Worlds Apart

Epilogue

- This is going to be a long one guys, be prepared. There's some notes at the end about anything revolving this book! -

I let the microphone drop from my fingers, but the thump as it hit the stage was barely heard over the roar of the crowd. Gasping for breath, I dug my hands into my hair, dragging it back away from my sweaty forehead. There were countless faces spanning far ahead of me until they melted into darkness. And here I was, on my knees and sweating.

At that moment I was ridiculously grateful for waterproof makeup.

That thought sparked a laugh onto my lips, which succeeded in me not only picking up the microphone but pushing up to my feet as well.

Still laughing, I raised the mic to my lips even as I let my hand run down until I caught it on my own shoulder. "And here I was thinking I was the only one," I said casually, my voice being amplified throughout the stadium.

My words were only met with approving screeches. The things dreams were made of, this was. I laughed again, but had dropped the microphone down, though it was still gripped in my fingers at my thigh. Turning away from the crowd I'd whipped into a proper frenzy about three hours before, I changed my attention to the drink that I'd left on one of the many amps about the stage.

This time I replaced the microphone for the beer, and as I chugged down the remaining dregs, the crowd roared their approval. Crowds always condoned alcoholism to an alarming degree. I only shook my head, tossing the plastic cup out to them carelessly.

Gaining a few seconds of time due to the turmoil that caused, I took it to pull the fraying guitar strap over my head, the guitar following moments later. Only when I placed it carefully back into its stand did I notice the eyes on me. I raised a questioning eyebrow at my band, which Lizzy responded to with a fake yawn while Brandon laughed at her.

Since the crowd was too loud to be heard over top without a microphone at this point, I settled for just winking at them. Carl made sure to respond with an eye roll before I was picking the guitar back up and turning towards the crowd.

"This is going to be our last song for you guys -" the crowd interrupted with echoing boos "- oh, boo fucking hoo."

My words had the booing turning into laughter as I stepped forwards.

"Some of you might know by now that we don't do encores -" cue more booing "- big waste of time if you ask me. Only pricks are going to walk off the stage to pretend they're not coming back out, only to come out ten minutes later like we all knew they would." That had the booing cut out entirely, erased in the mixture of laughing and cheering. In response, a smile spread across my lips as I looked out at the countless faces before me. "We decided to play you two more songs instead of that bullshit."

This time the approval rocked the stadium in the amount of noise the crowd made and I was laughing again. "So this is our last song, and we thought we'd cover some New York legends for tonight. Not you, motherfucker," I said. My words went with a pointed look to the middle of the floor, where I'd caught sight of that obvious red hair hours before. I continued on, "You get more credit than you deserve anyways."

The announcement was solidified by Brandon shouting out the count from behind me, and then both Lizzy and Carl jumping into The Strokes song in unison. I supposed that was me being told to stop fucking talking.

As always, I rolled along with it, spinning around at the front of the stage and bouncing up and down on my heels. My movements were mimicked by the crowd that was absolutely pulsing. "If we don't watch the sun it will rise. If we don't take our time it's not wise. Putting posters up for your band..."

Carl stepped up to his allowed microphone stand to murmur the spoken words, but I barely noticed, already stepping up to sing the next words.

It was the kind of song that was easy to dance to, and it wasn't like I'd ever had problems dancing. And alcohol had served the purpose of having me dance in front of crowds of thousands years before. It wasn't like I needed its help anymore, but it did ease me into the seamless shift between backstage Jude Turner and Jude Turner that belonged to the crowd. It was amazing just how big that shift could be. Backstage was subject to moodiness, but the crowd one was always ready to step up.

"... I didn't want to notice. Didn't know the gun was loaded. Didn't really know this. What kind of asshole drives a lotus?" I posed the rhetorically question as my toes connected with the edge of the stage, hands reaching out to grasp desperately at my ankles. "I didn't want to bore ya. Didn't want to pick up your shit for ya. I've been ready to do this. I'll be there."

Along to the throbbing bass line, I danced back away from the hands, escaping with some grace still intact. "Come here and go get with me. I wanna see you Wednesday. Come on, come on, come over. Take it off your shoulder." And then I was bouncing up and down as I sang. "Come on and pull me over. We gotta get to work now. Sliding it off your shoulder as we're falling over."

With one final spin, I froze with my back turned to the crowd, not even seeing my band. My only movement was to tap the microphone against my leg, feeling the chord tap against my shoe.

I was in perfect time as I raised the mic back up to my mouth. "You did it alone. You did it for fun. You did it for everyone who's on the run."

As the throbbing bass returned with the swell of music, I spun back around to face the crowd, the lights flashing out to fill the stadium. And they timed their jumps along with mine as I sang, "You're not just a friend, you'll be born again." With a hand pointing to the ceiling, I continued, "We'll be in this race until the very end."

I lowered the hand until it was pointing out at the crowd, renewing their screeches. "He lies on the phone. He cheats on his clone. You'll never believe me 'til you're on your own."

At another time, I would have laughed at the sight of the crowd, flooded in light bouncing and shoving and dancing along to the song. It was almost surreal. Here they were at a Red Riot concert, and I had them in the palm of my hand. I had them dancing and cheering along to a song that wasn't even ours. Talk about crowd control.

As it happened, there was no time to laugh, because we were charging along to the end of the song. "Comes in once a month and he never leaves. He said he's broken yet he lives free. Didn't want to floor ya. I didn't want to be there for ya. Didn't wanna warn ya I'll be there."

The song faded out stylishly and I spun around to face my band, wiping my forearm across my forehead, attempting to whisk away the sweat. It wasn't of much use, more just replaced it.

Even with that moment to breathe, I still found that my chest was heaving as I ran my hands over my face, pushing my hair out of the way again. I made sure to smile at my band, the expression giddy and exhilarated. The sound that was coming from behind me was strong enough that I believed it could bring some down to their knees. It was as if the noise had created its own physicality that was pressing against my back. Maybe it was a sign I should never turn my back to a crowd.

Ah, fuck it. I did it all the time.

With another wink at my band who were untangling themselves from their instruments, I carefully stepped around to face the adoring stadium. The swell of noise that met my turn would have made anyone else grimace. Me? I'd always liked the attention.

So I gave a laugh, raising my free hand to give the crowd a two fingered salute. And then I was tossing the microphone out to the ground in front of me.

Only then did my band meet me at the front of the stage, arms slipping around waists and shoulders until we were weaved together. We'd always worked better as a single unit anyways. There was one mocking bow down by the four of us in unison, which was met by a bra being thrown on the stage in the crowd's excitement. An eyebrow rose at that, and then I was breaking away from my band to grab the bra of the stage.

I held it up into the air to renewed screams before turning on my heel, putting my back to the spectacle.

One of the show security guards gave me a big thumbs up as I walked towards him and off stage. Instantly I found myself laughing, though not one person would be able to hear the sound so I just sent him a cheeky smile. Maybe we needed better security for the shows, because ours were more focused on watching the concert than the actual matters they were hired for. Whatever, I liked our security.

Shoving the hair away that had fallen over my forehead, I found myself grimacing when my hand got knotted in it. Gross. It might as well have been a rat's nest. You'd think after all these years I would have caught onto the fact that my hair, humidity, and sweat didn't get along very well.

The moment we exited the stage, the lights would have gone up around the stadium. I only knew that because the first song of a playlist I'd made on my own flooded through the whole building. The first song being Personal Jesus by Depeche Mode. It was a first class playlist, if I had anything to say about it. Carl would be quick to point out that he had helped while my other two band mates didn't care for any recognition.

Trading the bra for a water bottle and the cloth, I walked further back stage, breathing in a deep sigh that I didn't think possible as I wiped the cloth over my face. My heart was still racing, but it'd take a few minutes for that to calm down.

"Verdict?"

I didn't look up at Lizzy's voice, but found my lips quirking up at her question. "Ask me again in a few minutes," I informed her, the cloth still over my face, "I'm in concert hangover mode."

"I think you have more than a concert hangover," she added, a wrongful amount of glee in her voice. Yet what was I to expect? Friends were the ones who sympathized with your hangovers, family were the ones who took joy from them.

With a groan, I yanked the cloth from my face. "Tell me about it, I think I'm sweating gin."

That just made her burst out in delighted laughter.

"Cunt," I accused, flinging the cloth at her. However I couldn't help but notice that my voice didn't hold all that much vigour.

"Ugh," she complained, but her voice was slightly stifled by the fact that the sweaty fabric had smacked and stuck onto her face. Pushing the cloth off from her so that it toppled unceremoniously onto the ground, she wore the most disgusted of expressions as she replied in kind, "Bitch."

Now it was my turn to laugh.

Before I had a chance to swallow the hilarity and shoot off something from my smart ass mouth, I felt an arm slip around my shoulder. Instantly I looked at the hand that was hooked over my shoulder and hanging in front of me before look to the opposite side and raising an eyebrow at Carl who happily grinned at me. He was still in concert hangover mode, but had my suspicions he'd recovered better than I had from last night.

He didn't back off from the look, in fact I think his brown eyes sparked with laughter. "So?" he questioned expectantly.

Pulling a face that only made him chuckle, I elbowed him lightly in the gut, forcing him to drop his arm, though he only rocked back an inch. My great reaction to his words was to counter, "Fuck knows. Ask me in a few days."

"I say best show of the tour," Carl announced in a sure voice before asking, "Lizzy?"

However she wasn't paying attention to either of us any longer. Apparently we weren't that interesting. With the sweaty cloth forgotten at our feet, she was wandering away in the other direction.

Quickly, I glanced in that direction, but found it no surprise when I caught on to the only thing that could be her destination.

Brandon had by all appearances made a quick get away from the stage, and was now heading back towards us, though none of his attention was on us. It was split between the two children on each side of him, the boy with tawny hair - the perfect mix of his parents - and the young girl who was toddling along after her father. Her ringlets were such a bright blonde they could have been white, while her rounded eyes seemed to stare at everything at once.

Seeing as it was the last night of the tour, their kids had come to watch, though I couldn't see them really having the presence to enjoy it yet.

Casey still had her noise cancelling headphones on, the curls forming around them undeterred. However Donovan had opted to wearing them around his neck, while he kept reluctant pace with his dad. His hand was tucked into his pocket uncaringly, and he looked forever on the point of rolling his eyes.

Maybe Donovan was old enough to appreciate a rock show now, even though he was just about to turn seven. He was already starting to get that careless rocker look about him, the ruffled hair he tried to create and the English accent he attempted to put on but was horrible at - something that bothered Brandon more than he'd like to admit. He looked like a rebellion waiting to happen, and the thought made me smile broadly.

Oh man, I couldn't wait.

It was going to be so much fun, and I couldn't wait to be a bad influence. It was my greatest skill, after all.

Right as Lizzy got in front of Brandon to scoop little Casey into her arms while pulling Donovan close for a hug, Carl stole my attention away.

"So what do you say about tonight? I think Liz and Brando are going to be all tucked up, but I think we could do some damage on this town," he informed me. He had a little grin on his mouth, turning up at the edge as he made the offer look oh so appealing. Last night of the tour spent living it up in New York City with Carl - we'd always been able to do more than damage. It was enticing to be sure.

However I just snorted, giving a shake of my head. "I'm still sweating out the gin from last night."

"Don't give me that bullshit, Turner - I know you better than that. You can drink anyone under the table."

I smirked broadly at his words, pulling my loose hair up into a horrible sticky bun. "I take that as the highest of compliments."

"As was expected, and that means you're coming out tonight."

Although I laughed, I shook my head at the same time. "I need recovery time. I can't be hungover for my flights. What if I have a child beside me? What if there's one behind me who kicks my chair? It's two long fucking plane rides."

And in the typical Carl logic - that I always thoroughly enjoyed - he responded wisely, "Then you start drinking again. You won't be hungover anymore. And if we don't sleep tonight, then you can have a wonderful sleep on the plane."

Before I could even think of a reply - because let's face it, it was pretty sound advice - we were once again interrupted.

It came from the family that I'd spared a glance earlier. The high pitched noise was something that shocked my system right down to the core, forcing me to give a ridiculous shiver. It even had my eyes squeezing shut like a defense mechanism. That hit me harder than anything the crowd had thrown my way all night. I didn't even know what word had been screeched - I was sure that register was only meant to be heard by dogs.

When my eyes opened cautiously, I only had time to see Donovan flashing past me.

A little bit horrified, I spun around to see just what the fuck was going on with that kid. He'd told me just yesterday that he was going to be a rock star when he grew up, but I was never going to have the heart to tell him to cool it down a little and work on the carelessness. My favourite thing about my friends' kids was their enthusiasm. I mean, people under ten were the only ones that were ever able to keep up with my own energy and enthusiasm. I was going to have to tell him to never make a sound like that again.

However when I saw the person that Donovan had darted towards, all those thoughts were rendered pretty much useless. And since I barely managed to stifle a similar noise to his, I was probably going to have to give him a pass for it.

And then the music switched smoothly, letting Sabotage blare around us with a shout.

Without bothering to reply, he easily scooped Donovan off his feet with his hands under his armpits. He gave a theatrical groan, pretending to stumble under the kid's weight. That only had Donovan giggling delightedly as he threw his arms around his neck. Maybe it was because it was a kid who had never needed to hide his emotion, but the blatant show of emotion had a smile breaking through my shock.

Like it was a habit, he shifted to wrap an arm around the seven year old so Donovan could cling to his side. The kid must have weighed enough to be a load at this point, but there was no sign to that. It was all still sauntering nonchalance, even with the kid attached like an octopus.

I had to blink a few times to believe that he was there. Everything else had melted away in comparison, and there was my guy. It was just so easy for him. Like it was the most natural thing in the world for him to be standing there in front of me, returning a hug to a child that worshipped the ground at his feet. All leather and denim, wrapped in a rumpled facade that made me want to smooth it down and mess it up further all at once. It only made sense that this was the rock star Donovan was trying to emulate.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them, and I found myself staring incredulously. What other reaction was I supposed to have?

Then he turned his attention to me, and it was that look that had existed for years and I decided it didn't matter if this was in my own head or not. It was that half smile of his; all careless attitude even though we both knew that he knew exactly what he was doing. "Well, hello to you too, darling."

I couldn't hide the smile that came in response to the words, and I edged towards Cam and Donovan. And there was no stopping the question as I asked, "Really here, then?"

This time the look he sent me nothing short of exasperated. "No, we've just gotten really good at the hologram shite now. Better than Tupac, eh?"

The sarcasm was the last thing I needed to confirm that the Harrison brother was really in front of me. Cam just had time to place Donovan carefully back on his feet before I was flinging myself at him. The force of my body had him almost stumbling back, but he'd thankfully thought to plant his feet even as he arms yanked their way around me. It was desperation wrapped in thankfulness and disbelief, and nothing could be better than the fact that I was sure I'd have bruises from his grip. And he really was there, real beneath my hands that gripped him tightly.

I might have crawled right up into him, but I was still disbelieving that he actually here.

So I pulled back to rake my eyes over his face. When that wasn't enough, I let my hands travel up and push his shaggy hair away from his head and then tangled them in it to keep us grounded there. "'The fuck are you doing?" I asked incredulously, but couldn't wipe the smile off my face.

"Can't come see the last show of your tour?" Cam responded innocently. He made no move to get away, and his eyes were even on mine.

His grip around my body loosened, but only slightly, hands running down to rest on my hips as I stood in front of him. I just let my hands come back to cup his cheeks as I stared at him like he was a figure on display at a gallery. No, he was better than that because I could touch him.

Yet I just shook my head in response to his question. "No. You're not, because I've got a fucking long flight back to the London tomorrow and this seems like a waste."

"My money." The reply was short and I barely heard it, more interested in the way his fingers had somehow managed to get underneath my shirt. They were digging into my skin in the best way possible right now.

My eyes may have wanted to roll right into the back of my head after so long but I managed to hold his gaze. It could be said that I shifted closer so that our hip bones slotted against each other, but I didn't think that needed to be thought about. And neither did the fact that our noses brushed. I could feel a little hand tugging at the hole in the thigh of my jeans, but I definitely wasn't thinking about that.

It was with great mental preparation that I managed to hold those green eyes in mine as I said, "Oh, fuck off, Harrison. You don't make money anymore."

"Oi -" he started, and I could hear the grate of irritation in his voice. Five minutes together after exactly three weeks and two days apart, and I'd already pissed him off - it had to be some sort of record. I ignored the sound of high pitched rambling from our sides and downwards when I noticed that Cam's eyes had narrowed quite conspicuously on me.

However it wasn't until I felt those nails dig in that everything else was rendered pretty much moot.

Without a hint of hesitation, I slid my hands back to grip in the soft hair and yank our mouths together. There wasn't much distance to make up for, but with the anticipation that had curled itself in my stomach and the red hot throbbing that had made its way through my blood, it was a wonder our lips didn't meet in a mess of teeth and recklessness. To be fair, I wouldn't have given a shit if we had.

As it was the first press of lips was a smile. It was just gentle despite my hands tugging at his hair and his fingers bruising my hipbone, soft even.

That didn't last very long, though. I could blame that on a lot of things. It started when I ran my tongue teasingly along his bottom lip, and then his hands were slipping from my hips to the small of my back beneath my shirt where they splayed across my back. With that motion, any idea of space between us was demolished quickly as I stretched up onto my toes. My nails dug into his scalp when the kiss became almost warring.

Bruised tongues and public indecency passed through my mind, but didn't stay long.

All that was in my head was that he was warm underneath the palm of my hand, and he tasted of cigarettes and tea and mint and I'd missed him. I'd missed him so much. It was incomprehensible just how deep that feeling had gone, past a hollow feeling in the chest. A constant dull ache of emptiness that thudded through everything, even when there was laughter it was still there as reminder of how he wasn't.

Those were the thoughts circling around my head as I got reacquainted with pulling and groans and the fact I must just collapse into a puddle - it was getting achingly obvious that I hadn't had sex in a while.

