, strolling back into the room, hair clippers brandished like a gun.
"Male bonding," Pete smirked, scratching the ball of fur under the chin. "Plus you can't really blame the poor bastard for being miserable,"
"Don't start…." Allie told him in a sing song voice.
"You named 'im after a fuckin' frog," Pete cried, lifting the cat up. "Look at him, he's sound. He needs a name like Tyson or Harley. Something with some balls,"
"Enough," Allie held up her hand to stop him, turning the clippers on full blast with the other and grinning. "Or are you forgetting what you've put me in charge of? Do you really want to piss me off right now?"
At the noise, the cat scampered, casting a look of disgust as his mistress as he repositioned himself amongst the cushions on the bed.
"At least one of you has some sense," she cocked her head and then turned back to Pete. "Ready?"
With a wink, he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and she stepped forward, giggling at the absurdity of the situation. Only Pete. Taking a deep breath, she gently pushed the clippers through the centre of his head, creating what looked like a ridiculously wide middle parting.
"Done," she giggled.
"Behave," he laughed, cocking his head to one side so he could catch his reflection in the mirror. "I look like Krusty the fuckin' clown,"
"And yet its still an improvement," she grinned, stepping back in front of him and carrying on her task. She placed a finger gently on the cut near the front of his head, not wanting to go over it with the clippers for fear of making it worse.
Pete took a deep breath and closed his eyes, partly because the tufts of his hair floating to the ground were panicking him somewhat but mostly because her stood this close to him was agonising. His face was level with her flat stomach and every time she moved her arms, her t-shirt would ride up and show off her smooth, tempting alabaster skin. Not to mention if he lifted his eyes a few inches, he was eye to eye with her breasts and he wasn't even contemplating a move that stupid. He had some self-preservation left. She began to hum under her breath as she always did when she was concentrating and he smiled, cracking one eye open and then glancing back down, stopping when he spotted something.
"What the hell is that?" he frowned, not moving.
"Hmmm?" Allie asked, finishing up the sides of his head and marvelling at her handiwork. Not bad for a girl who's hand-eye coordination was rivalled by that of a toddler most days.
Brushing the last of his hair off of his shoulders, Allie felt her breath catch in her throat. Ok, so despite her eagerness to brush off Lara's questions earlier, she wasn't stupid, of course she had noticed how gorgeous Pete was. But with his hair shaved…Christ. He seemed older, sexier.
Much more tempting.
"This," he brought her mind back to the moment and pointed at the smudge on her t-shirt.
"Oh," she laughed, rolling her eyes. "I was um…playing tattoo artist with a sharpie and forgot about it,"
She hiked her t-shirt up slightly and caught the way his eyes flashed but refused to let herself dwell on it.
"You want a tattoo of a spider?" Pete quirked an eyebrow, trying to make head or tail of the black splat of ink.
"It's a ladybird!" she smacked his shoulder lightly. "As in…"
"Ladybird, ladybird, where have you been…" Pete smiled softly and Allie felt her heart stop. She couldn't believe he remembered that. Allie had told him years ago that as a child when she was getting ready for bed in the evening, her mother would always come in and instead of asking her how her day was, lay on the bed next to her and whisper 'ladybird, ladybird, where have you been?'.
"You remember that?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"More than you remember how to fuckin' draw apparently," he laughed, clearly not understanding how much that had meant to her. "'Ere, throw me the sharpie, I'll see if I can fix it,"
Allie stumbled over to her bed, grabbed the pen and turned back to him, laughing when she caught him looking in the mirror.
"You're right, I don't look like Tyler Durden," he told her with a wink. "I'm much better looking,"
"Jesus," Allie muttered, rolling her eyes as she held the pen out to him and stood before him.
Uncapping it with his teeth, Pete pushed her t-shirt up slightly and the second his fingers made contact with her skin it was as though the reality of what he was doing hit him. Not just hit him but flung him into the ether, knocking the wind out of him and pinning him to some out of body realm where all he could do was stare at himself and wonder what in fucks name had convinced him he could touch her like this and not lose his head.
