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It’s always been his guilty pleasure. Having enjoyed them since he was in his mid-teens he feels a great happiness when they come to London when on tour, though he daren’t tell the others.
“Pleeeeeease?” Danny begs Sara.
“No, I don’t want to come.” She retorts, knowing full well that Danny understands, even if he doesn’t sympathise with, her dislike of such music.
“Ugh. Pavel?” He turns to the man sat across the room, illuminated only by the fading yellow of the lightbulb and harsh white of the static on the telly.
“No.” he snorts, barely taking his concentration from the remotes as his fingers jabbed at the buttons, silently hoping them to fix themselves.
“Well, I can’t go on my own can I.” Danny states, exasperated.
“Ask one of your pretty boyfriends, I’m sure they’d love to come!” Sara snaps.
Danny sighs heavily, defeated and bored of their company. He leaves the flat after checking the fridge to check there’s enough food in, and makes his way towards his own apartment.
The air is a wonderful sea of vanilla, pumpkin, and more christmassy spices like ginger. Lights are all off, leaving no source of light other than some cheap scented candles.
“I’m home.” Danny yells, smiling but hoping no one replies.
Q’s voice emanates through the hallway from the living room. “Hey.”
Damnit.
“Just you?” Danny asks, as casually as he can. He swings around the door way, trying, suavely, to his throw his coat onto the coat-rack but it misses and skids across the floor.
“No, James is in but I don’t know where he’s gone.” Q states, distracted entirely by his screen. Gosh is Danny not worth anything to these people?
At that moment the less nerdy of the men feels some familiar hands on his waist.
“Hey.” James whispers in Danny’s ear, he falls back into the older man with ease and turns his head to peck his parter’s lips. James, however has different ideas and turns Danny so their chests are pressed against each others and lips interlock.
“Oh, get a room.” sighs Q, PDA has never been his strong-suit and even hearing it makes him a little sick.
“Oh you know you’re welcome to join in.” Bond laughs, making a subtle hand-gesture to Q, letting him know it wasn’t solely a joke.
Danny pulls away and makes his way towards the kitchen, passing Q and ruffling his hair. He decides to make a small batch of brownies from the ready-mix box he’s had in the cupboard since they moved in.
Danny is just putting the brownie mix-filled tray into the oven when Q asks a terrifying question. “What are we doing tonight?”
He freezes just as he brushes the oven door, scalding the back of his hand. He cries out in pain and drops the tray, though the door catches it and, thankfully, most of it does not spill over the edge.
Bond rushes to Danny’s aid, knowing full well what Alex would say if he found out that Danny had been hurt and the upmost hadn’t been done to help. “Looking after Danny, it seems.” Bond jokes, concerningly out of character. He mutters a modest “sorry” when there is a very minimal response and leaves Danny on the floor to get the first aid kit. He is half-way through unravelling the dressing when Q pipes in “Don’t you have to run it under cold water first?”
“Oh, god yeah.” James is frantic and drags Danny up to the sink by his burned hand.
Despite the pain, Danny barely winces and his thoughts trail towards the worry f not making it to the concert.
“Are we not doing anything then?” Q asks, impatiently.
Danny remains silent.
“It seems not.” Q mutters under his breath and leans into his laptop like a cat inspecting food. “When’s Lex back?”
“Alex will be back when he’s back.” James states, rather plainly. He takes Danny’s hand from beneath the cold water, dries it, and kisses it very gently before laying it atop his own and bandaging it.
When finished James pulls Danny into a very close hug similar to one a maternal-figure might give. “What’s wrong?” he whispers, gently enough that Q does not hear.
“Nothing.” he pushes away from his boyfriend and grabs some oven gloves to sort out the brownies.
James worries. Alex. Alex will know what to do.
Danny is uncharacteristically passive about his behaviour despite the lack of understanding he has of why he’s acting in such a way. It can’t just be nerves, surely?
He checks the time. Only two hours ’till it’s due to start. Oh shit.
“Shouldn’t someone at least check on Alex? I mean if he’s not doing any of his “top-secret” stuff.” Danny uses emphatic bunny ears around ‘secret business. The trio had accidentally found out one day that Alex was preparing them all a wonderful, romantic night in on Valentines day after Bond had become suspicious of his restful nights. Q hacked Alex’s main laptop to find blueprints, dialogues, films, a list of the four boys’ most favoured scents and dishes he thought that they would most enjoy eating together and the three of them agreed not to say a word, all flattered by the amount of thought and consideration Alex put into it.
“Ideally, no. He can’t know we found out about it, I mean how would he react?” asks Bond, truly concerned.
“He doesn’t have to know, I just worry.”
“It’s 5pm, Danny.” Q interrupts. “We haven’t got anything planned. It’s fine.” He pats the sofa cushion next to him trying to signal Danny sit down. Danny declines and tries to search for another reason to leave though becomes abruptly aware of how off he is behaving when, instinctively, he grabs for the burn and squeezes the bandage tightly. He doesn’t understand why this is so stressful. Surely, he could have just told them? They wouldn’t make that much fun? They wouldn’t really do that would they?
“Danny! Stop!” Both Q and James jump to Danny in an attempt to get him to stop. Q first tries to release the harsh grip but to no avail and then Bond who would not risk hurting Danny more. “Danny you need to stop. Danny listen. Danny?” James envelops him in a tight hug hoping to distract him somehow. “Fucking ring Alex fucking do it Q.” James instructs, panicked. Danny starts to twist the fabric around his fingers tighter and tighter, his legs stiffen, eyes well up and he becomes, at once, frozen.
