Chapter Text
Chicago - Present Day
Finally, morning came and Miles was woken from his fitful sleep by the light curling around the edges of the hotel curtains. He blearily checked the time and decided it was late enough that Alex would be awake. As much as he really didn’t know how this conversation would go, he couldn’t stand there to be any tension or animosity between them; usually any fights were resolved relatively quickly, with one or more often both of them taking the blame, apologising and hugging it out. But handled badly, this could put a downer on the rest of the tour, and until that interview with Cat, Miles had been having the time of his life.
Miles eased out of bed and splashed his face at the sink, peering at the shadows that had appeared under his eyes, no doubt through lack of sleep. His brain had already moved on to looking for a towel, when something made him stop. Instinct. A sixth sense almost. He leaned over the sink and peered further into the mirror, looking closely at his own eyes, pupils small and dark, irises warm brown with the flecks of gold shining brightly in the harsh lighting of the bathroom.
Miles clutched at the sink, knees buckling and heart pounding in his chest. He studied his eyes again as his brain whirred with small snippets of things from the last 8 months. The two of them being stuck on the lyrics to Aviation on Alex’s floor all those months ago, when a new Puppets album wasn’t even in the realm of possibility. Catching Alex sneaking furtive glances at him and looking away, repeatedly. Miles resting his head in Alex’s lap whilst Alex read his book or scrawled in his notebook, Miles’s attention drawn by his phone, to find Alex was gazing down, eyes fixed on his face, a blush tinging his cheeks when they made eye contact. The way Alex had insisted he use his full name in The Dream Synopsis, shooting pretend arrows at him, hyping up the crowd, pulling him in close, by his tie at one show. The crowd went wild every night, and on that night in particular, Miles recalled a sharp flash of what he could only describe as lust in Alex’s eyes as the crowd screamed up a frenzy. Miles had given as good as he’d got and allowed himself to be drawn in, head tilted, eyes fixed in a smouldering gaze. He always matched Alex every step of the way, not wanting to disappoint the fans or lose whatever game of chicken they seemed to be playing.
The line that existed between them, as blurred and as fluid as it had always been, as free and open with affection as they were. Where was that line now? Miles didn’t know where it started, or where the end was. How much of everything they’d done, everything they did, on stage, in front of their friends, in private. How much of that was deep, platonic love, and how much of it was down to something more? And more importantly, what did this mean for them? Cat’s words echoed in his head ‘Maybe you haven’t been exposed to the romance yet’, over and over until they were all he could hear.
Miles forced himself into the shower, hoping the pounding of the hot water could help him make sense of everything. Had Alex wanted something more? Miles turned everything over and over in his mind, thoughts swimming as the water rained down on him, face slowly turning pink under the steam. He thought back to their first ever meeting, the shy gawky boy who could barely make eye contact backstage but commanded the entire audience’s attention with his sharply observed lyrics and talented fingers. The way he’d got stuck on his words asking Miles to teach him the solo to one of their songs. The way his eyes had lit up in a poky dressing room when Miles had played a rough version of Standing Next to Me. Had it been there, growing along with their friendship over the last 11 years? Or was Miles totally misreading the situation, jumping to a conclusion he himself had secretly, unconsciously hoped for? Now the thought had awoken, there was no lullaby, sleeping potion or divine intervention that could send it back into a slumber. Surely Miles needed to do something about it? Miles tried to imagine kissing Alex, more than just a friendly peck on the cheek or accidental fluttering of lips mid-song. Oh.
Miles dragged himself out of the shower, flushed skin and pounding head and caught sight of his face in the mirror again. How many people, men in particular, paid attention to their mates’ eye colour? Sure, Alex was more observant than most, it was part of his job and talent of course. But to notice in that much detail, add it into a song and insist Miles sing those lines. How many times lately had they been face to face, riling up the crowd, gazing into each other’s eyes? Miles felt his stomach flip at the memory of their Beatles cover where they’d stood foreheads pressed, noses brushing, guitar tones twining, breathing heavily. The song itself Alex had been keen to learn and add to the set list. I want you so bad, it’s driving me mad.