Well, that was until there was a hand placed on my shoulder. And since Cam hadn't mentioned growing a third arm in our daily phone calls, I had my suspicions that the hand was not one that I needed on me at the moment. So I couldn't find myself surprised when the hand curled around and yanked me free of Cam's grasp - with more force than I deemed necessary. Although I would have liked no force, because I was quite happy to remain there with those guitar callouses scraping their way up the sensitive skin on my back.

"Could you keep it in your pants for five fucking seconds?" Lizzy's voice was easy to distinguish even if I didn't bother to look away from Cam to do so. I could hear the irritated whiplash of a tone that belonged to a mother, though she'd developed that years before she had any children.

Yet the voice that had always grated on my nerves might as well have not spoken, because I was looking at Cam and he was looking at me and god I'd missed him.

So almost on its own accord, my hand stretched out through the space that Lizzy had caused to separate between us. It wasn't even a foot but it suddenly felt like all too much after being apart for so long. My fingers had planned to grip at his belt buckle to pull him back over here, or maybe even curl into the front pocket of his beat up black jeans. Lizzy wasn't having that, though, and slapped my hand away before I could make contact.

"Hey," she said warningly, "My child is literally at your feet. Don't do that shit in front of him."

Although my gaze didn't so much as waver, I couldn't help the snide reply - they flowed as easily as blood in my veins. "He's going to have to learn what sex is one day, or else he's going to be a piss poor rock star."

Maybe I couldn't see it, but I felt the red hot burn of Lizzy's glare on my cheek. I was more concerned with the amused smile that had bloomed over Cam's mouth.

However with the space between us to give me time to recover from the shock of finding him back stage, my mind started to put things together - even it was reluctant. I'd tasted the bitter tang of cigarettes on his tongue; even it had been slightly covered by mint. My eyes narrowed on his full lips with the thought. And even now I could smell him, and even it was somewhat masked by plain soap and the tell tale smells of a concert on the floor - faint sweat and sloshed beer and fun - I could detect that whiff of stale smoke that I knew all too well.

This time Lizzy didn't have the time to whack my hand down, though I doubted she felt she'd had to try when my fist connected with his shoulder.

I suspected the muffled noise - half yelp half grunt - that came from Cam's mouth had little to do with pain, and more to do with surprise. That would have usually made me laugh. As it was, I glowered across to where he stared back at me, looking nothing short of taken aback. "You've been smoking," I accused. If I had been unsure, the guilty flicker across his face would have cemented it for me. "We both quit, you asshole!"

"Well, if you'd had to -"

Whatever excuse he was about to dredge up never got out, because Lizzy took her turn to punch him on the other arm.

Cam full on jolted at the hit, and she must have hit harder than I did, because his other hand jumped up protectively to cover the spot high up on his arm. "What the fuck?" Now he was just confused and more than a little irritated.

"Don't smoke in front of my kid." Lizzy was wearing a matching glare to mine, and it would have destroyed any ordinary person - Cam appeared unmoved.

He only narrowed his eyes back at her. "I haven't fucking smoked in front of your kid!"

Now I did smile - it was irresistible, really. There was my tiny friend from my band, full on glaring down my rather tall boyfriend as they bickered about smoking in front of children while the small human in question just beamed up at the two of them. It was made all the more ridiculous when I remembered that we all hadn't seen him in over three weeks. I had to reach a hand up to cover the gaping smile I was wearing.

"Would you quit fucking swearing already?" she asked. In that moment I couldn't describe her as anything other than motherly, with her deprecating eyes and tightly pinched mouth and hands on her waist. She looked like a ludicrous bird with her elbows jutting out.

My laughter was muffled behind my hand. It went unnoticed by the two, unsurprisingly considering they were too caught up in the argument. Cam's eyes were widening like he couldn't quite believe what was being said.

The urge to laugh harder was sprung on me, but I suppressed it by reaching down to place a hand on Donovan's shoulder. Instantly he glanced up at me, and we shared an enormous smile between us. With that he quite willingly let go of his grip on Cam's and swayed towards me to watch his mother and his idol bicker it out. Nothing better than a little reality check that even Cam Harrison could be cut down to size for both of us.

Donovan did give a laugh when my hand ruffled up through his hair. He didn't bother to try and flatten it. If he wanted to look like Cam, he'd need his hair as messy as possible and who better to help him with the look? I let my hand drop back down, resting it on his shoulder as we both went back to watching the show at hand.

"You just swore!" Cam exclaimed incredulously, hands flailing out to gesture at her. "She just swore."

His voice lost all indignation when he spared a glance back in my direction, adding a motion with his hand to further his point. And then he was doubling back, glancing back towards us. And I couldn't help that I was grinning broadly at him as I ran a hand carelessly through my hair even with my arm resting across Donovan's shoulders.

"Feeling a bit raw there, darling?" The words came out rather innocent, but I wore an unholy grin to go with them.

I was awarded with an unamused expression from Cam as he crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm remembering just why I don't see you when you're on tour."

That only had me giggling, leaning slightly against the seven year old at my side. Cam set his jaw as he watched me, but I knew him far too well to be fooled - I'd seen the twitch at the side of his mouth. Not to mention that general softening around the sharp edges of his face.

"Don't be bitter," I told him with a smile.

His reply was instantaneous and bristling. "I'm not."

That did nothing in his favour, and I laughed again. Cam glowered at me. However when I reached out to grab his hand, he agreeably tangled his fingers with mine naturally. I ruined it all by saying, "Sure you're not."

He instantly tried to tug his hand from mine, but I wasn't about to let go that easily and only smiled sunnily at him.

In the end he settled for telling me, "Fuck off."

"Cam!" Lizzy exclaimed.

"Oh my god."

The exasperated groan was enough for me to take some pity on him, and I pried away from Donovan in order to slip my arm around Cam's waist. He kept his eyes closed as if he could imagine he was a place where a mom wasn't scolding him for his language - his mom did enough of that when she called him after watching interviews. So I just pressed a light kiss to his cheek as I patted the opposite one. My lips tingled.

In response, he risked opening one eye to peer towards me at his side. "Do you remember when I used to talk shit about you guys all the time?" At his question I raised a brow, but nodded all the same. I remembered doling it out quite well too. "I think I'm going to start that again."

That deserved a giggle even though I tried to swallow it in order to look demurely back at him. However a little sound escaped as a sharp breath through my nose, and it had Cam's eyes narrowing on me.

"You like them," I reminded him.

He might have said something rather cutting if his sharp expression was anything to go by, but I stopped that quickly. All it took was slipping the tips of my fingers beneath his jacket and tee shirt to run them lightly over that soft skin, and letting my lips brush over the razor sharp edge of his jaw. Still he was too stubborn to back down all the way, and insisted through a strained voice, "They're irritating."

This time I couldn't stop myself and snorted out a laugh to have him glancing in my direction accusingly. I could only be honest, answering, "Your band was annoying too."

For a moment he seemed to consider it, but eventually could only relent and give a shrug.

Now I laughed loudly, pressing another kiss to his jaw as I dropped my forehead against him. And because he couldn't very well pretend to be that annoyed with me after flying across the bleeding ocean, Cam gave a sigh before curving his body slightly towards me in order to slip an arm around my shoulders. I would be more than satisfied to burrow inside him right now or just drink him in, any kind of poetic shit that would just allow me to wallow in the fact that he was here. He was beneath my hands and warm.

I was pretty sure no one was willing to let that happen, though, and I was placing the blame solely on my band and their offspring. So I only gave a long suffering sigh when another voice came into play.

"Hey mate," said Carl.

There was nothing to do but roll my eyes when I heard Carl attempt some of the same lingo as Cam. He did this every time he was within ten feet of an English person now, and it always ended quite terribly - once with a fist to his jaw from another rather irritated northerner. This time it just sounded so wrong on the tongue that could only be harshly American.

It was enough to have me opening my eyes to peer up at Cam, and it was just in time to have him looking at me out of the corner of his eyes. It was as if to say you see? And I only quirked my eyebrows in agreement before we turned to look over at Carl, who had managed to break into the little bubble we always seemed capable of building around us.

The sight of Carl thawed any annoyance I might have had with him, though. He had one arm twined around Donovan while the other had Lizzy squished to his side - behind them I could see Brandon, though he was smart enough to keep his distance. Plus I was starting to think he was trying to keep Casey away from Cam. Not because he was a bad influence - which he was - or because they actively disliked him. I suspected it to be because his son already hero-worshipped him and Brandon had never quite lost that competitive edge from that old feud. He didn't need his daughter wandering after him starry eyed too.

A glance to my side saw that expression on Cam's face that I knew all too well. The man had always been argumentative to say the least, and I could always see the signs. His eyes would narrow ever so slightly and the edges of his mouth tightened while his chin jutted out ever so slightly. Knowing all of this, I quickly pinched him.

It was enough to gain his attention my way and long enough to send him a warning glance.

The urge to roll his eyes was written all too clearly across his face as he peered speculatively back at me. So I pinched him again.

He did roll his eyes, but his tone was pleasant as he finally said, "Hey Carl."

Carl's smile was blinding. "Cam's here, so that means you'll come."

I blinked at that, and could only answer, "Well, I don't know if that's mutually exclusive, dear."

"Hey," complained Cam at my side. And this time he did sound insulted.

That had me off laughing again, burying my face in the crook of his neck. When I got control of myself, I peered back over at my friends with my forehead pressed against Cam's cheek. Carl had his nose wrinkled as if he'd smelt something bad while Lizzy was glaring at me, and the kid was just confused.

"Okay," said Carl slowly, "I didn't really need to know that. But I was talking about you two coming out with us. To the bar, that is."

The suggestion had me looking back at Cam, who only stared back questioningly.

However it was Lizzy who answered for us, starting it out with a rather loud snort, which was nothing if not disbelieving. "If you think they're actually going to leave her hotel room tonight, you've lost your mind, Carl."

Still I didn't look away from Cam, only raised an eyebrow in silent question. His response was a grin, a crooked one that somehow managed to be suggestive enough to have me smiling even as my heart gave a rather loud thud in my chest. It was a miracle it didn't just crack right through my ribs. That shouldn't be allowed, should it? One look and I knew exactly what was running through his mind, and it still had me biting down on my bottom lip like we'd only just met.

"But they're going home tomorrow," argued Carl, "They can stay locked up whenever they want. They're only here with us for one more night."

"Do you think they care?"

As it happened, we really didn't. Only minutes after tugging a crestfallen Donovan away from Cam - with the promise that we'd go for breakfast with them tomorrow - we were heading out to the back of the stadium. We got lost more than a few times, but that may have had more to do with the fact we were paying more attention to one another and took some strategic turns down dark hallways. It was all about quick desperate fumbles and grope in shadowed corners while laughing against one another's lips, although it really only did to frustrate.

We finally got out the back doors, dodging through a crowd of flashing cameras and screams into a yellow cab that had been called for us. After waging through it, we collapsed into the car in hilarity as the driver sped away. I was conscious of the fact that we'd never sacrificed skin on skin contact through that, my hand gripped quite tightly in Cam's.

The elation was working its way through us.

We could have been anywhere in the world, it didn't matter that it was New York. It would have been the same for us anywhere. Always had been, really, we could be in a small desert town or lost in the hills of Scotland or in the heart of London. It really always just came back down to the two of us.

So we stumbled through the hotel lobby, still hand and hand. But in the elevator ride up to my floor, the elation had turned into firm reality that in turn had transferred into something more akin to an uncaring recklessness.

Thankfully the lift was empty.

By the times the doors slotted back open with a cheerful ding, my hair was tangled in his hand and I already had his belt undone along with the button of his jeans.

We staggered out the doors with our mouths still fastened together, which lead to us fumbling blindly down the hallway. We would surely be waking up others in their rooms. That didn't seem to mind to us very much, though.

"Which room is yours?"

The question was mumbled against my neck, and I gave a gasp as his teeth nipped at base of my neck even Cam's back smashed against the wall. "Sixteen hundred and twelve," I managed.

And then he was backing me against the opposing wall. His hands were already slipping their way between us to deftly yank down the zipper of my jeans, even as his mouth reconnected with mine. Those teeth I'd thought about were coming into play. Just as suddenly his lips were only brushing against mine as he spoke. "I don't think we're making it to the room."

It was quite the fair observation, even if I could see the door right over his shoulder. Still I laughed incredulously against his lips, "I'm not fucking you in a hallway." The words were said quite surely, but their potency was deciding lacking considering I had my back pressed a wall while his hands slipped inside my jeans. The only way I held onto some modesty was by biting his shoulder to stifle the moan, my teeth sinking into the leather.

"You used to be so fun, darling," said Cam. His lips were pressed against my hair with his voice low, but I could hear the smile in there. I could just imagine that it was twisted roguishly. "What happened?"

"I'm too old for this shit." It became far much easier to try and garner some control when I tangled my fingers in his hair, yanking his head slightly to the side, making him take a sharp breath. That was ruined when he ran his teeth up the length of my neck, and my voice gave a dangerous wobble. "There are too many photos of us out there already."

Whatever my mouth was saying, it seemed my hands had a whole other ideas as they yanked down the zipper of his leather jacket.

It was just by a spare glance that I saw it, intending to get my hands under his shirt with ease once his jacket was out of the way. As it happened I'd just pressed my lips back against his when the shirt he was wearing connected in my mind, and then I was laughing against his mouth. Any of his previous arrogance disappeared then.

"You're such a fucking dork," I teased. To dig my words in further, I ran my hand playfully from the open zipper of his trousers and upwards, making sure my fingers caught under the hem of his shirt and then finally running it along his torso. Once it was there, I made sure to trace the letters that spelt out Red Riot across his chest. He gulped when my teeth caught his bottom lip between them, even as I smiled up at him impishly.

And the surge of smugness that came was ridiculous when I dipped my free hand into his pants and he groaned, eyes squeezing shut. The power plays between us were getting out of hand.

It was enough to have him shoving me back against the wall with a whole new wave of urgency.

Before he could make any further move, I was slipping out of his grasp and leaving him to stumble against the wall in my absence. Even as I was darting around him to grasp at the doorway, I was thankful for the fact I'd tucked the room key in the back pocket of my jeans.

However I hadn't ran the card through the slot before he was up against my back.

There were hands on either side of me, trapping me there this time in a way that had my heart leaping into my throat to tattoo a pulse there. Then he was pressing up against me, and my cheek was pressed against the cool white door and I could only moan, "Jesus."

"This probably isn't the time to find religion," whispered Cam, his lips brushing against my ear.

That was just too much, and it had me breaking down in a fit of giggling. In response he just retracted one arm that had been caging me in, and used it to pull my hair to the side and out of the way so he could press kisses down my neck lightly. It gave me the time to fumble my way through the mechanics of the key.

When the door swung open, the two of us were almost sent sprawling forwards. I was saved by my grip on the door handle. Cam stumbled past me, but regained his footing hastily.

I couldn't even give myself long enough to consider hesitation, just slammed the door shut and spun around to meet Cam. With a closed door finally behind us and of the way of any prying eyes - especially children - I launched at him without a care. This time I did intend to climb right up him, wrapping my legs around his waist. I'd wanted to get lost with him the moment I'd seen him, but this was the first time it could become a reality.

However Cam had just turned around to face me, and unlike back at the stadium, he hadn't planted his feet in preparation for when my body slammed into his.

He staggered back a step. Instead of flinging his hands out behind him to find something to brace against, one went to wrap around my back while the other gripped my thigh. He shouldn't have worried that I was about to tumble into the abyss, because I was too tightly wrapped around him to go anywhere without him now.

And that turned out to be our downfall, quite literally. Cam hit the armchair only a couple steps back from the door and we tumbled over it, the chair coming along in our descent. I gave an unintentional squeal that ripped from my lips as we went over, my stomach jumping in my stomach.

We hit the ground in a confusion of limbs, but it was Cam who took the brunt of the fall, landing solidly beneath me and flat on his back. Then the armchair slammed into the ground with only a light thump, which I found more disturbing. Two identical pained groans were wrenched from us. I dropped off Cam, hitting the ground on my back far lighter than he had as I tried to pull in the breath that had been stolen from me.

Our legs were still tangled together, and my one hand was lying on his chest while I ran the other over my face. It was then that the preposterousness of the fall and the armchair that lay on its side beside us started to sink in.

All it took was one shared look and we dissolved into mutual laughter.

I was still squirming with hilarity when Cam took advantage of the fact we were now safely horizontal and he rolled over above me. He started to do the countless buttons of my flannel shirt, but soon impatience won through and it was decided that I could get another shirt when he tugged at the ends roughly, spraying buttons everywhere.

The snort of laughter I was about to give was swallowed when he pressed a kiss against the hollow in my throat. Any light heartedness was left forgotten as he trailed his lips all the way down my torso, making sure to add nipping teeth even as his hand lingered up on my throat.

That was until he blew a raspberry against my stomach, and I was off giggling again. His wicked grin that he sent up to me was only made it worse.

He crawled up then, maybe in attempt to stem the laughter that he'd caused and kissed me with his hands braced on either side of my head. My chest was still shaking in laughter and I could feel the smile that was pressed against my lips. It didn't matter that our lips were tugging and stroking - I could still feel it.

However that familiar urgency came back when he pressed his hips down against mine, and my legs fell open in a move that was practically habit. My fingers slipped underneath his Red Riot shirt, slipping around to dig my nails into his back even as I wrapped my legs around his waist in something like an invitation. The groan that he let out against my lips was something that I was sure should be illegal - as all my favourite things were.

It all paused, though, when a vibration started against my inner thigh.

My eyes flew open to peer questioningly at Cam, an action that he mimicked. Our lips froze but we didn't pull apart.

"I know you're happy to see me, I can feel as much," I began surely, my lips forming the words against his. "But if you've started vibrating since we've been apart, I think we might have some things to talk about, and a doctor's appointment to book." In addition to the words, I arched a single eyebrow up at him, making sure to drive the point home.

Cam just rolled my eyes and said, "You think you're clever, don't you?"

I just offered him a brilliant smile, and retorted, "Oh, always."