The skin beneath his fingers was rose petal soft and so warm, the black smudge marring it making him want to tell her not to get a tattoo, that she was perfect as she was. More than anything, he wanted to wrap his arms around her hips and push the t-shirt up over her head and kiss every inch of skin he could find but that was a whole other can of worms.
"Ladybirds don't 'ave eight legs for a start," he told her, his voice surprisingly firm and normal. "Didn't you go to one of the best schools in the country?"
Allie forced a laugh out of her throat, not trusting her voice enough to say anything back to him. One on his hands was splayed across her bare abdomen, the other poised with the pen, ready to strike. It wasn't as though Pete had never touched her before, just not like this. She bit her lip as he began drawing, coaxing the black mess into something resembling a ladybird.
"Much better," Pete grinned, chucking the pen back onto the vanity and admiring his artwork. He didn't move his other hand, enjoying far too much the feel of her under his fingers. She hadn't pulled away yet either but he refused to let himself look up at her, knowing all self-control would likely fly out of the window if he did. Pressing a finger against the marking, he frowned when it came away wet with ink and mindlessly blew on it, wanting it dry before she pulled her t-shirt back down.
The second his breath hit her stomach, Allie felt something snap inside of her that she hadn't ever felt before. She tilted her head back and desperately fought back the moan that was building in her chest as the warmth from his mouth made itself known on her skin. His lips had to be inches away from her and all she wanted was for him to close the gap and kiss her.
"You've still got some…uh…" she whispered softly, trying to avoid his eyes as she reached down and brushed some stray hairs from his shoulders. "So I've got a tattoo and you shaved your head," she smiled crookedly. "Think we've got this teenage rebellion thing down, don't you?"
He didn't answer her. He couldn't.
Pete felt his chest jolt when she finally relented and her eyes met his; her hand was in the crook of his neck, plucking the odd stray hair and his was still on her bare stomach. His thumb which apparently had a mind of its own was moving back and forth ever so slightly, rubbing there, his fingers twitching to pull her closer.
"It's late," Allie whispered again, her heart ramming itself desperately into her rib cage as she looked down at him. There was a look in his eyes she hadn't seen before and it was doing all kinds of things to parts of her body she hadn't felt before. Andrew Lincoln in Love Actually be damned…this is what lust felt like. "Did you want to stay for dinner or…"
She trailed off when Pete stood up wordlessly, his hand leaving her stomach and slipping around her back, her own hand sliding down his neck to his chest as he leaned over her.
"Harding…" he smiled softly, shaking his head. "Shut up…"
He lowered his head ever so slightly, feeling the tremor running through her fingers as they clutched at his sweater, her teeth sinking down into her full bottom lip and making him groan inwardly. With one last look at her eyes which he noted were focused solely on his mouth, he tilted, bumping his nose against hers and hearing her breath hitch.
"I know you still hate me but we're ordering thai food so if you….SHIT!"
Pete snapped out of his lust filled state, Lara's voice slamming through him like ice and causing him to jump back from Allie who was for some reason shifting things around on her dresser at the speed of light, her hands shaking uncontrollably as she grasped at the clippers and waved them around.
"I cut Pete's hair," she cried, a manic happiness to her voice that made Pete's ears hurt.
Lara simply stared at them, her mouth open but somehow forming a huge grin at the same time. Folding her arms over her chest, she shifted her gaze from Allie to Pete and back again, neither of them willing to meet it.
"I like it," the red head winked. "Very Tyler Durden,"
"Cheers, red," Pete nodded, rubbing the back of his neck and sending her a look that any other human would take to understand as 'get the fuck out' but this was Lara. Of course she didn't budge.
"I didn't know you were here," she raised an eyebrow.
"Window," he jerked his chin towards the balcony doors and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Which reminds me, I better be off," he cleared his throat. "I left the boys at the pub and I'm sure its my round by now,"
Reaching forward, he snagged Allie's hand and she turned, her eyes still wide as saucers. What the hell had just happened? What did this mean? She hadn't pulled back which meant on some level, she must be feeling something along the lines of the same.
