Chapter Text
Touch, one of the five human senses.
One single touch could show nearly any emotion. Anger, sympathy, love, lust. An anger fueled punch or a loving caress of another's cheek had the ability to drastically change the next few chapters of another's life, for better or for worse. In Graham's case, a simple touch from his best friend was all it took to turn his day around, which in this particular instance, was always for the better.
More often than not, before a show, Graham would become nervous. Nothing too debilitating, but it was enough to throw him off his grind and fill him full of self doubt. And with enough if it, his nervousness would lead to irritation, which would then lead to outbursts. It didn't happen often, but when it did, Damon was the first by his side cooling him down.
After their first few tours, much of what they did became a routine. Wake up on the same old bus, eat breakfast, attend any necessary press events, get ready for the show, perform, and then go to sleep on the same old bus and do it all over again the next day. After some time, much of Graham's apparent stage anxiety wore off, and after a few drinks it became even better, but some nights were worse than others, and Damon was always the first to take notice when Graham was acting off. So on these occasions, Damon would sit next to his friend and take his hand in his own, holding onto to it for however long seemed necessary. For the first few minutes, Graham would squeeze Damon's hand tight, his knuckles turning white as sweat began coating his palms, but he'd slowly and unknowingly release his grip as he came back down from whatever tension he was experiencing. It was Damon's foolproof plan that never failed.
But one day, Damon stopped with no reason as to why. While it didn't make or break whatever anxiety Graham was dealing with- he could easily manage on his own - he still missed it tremendously. He missed how one simple touch could make his entire being feel safe and at peace. It reminded him of the days when they were close. Much closer than they are now, constantly worrying about the band and whatnot. When it was just the two of them against the world, and they confided in no one but each other. God, he missed that.
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Graham ventured back to the dressing room, post show adrenaline still pumping through his veins. This was definitely one of the best shows they put on in a long time. The crowd gave back as much energy as the band put out, and as a performer, there's not a single thing that's better than an adoring crowd.
He slumped down onto a small sofa that had definitely seen better days in the back corner of the room. He wiped the sweat off of his forehead with the sleeve of his jumper as he listened to the banter of the other three guys as they starting filing into the room. Something inappropriate about a drunken broad in the audience, something he'd rather stay out of.
Instead, Graham opted to study Damon as he laughed at something Alex had said. He studied the way his entire face lit up when he smiled, and the tiny beads of sweat that coated the eyelashes of those same eyes that he'd gaze into late at night, during their deep conversations about life and love. Things he didn't get a chance to think about during the daytime hours. He couldn't remember the last time they spent a night like that. Curled up side by side on the sofa, completely unaware of time slowly slipping by; sometimes talking until the chirping of birds could be heard, greeting the dawn.
Being lost in deep thought, it took a few seconds before he realized that Damon was staring back at him, his once excitable expression now a blank stare. It was one that Graham had seen many times throughout their friendship, but he could never quite pinpoint what emotion that stare held. Graham quickly averted his eyes to the floor, a hot flame burning in his stomach, something else that he couldn't ever seem to pinpoint the meaning of either.
Damon immediately approached Graham and sunk into the open space next to him, the old couch caving in beneath the added weight. Damon slung an arm around Graham's shoulder, gave it a squeeze, and then let out an exhausted sigh.
“Great show tonight, yeah?” Damon started, absentmindedly tracing small patterns into Graham's shoulder with his finger. Graham immediately took notice of this and that familiar yet mysterious flame began to burn in his stomach again.
“Yeah. It uh, was...y'know...” Graham quietly trailed off and started picking at some loose thread on the hem of his jumper, somewhat confused at his sudden inability to form a complex sentence.
“But I do hope your ankle is okay after whatever the hell you were trying to attempt with that jump of yours.” Damon recalled, his face lighting up as he started to laugh.
There was that damned feeling in his stomach again. Maybe he ate something, he wondered.
Graham smiled. “Yeah. I'm okay.”
Damon paused for a brief moment, watching Dave and Alex as they fled the dressing room, going to mingle he presumed. Normally, he’d go along with them but Damon knew Graham, and he knew that he was acting...well, not his usual self. And now that the room had cleared, he figured now would be a good time to pry.
“Everything alright?” Damon asked, scooting in closer, “You're so quiet tonight.”
The guitarist lifted an eyebrow, “‘M fine.”