He pulled away fractionally in order to slip a hand between us, though he never bothered to pull his hips away. As he dug into his pocket for his phone, I gave a theatrically impatient groan and dropped my head back against the carpet. I wasn't about to admit that I was trying to stop myself from trembling at just his hands between when there was two fucking layers of denim that stemmed any real contact.

When he got the phone free, Cam sat up straighter, frowning down at the screen. After a moment he tossed it carelessly up by my head. Without a word about who it was calling, he began to lean back down to carry on as if nothing happened.

That wasn't enough for me.

Using my legs around his waist as leverage, I pressed a hand against his chest to shove him over onto his back. The grin that bloomed on his mouth told me he thought something very different was about to happen. I was okay with allowing him to think that as I straddled his hips, letting him run his hands up my sides beneath my ripped flannel, the guitar callouses scraping their way up.

Yet all pretences were tossed aside when I snatched up the cell phone from the ground. Cam only managed a mumbled, "Oh god," before I was pressing the answer button, not bothering to glance at the caller ID.

"Hello?" I questioned.

Cam went to surge up, without a doubt trying to grab the phone from my grasp, but I calmly planted a hand on his chest to keep him flat on the ground.

"Jude!" cheered the voice on the end of the line.

My eyebrows shot up as I looked down at my boyfriend who appeared rather defeated on the floor beneath me. "Hey Harry, what's up?" I questioned, wondering why on earth we were supposed to ignore one of Cam's best friends.

The thought crossed my mind right before Cam was digging his fingers into my thighs, the grasp more than bruising and it was quite the reminder. I supposed the fact that we were just about to have sex for the first time in weeks was probably a good enough reason. But we'd already been interrupted by my friend when he'd first shown up, so I figured it was only fair that we got a disruption from his side.

Pulling the phone away from my ear, I considered hanging up but thought that might be rude considering I liked Harry, so I just put the phone onto speaker. Cam's peered up at me questioningly as I tossed the phone in the same manner he had before, letting it land right beside his head.

Harry's voice was soon exploding from the thing beside his head. "Cam still hasn't asked you to marry him, has he?"

That ripped a loud laugh out of me, which had half to do with Harry's words and the rest to do with the baleful glance that Cam sent the phone beside his head. "No, he hasn't," I answered the question. Cam's fingers twitched before he began to pull away, and I could only imagine that he was itching to hang up, not bothered with any politeness.

So I made sure to roll my hips against his, and that was enough to have his hands gripping at me again.

At the same time Harry gave a loud laugh through the phone. "So there's still a chance! Good to know, good to know, I'll make sure to steal you away from him once I get the time."

I chuckled at that, replying, "I look forward to it, dear."

That once again distracted Cam, and I was sure if what was going through his mind could become reality, the phone would have burst into flame. As it was, I leaned down to distract him again. All it took was capturing his ear lightly between my teeth and his head was slamming back into the carpeted ground.

"You're on the radio, by the way," said Harry, "So no swearing, alright?"

I pulled away a fraction to smile mischievously down at Cam who had his eyes narrowed on me suspiciously. "Perfect," I murmured before leaning closer to him and getting back to work.

Within seconds, his hands were pushing their way up my back as I nipped at his neck in just the right spot, making sure to run my tongue along it after to soothe the bite. He was biting down on his lip with closed eyes, obviously trying to keep the groan that wanted to break free inside him.

And though I quite liked him in the Red Riot tee, it was time for it to go. So with only a little manoeuvring that we had his leather jacket pushed off and abandoned as I pushed his shirt up.

During that, Harry asked, "Is Cam there with you, then?"

My grin was nothing short of wicked as I peered up at him, pressing a feathery kiss right above his pants as I nudged up his shirt. His pupils were dilated as he started down at me intently, and when I ran my tongue lightly along his hip bone, I was delighted at the way his muscle trembled. "He's right here," I answered before sinking my teeth into the pale skin.

Cam dropped his head back down, squeezing his eyes shut. His voice was strangled as he said, "Tell me you're going to fucking hang up already."

"Oi, language," complained Harry. There was a definite lack of bite to his voice, though. He knew it was a losing battle. We'd attempted to not swear for him but had never succeeded. It was too much of an integral part of our vocabulary now. That was something that the defeated tone in Harry explained. He wanted us on his show so badly that he called us when we were all over the world, and we agreeably brought some creditability to that little show that had been picked up to be broadcasted everywhere. So he'd just have to deal with the swearing.

And with that thought in mind, I spoke up with my voice slightly muffled from having my lips against Cam's skin. "Stop being such a cunt, Harry."

That just got a drawn out sigh from Harry, which sadly distracted him from the groan that Cam tried to stifle behind gritted teeth as I dragged my teeth along the top of his pants teasingly. "We can't cut that, can we? Yeah, I didn't think so," mumbled Harry to someone in his studio back in London.

We weren't that concerned with him, though, because Cam was dragging his fingers through my hair and holding it behind my head.

"Hey, Cam?"

This time Cam didn't bother to stifle the groan, but it came mostly from annoyance than desire - even if that was more than obvious by now. "For fucks sake, what the bleeding hell do you want?"

"Jesus, calm down," said Harry, a little taken aback by the aggression in Cam's voice. "I just wanted to tell you Logan showed up at my place this morning."

That had Cam's hands freezing where they were knotted in my hair.

I jolted up at the words, and cursed under my breath at the tug that came with the movement when I glanced up cautiously to Cam. Everyone knew that the Harrison brothers didn't talk to each other, so everyone beside journalists - and me - made sure not to even mention the other. Even their mother had become reluctant in bringing the situation up. Their close friends were more than hip to this, because they knew the outbreak that could come of that, and it was usually a violent one. Harry should know that by now. He might not care, though, considering there was an ocean separating them.

However I was surprised by the way Cam heaved a great sigh, slumping back into the ground. "What did the twat want?" The words were more than expected, yet I frowned at that almost careless tone. It was like this was nothing new, but it was.

"He gave me the spare keys to your place," Harry said with a trace of bewilderment. "He said something about feeding David?"

This time both Cam and I jolted in unison.

"Why does he have keys to our apartment?" I asked incredulously, sitting straight up as the implications drove home to me. "And he was supposed to feed David?"

"Who's David?" questioned Harry in pure confusion now.

In unison, we said, "Bowie."

"David Bowie is in your flat?"

"Yes, Jesus Harry, keep up," said Cam impatiently. He'd sat up beneath me, and I gave a dangerous wobble where I might have fallen backwards in kind. I was saved by putting my hands on the back of his neck while I quickly fit my thighs snuggly around him, and Cam made sure to put a hand to the small of my back to keep me in place. Our faces were almost pressed together, but where I was staring at him for some sort of answer, Cam was peering down at the phone suspiciously as if it might bite. "He asked you to feed David? You can't even keep a goldfish alive."

Harry seemed at a loss for words for a moment, and when he spoke, it sounded as if he thought that we'd all lost the plot. "First off, David Bowie is at your place. And for some reason I have to feed him?"

"Of course you do," I snapped, irritated, "He can't feed himself."

"Okay, what the hell?"

"Don't swear, Harry," said Cam and I together. It was something that was said without a thought, too much of a habit by now. The words had started out as a joke and were simply full on hypocrisy now.

This time he ignored us for asking, "Why do I have to feed David Bowie?"

"He's a fucking cat," Cam said, "How's he supposed to get his own food?"

There was a severely long pause at that. Harry appeared to be gathering himself after receiving that information. However I was still staring imploringly at my boyfriend, looking for some sort of answer. A reluctant hope was burning in the pit of my stomach, but I refuse to acknowledge it in case he was about to squash it. And I was sure Cam was making sure to not meet my eyes, still staring down at the phone.

It was Harry who had to break the silence, and it was with an almost tentative voice. "You guys named your cat David Bowie?" The question finished off with laughter. "Oh my god, you two are such nerds. Holy crap."

Cam had more pressing matters on hand, it would seem. "Did Logan say where he was going?" he asked apprehensively.

"Why do you suddenly care?"

My incredulous question was ignored.

Harry answered Cam instead of giving me any clue. "He didn't say where he was going, but he did ask where you'd gone because apparently you refused to tell him."

"That complete cunt," groaned Cam, running a hand over his face. "You didn't tell him, did you?"

This time I wasn't going to let myself be ignored.

Waving a hand at the phone as if Harry was actually sitting beside us, I told him, "Shut the fuck up, Harry."

"Jeez," mumbled Harry, "And you want me to feed your cat?"

However this time it was him that was ignored. I gripped Cam's chin with enough force to leave fingertip shaped bruises and wrenched it up so he was looking me in the eyes. He'd never once succeeded in lying to me when we were face to face, not that he even attempted most of the time. If there was one thing we'd always been it was honest to each other, even if we lied to everyone else.

"Will you just tell me what the fuck is going on?" I asked, a tinge of wonderment in my voice as my eyes scanned his face. "Logan has keys to our flat, he's feeding our cat and he wants to know where you are? What's gone on since I've been gone?"

Cam tried to just shrug.

I was not having that shit, though, and punched him with my free hand in the shoulder. "Don't give me that shit," I warned, "I can see straight through you. You and Logan haven't spoken in three years. I should know, I've been playing the fucking owl between you."

"It's not that big of a deal," he muttered.

That only succeeded in me punching again. "It is. I've had to deal with both of your guys' bullshit, and now you're suddenly talking? And no one told me?" I was getting almost hysterically incredulous at this point. There was not a soul that could blame me after the pain of the last three years, trying to hold together two relationships, not to mention repair another that was filled with jealousy and blame and resentment that had been building for thirty years.

He must have realized there was no getting out of this, so Cam gave a deep sigh and pressed his chin into my hand. "Angie kicked him out alright?" he said reluctantly, sending a surreptitious glance in the direction of the phone. "They're getting a divorce, put the paperwork through and everything."

"What?" The simple question was asked somewhere between horror, expectation and disbelief. "Why?"

Cam's eyes hardened at the thought put behind my questions. It was the look I never liked to be faced with, all narrowed eyed and raging eyes. And that dark tone that he spoke would have let anyone know just what he felt even if he bothered to lie. "It's not exactly a surprise, is it? We all knew that it wasn't going to last - she's a bitch."

This time I didn't hesitate when I punched him, and it was harder than ever before. Enough to have him groaning as he tried to flinch out of the way of my fist before it connected with his arm. "That's your sister-in-law, you can't say that shit, you asshole!"

"They're getting a divorce!" he exclaimed hotly as if that made everything okay. "I can say whatever the fuck I want. You call her 'the cunt' on a daily bases. I was just the only one that told him the truth!"

This was an old fight, but it was one that I never failed to take the bait for. "You can't tell your brother that his fiancée is a gold-digging bitch."

"I said that he shouldn't marry her and I was right!"

I rolled my eyes, curling my hand in the fabric of his shirt. It always came down to him being right, and he could never understand that there was a difference between being right and doing the right thing. I'd tried to explain to him it over the years, whenever I brought up the fact he should talk to his brother because I knew they missed each other he refused to acknowledge my points. He wouldn't talk to his brother because Logan wouldn't talk to him, and Logan wouldn't break the silence because Cam wasn't speaking to him.

It was all very juvenile, but I'd made my own bed. It always seemed caught in no-man's land.

"You should have just let him make his own mistake," I said wearily.

That had Cam's eyes flashing dangerously in my direction - I was far too used to that dark look even if I didn't particularly want it focused on me. "Yeah, and let him ruin his life?" he snarled. "He wasted years of his life with her just for her to get half of everything and he broke up the band, but I wasn't supposed to say anything."

All I could do was run my hands over my face, pressing my palms over my eyes. He was just never going to get it. Until his dying day, Cam Harrison was going to insist he was right, no matter how I tried to reason with him that it didn't really even matter. "It was you that broke up the band! You told him you would never talk to him again if he married her, and that only made sure that went through with it."

This time I was fixed with that dark look, but it was reproachful at the same time. "So you're still siding with him?"

"I'm not siding with anybody!" I exclaimed resignedly - it was a sentiment that I'd shared a billion times by now, I was sure. To drive the point home, I pressed my palms against his cheeks, bringing our faces close enough that our noses brushed. "I love you, but you can't micromanage your brother's life. He gets to make his own mistakes sometimes."

"We're not his fucking parents, Jude!"

"Exactly! Why can't you understand that?"

Cam huffed at my words, and I knew he didn't agree but he didn't outright argue at the same time. Our faces were sure to turn blue arguing our points one of these days. I could have sworn that half our lives together were spent fighting over this, and I did the same with his brother. Even though he refused to meet my eyes, he leaned into the pressure when I dropped my hands to cup his neck, running the pad of my thumb along the stubble that was carless along his jaw line.

"So why'd Angie kick him out?" I asked quietly, making sure to keep up the soothing motion.

That didn't stop him from narrowing his eyes in my direction. "You mean, why'd the cunt kick him out?"

I didn't even hesitate when I slapped my hand lightly against his cheek, not even hard enough to make a red splotch on him but the sound still echoed between us. "Don't be fucking rude," I said firmly.

He clenched his jaw at that, but relented. "It was you."

"Me?"

This time his expression was nothing short of wearily unsurprised. "Oh, c'mon darling, it's always you." I was about to argue that point, but didn't have the chance to get the words out before Cam was continuing on with the story. "Remember how you had him out all night before you left for the tour?"

"I didn't have him out all night," I argued, insulted by the wording. "I'm not his fucking mother, it's not like I forced him to stay with me at that party. He wanted to be there. I was spending the next night with you so it was our last chance to hang before I left."

His head tipped to the side, making a little disbelieving sound in the back of his throat. However he kept those thoughts to himself, which was a wise decision on his part, and just kept to the facts. "Well, whatever it was, it was the end for her. They spent the next day fighting, and he walked out."

"And came to see you," I murmured, putting the pieces together and finishing the story for him. It wasn't like it was hard to do. "He decided that the best way to save his marriage was to go hang out with his brother. The one that said he'd never speak to him again if he married her. That seems like something Logan would do."

My words didn't bring out any argument from Cam for once, only a scoffing sound that was nothing short of agreement. "He went back the next day and she'd packed all his shit and told him to never come back."

"There's more going on than you're telling me," I said slowly. My eyes searched his face to find that reluctance written all over him, and I was smart enough to know he wouldn't tell me. It didn't matter that he and his brother had just started talking again, they were speaking and the loyalty ran deeper than anything else I'd ever seen before. He wouldn't tell me now. I'd just have to find out straight from Logan, and he never lied to me either. I'd just have to wait to find out the whole truth of the story. So I gave a sigh and asked, "Did he deserve it?"

"It's Logan," Cam said pointedly, "Of course he deserved it."

A long pause met his words with us just staring at one another.

However it wasn't us that broke the silence, instead a person that we'd forgotten was involved at all. Harry began slowly, "Okay you guys just wrote the tabloids for two months. I can't cut that out - this isn't a prerecord."

Cam gave a dramatic groan and dropped flat back onto the ground beneath me, and I could only raise an eyebrow at the theatrics. "I don't think it's going to matter, anyways."

"You couldn't have stopped us?" I asked a bit snippily.

"No," said Harry as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. And maybe it was. "One question, though, if Logan's been staying with you, where's he sleeping?"

I rolled my eyes at the question. Harry might have just moved down to London to start this radio show, but he'd been at our flat often enough to know the answer to that. "We do have a spare room, you know. It's just the cat's room right now."

"Well..." Cam began slowly, and I could hear the reluctance in his voice.

My brow furrowed as I looked down at him, letting my hands rest on his stomach casually. "What?" I questioned. He had his eyes squeezed shut, and the tips of his ears were turning red.

"It's David's room," he said grudgingly. I felt my eyes widen as if on their own accord as he finally opened his unwillingly. "Logan's kind of clingy right now and we've shared beds our whole lives and he's been lonely..."

This time my mouth dropped open. "Tell me he's not been sleeping in our bed."

Cam was full on defensive when he pointed out, "You both sleep on the same side of the bed, anyways."

Harry's maniacal laughter rang throughout the room. I just stared down at Cam, caught in my incredulity. They hadn't spoken for three years. The last time they'd played together, they'd covered Glasgow Coma Scale Blues. Those weren't exactly the most loving of lyrics. I'd been gone for just over three weeks. And now Logan not only living in my apartment with my boyfriend but was sleeping on my side of the bed.

It was rather a ridiculous situation, and had been from the moment that they'd stopped speaking in the first place. All I could do was cover my face with my hands as I broke down in laugher, the sound shaking its way out of my chest.

When Cam spoke, there was a definite sharp edge to his voice, taking insult to the amusement at his expense. "So did you ever end up telling him where I was?"

"I don't think it was exactly a secret." It was amazing that Harry managed that dry tone considering his voice was still shaking with laughter. "Jude's tour is ending and you take off on a plane? It's an unsolvable secret, my lad."

"Oh fuck off," Cam snapped.

That only had him chuckling again. "He knew you were in New York, he just wanted to know where you guys were staying."

My stifled giggles cut off immediately at that information. I dropped my hands back down to ground myself with them fisting around the hem of Cam's shirt. He only stared at me with a horrified expression.

"Did you tell him?" The horror in Cam's voice and the dark arch of his eyebrows, but it somehow felt like a real worry in the moment. The idea that Cam was here was so outlandish that I'd barely believed it, how could we even think that his brother knowing which hotel I was staying at meant anything? Yet here we were.

Harry only gave a snort, replying, "How was I supposed to know?"

Both Cam and I gave identical sighs of relief, although I was sure it was for different reasons. Where Cam was probably just reassured that he'd get a night away from his older brother, I was caught somewhere between thankful and disappointed that I wouldn't have to play peacemaker between them. I'd fitted so easily into that role for them. We'd been bickering for so long about his relationship with his brother, the relief felt like an automatic reaction, a hangover from years of arguments.

All of that was ruined when Harry continued, "I told him to call Mandy if he was so desperate."

It was me that quickly asked, "Did he call her?"

"How am I supposed to know?" he repeated.