Was Alex actually being straightforward for once? Every thought, every conversation, every interaction they’d ever had was being cast in a new light at this potential revelation. Miles felt like he needed time to think, to study, to mull things over, plan what to do, what to say. But Alex was the analytical one of the two of them. What if Alex had done all that, pored over the data, crunched the numbers and reached the conclusion already? That what they had was more than just platonic love. On either one side or both. But wait. The sentence that had started this turmoil in Miles’s head: It’s not like that. Miles groaned in frustration. He’d spent the best part of an hour ruminating, and all he’d done is go round in a circle. Maybe Alex didn’t want to admit it, didn’t want to face what had been in front of them for 11 years. Miles hurriedly dressed and grabbed his cigarettes, lighter and key card. Time to sort this out on Alex’s balcony. If Alex wasn’t willing to take the risk, Miles would take the leap for both of them. Third time lucky, right?
-
Miles stood at the hotel room door, examining the peeling wallpaper, adrenaline fading fast and he debated turning round and going back to his room. He didn’t know what he felt, what he wanted, had no clue of any words that might come out of his mouth. If Alex would still be mad, or maybe he was upset, or maybe he was sleeping. This was definitely a bad idea. Miles was turning away when there was a soft click and the door opened, a dishevelled Alex appearing on the other side.
"Miles. Come in." Alex stepped back and locked the door behind them. Miles took in his best friend’s appearance, t-shirt wrinkled from sleep, hair curling and mussed, no doubt from long fingers raking through it for hours. Miles swallowed and looked away, casting his gaze towards the balcony doors.
"Thought we could have a smoke and talk, out there? I’ll make the drinks, like being in LA yeah?" Miles felt the tension between them ease slightly, at his mention of their extended stay and all the good memories it held.
"Ok yeah, I’ll get a quick shower and change." Miles sensed Alex’s gratitude; they’d each have a couple of extra minutes to collect their thoughts. Miles felt the nerves thrumming through him lessen minutely; it seemed that he and Alex were on the same page, as always. Or at least reading the same book, which was a start.
-
Drinks made, Miles carried them out onto the balcony and took a seat on one of the metal chairs, stone floor scuffed from years of chairs being dragged back and forth, scraping the surface in the same place, causing deeper scratches each time. Miles sympathised, this was how his head felt. He fished a cigarette out of the packet and lit it, feeling the first nicotine hit of the day reach his bloodstream as he gazed out at the skyline, office buildings lit up and cars thundering down the roads, everyone with somewhere to be. It made Miles feel both powerful and insignificant at the same time. He was just another person, no one else would care about the outcome of the next few minutes. But simultaneously, everything else paled into insignificance. Everything except for the person who slid the balcony doors open and took a seat at the other side of the metal table. Miles felt his heart skitter as he turned to pass the cigarette over, then thought better of it; he proffered the packet instead, unsure his nerves could stand the brush of their fingers in his current state.
"Ta." Alex lit his cigarette and Miles watched, transfixed when Alex’s eyes closed as the wave of nicotine hit him, long lashes fanned against his cheeks. This was something Miles had seen hundreds, if not a thousand times before over the years; after gigs, on nights out, before and after breakfast, outside of the studio. But somehow, every breath, every flutter of lashes, every movement of a muscle through lean skin felt charged with electricity, like Miles was standing too close to a bomb primed for detonation, except he’d been willingly and unknowingly stood there for years, and only now realised the abject danger he was in.
"So…." Alex spoke, eyes on the skyline in front of them, air shimmering in the cool breeze of the soft daylight.
"Al. Before we have this conversation…" Alex turned to look at Miles, the full weight of his gaze making Miles falter over his words. Deep brown eyes, framed with dark lashes, warm and soulful and rounded in a question. "Promise me, we’ll still be mates. Not just the band but us, yeah?"
"Course." Alex’s voice was rough, as if his vocal cords were pulled taught, his throat constricted by the uncertainty laid before them. Miles knew the feeling. "You’re me best mate, that’s not gonna change."
Alex took a drag of his cigarette and Miles followed; two exhalations of smoke curled together as one into the atmosphere before them. It was only then that Miles noted they weren’t sat together, the chipped metal table as small as it was, separated them with a spread of bland hotel mugs that held drinks cooling in the breeze, destined to sit there untouched. This felt significant somehow; if they were together there was rarely any distance between them, even eating out at restaurants they were usually side by side like a needy couple, or if forced to sit at a table for two, feet prodding inquisitively under the tablecloth. Miles stood up and dragged his chair across the stone floor, metal screeching in protest and sat on Alex’s other side. Alex eyed him, eyebrow quirked in contemplation.