“I don't think I believe you.”
Damon surveyed the face in front of him for a brief moment, hoping to find the answer lurking somewhere in his expression but to no avail. So instead of attempting to break down the mysterious brick wall that is Graham Coxon, he reached for Graham's hand and intertwined their fingers. He felt the guitarist's hand tense up so Damon gently began rubbing his thumb over soft skin hoping to relax him. They sat in silence for a few moments, listening to nothing but each others breathing and the faint sound of footsteps as they walked past the closed door.
“I miss this.” Graham said quietly, not even realizing the words that slipped out of his mouth until Damon, without missing a beat replied, “I miss you. I can't even remember the last time we sat together like this just...existing.”
Damon smiled warmly and Graham couldn't help but smile back as he gave Damon's hand a gentle squeeze.
“Now, c'mon. Are you gonna tell me what's going on with you or what?” Damon urged.
“Damon, I promise you, I'm okay. If anything, this is the most content I've felt in a very long time.”
With that, Damon propped himself up and faced Graham, lifting his hand to his lips and leaving a soft kiss on each knuckle. Damon then dropped his friends hand and guided his same hand to the back of Graham's neck, slowly and with uncertainty. The last thing he wanted to do was to make his friend uncomfortable, but God Damon missed him. And It's not like this would be their first intimate moment - alcohol can really make a man lose his inhibitions.
This definitely wasn't the best place or time for this as someone could just walk in without a second's notice, but Graham was a mere three inches from his face, his lips parted and his dark eyes staring back into Damon's own. Backing down now would be a challenge.
Damon began to gently run his fingertips over the back of Graham's neck causing a shiver to run down the guitarist's spine. Damon grinned and slowly brought their foreheads together, closing to gap even more and testing the waters. He could feel his friends hot breath against his own lips now. The sweet scent of sweat emitting off of the other man only enticed Damon more. Unable to hesitate any longer, Damon forcefully pressed their lips together, closing the gap completely. Damon pressed his upper half as much into his friend as physically possible, not wanting to leave even a hair of space between them. Every possible consequence left Damon's brain as his fear and uncertainty was replaced by desire and want.
Graham felt weightless as Damon's soft lips continued pressing against his own. He reached out and entwined his fingers through the damp strands of Damon's hair, tugging slightly and receiving soft whimpers in return, a sound Graham didn't know he needed to hear until now.
After a few more seconds, Graham pulled away with great difficulty and slowly opened his eyes. It took him a few seconds to finally come back to his senses and when he did, a nervous laugh escaped his lips. Damon looked back at him with tousled hair and a look of uncertainty plastered across his face.
“What are we doing?” Graham asked.
“I don't know.” Damon paused and began picking at some fuzz that was sticking out of the couch cushion. “I probably shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry.” He added, his expression now replaced with a look of guilt.
Graham watched Damon's slender fingers as they continued picking at the couch cushion, remembering how they felt on the back of his neck.
He wasn't particularly surprised that Damon kissed him, but he wasn't expecting it either. They've kissed before, it wasn't a rare thing to happen, but never like this. Something about this time felt different. Felt real. The last two times they kissed, they were drunk. Both times they ending up on top of each other, rough, intense kisses fueled by nothing more than lust and the desire to be with someone. Anyone. Hardly any emotion whatsoever. And then there were the multiple experimental kisses during their teenage years. If there were any feelings involved, he wouldn't of remembered. They were both only focused on one thing and it definitely wasn't love.
Graham looked back up at Damon who was biting his lip, eyes bearing into Graham looking for some kind of reply.
Graham finally spoke up, wanting to put Damon's mind at ease. “I don't regret that, you know.”
“So you're not upset?”
“No.” Graham answered truthfully.
“Good.” Damon paused. “Because I wouldn't mind kissing you again.”
Graham smirked. “Then do it.”
As Damon began scooting closer to Graham, the door to the dressing room swung open and Alex and Dave casually walked in, completely ignoring Damon and Graham, who were nearly on top of each other by now, but it wasn't as if their closeness was something surprising.
Damon frowned, a look of defeat crossing his face. He lightly smacked his hand against Graham's knee and leaned into his ear.
“We'll finish this later.” He murmured, his voice low and authoritative.
Graham swallowed, trying hard to ignore the intense lust that was now spreading throughout his entire body. God, he thought, there was no way in hell he was gonna last that long.