I glanced back down at Cam who had his head dropped back in the carpet resignedly, his hand placed carelessly on my thigh while the other one dangled from the finger he had hooked in my belt loop. And though I had no wishes to be a referee, I couldn't stop the hope that was burning away in my stomach. I hadn't allowed myself to even think that Cam and Logan might be speaking again; I couldn't get ahead of myself.

With a shake of my head, I told myself the idea Logan flying out to New York was far past absurd. And it was -

The thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.

Both Cam and I froze, wide eyes glued on each other.

Then there was a series of knocks, getting consistently impatient.

Cam's face had tightened into something between horror and pinched disappointment, tightening the edges of his mouth and widening his eyes all at once. I wasn't so complicated. My face simply melted until I was beaming.

"No," I murmured. The disbelieving word was overpowered by the sheer excitement.

I shoved up from Cam, practically stumbling over my own feet in my hurry to get over to the door of the hotel room. The last thing I noticed from my boyfriend was his hand darting over to disconnect the phone call without even bothering to say a goodbye, and at this point I couldn't even be cared to scold him for being rude to his friends. I was too busy flinging open the door and letting it slam back into the wall.

And there he was. Of course he was, because it was bizarre and completely unreasonable for him to be here for the night. So in his own way, it made perfect sense for Logan Harrison to be framed in the doorway of my hotel room.

It was the perfect Logan Harrison as well. He had a dark jacket flung over his shoulder, showing the white button up fully, and the wrinkles and stains were quite obvious where it was untucked and sleeves rolled up to his elbows. It was the grey jeans with the holes in the knees and knackered converse that completely the look. He was the perfectly dishevelled Logan, all the way up to the hair he worked very hard to send in every direction even though it liked to lie in the prettiest flat of ways.

So I gave a laugh at the sight of him, half disbelieving and the rest excitement, before flinging myself into the hug.

My arms wrapped around his neck and I did my best to try and squeeze the life out of him - in the nicest possible way, of course. That man didn't miss a trick, the jacket dropped to the ground and he was tightening his arms around my waist before lifting me off the ground altogether in the hug, and I laughed exhilaratedly as my legs swung through the air.

It didn't take me long to get over my shock this time, though. I'd been prepared. In fact, by the time he set me flat on my feet, my mind was already racing.

So I punched him the chest, quite similar to what I'd already done about a hundred times to Cam during our only hour together. "You guys are talking again and you didn't tell me?" I asked, the insult coming out as I punched him again. Just to get the point driven home, of course. "You call me all the fucking time, and you don't bloody tell me?"

"Fuck, hi to you too," said Logan, batting my hand away that went to hit him again.

"You are such a prick, Logan Harrison!"

That didn't faze him at all; in fact he didn't even blink at the accusation. "Tell me something new, Turner," he said with a roll of the eyes. "But before that you should probably try a new shirt."

What was wrong with my shirt? His words had me frowning before I glanced down to find the flannel had been ripped at the buttons, leaving it hanging open so I was standing there in my bra. It didn't matter that he'd seen me in various state of undress of the years, usually to do with him walking in at inopportune moments and inordinate amounts of drugs and alcohol; it still took me by surprise. And despite my personal ethos, I found a hint of red peppering my cheeks as I made sure to send him a glare as I gripped it together.

Logan smiled winningly at me, an expression closer to the sun than a beam. However the glare fell away when he slipped an arm around my shoulders, pressing a kiss to my hair. In fact I felt a smile curving my lips broadly and working its way to crinkling my eyes.

He kept his arm around me even when he pulled away, eyes surveying the room and showing no sign of surprise. He didn't pause over the explosion of clothes over the bed or the empty liquor bottle Carl and I had shared the night before on the wardrobe. There wasn't even a flicker when his eyes scanned over the fallen armchair to find his brother lying flat on his back across the ground. Destruction had always been familiar to Logan.

So he was quite calm when his eyes landed on his brother, who now happened to be covering her face with his hands. "Hey dickhead," he said easily.

Cam dropped his hands in order to glower up at his brother, though I figured it had little to do with the words that came so naturally from Logan but had fallen like cardboard from Carl's mouth. "I can't believe you fucking followed me here."

The bright smile Logan wore turned into something more shit-eating, and I had to resist the urge to roll my eyes.

"I didn't follow you anywhere," he answered breezily, "Came to see Jude." With the words, Logan gave me a sure squeeze around the shoulders that had my eyebrows rising. I wouldn't have found the gesture very goading if not for the fact he didn't so much as spare me a glance. "Couldn't have followed you, anyways - I just woke up and you were gone. Why would I have wanted to come after you?"

It was starting to sound slightly passive aggressive now, but I couldn't help but eye Cam exasperatedly where he seemed content to linger on the ground. "You didn't even tell him you were leaving?"

Cam sat up, his mouth hardened into a defensive line as he answered, "He would have followed me!"

"He followed you anyways!"

"Look at you two," said Logan with more than a little derision, "Bickering like an old married couple."

And I knew without a doubt that there was no way Cam wouldn't rise up to that bait, something that was proved when his eyes flashed dangerously in the dark hotel room. "Did better than you, didn't we?"

There was no stopping myself from rolling my eyes. It was always like this. No matter how much they really did love each other and miss one another when they were separated, they came back into it with sharp tongues and clenched fists. I was actually finding I was happy to have missed the reunion after three years, because no matter how hard I worked towards it, the stress and contempt of the moment would have given me fried nerves and anxiety. They always started with nastiness. Only time could tell if it blew up into a fight or pure affection where they hung off each other - there'd never been middle ground with them. If a person was involved in the moment, they just had to know where to draw the line.

And I found it right then when I turned my head towards Logan and caught a whiff of him, wrinkling my nose. "Jesus," I muttered pushing a hand against his chest to attempt to put some space between us. "When was the last time you showered?" It was a fair a fair question considering he smelt strongly of stale sweat combined with the piss like scent of stale cigarettes, not to mention I was sure I could have gotten drunk just off the fumes standing beside him.

That distracted Logan, but instead of letting me go, he angled towards me in order to wrap both arms around my torso. It effectively squashed me against his chest. "Oh, c'mon, love," he said jokingly with a squeeze, "I stayed like this just for you."

In response I just made a fake gagging sound against his chest. "Did you seriously get on a plane like this?" I questioned, voice muffled against the white shirt that added the smell of a sweet faded perfume. "I'm surprised you didn't choke them all out." I made sure to smack my hands against him, attempting to get him to loosen his hold.

He allowed that, but only enough that I could stretch my head back in order to peer up at him. I risked a glance to the side to find that Cam was still sitting on the ground, but his legs were crossed as he looked up at us and instead of that glare he was so good at wearing he had on a soft smile, the type that gently turned up the corners of his mouth. His eyes were even a little bit unfocused, those dark green ones that I loved so much, looking straight past us.

The distraction wasn't allowed for long, because soon enough Logan was speaking again from above me. "Hey, your boy only showered because he thought he was getting laid tonight." He was wearing a playful grin as he stared down at me; those eyes that were shaped exactly like his brother's but just shades paler were twinkling.

Cam gave a loud groan at that, flopping back across the floor.

Snorting out my laughter, I just tapped a hand against his chest - far lighter this time - before disentangling myself from the older brother, which was never an easy job. "Go into the bathroom and try to find some way to make yourself smell better," I advised as I dug my phone from my back pocket, "I'm going to go find another shirt."

I'd only gotten a few steps before I was pulled to a halt. At any other moment I would have burst out laughing at the way Cam had gripped my leg to keep me from moving, but right now it didn't seem that strange at all. Even with the fact he was sitting on the ground with his hands wrapped around my ankle. I only raised my eyebrows questioningly as I peered at him from beneath my phone, having forgotten long ago about holding my shirt together.

"Where are we going?" he asked, dark brows drawn together. I would have called him cute at that moment with his mess of hair and confused expression, but he would have cursed at me.

Not to mention I could imagine all those things he'd intended to happen while we were locked alone in the hotel room together. All the sudden I was starting to see why he'd been so intent on not spending a moment with anyone else if we were going home to having to kick his brother off my side of the bed. He'd already had his fill of company. I was surely going to have mine within a week of those two within the same loft.

Still there wasn't much to be done for it, so I just gave a one armed shrug. "Well, there's no way we're fucking with him here," I pointed out with a nod in Logan's direction, who in turned pulled a disgusted expression. "So we might as well go out with Carl after all."

I tugged myself away, only to spin back around even as I stepped backwards. There seemed to be no way of keeping my eyes off them, and I found myself smiling broadly at the sight. Cam and Logan were sharing a look. And I could only imagine that even with the years that had passed without a word that hadn't been said through me or the tabloids, they still could read each other's looks and faces faster than anyone else I'd ever met. I was starting to think there was some telepathy going on.

"Anyways," I continued, "The Harrisons and Jude Turner in New York? I think this city is owed a bit more damage, don't you?"

In no time at all, Logan had used some of my deodorant - I'd have suggested he shower, but I figured the clothes smelt as bad as he did, the mini-bar was emptied and I was wearing a new shirt. It was an old loose tank top, since I was avoiding buttons for the time being.

I slipped on an a tattered jean vest while Cam grudgingly shrugged on his leather one and Logan snagged up his blazer from where he'd forgotten it in the hall, though he only bothered to do up one button. And with that, we were on the road in the warm summer air. It didn't take long to get to the bar that Carl and a few others had set up shop at, just a five minute walk. Oddly enough it was a rather quiet walk considering just who we were. I could see fingers twitching towards pockets, an old sign of craving but neither dared to pull out a cigarette with me right beside them.

Carl had been delighted when I called him, and when we pushed through the door he gave a triumphant shout holding up a drink.

That sound cut off quite quickly when he realized I had not one, but two Harrisons with me. I was starting to wish that Lily had thought it worth it to nab a plane with one of them out here and then I could have the trifecta. The arms that Carl had thrown up in the air drooped down to his sides as the bewilderment creased the lines of his face.

"Hey, love," said Logan, pausing only to pat his cheek where his fist had connected years before, and then he was brushing past him.

I couldn't help but notice the smirk that Cam wore as he followed in his brother's tracks, only changing the expression to smile winningly at Carl. He followed his brother up to the bar. And my eyes trailed after them, watching how Cam threw his arms out to grip his older brother's shoulders when they reached the bar, giving him a shake. With their backs turned to me, I couldn't decipher if it was an aggressive action or an affectionate one - it really could be either with them.

It didn't take me long to decide it really didn't matter, letting a sigh blow out from between my lips. If I was going to be scrutinizing their every move I was going to be exhausted, and I would have no time to drink and alcohol was going to be greatly needed to survive the night. I had to remind myself that they'd managed three weeks living together, and though they'd probably fought countless times during that, they were still alive. Maybe I had to take my own advice and stop trying to micromanage their relationship, even if I only came by it naturally by them throwing me into the middle.

And though I was sure I wasn't going to be able to follow through with that, I tore my eyes away from them and the chipped bar station to fix on my flabbergasted friend. He was still standing in the same place, shoulders slumped and eyes wide. In one hand he held a half drunk beer, but the other had a full drink in a glass.

"For me?" I asked over the music, Robert Palmer's Addicted To Love blasting loudly around the shouting and dancing people. They were enjoying it quite unironically, which was only fitting because it was an awesome song. Not waiting for an answer from him, I snagged the drink from his hand and brought up to my lips. Definitely for me, I decided with one sip, gin and tonic had long ago become my drink of choice.

Despite all those previous thoughts, I let my eyes dart over to the bar as I took a sip, seeing that the brothers still had their backs turned to me between the people that wandered into my eye line. There was no sign of what was going on but for the fact that their shoulders were pressed together, and by the tip of their heads towards one another I could only think they were talking.

"See, I thought you were only coming out because you and Cam had gotten in a fight," said Carl, successfully dragging my attention back to him. He was taking a swig of his beer as he watched me.

My brows drew together in affront and I took another large gulp of my drink, knowing that I was going to need about a hundred of these to survive the night. "We've only been together for like two hours."

That didn't impress my friend much, and he just asked, "So?"

"'The fuck's that supposed to mean?"

Carl gave a shrug, sparing a glance up where the Harrison brothers had pushed towards before turning his gaze back to me, and there was a little grin curving his mouth. "Come the fuck on, Turner, you two are always bickering. It's what you do. I mean, you always make up within the hour," he admitted, "Though it's not fun for the people that are around you when you guys make up."

His nose crinkled in distaste at the thought, but I was too busy thinking about his words to be bothered. "Bickering is kind of what our relationship is based on," I reasoned with another large sip, eyeing my friend over the glass. "It would be pretty fucking weird if we didn't do it, and, like you said, we always make up."

"We all know that."

The words had me snorting into the drink, and I let the straw escape from my teeth as I smirked teasingly at him. "Oh, dear, are you embarrassed? Sex is a natural thing, if you need the talk I'd be happy to oblige you."

There wasn't even a hesitation, and Carl was covering my mouth with his hand to get me to shut up. It at least did to muffle my laughter. "I'm going to ignore that," he informed me, "But I am going to remind you that I've been getting a whole lot more than you this tour."

I rolled my eyes, but kept quiet behind the hand that looked to be staying pressed against my mouth for the time being. What could I say to that? He was right. While he'd been out getting laid every other night with random people we'd met out at the bars or at the gigs, I might not get to bed until about five in the morning - not that much had changed - but I was always alone.

And I did not miss that one bit. Not the walk of shame in the mornings or kicking some clingy guy out of my bed or the constant prowl to find a distraction or desperate need for attention. I wasn't about to say that to him, though, because Carl was enjoying the single life after another failed marriage - yet another girl he'd swore was the love of his life. Turns out that love of his life had only lasted five months, meaning I'd won that bet over how long the marriage would last. Lizzy and Brandon had paid up handsomely, paying my drink tab for two nights.

That only did to remind me that I would need to tell Cam when we were alone that he owed me a hundred pounds. I'd come the closest in the bet for how long Logan's marriage would last - Cam was being hopeful when he'd said two weeks.

All these people getting married and there was only Lizzy and Brandon left standing, not that I would have been that surprised. Well, I supposed that Cam and I were still around; I knew my friends had taken bets on how long we'd last - along with one about who would commit murder first. We'd never gotten married, though, so I didn't believe we counted.

Figuring it was safe since I'd stayed silent for a record minute, Carl dropped his hand. "Yeah, I thought you guys were only coming out because you got in a fight," he reiterated, bringing the beer back up to his mouth. "I really didn't expect to see Logan walking through the door; I thought they refused to be seen together anymore."

"Things change," I said unhelpfully.

"And what changed?"

I only stared back blankly at my friend, knowing I was being specifically uncooperative. There wasn't much else I could do, even if I had been in the mood to share. It wasn't like I actually understood what had gone on between Logan and Angie, not to mention Cam and Logan. I'd probably need years to catch up with the three weeks' worth of events that had happened in my absence.

So I just took a slow drink, holding Carl's gaze over the drink as I let a smile curve its way around the straw caught between my lips. "They've always come in a pair," I told him with a shrug.

"Yeah, you and Cam or you and Logan," retorted Carl with a roll of the eyes.

That had me frowning again, the drink in my hand drooping at the words that were a bit too spot on for comfort. "That's only been for the past couple years," I argued, "Before they were always together."

"And always fighting."

That wasn't an observation I could really fault him for, because it wasn't that far off the truth. They'd always been rearing for a fight, and if it wasn't with each other than they were forever joining forces against someone else. I'd been opposed to both Harrison brothers ganging up on me before, and it wasn't an experience I had any intention of repeating. However it had gotten worse in the latter years, and no matter how much they'd loved each other, the powder keg was bound to explode sometime considering how early they'd lit the fuse. All that resentment and bitterness had finally overcome loyalty the night Logan announced he'd asked Angie to marry him. The night had ended with Logan's front tooth being chipped against Cam's fist in the middle of the stage after they finished Glasgow Coma Scale Blues.

My search for a response was rendered pretty much moot, because an arm slipped around my shoulders before I could say a word.

"Always fighting?" the voice at my side questioned, "We must be talking about the Harrisons."

"Okay, really?" I asked, snapping my chin over to look at the redhead somewhat reproachfully. "They're not that bad."

Her green eyes only twinkled in response before she gave a shrug, if there was anyone that had dealt with their fair share of fighting it would have been her. It went to show just how far we could take it when even she was shocked by a raucous visit to the city from us about six years before. It wasn't my fault they'd gotten old and boring.

"They're not that bad," she agreed, "But the three of you together are."

"Oh, c'mon," I complained with a long suffering sigh. At that I drained what was left in the bottom of my drink, the ice clinking around against the glass.

However she only gave a delighted laugh, pulling me slightly into her side even though she stood inches short than I. "I didn't mean it's a bad thing," she promised. "But seriously, Turner, I used to think you were a whirlwind on your own, the three of you are like forces of nature."

That really didn't comfort me all that much. I made sure to show it with an unhelpful glower in her direction, and added sarcastically, "Gee, you're such a comfort to me."

"That was the plan." She was one of the few people on the planet that could match me in sarcasm, almost all of them happened to be in the bar tonight - although Morrissey and Noel Gallagher were on the list as well. The thought was cut off by her musing my hair carelessly with one hand as if I was a child. My glare should have cut her off at the knees, but she only smiled brightly in response. "I was wondering if the rumours were true about them hanging out again."

I forgot all about the nasty words I was about to snap her way for the hair toss in the face of that, and my eyes narrowed suspiciously on her face. "How did you know about that?" I asked. "I didn't know, and they both pester me with phone calls every day."

"Don't you pay attention to the press at all?" she asked incredulously.

At that I could only shake my head, because I really didn't. So quite honestly, I admitted, "Well, no, the only press I read on the road is about myself."

That was enough to have her big pretty eyes rolling towards the ceiling. It might have come off as arrogant, but I hadn't meant it to be so. It was just the truth. The only press I paid attention to when on tour were the magazines that my band or Mandy tossed at my face. It's not like I enjoyed reading the tabloids in the first place anyways.

"You'd think you'd read the things about your boyfriend and your best friend," she pointed out. I only gave a shrug which earned yet another eye roll. "Well, they're the only thing interesting lately it seems because they're on all the front pages. Harrison brothers make up in face of falling apart marriage," she said dramatically, and I only hoped she was reciting a headline from somewhere.