"Sun was in me eyes," Miles said, though the lie sounded weak, even to his own ears. Alex nodded, and Miles knew they were prolonging the inevitable, stringing the silence between them to avoid whatever ‘after this’ was.
"You wanted to talk, last night?" Alex said, finally, eyes flickering over to Miles’s face.
"I did, yeah. ‘M sorry again, for shoutin’ at ya."
"S’ok. It ‘appens." Alex took another drag of his cigarette, once again, Miles followed so he didn’t have to respond for several precious seconds.
"Funny ain’t it?" Alex said. "Think this is the hardest conversation we’ve ever ‘ad. And we don’t even know what we’re talking about, do we? Not really."
Miles snorted. "I know. Normally it’s everyone else that don’t know what we’re on about." They simultaneously turned to look at each other, eye to eye and started to laugh – and Miles knew then that everything was going to be ok. They were just them; maybe some things didn’t need defining, tidied away in neat little boxes. Maybe they could just be.
"That interview, yesterday. Cat, with her married couple questions. I only said what I said because, she made everything sound so simple. Marriage and a house with a little fence round the door. And I was right, on the surface, it’s not like that. What we have is different. Special. Right from the first time we met, it were like nothing I’d ever experienced before. Like finding me other half, and you know I’ve always hated that saying. But it’s genuinely how it feels when you’re not around. You stayin’ with me, in LA, it’s the happiest I’ve been in a long time. Probably since…" Alex stubbed the last of his cigarette out into the ash tray, grinding the end down into a gritty powder.
"Since recording in France?" Miles said. "Me too." Miles was surprised by the softness of his own voice; he wasn’t sure how the frantic thrumming of his heart hadn’t betrayed him.
"Yeah?" Alex said, a small smile nudging at the corner of his mouth.
"Yeah. Thinking back on it, it was heaven. Just the countryside, the music, the stars, an’ you. I never wanted it to end." Miles glanced at Alex, and saw a pink flush spread across his cheeks. Alex dipped his head sheepishly, then brushed his knee against Miles’s, a hand snaking around his waist.
"I’ve loved this tour too, every second, ‘cept for our tiff last night o’course. Just bein’ with you is… It makes everything else stop. Same with the bunks and wanting to share. Made me realise that maybe there has been something there, I’d just not been lookin’ in the right places."
Miles’s throat was dry and he was sure Alex must be able to feel the rapid thump of his pulse where they were touching; legs, waist, arms, shoulders.
"Al, Aviation? ‘S my eyes isn’t it?"
Alex let out a low chuckle. "Sheer recklessness on my part. I mean, who writes a song about what they actually mean or feel? How long have you known?"
"You did alright. Only this mornin’. Was like a proper cliche thing from a bad film, lookin’ at meself in the mirror and it dawned on me. I mean, rest of me mates probably don’t even know what colour eyes I’ve got at all, and me the same for them. Has to mean something, right?" Miles let his gaze flit to the skyline and back to the warmth of Alex’s gaze.
"I could write a hundred songs about you and your eyes, Miles Kane. I probably have without even realisin’."
Miles blew out a shaky breath. "And The Dream Synopsis?"
"Now you’re letting it go to your head." Alex said, nudging Miles’s knee with his own. "You’d been a bit down, was hoping it’d make you realise how special you are to me. And how often you were in my dreams, in one way or another. And every time anyone thinks of the song, they’ll think of you, and not me. It’s ‘ow it should be. Miles Fuckin’ Kane. The real rock star."
Alex pressed a soft kiss to Miles’s cheek, and Miles felt hot all over. They must have kissed hundreds of times over the years and this was no different, but the unresolved tension in the air and Miles’s uncertainty of his own feelings at Alex’s careful, heartfelt words was all threatening to spill over.
"Alex…" Miles’s breath was uneven, coming in pants as his body desperately tried to stop his brain from shutting down through lack of oxygen.
"Yes?"