"I'll um…swing by on my way back," he told her, sending her a smirk that caused her stomach to do that weird bouncy thing again. "Check on the tattoo,"
A smile pulled at her lips and she felt a blush covering her cheeks, pushing her tongue into the side of her cheek she nodded, giving him a knowing look.
"Bring me back something," she gestured to his head. "If I've made you look like Tyler Durden I think I deserve some kind of payment,"
"I'll think of something," Pete told her, his heart lurching at the thought. He could pay her back; he could think of a million ways.
Releasing her hand, he made his way to the window and navigated his way down. Allie watched him disappear from sight and stood there for a long moment in silence.
Holy fuck.
She jumped when a loud squeal sounded from behind her and she was shoved forward, Lara's arms coming around her shoulders from behind.
"Eeeeeeek!" the red head laughed. "Oh my God, that's the best thing I've ever ruined,"
"What?" Allie stuttered. "You didn't...I don't..."
"Don't even try that shit with me!" Lara spun her around and cupped her face in her hands. "How was it?"
"How was what?"
"The kiss!" she burst out, officially frustrated with the dithering blonde. "Come on, I leave you all pissy and pouty and come back 10 minutes later to find you sucking the face off of Pete-just-friends-Dunham, you cannot tell me there's no story to tell,"
"We weren't kissing," Allie told her, hating the fact she could feel herself blushing again.
"Not when I came in you weren't...but..."
"Lara," Allie laughed. "Nothing happened. I cut his hair, he gave me a hug...that's it,"
"Allie," Lara shook her head, genuinely disappointed that her best friend, lets face it her sister didn't feel she could tell her about what was going on. "I know this is a big thing, ok? You and Pete...I know its a risk because if it didn't work out then..."
"What?" Allie froze.
That aspect hadn't even crossed her mind; what if they kissed...they what? Six months down the line they end up hating each other and a seven year friendship just dies and he becomes someone she might see at Christmas and nod to from across the room? The thought hit her hard, causing a hard weight to form in her chest as she sank down onto the stool he had been sat on moments before. Yes, it had felt amazing being that close to him but...was it worth the risk? Honestly?
"There's nothing going on," she told Lara slowly.
"What?" she snorted. "Allie-Cat..."
"I don't think of Pete that way, alright?" she snapped. "Never have, never will. He's...he's Pete, you know? Every boy-girl friendship has this hiccup at some stage, its just hormones, I couldn't actually...do anything," she forced herself to laugh and roll her eyes. "The idea of being with him like that...Jesus, are you insane?"
Except that was exactly what she wanted; she couldn't imagine being with anyone else right now. It was Pete or she was dying celibate, it was that simple.
Lara stared at her hard for a long moment, noting the way her fingers were shaking as she nonchalantly tossed her hair over her shoulder and shot her a pathetic attempt at a disinterested look.
"So...nothing is going on with you and Pete?" she asked slowly.
"No for Gods sake," Allie snapped. "Like I told you...it was just a weird moment. And to be honest, its one I'd rather forget so let's go get thai food," she pasted a smile on her face and slapped Lara's behind, shoving her out into the hallway before she could ask anymore questions.
This was the best thing to do, just play it down. Because no matter how hard her heart was still pounding, no matter how much she wanted to slap Lara for bawling into the room right at that moment, no matter how badly she wanted to kiss Pete, to feel his hands on her...none of that would outweigh not having him in her life at all. And that was the risk with this. What if they were making a huge mistake? What if they let a few rogue hormones ruin a friendship they had spent seven years building? He was the man of her life and she would rather have him as a friend than not at all.
Tears stung her eyes as she followed Lara downstairs, ignoring the concerned glances the redhead was shooting her way as though reading Allie's mind and knowing that all of this was too little, too late. Like it or not, Allie Harding knew now that she was in love with Pete Dunham. And now she had to pretend she wasn't. As though everything was normal, which was doable. How much could change in a few hours anyway?