"Really?" I asked interestedly. "We were out with Cash two nights ago and he didn't say a fucking thing, that absolute knob! None one across the whole bloody country said anything."

She just gave a shrug of her own at my words, answering simply, "They probably thought your Harrisons would have said something to you."

That earned her yet another glare as I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to pry myself away from the way she had me pulled against her. "Yeah, well, they're assholes is what they are," I muttered.

My old friend only smiled endearingly at me, almost as if she was pleased as punch by my reaction. So when she pressed a light hearted kiss to my cheek I made sure to groan loudly as if she was putting me through physical pain. It was just enough to have her chuckling as she finally dropped her arm. "I like it, though, even if you three are devastating together, you're devastating in the good way," she informed me. "I mean, Jude Turner and the Harrisons. It only makes sense when the three of you are together."

Her words combined with being let free allowed my eyes to drift in the direction I'd been trying to avoid. In glimpses caught between dancing bodies and people flitting past the bar, I caught sight of those brothers in question. Cam had managed to scoop out a bar stool while Logan simply stood beside him. The older brother was leaning, hands moving as he spoke and Cam was just laughing. It was so simple, but I felt this sudden warmth in the pit of my stomach. The two of them were all beaming and it had been so long since I'd seen them so happy. As I watched, Cam picked up his beer and arched his brows as he spoke over the pint glass, whatever he said had Logan bursting with a laugh as he smacked his hands on the bar.

"Dickheads," I muttered, but it was said with more affection than should have been allowed. "I'll see you two..." Trailing off in mid sentence, I didn't even bother to finish before I was wandering away from them to slip across the dance floor. Even Carl and one of the most charismatic people in the universe couldn't hold my attention when they were in competition with them.

For the first year, hell even the second, I'd kept thinking that they'd just start speaking again. I'd thought it would be that easy. That one day I'd stroll back into the flat and find them stretched out and laughing even as they bickered, just like they used to. A part of me was even wishful for the days when I used to get back there and instead of my boyfriend I'd find a note telling me that he and Logan were out. I definitely wished for the days when I'd find them drinking straight from the same bottle as they wrote music together, caught in fits of hilarity and bouts of arguing.

So by the time the third year rolled around, that hope had diminished until it was just flickering embers. Years of that constant balancing act to keep their relationship off the self-destruct button, then Angie had to swan in and everything went to shambles. I should have been happy that it wasn't me that had destroyed their relationship after all, but it didn't do much to comfort. They weren't themselves without each other. It hurt like a physical wound with the years of silent treatment, because there was always something missing even if I tried my very best to keep it filled for both of them. They could have survived without the band - the last year of that band had been an absolute misery for both of them - but they still needed one another.

Even though I persisted with the constant arguments with them about the other, I'd allowed myself to accept that they were done. I'd even told myself it was a long time coming - which it was. That resentment and bitterness had been building since they were children.

And now they were sitting together at the bar, laughing with each other like it all had never happened.

That warm sensation didn't leave, in fact it only burned hotter when I got up to the bar and dropped my glass on the counter so I could sling my arms around Cam's shoulders. "What's so funny?" I asked, pressing a subtle kiss to the back of his neck, the soft tendrils of hair brushing against my nose, before I dropped my chin onto his shoulder and shared a glance between the brothers.

"Nothing," Cam said quickly. It wasn't hard to see through the word. It also didn't hurt that Logan was wearing that shit-eating grin and when the brothers' eyes met, Cam couldn't stop himself from snorting out a laugh.

Logan made the mistake of letting his eyes flick lazily over to mine, and it appeared as if he was trying to smooth his face into something more innocent when under my scrutiny. That turned out to be quite impossible for him. So he did the next best thing, and picked up his pint in order to bury his face promptly in it.

The whole interaction did nothing to annoy me, which was amazing seeing as they were obviously hiding something from me. Years ago I might have been knocking their heads together, but now I was just overwhelmingly grateful that they were together long enough to even attempt to lie to me so terribly. It was a ridiculous feeling. However I wasn't about to let that weakness show to them - they were like sharks.

So I made sure to roll my eyes, and pointed out, "You two aren't exactly discreet."

Whereas Cam made sure to take that moment to take a well timed drink from his own pint, Logan wasn't so skilled in restraint. That was a well known fact. I exploited it in order to get him to tell me things, while the paps used it for sensational stories - he was good at giving them those.

That meant it came as no surprise when he dropped his glass back on the bar, his handprint cutting through the condensation. "Says the girl who was giving me brother head on the BBC," snorted Logan.

That did surprise. But the gasp was more anger even as Cam gave a groan when his older brother gave up the game so quickly. And Cam didn't even bother to give a jolt when I smacked him on the back of the head; apparently he'd expected it. That was one thing I didn't miss, the constant over sharing. They'd always told each other everything even when I attempted to tell Cam that there were some things that Logan did not need to know.

"I did not," I corrected quickly, sending a quick glare at Cam in front of me. "What did you tell him?"

There was no response from my boyfriend, his head only drooping as he took another long drink from his beer. One might have thought the stance was an ashamed one. However I knew those Harrisons quite well by now, and ashamed was an emotion they'd both only felt a handful of times in their lives. With that thought in mind, I shoved my way between them, wanting to see Cam's expression.

I only got a quick glimpse of it and it was not suitable considering - his eyes were far too amused than they should have been, all crinkled warmth - before Logan yanked my attention back to him.

"I mean, how could you, Jude?" said Logan in faux horror. And though I could hear the insane amount of mockery in his voice, it didn't stop the cold glare I sent in his direction as I crossed my arms over my chest defensively. "It's a British institution you're disrespecting."

He'd always been good at getting me to jump for the bait, and I didn't disappoint now. With narrowed eyes, I snapped, "I'm American."

"You live in London now," he pointed out.

"Like I give a shit."

That only did to amuse him if the curve of his mouth was anything to go by, but he kept up with the disapproving tone. "Oh my, you are American, aren't you?"

"Oh, fuck off, Logan," I huffed, turning my accusing eyes towards my boyfriend.

However all that previous annoyance melted away when I met his gaze over top of the pint glass. It was the same one I'd caught him wearing back in the hotel room when he'd been looking up to Logan and I. A soft turn of the lips, and I suddenly recognized the expression, it was nostalgic. Even if I could put a name to it now, it didn't mean I understood it fully.

Confusion replaced the irritation, and I arched an eyebrow at him questioningly. "What?"

Only then did Cam catch himself, blinking before he turned his attention back to his pint. And instead of giving a real answer, he only shrugged then took a long drink. It was typical Harrison avoidance behaviour.

It was also something I was going to let him get away with, so I inched closed enough that my crossed arms brushed against his side. That had him glancing in my direction again. I returned the look with a narrowed eyed one of my own, starting to get suspicious now. "Seriously, though Cam, what?" At my question, I felt Logan behind me edging forwards and could only imagine him peering interestedly over my shoulder towards his brother.

He'd always enjoyed being right in the middle of any conflict between us, which was why I specifically did not spare him even the most fleeting of looks. Logan Harrison was nothing if not a shit disturber.

Faced with the two people he could never refuse, Cam heaved a deep sigh as he looked back down at his beer, eyes focused down on the last couple gulps. "I don't know," he began, noncommittally. That in itself had my eyebrows inching further upwards, because Cam never minced his words. He was always very careful with his words unless terribly angry or simply drunk.

So I prodded him forwards, groaning, "Cam."

That earned me a sharp glance before he took another deep gulp. "It's just nice to see you two together again," he said reluctantly. "It's been a long time since I got to see you guys be best friends."

Only then did it occur to me that they weren't the only ones that had something missing in the past years. It had been the truth that it only made sense when it was the three of us.

Finally I spared that glance over my shoulder after all. And though Logan's brows had been drawn together, my look had snapped him back to reality. So with his perfect timing, he pulled a disgusted face to take away any tension.

"I'm going to need another drink," I announced, slapping my hand down.

Logan finished off his own beer, dropping the glass beside my hand on the bar. "Or a couple dozen," he reiterated for me.

That had me laughing as I leaned my shoulder companionably against Cam's.

The night spiralled outwards from there.

Carl finally made his way over, finally braving both Harrison brothers who tended to threaten him with physical violence over the years. Although I'd only sworn I'd fight on Carl's side, I couldn't help but think he deserved it more than half the time. This time he came with reinforcements of the friends we'd made over the years, everyone from certified superstars to a fan I'd met on the street about ten years before and we always made sure to hang out with her now. There was also a cab driver from the city that I was still friends with.

It was only with the intervention of the others that I was finally able to take in the bar we'd been taken to. Definitely cooler than a karaoke bar, though not as much fun. It was fun enough, though. There were tons of people squished in between the booths, tables and dance floor. To be fair, we could have been sitting out on a park bench and I would have thought it was the time of my life at this point. I'd never thought I'd be here again. So between that elation, the fact there was a band covering famous rock songs - one of mine included - with alternative stuff playing on their breaks, dancing, friends and alcohol, my night was definitely made.

And as much as I would have loved to spend the night cooped up with Cam in my room, I had to admit this was a damn good alternative. I had countless nights alone with Cam, but reunions like this only came so often. And it was just a bonus that it was in this city. It definitely helped make up for the other memories here without the brothers, taking the bad taste away from my mouth that lingered from drug dens and tears.

There was enough laughter and storytelling to make up for it. Not to mention the constant trips up to the bar with the alcohol flowing was definitely helping with those matters.

Cam and Logan were magnetic, and I couldn't help smiling at them over my drinks. When they weren't coming close to violence, they'd always been incredible, and no one would dare take their eyes off them. They were on fire tonight, finishing each other's sentences and telling tales debauchery between the two of them and the three of us, joking about, grabbing at one another like they wanted to make sure that the other was for sure seated beside them after all the years.

Whatever Logan had excused his arrival as; there was no doubt in my mind that he'd followed his brother. Just as I had no doubt that while Cam had been frustrated at his timing, he was grateful his brother was there. I could see through the two of them. It was the way Logan would reach over and ruffle his hair or wrap his arms around his little brother mockingly, or how Cam flung an arm out blindly to hit him the shoulder in excitement. They might be able to fool other people, but I knew better.

When my trip to go get drinks came, I gripped Cam by back of his leather jacket to come with me, dragging him away from the table. "I'm not carrying all those fucking drinks by myself," I said by way of excuse.

It may have been only five drinks considering some of our group had escaped for a smoke, others had chanced the lines into the bathroom and the rest were on the dance floor. Still that didn't mean much. With a little alcohol in my bloodstream I was likely to topple over and land in a pile of glass, though thankfully there would be alcohol to cleanse the wounds even if led to screeching. It had happened before.

Cam simply chuckled at my words, trailing after me agreeably. We were cutting about the dance floor when he wrapped his arms around my waist, tugging my back flush against his chest. I gave a laugh before tugging my bottom lip between my teeth as his lips ran over my neck.

"We could go to the bathroom," he suggested, nose brushing gently against my earlobe.

That I only snorted at, elbowing him in the ribs blindly. "Remember the argument about not having sex in a hallway? Still stands with bathrooms."

Instead of jolting backwards, Cam laughed as he buried his face in my hair and, if anything, tugged us closer together. We might as well have been in some kind of crab race at this point with our four legs. Apparently he was quite unsurprised at my rebuttal. "We could try the alleyway."

"No alley," I told him with a shake of my head even as I laughed. "Don't worry, I already checked."

"Damn."

It was when we were up at the bar, ordering a round of drinks - we'd forgotten which round but that didn't bother either of us - that Carl came stumbling off the dance floor. His cheeks were red as he shoved his way between my boyfriend and I, tossing his arms around both Cam and I. Any hesitations had become distant history now.

He was still swaying along to house band covering Friday I'm In Love and made sure to press a theatrical kiss to my forehead, which had me crinkling my nose even as I laughed. "The Cure over The Smiths, definitely," he announced.

At any other time I would have piped up, because even if Lovesong was one of the most brilliant songs I'd ever heard, The Smiths had Morrissey and Johnny Marr. It just pushed them over brilliance, not to mention, had he ever heard The Queen Is Dead? That was edging towards the top of my best albums ever put to vinyl. And that list didn't include any of my music or The Bends', because I figured that would be cheating.

However before I could even open my mouth, my eyes were darting in Cam's direction, knowing instinctively just how he'd feel about that sort of statement. I wasn't let down. His mouth had dropped open and his eyebrows had dragged together to wrinkle as he stared at my band mate. The horror was written all across his face, down to the widening of his eyes as if he couldn't quite believed what had been said. And how dare it have even been said anywhere near him.

The expression had me breaking down in hysteric laughter, and that sound tracked the start to their bickering about bands. Well, that and The Doors' Break On Through. They didn't even notice me leaning across the bar to order the drinks for them, and I added in another Heineken for Carl since he was there.

Even though the argument was more than enjoyable to listen to, I leant against the bar, letting my eyes wander.

They traced over our friends across the dance floor, and it was only then that I realized that there were some more additions to the amount out there. That had my eyes narrowing through the dance floor, and I caught enough glimpses to see that Logan was sitting at our table alone. That wasn't very much like him at his very core. Logan was a sociable creature to be sure, but I had noticed the lags in conversation that came up with him when Cam and I had been dragged away from him. And now I could see the glint of the lights from the gold on his finger as he played quarters on his own at the table, his face lowered and shadowed in the shitty lighting.

Without noticing, my forehead had wrinkled as I stared across at him. And it only smoothed when I was distracted by the bartender pushing drinks at my elbow. Giving a jolt, I pulled some crinkled bills from my pocket and handed them to him, not bothering to take back any of the change.

With pursed lips, I glanced towards my boyfriend who was still mid-argument. I didn't mind that much, but there were only so many drinks I could carry on my own.

"Strangeways, Here We Come anyone?" Cam asked incredulously as I glanced in his direction, his hands running through his hair to show his bewilderment at even having to have this conversation. "C'mon, the first song is legendary. A Rush And A Push And The Lands Is Ours is fucking ace, you knob. And that's just any old song off the album!"

I was starting to believe that Carl was trying to wind up my boyfriend, if the curl on the side of his mouth was anything to go by. His response was quite simple, "Yeah, but Disintegration, though."

Cam started sputtering at that.

Now I could only roll my eyes. It didn't look as if this was going to end any time soon. So I shoved the drinks towards them and pressed a kiss to Cam's cheek, and whispered, "I'm going back to the table. There are drinks for you, don't forget them, darling. Oh and Pictures Of You is legendary too," I added, just to be a shit disturber.

Instantly Carl was backing up my point, and I just shook my head at the expression on Cam's face that was nothing short of appalled. The song was great, though. And I would have liked to see him get out of that one now that I'd given Carl the ammo he needed.

As it was, I was pushing together four drinks; a gin and tonic, a whiskey over ice, and two shots of Jägermeister. I was careful about where I put my drinks on the trek back.

Without issue, I plopped the drinks on the table in front of Logan, letting out a cheer for myself. Instantly I grabbed the quarter from between his fingers, squinted my eyes before bouncing the coin off the table before it landed perfectly in the short glass he'd been aiming for before.

"Props," Logan said simply, sparing me a short glance.

"Red Riot did enough college circuits for me to get good at drinking games. How do you think I used to get my free alcohol when I was broke?" I asked breezily. Yet when he went to retrieve the quarter, I reached out and slapped his hand hard enough for him to jerk back. Instead I pushed the shot towards him, and pointed out, "Quarters is a sad game, and a cliché. You're not allowed."

Logan arched his eyebrows at my words, but took the drink all the same. I dropped into the seat beside him casually, picking up the matching shot glass. The friends I'd bought the shots for were out on the dance floor, so the drinks were forfeit to us, I figured.

"I thought I was a cliché," Logan rebutted as he leaned forwards on his elbows, drink held out towards me.

With a quirking grin, I tapped my glass against his. "So am I, but only in the best ways," I returned, "Now drink up, motherfucker."

He gave a short laugh, but tossed the shot back all the same and I followed the action. We slammed down the empty glasses in unison, and both picked up our respective drinks to wash down the shots.

With a languid stretch, I leaned back in my chair as I took a long sip even with my eyes glued on Logan. "You dragged my boyfriend along in your bender."

The accusation didn't hold much acidity, and in the face of it Logan could only laugh again. In fact he looked up at me with that amusement written across his face, and he might as well have been twenty five again. "Where'd you get that idea?" he questioned over the lip of his glass.

"Bit obvious, isn't it?" I returned. And to go along with my words, because it was just that obvious, I lifted my foot and prodded him in the thigh with my toe. When he arched an eyebrow in my direction, I only grinned innocently back at him. What could I do? It was impossible to be around him when he was like this and not be affected. "Don't forget, you two used to go on benders every couple months. I know the signs. Dirty clothes and not shaving -" I sent a nod at the uncharacteristic chestnut stubble across his cheeks and chin "- and smoking are my ones."

Quite calmly, Logan grabbed my foot with his free hand while his other raised his drink again in a mocking toast. "You're a bitch, by the way, Turner."

"Am I?" I asked fascinated, not bothering to attempt to be insulted - only inquisitive.

"Yeah," he said with a nod, pushing my foot lightly away from him. "You told me that we were quitting smoking, made such a big deal about it being us and how we had to do it together. Talk to me brother and you've said the exact same bollocks to him."

To that I only gave an accepting shrug. That was the plain truth; he hadn't even taken any liberties in his defense. So I just replied, "Killed two birds with one stone, didn't it?"

"Bitch move," he informed me with a shake of the head.

I only sent him a half smile, and corrected, "Manipulative."

"Fine," he conceded, "Manipulative bitch move, then."

To that I laughed. I'd come to terms with the fact that was an inherent trait of mine, received directly from dear old dad. As Logan took another drink, I cast my eyes around the bar, finding that no one was appearing interested in heading our way - Cam was still caught up squabbling with Carl at the bar.

So I waited patiently until Logan looked back at me and lowered his beer. And then I asked, "So what'd you do to deserve getting the boot?"