"Al, I can’t… We…" Miles breathed. He saw a flash of sadness in Alex’s eyes before he looked away, back to the shimmering of the skyline, now illuminated by the Chicago sun.
"It’s okay Miles, really. I won’t make things weird, just give me today to sort me ‘ead out."
"No, Al. Alex." Miles raised his voice slightly, willing Alex to look at him. Their eyes met and Miles prayed their telepathy would convey what words couldn’t. A look of understanding and inevitability passed between them. Miles’s hand wound its way into Alex’s hair, fingers teasing the soft strands and he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss at the corner of Alex’s mouth. Alex let out a soft sigh and Miles couldn’t hold himself back, he surged forward, lips meeting lips. They moved as one, mouths opening tentatively at first before the kiss deepened and then they were panting, flushed and breathless but unable to tear themselves away from each other. Miles got a flash of them on stage, foreheads pressed together, playing The Beatles, and it suddenly seemed obvious that this was always going to happen. Kissing Alex was far from anything Miles’s brain could have conjured up but it made sense in the way nothing else did.
Alex let out a soft whine and pulled away, Miles instinctively trying to follow.
"Shit, Mi." Miles took in the sight before him, Alex’s flushed face, pink on his cheekbones and neck, pretty lips swollen and glistening, hair wavy and tousled and those gorgeous brown eyes blackened by desire.
"Al, you look.. Fuck…" Miles’s brain was empty, he was barely sure he could remember what words were, let alone how to use them. All he knew was everything felt right.
Still breathing heavily, Alex’s hands moved to Miles’s shoulders, eyes wide and glittering. "Seems," Alex puffed. "Neither of us are… particularly eloquent at the moment," in a poor version of his affected tone.
"Kinda ‘ard, when all me blood’s left me brain and gone to me…"
Alex broke out into a giggle and buried his head into the crook of Miles’s neck. Miles grinned and his arms wound protectively around Alex’s back, pulling him in closer. They were still them, but now they were whole, like the last piece of the puzzle had finally fallen into place.
Miles pulled Alex towards him and scooped him up onto his lap, capturing his lips in a soft kiss. "You gettin’ shy Al, thinking about my cock?"
Alex let out a soft moan and pressed himself flush against Miles. The chair made a hideous sound, metal scraping on stone and they both winced.
"Come on, let’s go in, not having broken furniture added to the bill and me conscience. More important things to worry about," Alex said with a quirk of his brow.
Miles allowed himself to be led through the balcony doors, noticing as he stood up a new scrape added to the litany of scuff marks on the stone. It was only fitting such a momentous occasion had left a physical mark on the world, even if no one except Miles would ever know, or care of its existence.
-
"Right, Miles Kane, get that do not disturb sign on the door and get in me bed."
Miles felt heat rise through him and did as he was asked, slipping his shoes and jeans off and sliding under the covers.
"Stripping off, how terribly presumptuous of you." Alex was laying on the opposite side of the bed and he rolled towards the middle, all long limbs and biceps and tanned skin. How had Miles never noticed that his best friend, his Alex, was the most gorgeous being on the entire planet? The epitome of beauty. He recalled their earlier conversation from months ago about the sexiest rock star lists and had the vague notion of writing to every publication to tell them exactly how wrong they were. Alex’s calloused finger teasingly stroked the long line of Miles’s throat before curling around his chin and tilting his head so they could make eye contact. All ridiculous thoughts vanished from Miles’s mind at the look in Alex’s eye. The soft, warm gaze as familiar as his own was still there – but something new was shining within it, a heady mixture of desire, challenge, and affection.
"I poured my heart out over there, on that balcony. I feel it’s only fair you do the same." Alex waited for a response.
Miles reached for Alex, hands stroking his arms, feeling out the hard lines of his shoulders under soft cotton, the silky strands of hair still damp and fluffy from the shower, the smoothness of his cheeks."You expect me to talk, when you’re lookin’ at me like that?"
"Yes." Alex’s gaze didn’t falter.
"So why are we in the bed, Al? Not that I’m complaining mind."
Alex planted a soft kiss on Miles’s cheek. "Because I wanted to lie down whilst my Mi lavishes compliments on me, why else?" He flashed a cheeky grin and Miles rolled his eyes playfully.
