Disaster • Arctic Monkeys Fanfiction

[fifteen]

Indi's POV

"Holy shit," I said, all the air leaving my lungs the second we stepped into the room. "This is where you're staying?"

"For tonight, yes," Alex said nonchalantly, as if we weren't standing in the most expensive looking hotel room ever to exist.

It was huge and modern and looked nothing like what I'd expected. The lobby had been nice and all, but I didn't expect it to be this lavish.

There were two white couches, one of them littered with clothes and suitcases. The other was clear besides a single acoustic guitar.

"The lads must have gone out," Alex said, shutting the door behind us.

"They weren't at the club with you?"

"Matt was. It isn't really Jamie and Nick's scene."

I realized then that we'd stopped and that my arms were still around his middle. Embarrassed, I kept moving, leading him toward what looked to be the bathroom.

"You think it's really broken?" he asked me, his voice muffled under my sweater he still had held to his nose.

"I dunno," I said as we made it to the bathroom. I flipped the light on, and pointed to the toilet. "Sit over there for a second."

"There's no lid."

"Fine, sit on the edge of the bathtub. Do you have ice in your freezer?"

He shrugged. So much help he was.

I left him in the bathroom and went to investigate. I located the fridge in the kitchen, but to my dismay, the freezer was empty. So I settled on a can of beer in the bottom of the fridge. I grabbed a hand towel from next to the sink and wet it on my way out and then returned to the bathroom.

Alex was sitting on the edge of huge bathtub that was so big it may of well been a jacuzzi. He'd taken off the jacket to his suit and thrown it to the side, leaving him in just a (now blood stained) white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He was leaning forward, resting his elbows on the knees of his long legs.

I made my way to him, kneeling down on the floor in front of him. "Let me see it."

"It?" He said, raising an eyebrow.

"Your nose, pervert," I said, pulling the sweater off his nose myself.

It wasn't as bad as I thought. It was still bleeding slightly, and purple bruising was working its way up the bridge of his nose, but it didn't look broken.

"I think you'll be fine," I said, handing him the can of beer. "And that's to help the swelling, not to drink."

"Can't I do both?"

I ignored him, noticing then how bent out of shape his sunglasses were.

"He broke you glasses," I told him.

"Of course the fucker did."

"Better them than your nose."

He set the beer down, sucking in a pained breath, and removed his sunglasses. I realized, with quiet shock, that I'd never actually seen him without them.

His eyes looked exactly how I'd imagined they would-- deep brown and framed by thick lashes. Dark and alluring, just like the rest of him.

And the way they were looking at me caused my stomach to flip over.

"How do I look?" he asked me in a low voice.

"Like hell," I said, trying to collected myself. "Here. Hold still."

I moved close to him and held the back of his head, using the rag to wipe the blood from underneath his nose.

Which was a terrible fucking idea.

Because once I was close to him, I couldn't bring myself to pull away, even after all the blood was gone.

"Why did you do all of this?" he asked suddenly. "I thought you despised me."

"I do," I shot at him. "Like I said outside, I feel bad for you."

"And that's it?"

No.

"Yes."

He searched my face. "It's a shame we'll never see each other again, disaster girl. I could really use someone like you when I'm hungover."

"Did you just call me 'disaster girl?'"

"Fitting, isn't it?"

"You look more like a disaster than me right now," I said, not entirely sure that was true.

"Then we'll both be disasters," he said, his voice deepening. "The two of us, one big fucking mess."

He kept his dark eyes locked on mine as he placed his hand over the hand I was using to clean his face and pushed it down softly, so that there was nothing in between us besides electric air. His other hand found its way to my hair.

He tried to run his fingers through a lock, but, to his obvious amusement, it got stuck.

Laughing, he took his hand out of my hair and placed it on my jaw and all of a sudden there was no air in my lungs.

"What are you doing?"I asked him, my voice hopelessly breathless.

"I'm making the most of our first and last night," he said, the corner of his mouth turning up slightly. "Unless..."

"This is against the rules," I choked out.

"It would be if I'd gotten you drunk," he said. "Which I didn't."

"Alex-"

"Don't," he cut me off. "Don't over think this."

I was in Alex Turner's hotel room with his face inches from mine. How could I not overthink that?

He moved his thumb over my lips, staring at me like he was drowning and I was the last molecule of oxygen in existence, and pulled me closer... closer... closer...

"IT'S THE REMIX TO IGNITION HOT AND FRESH OUT THE KITCHEN, MAMA ROLLIN' THAT BODY GOT EVERY MAN IN HERE WISHIN-"

The sound shattered everything around us.

Startled, I jumped forward so violently that my forehead collided with Alex's, sending the both us flying into the bathtub.

I landed on top of him, our limbs tangling into a complete mess.

"-SIPPIN' ON COKE AND RUM, I'M LIKE SO WHAT I'M DRUNK, IT'S THE FREAKIN' WEEKEND BABY I'M BOUT TO HAVE ME SOME FUN-

"Fuck," he groaned, grabbing his forehead. "What the fuck is that?"

"Rose," I said, fumbling to get my phone out of my back pocket. "It's Rose's ringtone."

And just when I thought things couldn't get any more ridiculous, as I straddled a bloodied Alex Turner in his bathtub trying to reach my R. Kelly-blaring phone, two guys walked into the bathroom.

"Uhhh," one of the guys said.  "Are.... we interrupting something?"

So much for this being a good night.