This time when Logan let out a laugh, it was short and harsh. It was with great discipline that I stopped myself from grimacing at the noise that came from him. He wasn't supposed to be bitter, though there was a distinct trace of that around him, he was supposed to be luminous. "What? Your boyfriend didn't tell you?"

My eyes narrowed on him, but I suppressed the urge to jump the bait he was handing me. It was hard to resist the urge to get in a fight when Logan switched so easily into that mode with the tense shoulders and darkened expression. I coolly sipped at my drink and took my time in replying. "No, he didn't."

That had Logan's eyebrows rising as he leaned forwards in a move that would have been intimidating to anyone else. "So you guys lie to each other, then. How's that working out for you?"

It was my turn for my eyes to flash dangerously, and my hand tightened its grip on the glass until my knuckles went white. "We don't need to tell each other every little fucking thing immediately," I snapped, but carefully placed my drink on the rickety table, "Especially when it comes to your secrets. He's your brother, god Logan. Give him some credit, and while we're at it, do the same to me before you jump down my bleeding throat. We're at least going to give you the chance to tell us separately."

My words took the wind from Logan's angry sails with gusto. It had his shoulders drooping slightly, even allowing him to pick up his beer again. His movements were back to being smooth instead of jerky while he sat back normally in his chair. And then he started out of left field, announcing, "Angie never liked you."

"Colour me virtually unsurprised," I replied drily. And because there was a little bitterness on my part, I flicked the straw in my drink with a glower.

Logan was watching me closely as he slouched in his chair, hand rubbing over that stubble I'd only just pointed out as if it made him remember that it was there. He'd always preferred to be clean shaven in the past, citing that anything else itched like a bitch whereas his brother was perpetually scruffy around the edges. And continuing on with his hard to follow thought process, he pointed out, "You never liked her either."

At that I picked up my drink again, wishing that I could get another one immediately. If this was the track of the conversation was going, I was going to need some more alcohol in my bloodstream to handle it. "I did pretend," I assured him, "For both of your sakes. Mostly for yours, though."

"Why do you hate her?"

I blinked in the face of that question. "I don't hate her, that sounds rather -" I flicked a hand around as I searched for a word "- vindictive. You two made me sad at first, because I know you better than anyone else that isn't your sibling. So I saw, just as much as Cam did, that you two were never going to work even if I hoped it would."

The thought had me sighing and taking a deep drink before I continued. "Then when I watched your relationship with Cam suffer over that last year, and I got mad. You two were butting heads, like you always have, and she was just feeding into it instead of helping. She wanted you, but couldn't seem understand that there was so much more of you than she thought and when she didn't like the rest of you, she tried to cut it out."

"But you never let her cut you out," Logan pointed out.

"You're my best friend," I shrugged like it was no big deal, "I love you. And I worked too hard to have what I wanted for some actress to come in and fuck it up. Oh, yeah, and she told me how she could have been a musician, but turned down the gig for 'higher pursuits'. That might have added into the dislike. I mean, fuck off."

When Logan laughed this time it was still short, but the sound was soft as he stared across the table at me. I had to bite back the sigh of relief at the sound. "But you still pretended," he persisted, though his tone had gotten lighter, "Cam never bothered."

"I just wanted you to be happy. And if you loved her and she made you happy, I didn't care how I felt about her. Cam, well, he's not like that," I said, attempting to be somewhat delicate. "He never thought she was good enough for you, though he'll never admit it. And he could have handled you dating her, but getting married was a whole other deal. He was also just trying to protect you, and I think you might understand that."

"If you weren't around, he probably would have tried to sleep with her."

I sent him an unamused glance even as my nose twitched distastefully. "I'd like to think he wouldn't. You've done enough of that for both of you."

That sobered up him quite quickly, and had Logan drinking deeply from the beer I'd brought him. No matter how deep some things were buried and whatever amount of scar tissue was scabbed over them, the wounds still remained and they were never going to be forgotten. They were still brought up in fights to get back at one another.

So I kicked him lightly in the shin with my toe. "You're beating around the bush," I informed him, gesturing wildly with the drink in my hand. "No matter how much she hated me - and never had the grace to pretend otherwise, it wasn't my fault you two broke up."

"You had a part in it," he countered.

Coolly I arched an eyebrow, "So did your brother. Would you get on with it?"

"Hold on, Turner," Logan muttered. He took another drink. However when he didn't speak afterwards, just continued staring down at in a move that was all too familiar, I kicked him again. "God, you're a nosey fucker, aren't you?"

Not bothering to even entertain the idea of being offended, I just offered him a sunny smile in response.

He sighed before admitting, "She thought I cheated on her."

"With me?" I asked incredulously.

"No, Christ, she's not stupid," he snapped. And with a flick of the hand that was almost careless, he took another drink from the beer. "Apparently there were rumours that I'd slept around at a couple parties."

"There are always rumours," I murmured. Yet Logan just gave a shrug, and it had my eyebrows drawing together and I couldn't stop myself from asking, "Did you?"

That was met with another shrug. "Does it matter?"

"Of course it fucking matters, did you cheat on her or not?"

"I don't know - might've done," Logan said as he raised the beer back up to his lips. "I was really drunk at everyone she tried to make a point with; I can't remember shit about those nights."

I found my frown deepening even further, and asked intently, "Did you tell her that?"

"Nope," he answered, staring down at the glass in hand.

It was taking all of my restraint to keep me from reaching across the table and smacking it from his grasp. Yet I could see the sad lines that had developed around his eyes. They went straight down to twist my gut in a thousand contradictory knots. "You're a coward," I sighed.

And that only had him giving another shrug, all noncommittal and calm about the whole situation. "She wanted to end it so I let her do it, minimal fuss required. I slept around while I was dating her in the beginning, so I figured that still counts."

"Of course that counts.". My eyes had narrowed on him before I pointed out, "You never told me that."

That was the first time Logan looked up from his drink, all tight forced smiles and those big eyes that should never have been as cheerless as they were now. "Didn't want you to look at me any different," he admitted before tipping his head slightly to the side and asking, "Are you going to now?"

I swallowed at the question, but was given no chance to look away as I was caught in that gaze. All I could do was stare right back at him.

Cam had told me that he'd deserved to be kicked out, but for some reason I'd never entertained the idea that he would have fucked around on Angie. If anything I would have believed it to be the other way around. I'd known what like Logan was like when we'd met, but I'd been given proof to the fact he'd changed from the guy that never wanted to settle down. Hell, I'd been exactly like him so I knew for a fact that things changed. The Logan I knew was fiercely loyal. Yet I supposed that was only for certain people.

All those thoughts were running through my head, and I only gave a sigh. "Of course I'm not, I've always known you were an asshole," I informed him. Logan laughed at my words, glancing down at his drink, but the sound was more relieved than amused.

However I wasn't done there, and I found myself leaning forwards. I was watching him intently as I asked, "Did you love her, then?"

Logan instantly grimaced at my words, making sure to take another drink of his rapidly disappearing beer in order to stall his answer. "Yeah, I think so," he answered, features puckered with thought. "Maybe not as much as others before, but I wanted to love her so doesn't that count as the same thing?"

I really didn't think so. There was a big difference between want and the desperate need to be with another person, but I wasn't sure which one actually meant more. Want was a choice, whereas need was a necessity, and didn't everybody want both?

Yet I didn't say any of that to him, because I couldn't stand that fractured expression he had me fixed with. It didn't really matter how much of an asshole he really was, not to me at least. The thing was that he was Logan Harrison, and nothing was going to change the fact that I was always going to love him.

So I just drained what was left of my drink before standing up.

He arched an eyebrow at the move, but didn't move. The band must have taken a break without our notice during the intent conversation, because Florence and the Machine were playing loudly behind us with Delilah. I only held out a hand towards him.

"What?" he asked blankly, looking at my hand before him as if it might bite.

The corners of my mouth twitched and I nodded towards the dance floor behind us. "Come dance with me."

Logan snorted derisively at the suggestion, casting an eye over the people dancing behind us. My eyebrows rose towards my hairline at the realization that he was turning me down - I could count the amount of times on one hand that Logan had refused to dance with me. It had never mattered if we were sober or higher than the sky, riding along the clouds. He never turned me down.

His eyes flickered up towards the bar, and I didn't need to follow the look to know he was looking up to where his brother who would undoubtedly still be arguing about why he was right. "Why don't you go get your boyfriend, love," he suggested without meeting my eyes as he drank deeply.

"No," I said sharply enough to gain his attention again. This time I held out both hands towards him. "I don't want to dance with my boyfriend right now. I want to dance with you. You're sad, so we're going to go dance and you're going to be happy. It doesn't really matter if it's only for a moment and because I forced you to. I'm going to take it as a win."

This time he held my gaze for a long moment. And if it was only my stubbornness that made him sigh, I didn't really give a shit, because he groaned before taking my hand.

My smile was positively beaming.

Tugging him behind me, I lead us into the middle of the dance floor. The idea of dancing had a bounce in my step, and I was pleased that when I spun around, shimmying my shoulders ludicrously there was a reluctant smile on Logan's face.

I tossed my arms out before I started twisting and turning along to the song. It was always so easy to get into the music, letting it move my hips and my arms up around my head. No one would have ever said I was a good dancer, but there was something to be said about someone who was not self conscious about how ridiculous they looked when they were on the dance floor. I'd learnt to just not give a flying fuck.

So when the chorus came up, I grabbed Logan by the hands to get him moving with me as I sung down at the top of my lungs. "Now I'm dancing with Delilah and her vision is mine. Holding on for your call. A different kind of danger in the daylight. I can never let go. Took anything to cut you, I can find. Holding on for your call. A different kind of danger in the daylight. Can't you let me know?"

It really didn't take much persuasion before Logan was moving around with me; the beat was too miraculous to keep still to anyways. And like I'd said, he'd never resisted me before. So soon enough he was spinning me around by the hand as we danced wildly enough to cut a clear circle about us.

And he was singing with me before the next verse. "Now it's one more boy and it's one more lie. Holding on for your call. Taking the pills just to pass the time. I can never say no. I'm gonna be free and I'm gonna be fine. Holding on for your call. 'Cause I'm gonna be free and I'm gonna be fine. But maybe not tonight."

I got him smiling and laughing with me long before that verse had even ended, and I really was taking it as a win. Cam did his work to make his brother smile while his divorce was going through, so I'd do my part as well.

With my hand gripped in his, I danced around lightly, thankfully fit enough from touring that I kept my breath as we continued singing.

"It's a different kind of danger. And the bells are ringing out. And I'm calling for my mother. As I pull the pillars down. It's a different kind of danger. And my feet are swinging 'round. Never knew I was a dancer 'til Delilah showed me how."

When the song ended, I did pause with my hands gripping Logan's forearms. The breath I needed to catch was less because of the dancing and singing, but for the laughter combined with them. It was quite the combination, and left even the best of us short of breath sometimes.

There was a short break between songs, and unconsciously my eyes flicked over to Cam up at the bar. Carl wasn't with him anymore. However he'd stayed up there, alone even as he sipped his beer. His eyes were on us, though.

However I was distracted when the next song came on, and found myself laughing hysterically. It was only perfect.

Letting go of my grip on the older Harrison, I danced back a step in order to run my hands through my hair as I let my hips sway. The enormous smile on Logan's face told me he knew exactly what was going through my head. The Carl Barat and the Jackals song was only too perfect to come on for us while we were dancing. So, just steps apart, we shouted the words, acting out the emotions across our faces as we laughed at one another.

"Give me your last line said Dave and I'll give you my dog. Okay, if you're serious, I'll take it off your hands. And then the next day, amongst the debris and decay. He says we were all wrecked last night, you know. You cannot swap a dog for blow, come on!"

I danced my way through our shouting along to the chorus, arms above my head. The smile was stretching my mouth.

"So I say let's talk of this no more. Just scrape ourselves up off this floor. I saw Grace last night; she said she's into you. Well, I'd go check that out if I were you. She'll be at the monument at two."

My laughter rang between us, watching as Logan bounced along in time with me.

Our shouting of the chorus was interrupted by an addition to our group. Cam came with three shots in hand, which only had us giving a loud cheer. Clinking the glasses in between the three of us, we all downed the shot as Cam slung his arms around our shoulders.

We finished all in time for us to howl along to next verse, though. My arms were twined loosely around Cam's waist even if my smile was fixed on his brother. "Now you've gone and tricked me again. This time you've really stitched me up my friend. See I wait for hours in the rain. Get home and you have stole my pup. You try to trick, you come unstuck. Come on man, now what the fuck? Yeah."

The three of us broke apart for the last line of the verse, allowing us to sing it with particular vigour. Cam and Logan had sung it with identical expressions fixed on one another, filled with the rather undying emotion of someone asking what the fuck.

It made sure I was laughing too hard to sing along in the verse, face buried in my hands.

However I was back to sing along with the next verse, making sure to take the shouting down a notch as the song dropped in tempo. "I think you'll find you took what's mine. And to be a man of your word. You got the dog, you got the line."

Before we all got to the last line of the verse, Cam came up behind me, wrapping an arm lightly around my neck to tug me to him. My eyes crinkled with laughter as he sang, "So now you do not get the bird, ha ha ha." And then he promptly kissed me on the cheek.

I made sure to elbow him in the gut for that one.

We were all back in time for the chorus, though. Cam kept his arm wrapped around me, and I was quite happy to let my hands hang of his arm as I shouted and he clapped a hand to his brother's shoulder.

"You're the greatest friend to me. You're the only friend to me. Nobody cares for me like you. You're the greatest friend to me. You're the only friend to me. Nobody cares for me like you..."

The euphoria that came out from dancing with both of them was unbelievable. I'd thought I was ecstatic to just have them sitting and laughing together, let alone being out dancing around and laughing when it was the three of us. We'd always done it in this unit. All the way back to that first messed up year, it had become a habit for us even through all the jealousy and anger. It had always worked for us.

Since they hadn't been speaking, I'd gone out dancing with both of them separately. I'd always had a good time with them - except for the times when it had been Logan, Angie and I. However it was always better with the three of us, no matter if we had friends or not.

The three of us were standing in absence of the song, all big smiles and catching breath while I ran a hand through my utterly disgusting hair. I was doing a brilliant impression of Cousin Itt but I found I didn't particularly care. It didn't matter. In fact, I was starting nothing beyond this room was real right now. The whole night was outright unbelievable, like something from a dream. And if it was, I wasn't that bothered about pinching myself, because I was more than willing to linger in this place if they were here.

However I found myself blinking when Cam gripped my hand and gave it a little tug. So when I found myself up against his chest, I only gave a short laugh combined with a devastating amount of sass as I said, "Are we feeling romantic tonight, darling?"

Despite the rather condemning words that would have had anyone else dropping my hand, Cam just fit his hand snuggly on my hip. I supposed if I knew him as well as I claimed, the opposite could be said as well. He'd learnt long ago that I talked more than I needed. Without real notice on my part, my free hand went up to run over his shoulder until it settled down to cup the back of his neck soothingly.

"I'm going to steal my girl for a minute," said Cam without a glance over his shoulder.

At that I scoffed, but my attention stayed glued on that dark green. After all this time, and I was still shocked at just how green his eyes managed to be. I wasn't about to go all Shakespeare on him and compare them to emeralds, but at heart I really was a song writer and was taken to grandiose observations and swift descriptions. I'd had years to think about how I thought it was possibly to fall into those eyes and be lost forever, which I figured I more or less had. Sometimes I thought they'd swallow me whole with the way he simply watched, and I'd be quite content with the outcome.

Instead of saying any of what crossed through my mind, I only asked sarcastically, "Your girl now, am I?"

"Only when you're not being a bitch," quipped Cam calmly, "You can be his girl then."

That really should have made me punch him again - it would have been more than deserved - however I only began to laugh. I buried my face in the crook of his neck to muffle the sound, my dark hair falling around us like a curtain. He ran his hand up my spine in a way that shouldn't have been just so comforting.

There was no music yet, and we were wrapped up tighter in each other than most couples while dancing. He still held one of my hands out to the side, running the pad of his thumb gently over the sensitive skin that ran between my thumb and pointer finger. It was the most innocent of touches, but it still had tingles running directly through my blood. And then his lips were brushing casually against my ear even as I tried to wind down my laughter.

However the song that began to play had me jerking up to stare at him, half wondrous and the rest disbelieving.

I'd heard the song in countless forms throughout the years. It had been done in an uncountable amount of styles, being sung by all genders alike. Through all of that, I recognized it by the first three chords played on the acoustic that lingered softly around the room. The lyrics that kicked in by the smokey voiced woman only did to reinforce my certainty.

"Sometimes I feel so happy. Sometimes I feel so sad. Sometimes I feel so happy. But mostly you just make me mad. Baby, you just make me mad. Linger on, your pale blue eyes. Linger on, your pale blue eyes."

And while I'd hoped my tone would be teasing, it came out as astonished as I said, "You're such a fucking sap."

The shock at hearing that song play had done enough to distract me from the fact that Cam had begun to gently sway as around the dance floor. There was a tiny turn of a smile on his lips visible, but he still made sure to act offense as he pretended to open his mouth in horror. "And what makes you think the song is about you?"

I could only smile broadly at him, letting my body relax into the motion of the calm dance.

"Thought of you as my mountain top. Thought of you as my peak. Thought of you as everything. I've had but couldn't keep. I've had but couldn't keep. Linger on, your pale blue eyes. Linger on, your pale blue eyes."

Despite the fact that my body had molded against him so gently that our bodies fit snugly together, I made sure to keep my head back so I could watch him intently. The other people around us were just blurs in comparison. "Like they decided to play this song on their own," I said surely.

Still Cam persisted with a shrug, although he dropped the insulted stance. "We are in New York, darling," he informed me as if I'd forgotten. He punctuated the words with a nudge on my hip that pushed me away from him, but only long enough to get spun with the hands over my head before he was tugging me back soundly against him. "I mean, it's The Velvet Underground and all, you can give the band some credit."