"Come on then." Miles pulled Alex flush into his side, arms curled protectively around him, Alex’s head resting on his chest. "What do you want to know? That you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met, inside and out? Because it’s true. That this, us, makes sense, even though I didn’t realise I wanted it until yesterday? That I could ever want anything this much, or anyone, until this morning. I felt like if I didn’t kiss you, me head would explode."
"Well," Alex said, his face nuzzled into Miles’s chest, "that’s a start." He leaned up and placed a soft kiss on Miles’s cheek, eyes fluttering shut."Y’know I thought I’d want to rip your clothes off, or I did whenever I sort of dreamt of this lately. And I do. But I want to make sure. I want you to be sure this is what you want, that I’m what you want. That you’re not just bored or lonely on tour. Because I’m a lot, I know I am and we’ll be going back to the real world with commitments, new albums, separate tours and…" Alex tailed off, Miles recognising the overwhelming thoughts threatening to pull him under.
Miles stroked a hand through Alex’s hair, the other draped comfortingly around his waist. "Al, we’ve been inseparable for eleven years. I know it’s been a slow realisation of feelings for ya, and fast for me. I really wish I could explain it better but I can’t. I just know that it feels right. Whatever happens, we’ll face it together. Do you trust me?"
Alex lifted his head up. "With my life." His eyes were so pure, shining with sincerity and adoration. Miles’s breath caught in his throat and he tried to stem the well of emotion rapidly building in him.
"Then that’s all that matters." This seemed to satisfy Alex, as he leaned in and drew them into a kiss, slow and soft and like nothing Miles had ever experienced. Kissing had always rapidly progressed into something more for Miles, hands roaming under clothes, on bare skin, feeling and squeezing, in relentless pursuit of pleasure. But with Alex, just like with everything in Miles’s life, things were different. Miles was sure he’d be happy to do this forever, explore Alex’s mouth and draw those pretty sighs and gasps out of him, tease his lips, brush their noses together, melt into each other, more like one person than two. Eventually, Alex pulled away and pressed a tiny kiss to Miles’s nose and giggled shyly.
"You’re thinking it too, aren’t you?" Alex said. "That we could do this forever and not get bored."
"I was indeed. I mean, not that I don’t want to do more but… Only when you’re ready." Miles stroked Alex’s cheek, the softness of his skin warm on his calloused thumb.
Alex opened his mouth, then closed it. He sighed. "Fuck it, ‘m just gonna say it anyway. Move in with me. In LA. Don’t rent your own place. I want your guitars next to mine, all your shoes making a mess in me wardrobe. I want you, Miles. Forever. I know this is a lot and you don’t have to answer now, of course you don’t but…"
Miles was momentarily stunned; as honest as they were with each other, he knew this was a big deal for Alex. A huge commitment. But then, was it really, when it was the two of them?
"Alex." Miles lifted Alex’s head to meet his gaze, Miles saw himself reflected in wide brown eyes, sparked with a hint of worry. "You already have me. Reckon you always have."
Miles was sure he saw the ghost of a tremble in Alex’s lip. Their shared look said what words couldn’t and they sank into each other, exploring as if they had all the time in the world. Well, that’s what forever was, Miles thought.
-
"Think we should get up, do some sight seeing?" Miles said, with a stretch.
"No. Chicago will always be here. ‘M not movin’ from your side or this room until they peel us out of ‘ere at check out time." Alex buried his head further into Miles’s chest.
"So cute when you’re needy," Miles said, pecking Alex on the cheek, forehead, lips. He could do that now. Whenever he wanted. Something he hadn’t even known or dreamt of a mere 24 hours ago.
"Three orders of business then. Room service, ‘cos I’m starvin’ and you must be too, and we’re orderin’ the biggest flowers and chocolates package for Cat."
Alex sat up and looked at Miles with a grin. "With a card that says, we’ve finally been exposed to the romance. Ok, maybe it is like that."
They looked at each other, eyes shining with happiness and laughed until they were breathless.
"And the third?" Alex said. "Order of business I mean?"
Miles quirked his brow and whispered in Alex’s ear.
"Miles Kane, you scoundrel," Alex said, with a faux horrified look on his face. “Only if I get to do it back to you."