"Oi, watch it, you prick,"
Pete snapped at the faceless shadow who had barely brushed shoulders with him as he stalked purposefully along Staughton Road towards the Abbey; around him the night had begun to cool, making him realise that leaving his jacket at Allie's was a mistake.
Which is why he went back.
Which is why he had stopped upon hearing his name as he moved to pull himself back into the room.
And subsequtently heard Allie tell Lara that there was nothing between them, that the idea of kissing him made her ill and that it would never happen. She didn't think of him that way.
"Never have, never will," he muttered, echoing her words from earlier.
Coming to a stop in front of the doors, he closed his eyes and listened to the hum of activity drifting out into the cold from within. He could hear Steve's voice mixing with the rest of the boys laughter and the crackled sound of Stone Roses coming from the jukebox. Any other night it would have called to him like a siren but at this moment all he could think about was how stupid he was.
He had looked into her eyes tonight and really thought she wanted him, that he hadn't been kidding himself all these weeks, torturing himself with the idea of having her, of calling her his. He had thought she felt the same.
But she was revolted by it. And she should be, Christ knows she could do better than him. Their entire friendship was built on pity after all; add to that she was a nice girl, never one to hurt someone's feelings so of course she had let him make a complete arse of himself in her room. Now he'd have to fade back into just-mates mode and probably watch her go to university and meet some haughty prick who she could actually see herself with.
Images of Allie with a nameless man, in his arms, moaning his name assaulted his brain and Pete slammed his hands hard against the brick building, ignoring the tearing of his skin and the angry tears in his eyes as he turned on his heel and began to walk home. He couldn't go in there now. He needed to be alone, to work this out in his head. Allie didn't want him. And that was fine…he could live with that, as long as she was happy.
Oh get a fucking grip, you twat, his mind shouted at him. Its her or nothing and if you can't have her, you honestly think you'll be able to watch her with some other bloke. Watch her kiss him or hug him, knowing he gets to see all the parts of her that only you know about, all the stupid little secrets, all the tiny stuff that used to be yours…it'll be his. And lets face it mate, that will fucking kill you.
Pete picked up his pace, the tears in his eyes blurring everything before him into one senseless dull glow until he smacked into something hard.
"Jesus!"
He blinked and stared down at the tuft of blonde hair as the barmaid from earlier clambered to her feet and looked at him as though he was insane.
"Shit," he muttered. "Uh...Kylie, ain't it? You alright?"
"Just about," she cocked her head, brushing some dirt from her skin tight, acid wash jeans. "What's gotten your dandies in a twist?"
Pete stared at her, wanting to tell her to mind her own fucking business but given he'd just knocked her to the ground, he figured he had to play the gentleman card for at least another 30 seconds befre he could continue storming off.
"Nothing," he told her. "I just don't really fancy bein' here," he gestured to the pub. "With this lot,"
Kylie nodded slowly, pulling her coat tighter around her body and eyeing him up and down. Fucking hell, her memory hadn't done the boy justice. He was gorgeous, his blue eyes dark and hard and emotionless.
"Well, I'm about to head home," she told him. "So if you wanted to go somewhere quiet…I could keep you company,"
Pete frowned at her outstretched hand, shaking his head ever so slightly. She wasn't Allie. Right now that was all he wanted, he wanted to go back to her room and kiss her, to have her tell him she didn't mean what she said, that she felt the same as he did.
But that wouldn't happen. She was his sustenance, his oxygen…the only thing in his life that had ever truly meant anything to him. And he…he was just her mate. Someone she might have the odd photo off when she got older but nothing more.
"Actually," Pete sniffed, blinking the tears back and meeting Kylie's eyes, a numbness filling him as he watched a smile spread across her face which was caked in far too much make up. "You know what…somewhere quiet sounds good." He forced himself to return her smile, it didn't do anything to him like Allie's did. "Let's go,"
That ending hurt me more than it will ever hurt you...make way for drama, angst and death. I did warn you this was taking a very different path to the WCHB universe. And here comes the first fork in the road. Or knife in the gut. However you want to look at it...:(