"Oh, c'mon, Cam," I murmured, not about to believe his words for anything. I fit myself back to him easily, hand hitching up to his neck again. There was still a soft smile curving the sharp bones of my face into velvety lines as I let the hand slip from the back of his neck until it was cupping his cheek. My thumb ran lightly over the rough stubble during the next verse.

"If I could make the world as pure. And strange as what I see. I'd put you in the mirror. I put in front of me. I put in front of me. Linger on, your pale blue eyes. Linger on, your pale blue eyes."

He rolled his eyes, but the gesture suddenly felt a whole lot tender than the usually sensations that surrounded it. It might have had to do with the gentle acoustic solo going on behind us, accompanied with the calming cymbals.

"So there might have been something said to the band."

The admission only had my smile broadening slightly, and I had to bite the corner of my lip as I stared back at those warm eyes. "And you expect me to believe that it wasn't you?"

"Well, you never know," he told me, but his lips were twitching in a smile. Cam really was terrible at hiding anything, even if it was done as a joke. "Carl might have re-evaluated himself; he needs to do some thinking about his choices."

That had me bursting out laughing as I leaned against him. And it was only so natural when I leaned forwards to kiss him.

"Skip all life completely. Put it in a cup. She says money is like us in time. It lies, but can't stand up. Down for you is up. Linger on, your pale blue eyes. Linger on, your pale blue eyes. It was good what we did yesterday. And I'd do it once again. The fact you are married only proves you're my best friend. But it's truly, truly a sin. Linger on, your pale blue eyes. Linger on, your pale blue eyes."

The kiss wasn't anything offensive. In fact it was a slow kiss, all languid movement and casually tugging on the lips in a calmingly familiar sensation. In the face of others, it was a rather innocent action. We'd stopped moving along to the cover. Cam's hands slipped back to run up and down my back as I cupped his neck with my hands, our feet cemented on the ground.

It lasted until the song finally faded away, and I had to pull away for the sake of breathing. I rested my forehead nonchalantly against his. And I found myself grateful that the band didn't rush into a fast song immediately, allowing the lingering sensation of the song to hang in the air around us.

So when it became obvious they'd moved on to cover Leonard Cohen, I allowed myself to be persuaded back into the dance without any difficulty.

"It's four in the morning, the end of December. I'm writing you now just to see if you're better. New York is cold but I like where I'm living. There's music on Clinton Street all through the evening."

The music had become haunting with Famous Blue Raincoat. I didn't mind too much, though, and I just inched closer and slipped my arm back around his neck. There was no spinning here. It was all slow movements paired with drawn out touches that spun away through our bodies as if it was all too casually.

"I hear that you're building your little house in the desert. I hope that you're keeping some kind of record."

I'd gone to rest my chin on Cam's shoulder, but I didn't have time to close my eyes before I caught a glimpse of the bar behind him. And, more specifically, it was the sight of Logan who had slipped away back to the table that had me giving a sigh. I couldn't help it. He might not have been playing quarters now, but he was sitting alone at the table.

"I get why you started smoking again," I murmured in his ear. The words said like a caress that only he would be able to hear.

I could almost hear the frown as he asked, "You do?"

"And Jane came by with a lock of your hair. She said that you gave it to her. That night that you planned to go clear. Did you ever go clear?"

My eyes were glued onto his older brother, and caused me to forget to tell him that I couldn't be mad at him anymore. Logan was twisting the gold ring around on his left finger. However he wasn't moving to take it off now, it was almost like an involuntary tick.

"He still hasn't taken off his wedding ring," I said slowly to Cam.

As if he was wondering what I was looking at, though there could be no question, Cam manoeuvred us so he could peer over my shoulder instead. And I knew the moment he saw him, because his shoulders slumped beneath my hand.

"Ah, the last time we saw you, you looked so much older. Your famous blue raincoat was ripped at the shoulder. You'd been to the station to meet every train. You came home without Lily Marlene."

"I've been trying to get him to take off," Cam murmured lowly to me, "Gently, I promise. But he won't take it off."

"He's sad." My words should have been reaffirming, reminding the younger brother that his sibling was allowed to feel for the fact that his marriage had fallen apart. Four years of his life had been ripped away. Yet my tone was almost astounded. "He said that he may have cheated on her, but he's still miserable that it's over."

My words came out as more of a question than a statement, to which Cam only made a sound in the back of his throat in reply.

"And you treated my woman to a flake of your life. And when she came back, she was nobody's wife Well, I see you there with a rose in your teeth. One more thin gypsy thief. Well, I see Jane's awake. She sends her regards."

Not having got the answer I needed, I asked, "How can he be?"

This time Cam turned his head, but only enough to have his soft lips brushing across my cheekbone as he spoke. "He's getting a divorce - he's allowed to be sad about it. He may have deserved it, but that doesn't mean he can't feel anything now it's done."

I blew out a deep breath between my lips at the words.

"And what can I tell you, my brother, my killer? What can I possibly say? I guess that I miss you, I guess I forgive you. I'm glad you stood in my way."

For just a moment I allowed my eyes to close, leaning against not only Cam's chest but the comforting way his lips were against my cheek. We may have been thousands of miles from home but that didn't matter much. As long as he was there, I could close my eyes and pretend that everything was simple. That everything was alright even if I always knew it was more complicated than that between the three of us. Our feelings had always been messy and convoluted, but we were all together again, so that had to mean everything could be okay.

Eventually I spoke up, but I made sure to keep my eyes closed as we moved in quiet circles. "Has he been like this the whole time?" I questioned.

"If you ever come back here, for Jane or for me. Well, your enemy is sleeping and your woman is free."

"Not the whole time," Cam admitted reluctantly. "At first it was like a bomb had gone off in the flat, he refused to leave and we argued until we went out that night. There was more arguing about what he should do, but it all kind of snowballed to going out every night together. He's kind of a monster when you let him have his way, relentless I suppose."

That had a small flicker of a smile lighting up my lips. I could think of no word better than relentless for Logan Harrison. However Cam wasn't done speaking.

"All he wanted to do was go out and get drunk. Go out to a party, go to a gig, he always wanted to do something. I should have known it was mostly the post-breakup bender, but I thought he was just trying to make up for lost time. He's been intense about everything," he told me with a shrug. "But he's only been getting more miserable."

"Yes, and thanks, for the trouble you took from her eyes. I thought it was there for good so I never tried."

It was the shrug that finally forced me to not only open my eyes, but pull my weight from resting on Cam. And with it, I brought out dance to an abrupt halt. Our hands remained in place, but the two of us were looking to the side where Logan continued to stare down at the wedding ring on his hand. His face was shadowed and hidden.

"Nothing you've done has helped?" I questioned, letting my fingers rub little circles unconsciously on his shoulder.

"Sometimes. He's happy for moments, and then he's shining and he's Logan again. The mood swings are more than dramatic, because the happier he is, the darker he gets afterwards." We watched as he picked up a drink. "He's just been trying to drown it all out in whatever he can get his hands on - I recognize the signs. I've done it. I should know. And being out trying to push her from his mind is never going to work, no matter what he tells himself."

That had me giving a sigh. I spared Cam a sad glance of my own before focusing back on the brother at hand. "So being at yet another bar probably isn't doing any good, is it?"

"And Jane came by with a lock of your hair. She said that you gave it to her. That night that you planned to go clear. Sincerely, L Cohen."

Cam managed to muster up a little smile that curled upwards more towards the side. It felt like the equivalent of a shrug and held no reassurance. Yet he still tried, "It probably helps that you're here."

"Not enough," I returned, mirroring his expression as I pulled away slightly. Our bodies separated, but I never thought to separate the hands that had our fingers tangled together between us. "We should probably go rescue him, eh?"

There was no rescuing involved. We'd only started towards him when Logan raised a cigarette to his mouth, lighting it effortlessly with a flick of the lighter and a cupped hand.

As it turned out, the bar took the no smoking law quite seriously. He'd only gotten one breath dragged down into his lungs before two security guards were yanking him by the arms, and the smoke gushed out almost comically. Without even having to look at one another, Cam and I darted after them instantly - that was definitely an old habitual move. They were taking it quite seriously as they dragged the incredulous rock star bodily out of the establishment.

It was difficult for me to stand up straight by the time we met a bedraggled Logan outside; the fits of laughter were too intense. Of all the things that we'd gotten kicked out of bars for in the past - and there had been thousands of examples - this had to be one of the most elementary. I did have a memory of his younger brother having caused us the same fate, even if it had been on the opposite side of the country.

The taken aback glance he sent the cigarette between his hands did nothing to soothe the hilarity. And from the corner of my eyes, I could see Cam smiling as well.

When we took off down the road without a backwards glance, Logan gave a shrug, and obviously it was worth it when he raised the cigarette to his mouth. "So where are we going now?" he asked, the smoke billowing prettily from his plump lips. Without looking, he held out the cigarette over my head.

Cam took it naturally, and the action should have made me punch the two of them. We'd quit smoking for a reason, but I couldn't find it in my to blame them. I'd spent most of my life with that as one of my many vices, so it was only hypocritical for me to try to be high and mighty about the habit. I'd already forgiven the two of them for picking it up again, figuring that the stress of reigniting their relationship while Logan's marriage fell apart - all in the eyes of the press - would have been a stressful enough situation to allow picking up smoking again. So I allowed myself smile at the easiness of the gesture.

I spared Cam a lingering glance. My eyes scoured over him as I committed the image of him to my memory bank. The leather jacket was as rumpled as his hair, and he looked as if he belonged in the shadows of the city streets when he took a drag from the cigarette.

The fact he looked that good while smoking had been forgotten, and the renewed sight had my stomach clenching dangerously. He'd always looked impossibly sexy to me, though, so I was probably biased. That wasn't going to stop me from making him quit again, but I supposed we were all allowed lapses when it came to addictions as well as sanity. We'd all had plenty of both.

So I snagged the smoke from his fingers even as I slipped my other arm through Logan's, knocking into him companionably. "I think we're just going to head back to the hotel. I'm pretty tired after the tour, and I figure this city has enough damage done to it. We've done our fair share in the past."

Although I kept quiet about it, I felt Logan slump fractionally beside me. I just hoped that it was in relief. However I kept myself from peering around at his face, figuring that would let him see through the facade I'd put on. I'd put a lot of effort into making my words sound nonchalant, there was no point ruining it now.

Instead I allowed my eyes to drift back towards Cam as I raised the cigarette to my mouth.

He was watching me closely, knowing that the words that flittered from my mouth were a lie with that familiar look that was all at once knowing and fascinated in the endless pupils. When I closed my lips gently around the filter and pulled in the drag, I had to hold back a moan that wanted to escape as my eyes flickered shut. The smoke filled my lungs and sated a gnawing in my stomach that I hadn't even realized that I still had.

The cigarette was stolen from my hand, and my eyes flicked towards the older brother who had taken possession again.

Like that we wandered down the street, caught in the line of three down the darkened streets as we shared the cigarettes that Logan produced. Apparently there was no need to simply hand out one each. And because we were wandering down the streets of Brooklyn, taking far much longer to get back to the hotel than it had for us to leave it, I couldn't stop myself from singing Brooklyn Baby. I swung in front of them, singing along to the song with a casually carrying voice, probably having people cursing me from their homes. My hands trailed over bike rails and gripped lamp posts as I twirled about theatrically, heels of my boots light against the pavement.

And it was when we were almost in lights of the hotel that I had the cigarette nestled between my fingers. "Yeah my boyfriend's pretty cool," I sang in the swaying voice that only seemed fitting, and made sure to pat Cam on the cheek with the lyrics. I backed away from him, using the hand with the cigarette to push through my hair, shoving it back away from my face. There was a little sway to my hips as I continued, "But he's not as cool as me."

Cutting the song off early, I took a long breath from the smoke before passing it to Cam, making sure my fingers slid and lingered against his. And then I was slipping a spare room key in the pocket of his jacket. "Now you should go get us some beer," I informed him. As an afterthought, I added, "And get smokes. Definitely get more smokes; we're going to need them."

That had him frowning as he brought the smoke back up to his lips. "What?"

"If we're going to slum it in my hotel room, we're going to need some beer." My words were said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, and I shared a glance over my shoulder to Logan that spelt out same thing. "You two knobs already emptied the mini bar."

Logan had to point out, "I remember you having something to do with that."

"My room, my booze," I scoffed.

"Alright," said Cam, hoarding the smoke to himself now. He sounded as if he could understand my logic, though the frown remained. "But why do I have to go?"

"Because you love me." The answer was quick and pointed, as I peered at him almost challengingly. It would be interesting if he thought this would be a time to make excuses, but I knew right where to catch him.

At that Cam groaned, but he didn't offer any protests so I sent him my sunniest of smiles. Instead he wrapped an arm fleetingly over my shoulder as he pressed a quick kiss against my cheek.

I only laughed, winking at him teasingly before I turned around. Grabbing Logan by the arm, I gave him a lit shove towards the glass doors.

Logan was being uncharacteristically quiet as we crossed the lobby without meeting another soul. His hands were dipped into the pockets of his scruffy jeans and there was a deep set frown that was etching lines deeply into his face. The whole image of him had me swallowing this odd stifling sensation that rose from my stomach. Of all the people I thought could have done this to him, I would never have put my money on Angie. However I supposed I never really knew what they were like when they were alone, only what Logan thought to divulge. And if our conversation back in the bar was anything to go by, he'd kept more than a few things from me over the years. Not that I could blame him.

And I was trying desperately to remember Cam's words out on the dance floor, as well as my own reassurances. He was allowed to be sad. It didn't matter if it was physically painful for me to see. My lips curled in my mouth as I watched, trying to get myself to accept that someone else had had enough power over him to cause the reaction. Yet I knew that that wasn't going to happen any time soon.

So I bit down my lips tightly, trying to keep myself quiet and permit him some thinking time.

That only lasted until we were halfway through the ride in the lift. Any person who had ever met me could have guessed that, because I'd always had a mouth on me.

Shifting back with my hip on the rail, I watched him with a half sad smile twisting over my mouth. "Remember you did come to see me," I began, meaning to infuse my words with a light tone to dispel the clouds that had gathered. "You're going to have to talk to me."

That had Logan blinking, the dreary curtains that had closed over his face twitched open fractionally when he raised his head to look up at me. A ding surrounded us, announcing our arrival at my floor and the doors slid open. The two of us didn't immediately move, just stood in our respective areas with backs against the wall on opposite sides of the elevator.

It was me that pushed up first, realizing that the doors were likely to close if we lingered any longer.

I didn't need to glance behind me to know that he was trailing behind me. In fact, I didn't need to hear the muffled steps of his scuffed up converse either. There was no doubting that he was there, I could feel his gaze burning in the back of my neck and in my mind's eye, I could see imagine the questioning narrowed eyed expression perfectly. It was one of my favourite faces he wore. And it wasn't just because I'd succeeded in throwing him off his game.

"How are you so casual about this?" he asked. The words on his mind finally fell off his tongue when we reached the door to my room. "You were so mad at us for not talking, and now you've gotten over it like it's nothing, which isn't like you. You're supposed to be gloating about now."

To that I casually dragged the card through the lock, hearing the little beep as I twisted the handle open. Slipping the key back into the back pocket of my jeans, only then did I glance over my shoulder with a shrug, mouth pursed into the equivalent. "I like who we are," I said easily before shoving open the door, "And I'm just happy that we're getting back to it, even if it's more twisted than before."

That put Logan back into silence, but he walked into the room after me all the same.

As I pushed the door closed behind us, he dropped heavily on the couch that was immediately beside the arm chair that was still lying on its side. The remote to the television was right at his knees on the coffee table, but he made no move to reach out and take it. That frown had come back, the shadows making them ridiculously deep from where I stood. With a sigh, I shrugged off my jacket onto the ground carelessly before flicking on a light.

The switch I hit only turned on the two lamps by the bed, leaving the room in a comfortable amount of darkness. But it did nothing to relieve the harsh shadows that had formed around Logan's features. He'd never looked old to me before. Logan had always had playful youthfulness to him where his younger brother was the one that reined him in and cleaned up the messes that he created. Yet suddenly he looked years older with the ghost of a failed marriage behind him in the darkness of a random hotel room.

And I could only be grateful that he had followed Cam here in a way that I hadn't been even in my excitement earlier. He shouldn't have been left alone, no matter how much he was annoying his little brother. Cam and I could handle being on our own, the song writers in us taking solace from the lonesome quiet and the chance to breath. Logan had never been a boy made to be alone. He'd always needed someone, or something.

So I dropped on the opposite end of the couch from him, just as heavily. However where Logan stared stony-faced ahead, I propped my back against the arm and simply settled in to watch him.

However much it pained me, I wasn't going to be the one to break this silence.

Thankfully it didn't last long, because I wasn't sure I'd have survived it. Feeling my inexorable gazed fixed on his face gave Logan little choice but to turn towards it.

"I don't know how you do it." The words came out harsher than I'd expected, and I found myself blinking in the face of his almost accusing stare. "You and Cam, I just don't get how you're still together. You two fight and yell and I'll be sure you'll break up, but you're always together and it's been going on for years."

The words came out from further out than left field, but I'd told myself I was going to allow him to feel whatever wanted to come out right now. He had to feel it before it he could let it go. Drinking it away and hiding it beneath drugs and cigarettes could only do so much - I should know. You were burying yourself away from the real issues doing that, and there was no way you could face them that way. They only became deeper burrowed inside you that way. It was worse to cut them out if you waited too long.

So I didn't let myself lash out at the accusing nature of the words, even though everything inside me tried to leap at the opportunity. "Well, I'm still your best friend, does that tell you anything?" I questioned him calmly, letting my flick fleetingly back to the thousands of fights we'd had over the years as well.

Logan's eyes only narrowed on me as he fitted his arms to cross over his chest. "Not the same thing."

The flat tone made me close my eyes for a moment. Although I didn't think it was all that different, I could see his point and I made sure to breathe in deeply before I continued. "I love him," I answered simply, "Isn't that enough? It doesn't need to be spelt out."

