Pairing: Almost the whole band. Ricky/Simon, Nick/Simon, Ricky/Peanut
Rating: PG will do, there's nothing hardcore
Summary: Ricky's left lost and confused when his true love walks into the arms of another man.
Disclaimer: It's all crap. If it wasn'y, I'd feel sorry for poor Whitey.
Author's Note: It's my first fic, so be gentle on me. I'd love to hear what you think though.
Ricky’s feet touched effortlessly on the hard pavement as he remembered the day’s events fondly. He remembered Simon’s sideways glance in the radio station’s busy cafeteria; he remembered the warm smiles they had shared while waiting in the dressing room. It wasn’t the ideal place for them to be together, it had not been well decorated and was far too dark for them to read magazines or write anything, but at least they had been together, away from the prying eyes of the rest of the band.
He tumbled round the street corner, heading for the tour bus after his trip to central Leeds. Wandering round the shops and admiring his hometown’s buildings was what he loved most in the world. Once, he had done this with Simon- that day he had loved it even more than usual.
Ricky opened the tour bus door quietly, settling down after his wonderful day. To his surprise, there was no-one in the bus, which was rather strange considering they were leaving for the next city soon. He headed for the toilet cubicle upstairs and sighed deeply. Another week of touring and he could go home and relax for a while – he loved the gigs, but sometimes wished he could go back home and settle in his own bed, relax some of that tension between himself and Nick. They got on rather too well at times, but at others…they had creative differences, let’s leave it at that.
Suddenly there was a noise. Curious by nature, Ricky flicked his ginger fringe out of his left eye and peered around the toilet door. It was Nick and Simon. He closed the door with utmost carefulness and listened in on their hushed conversation.
“I’m sorry, Simon. Why do we keep having to go back to something that happened half a life ago? It’s stupid! You know I didn’t mean to! What do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know. I just cant forget things easily – it’s affected me, Nick. You let me get beaten up, and you’ve never said a proper sorry, like you meant it.”
“If we haven’t found something better to talk about in all these years then we’re obviously very boring people.” Nick sighed, exasperated.
“Hmm.” Simon said, moodily heading for his bunk.
“Let’s not fight, Simon.”
Nick followed Simon up the stairs. Simon had slumped himself onto his bunk and put the headphones of Nick’s iPod into his ears; Nick sat down next to him on the bunk.
Ricky tensed as he watched Nick place his hand onto Simon’s arm. Ricky stared glumly when Simon smiled at Nick like he had never smiled at Ricky – a gentle smile, honest and void of sarcasm or jokiness. He had to look away when they embraced, kissing passionately as if they had never argued.
Nick and Simon left the room only seconds after, smiling and glad that the argument had come to a stop. Ricky stood motionless in the cubicle, unseen and unheard, rooted to the spot at which his life had crumbled. Nick and Simon headed for the kitchen, and Ricky could hear them laughing together, their peels of joyous laughter poisoning the air he breathed.
When they were out of earshot, he ran down the stairs and out of the bus, running for all he was worth to his favourite pub. He knew the area, and so he found himself there pretty fast. People ignored him as he strolled in, head down, and sat at the bar.
“Hey Ricky, want a drink?” the barman asked patiently, his warm smile never faltering on his lips.
“Yeah, usual.” came the reply, slow and weary from Ricky’s lips. His fringe hung low over his blue eyes, which glanced around the place hopelessly, trying to find something to settle on which didn’t remind him of Simon.
“Haven’t seen the rest of the boys lately.” The barman said cheerfully. He never failed to put a smile on Ricky’s face, if not with his words then with his tone. There was something in Ricky’s mind which told him to stay here instead of going to the next gig, and though he knew this was impossible and immoral, it seemed a very attractive idea.
The door opened and in walked another member of the band. Peanut came over to the bar and sat next to Ricky, ordering himself a drink and instantly interpreting Ricky’s sullen expression.
“What’s wrong, mate?” he asked with a smile.
Sighing deeply, Ricky told him everything, about being in love with Simon’s sparkly eyes, his quiet nature, the way he pogoed about while playing bass. Then he told him about Nick and what he had just seen.
Peanut smiled at him and gave him a hug. There was a long, welcome silence where they both sipped at their drinks and thought about things.
After a while, Peanut leaned in so that Ricky could feel his breath on his fringe. His dark eyes pierced into Ricky’s thoughts, judging how he would take what was about to be said.
“Ricky, I love you.”
That’s when Ricky realised that he loved Peanut too. He didn’t need Simon to be happy after all, because Peanut was the one for him – for years he had sat at the back of the stage, playing his keyboard and not being noticed, but there had always been a spark between them. Peanut’s dark eyes and friendly nature was what Ricky really wanted – he had tried to escape it by falling for Simon, but now, he knew the only way forward.
Ricky downed his drink and they walked back to the tour bus with smiles on their faces. They laughed together over silly things in their past, and Ricky laughed over Nick and Simon and their daft arguments. They both felt truly happy in each other’s company.
By the evening, the tour bus was ready to leave and everyone was enjoying being together. Nick sat next to Simon, Simon next to Peanut, and Peanut next to Ricky.
Whitey, eating an ice-cream and taking off his beanie and leather jacket, pulled open the tour bus and sat himself down between Simon and Peanut. He finished his ice-cream. Looking at the content faces of his friends, he said, “So, have I missed anything?”