A door slams in the hallway and heavy, distant thuds indicate Alex is home. By this time Danny has fallen onto the settee and is nestled into Q whose spare arm is wrapped around him.
“Hey Danny.” He coos, stroking the little one’s hair behind his ear. Danny reaches out a hand which he places on top of Alex’s and holds between his bony chin and shoulder. Danny shuffles around for a moment before Alex feels some pieces of card in his hand which Danny squeezes tightly before letting go.
“What are they?” Bond peers over Alex’s shoulder, examining the scraps of card emblazoned with the words “All Time Low and guests” and “London O2 Arena.” “All of this over a concert?” The eldest man chuckles, relived that there wasn’t, to him, anything serious going on. Alex stands and turns to Bond. “James.” He says through gritted teeth, “Be kind.”
“Who is coming?” Alex asks, looking to the red-faced Danny. He shrugs. “Oh, you have no one in mind?”
“I wanted you to come but you won’t like them so I asked Sara and she said she doesn’t like them and Pavel was predictable I’m sorry.” He curls back up and tugs on Q’s sleeve.
“I can keep you company?” Bond offers, sincere and pretending to be hurt that he wasn’t chosen first.
Danny beams. “Really?”
“Oh sure! And I can find out what you lot find interesting these days. Come on!” Alex mouths ‘thank you’ to James who just smiles back and they laugh at Danny who is having trouble untangling himself from Q’s grasp.
“Do I not get a say?” Q asks, indignantly. “I mean I’m the one with the soggy jumper, do I not get to come?”
“I didn’t realise you were so enthused by the idea of being around so many people, Q?”
“Shut up. Who is it playing Danny?”
“All Ti-“ “ME LOW ARE YOU KIDDING ME.” Q jumps up almost flinging his tea everywhere. “YOU WERE SO SCARED ABOUT THAT DANNY YOU TART I LOVE THEM TAKE ME!”
“Am I still going?” James wonders, pretending to be upset.
“Of course!” Danny exclaims, rather surprised everyone was so ecstatic to come. “Alex, will you come?”
“Yes, of course. How many tickets did you buy?” Alex asks, rather worried Danny had over-spent, not that it mattered on their high-incomes.
“Just the two but it’s easy to find people who sell them.” Danny says, very confidently. The taller, man worries for a moment, which Danny recognises and pulls him into a hug. “Not that kind of people. I promise.”
Two or so hours into the gig and ATL is on their third song. Danny has been on his feet since they came on but the other three are not so convinced.
Alex leans past Danny and yells as loudly as he can to q “I thought you liked this stuff.”
“No, never!”
“Why did you say you did?”
“I didn’t know if you liked them and old-timer over here hates anything written past 1983.”
Alex’s chest feels as though it has been caught by something upon hearing the genuine concern Q displays for the happiness of their boyfriend.
“So what’s this one called?” Alex asks, now stood, putting a hand around Danny’s waist.
“Missing you!” Danny cups his hands around Alex’s ears and puts his lips to the small opening he has created with his thumbs. “Hey Alex, if you were ever wondering what you mean to me, what you did for me, it’s this song. You sang this song and you pulled me up, you kept me going even when I thought you were dead. You were the man I needed. I love you.”
Danny’s hands retreat to his sides and as soon as he can’t feel them Alex turns and grabs the sides of Danny’s face, pulling it close. Danny relaxes entirely when he feels Alex’s soft lips on his and wraps his arms around his lover’s neck. “I love you too.”
“Do you want to get anything?” Alex asks, pointing with his free hand(the other swinging, fingers intertwined with Danny’s) to the merch stands littering the sides of the building. Danny races towards one of the largest before anyone can protest and eagerly jumps about having spotted a jumper and wristbands he’d like.
“Can I have them? Can I really?” He asks, sounding very much like a toddler.
Bond gets there first, a little tired due to lack of excitement during the show and very much ready to go home. “Yeah sure.” He answers, voice raspy and deep.
“I thought you didn’t like them, Q.” Alex states, as he and the smaller boy walk slightly slower to the stall.
“Yeah I’m getting better at lying now.” the glasses and thin tour-shirt-clad man states in a very matter-of-fact manner. “What did Danny say?”
“He commented on the significance of a sad song in his life. He likes sad things sometimes, though I do not pretend to understand why.”
“What sad song?”
“Missing You.”
“I’m not all that surprised. Between you and me he’s made playlists of which songs remind him of each of us. That one is the most played of yours.”
“He made playlists?”
“Yeah, I don’t agree with mine at all but there you have it.”
Alex smiles and for the second time that night embraces Danny. “Are you getting anything?”
Bond scowls and is handed a large collection of bags by the chuffed cashier.
Danny offers several times on the way home to carry the bags but James refuses. Alex and Q also offer but no, stubborn James is not letting anything go.
When they arrive home Danny bursts through the door and jumps on the sofa. “Please can I have my merch? Please?” Danny begs.
James enters last and plops the bags on the table before Danny and now Q, while Alex stands well clear of the splash-zone.
Bags empty the nerd and his odd look-a-like are both dressed form head-to-toe in random lyrics and ‘quirky’ depictions of the band members and despite the pair describing them in detail neither James nor Alex can remember who is who. Danny falls asleep first, Alex wraps him up in a blanket and moves him to the bed where he thinks Danny will sleep more comfortably and not long after Q does the same. All four tuck into bed now, Danny and Q in the middle, the other two on the outer-sides.
“Goodnight Mr Turner.” James whispers, barely audible to himself. “Goodnight Mr Bond.” answers Alex. A small chuckle is let out from the body in front of him. “Goodnight Q.” Alex kisses Q on the nose, rubbing the indentation his glasses have left on his face. “Night.”