My words only deepened those lines in Logan's face. He didn't answer immediately, but dug into the pockets of the suit jacket to bring out his cigarettes. I allowed him to light up before I was reaching out expectantly, and then snapped my fingers lightly to get the point across if he missed it. Although he rolled his eyes, Logan held the cigarette out to me with only a slight reluctance.

As our fingers brushed, and he pointed out, "You two are just dating. I got married. That's supposed to be something more permanent, and yet we're right here again."

"You were cheating on her before you ever asked her to marry you," I reminded him. My words might have been harsh, but they couldn't be left unsaid. "You wanted something your brother didn't have, and you got it. You got exactly what you always wanted. But that doesn't make it right. I think that counts as the wrong reasons, Logan."

His eyes hardened on me, and I had to work to hold the gaze. "Are you really lecturing me about doing the right thing?"

"Someone has to."

This time he snorted, but it was humourless noise, and it had me flinching before I could do anything to hold back the immediate reaction. "Because you're so good at doing the right thing for the right reasons," he returned acidly.

At that he went back to the cigarettes, tapping a single one from the pack and bringing it up to light. That's when I made my escape, even if it was a brief one. I stood up with the smoke fixed between my lips in the most casually of ways. I was only gone long enough to retrieve a glass from the bathroom. Dropping back onto my end of the couch, I leaned forwards to put it in the middle of the coffee table between us.

I was just reaching out to flick off the grey end in the makeshift ashtray when Logan spoke up again.

"You said you loved me too."

That only had a groan escaping my lips. "Are we really going to do this again?" I asked, sending him a sharp look as I flopped back to my side.

However Logan didn't back down at that. And had I really expected him to? He was just chewing on his lip, expression less accusing now and leaning more towards thoughtful as he watched me. Before he spoke, he let the smoke escape his lungs. "You've never really explained it to me."

Becoming more wary, I slowly raised my smoke up to my lips as I propped my arm against the back of the couch, thumb lightly brushing my cheek. "Yes, I have," I told him surely as I watched him from behind the cloud of smoke.

He rolled his eyes again at that but it was no lighthearted movement this time. His head tipped back, blowing the smoke towards the ceiling and when he looked back at me, those eyes had turned back to being hard. "Yeah, right, I remember," he scoffed, and the bitterness had me wincing. "You saw him first."

"Don't say it like that," I snapped.

"Like what?"

With great restraint, I managed to not grind my teeth at the challenging light that took away most of those harsh lines around his face. I recognized that look. It usually meant I was in for a fight, but this wasn't something I could back down from. So I met his eyes straight on. "Like it was some kind of dibs or shit, it wasn't like that."

His jaw tightened, throwing shadows around it before he leaned forwards to flick the ash from the end of his own smoke into the clear glass. It was pristine enough to pretend to be crystal before, and we'd filled it with the ugly grey flakes. My eyes lingered for a bit too long on the glass. And I could feel the frown cutting into the sides of my mouth, thinking about how good we'd gotten at defiling beautiful things.

"Isn't it?" asked Logan. However this time he didn't meet my eyes. He'd dropped back against the couch, fixing his blank eyes on the black screen of the television.

This time I couldn't even work up the energy to get mad. A sigh was stolen from my lips, filling the air with smoke before me. So I pushed up to the edge of the cushions in order to flick my cigarette into the glass. Logan didn't spare me a glance. He still refused to look at me when I shifted towards him and stubbornly stared forwards even when our knees knocked together.

With another sigh, I reached out and took his face between my hands, even with the smoke still fixed between my fingers.

He only looked at me when I forced his head in my direction, keeping my hands soft on his cheeks. His face felt unfamiliar beneath my hands with the scruffy beginnings of a beard. But I didn't allow the thought to show in my face, instead let my eyes search his face closely before settling back on his eyes. Sad had probably been an understatement.

"You know, I see the two of you before I seen anybody else," I informed him, voice low and gentle. "It doesn't matter who else is there - it's always you two. But I did see him first, and I'll always see him first. I love you, I do, I always have and maybe it could have been different if I'd met you first. But it isn't different, and you know that."

This time it was Logan's turn to sigh, and all that tension slumped out of his body as he leaned into my hands. "Yeah, I do," he admitted with closed eyes. He took a deep breath, turning his face so it was pressed even more into my hands. "It just comes out sometimes, and I'm a bit raw right now. I'm not mad about it anymore, I swear."

"Well, you shouldn't be, it's been years," I teased, trying to bring back some lightness between us. "Jesus, Logan."

That had his eyes flicking open, and I was relieved to see that bitterness had melted away so he was looking at me just the way he always had. All open and mischievous, which was only right. "Yeah, it has been years, you're getting old, Turner."

At that I instantly dropped my hands as if I'd been burnt. I sent him a dirty look as I flopped back against the couch, but there wasn't too much vigour held behind it. In fact, I didn't even move away, keeping our shoulders brushing where we sat. "I'm not getting old," I snapped, letting the word drip off my tongue like the dirtiest of swear words.

"You're going to turn thirty this year," he reminded me, shoving me lightly.

"That's six months away," I returned a little bit too quickly. Logan just chuckled at my words and I raised the almost forgotten smoke to my lips. "I'm not old!"

My exclamation only had him bursting out in delighted laughter, and he slumped back into the couch beside me. His head was practically leaning on my shoulder. And he said, "You keep telling yourself that, love."

"We're not talking about this anymore," I grumbled as I leaned forwards, tapping my smoke against the edge of the glass.

That only did to make him laugh harder.

In a decision to drown him out, I snagged the controller that was right beside his knee. Anything to make sure that conversation was cut out. With a bit more force that necessary, I stabbed at the on button, flicking the TV in front of us into full colour.

And I found myself blinking at the person who filled the screen. There was a female voice nattering on in the background, but I was more focused on the picture of Cam that was filling the screen. My mouth twitched at the sight.

It was a close up of his face, a little set to the left. The angle should have been unflattering, but he never seemed to be caught in that bad of a light unless he was truly shitfaced. There were the beginnings of a smirk visible on his full lips, with stubble running rampant and his eyes appeared to be daring the camera, as if they might swallow the person on the other end if they weren't careful. Combined with the dark brows that added a touch of intensity to the image, and his messy hair falling over his forehead in a way that should have been stupid but somehow became stylishly cool; it was quite the photograph of him.

Definitely sexy then, it didn't matter if I was biased. At the thought, I took a long drag from my cigarette.

That was when the photograph vanished, and I blinked sadly at the disappearance of my boyfriend. In its place was a blonde woman talking way too fast in a fashionably sleek dress. It didn't seem like a fair replacement for Cam, and I found my nose wrinkling. All the same, I dropped the remote carelessly to the side and settled back to listen to the new gossip. If the events of the nights were anything to go by, I should have been paying more attention to the rumours around.

"... Cam Harrison did another pop up gig in Camden this past weekend," the woman began. And I just raised a casual eyebrow as I slumped back.

That wasn't exactly news. Cam was forever doing tiny gigs since The Bends had broken up, well, it had taken a year. It had mostly been my idea because he was driving me fucking mad. He couldn't handle not doing something, but he never entertained the idea of a solo album, even after some of my not so subtle suggestion. He spent time moping and writing countless songs that were brilliant, as he always was. And then I couldn't stand it anymore. He had to get the music out of him some way.

So he started playing small venues around London, not really caring where as long as they were seedy. He enjoyed the grim more than was natural. It had just been a way to stop him from driving the two of us to murder. Cam Harrison without a task at hand was absolutely unbearable. He got grumpy and had a tendency to lash out. He'd needed something.

It just helped that people were clamouring to see him. He was Cam Harrison, after all. He'd post a cryptic message online and they'd come flocking. I tended to forget that he was hero worshipped.

"We were surprised that he even showed up at all, if the boozy nights out with estranged brother Logan are anything to go by. Jude Turner hasn't come to the public with our feelings about the reunion of the brothers -" I snorted at that "- considering the infamously close if strained relationships. But Cam managed to stumble in, if two hours late, to a loyally filled pub of those lucky enough to see the casual message online. And this time he was joined by a special guest."

That still didn't cause any surprise, and I was finding myself bored by the information. They could at least lie for something sensational! This was all old news. Cam loved to drag people up on stage with him when the alcohol was flowing freely, whether they liked it or not. Countless musicians that had just wanted to see the legendary Harrison play had been dragged up unwillingly, and were expected to sing along with whatever song he chose at random. Not everyone was pleased about it. He'd done it to me a few times and I'd threatened to castrate him.

"Our reporters were lucky to have gotten in early enough," said the blonde woman, "And we got video of the unreported surprise guest."

That easily the screen morphed away from her, and I let out a content sigh when I found Cam was back in front of me. The smoke went easier down my throat with him there.

There was one spotlight on the stage, and he stood in it. It lit up the microphone in front of him as well as the stack of amps, and let me note that he was playing that old cornet Epiphone that he still adored. It had only gotten more beat up other the years. However he'd managed to keep himself from smashing it and kept it away from Logan's destructive hands. It was really a miracle it was still around.

His head was down right now, and there were some people's hands flashing in front of the camera as they screamed, but the video quality was surprisingly good. They'd obviously been prepared - it wasn't just filmed off a phone like I was used to when I looked up his gigs on the internet. He hadn't bothered to dress up for the gig. The old Harrison standby of scuffed up converse, beat up jeans and whatever shirt they found when they rolled out of bed. This time it was a grey Henley shirt, pushed up to his elbows. And his hair was due for a cut with the way it hid his face, but I'd always like it long. It was beautiful, really, all shaggy even as it was shiny.

The guitar filled the club on the television, and it was tell-tale riff that I knew well. What Became Of The Likely Lads? It made my heart twist in my chest. The brothers had always loved The Libertines to the point of no return, but during their estrangement, Cam had started listening to the sadder parts of their repertoire. This was a song that he'd begun listening to more and more as their time apart became longer.

However it took me a moment to notice that Cam wasn't playing the guitar that was coming from the screen, and there was no one in sight. He just stepped up casually to the microphone, hand reaching out to straighten it with his other hand grasping the neck of his guitar tightly.

"Please don't get me wrong," he began, almost shyly. That in itself had me frowning. Cam had gotten good at performing on his own stage. The years of his brother storming out or not bothering to show up had readied him for the little solo gigs. He was usually exuding confidence, sure and steady up there. But now his eyes darted around in front of him. "See I'll forgive you in a song we'll call the likely lads."

At that he turned his head to the side, still gripping the microphone tightly in hand with his lips brushing against it. "But if it's left to you, I know exactly what you'll do with all the dreams we had."

He pulled back at that lyrics, only momentarily and long enough to move to one side of the microphone. And it gave time for that special guest to stroll out into the lights.

As the crowd screeched and the camera jumped and shook, I felt my eyes widen even as my mouth fell open. It was just a miracle the cigarette didn't tumble out of my fingers and into my lap to burn me when Logan strolled onto the stage.

On the screen, Logan was holding his own guitar, proving just who had been playing that riff. It was definitely newer than Cam's, and it shone glossy beneath the spotlight. Just vaguely in my mind, I registered the fact that Cam must have taught him this song on the guitar because I was certain he hadn't known it before. Logan was just as carelessly cool as his brother on stage with a guitar strapped on, although he'd adorned a leather jacket.

However neither of them glanced out at the crowd. Their eyes met over the microphone as they hit a chord on the guitar in unison, and then they were leaning in together to sing together. "'Cause blood runs thicker. Oh, we're thick as thieves, you know."

Without even blinking, Cam sang the next part, "If that's important to you."

And then Logan took the next line, "That's important to me."

"I tried to make you see," they sang together.

Logan sang the next part, "But you don't want to know."

Then Cam was singing the line after, his voice overlapping his brothers. "You don't want to know!"

In a sudden burst of energy and a harsh hand straining out the strumming chords, Cam stepped back away from the microphone. Stalking in behind as Logan shifted to take the lead for a moment, and the crowd was going nothing short of wild.

With closed eyes, he fronted up in front of the microphone, his guitar swaying along to the drums and bass that he must have heard in his head but were none existent now. It was only he and his brother, guitars and voices clashing perfectly. "If you pipe all summer long then get forgiven in a song, that's a touch, my lad." His eyes flicked open, and I had to swallow at the intensity in them even at the distance the camera had from his face. "They sold my rights to all my wrongs. And when they knew you'd give me songs, welcome back, I said."

Then Cam came crashing back into it, with all that unrestrained violence and barely repressed excitement that used to light up their gigs. His shoulder smashed into his brothers and their guitars clanged, but they stood there together facing the crowd. "But blood runs thicker. Oh, we're thick as thieves, you know."

This time they didn't look at each other but looked out at the crowd, staying with their sides pressed together. "If that's important to you," sang Cam.

Logan replied immediately, "It's important to me."

"I tried to make you see," they sang together in perfect harmony. Now they glanced at one another. At the beginning it was just from the corner of their eyes, but then they were angling themselves towards the other to sing at one another over top of the microphone.

"But you don't want to know," Logan accused his brother.

And Cam replied in the same fashion, "You don't want to know!"

The intensity in their voices had grown, getting furious and gleeful all at the same time. Somehow had they managed to intertwine those feelings so wonderfully. So they shouted together, "Oh, what became of the likely lads? What became of the dreams we had?" They were staring each other down, blind to the flailing of the crowd before them as they posed the serious question. "Oh, what became of forever? Oh, what became of forever, though? We'll never know."

And then they flung back away from the microphone together, playing their parts perfectly. All harshness and joy combined as they knocked into each other. Logan dropped his head against Cam's shoulder and shoved him back a step.

Following that momentum, Cam swung around to the mic to sing his part. "But please don't get me wrong. I'll forgive you in a song we'll call the likely lads," he sang, bouncing up onto his toes with the guitar. The music had him strung like a wire and it was astounding. "We bought all the ones. We taught 'em all we wrote the songs that's filled with dreams we had."

This time it was Logan that shoved his way up into the microphone so they could jump into the chorus together again. "But blood runs thicker. Oh, we're thick as thieves, you know..."

They were off again with that.

The changes were lightening fast and so natural they could have been rehearsed, but I knew them better than that. They were unhinged here, knocking into one another and bumping along in their excitement at playing together again. It was only fitting that they play a Libertines song to start them off again. Cam would have taught Logan the guitar part, and I had no doubt in that, but they'd never really been the types to rehearse even when they were in a band.

Even when they fell back away from the mic to each play their guitar parts, they didn't move far from each other. It was as if they were afraid if they took a step too far that the other one would vanish, leaving them alone. So they kept close. They barrelled through the song together, almost challenging the other to keep up.

And by the end of the song, the crowd had caught on to the cover and were screaming along at the top of their lungs.

"Oh, what became of the likely lads? What became of the dreams we had? Oh, what became of forever? Oh, what became of forever? We'll never know!"

Then they were ending the song in shambolic guitar chords thrown together at random, pushing against one another as the end of the song was upon them. And when they finally let go, Logan slung his arm around Cam's shoulders, yanking him against his side. But they were wearing brilliantly exhilarated smiles with sweat on their brows.

It was only then that I felt a burn on my fingers, and before I could stop myself I was gasping and letting go. The cigarette I'd forgotten in my fingers had burnt down to the butt. My fingers were scalding, and I cursed as it fell into my lap, quickly snatching it up and to cramming it into the glass. Apparently I no longer cared about ruination.

"Jude?"

At the current Logan Harrison's voice, I found my wide eyes glancing in his direction. He was frowning at me.

However my attention was stolen back to the television screen when I heard that blonde woman's voice again. "Logan stayed for the rest of the set, and songs from The Bends as well as countless covers from bands like The Clash, Blur, Queens of the Stone Age and many others. According to rumours, there's been talks with the whole band, including Rob and Graham, about a full scale reunion. It does beg the question, though, what did become of the likely lads?"

I was never given an answer to that, because I heard the swift sound of a key swiping through the door before the beep went off and there was a jingle of the door handle. It was enough to send me into motion.

Without pause, I clambered up on to me feet upon the couch and flung myself over the back. I didn't even dare to look back and see Logan's shocked face. There were too many things racing through my mind right now, and if I was ever going to sort them out, I needed to have Cam's help. Before this moment I'd always thought him to be the wise one. He tended to be slightly more sensible than I, but that had definitely come into doubt.

Cam had just swung the door open when I reached the other side. There was a broad grin on his face and a full plastic bag clutched in his hand, the brown paper visible inside. He looked as if he was about to call something out, but paused at the sight of me immediately in front of him.

Instantly, I pressed a hand flat to his chest and gave him a good shove right back out the door.

All he managed was a confused, "What?" And then I was stepping after him, shutting it sharply behind us.

"What the fuck, Cam?"

That had a wary look come instantly onto his face.

He gazed shrewdly at me for a moment, trying to judge the moment by my face. And then he glanced over my shoulder, but the only thing he gained from that was the sight of a white door with the room number over top. In the end, he used a suspicious voice and asked, "What did he tell you?"

It wasn't the best response he could have had, and any belief in wisdom on his part was draining away quickly. So I crossed my arms over my chest and glared him down. "Are there multiple things?"

"Probably," he admitted.

That was definitely not the right thing to say. And I could only make a wild sound caught somewhere between frustration and anger in the back of my throat. For a moment I considered just storming off to collect my thoughts and feelings that were strewn out all beneath the Harrison's heels. I knew that it wouldn't help me any, but the idea of that seemed quite satisfying.

The urge must have shown on my face, because Cam's hand darted out quickly to grab my elbow before I could even make a move. "Jude, come on," he said quickly. He must have been alarmed by my expression if he bothered to use my real name. "I always tell you everything, I swear. I just haven't got around to it. Did he say something about the coke?"

"You've been doing blow again?" My eyes almost bulged out of my head before I was punching him the shoulder. "Without me?"

His hand darted up quickly, covering the place where I'd punched instinctively. "Just a couple times," he said hastily, "He's been on a right tear. I was just trying to keep up. It's nothing that bad."

"Cam!" I groaned his name, running my hands wearily over my face.

"Wasn't that, was it?"

At his disappointed tone, I peered out between my fingers, my gaze dangerous. "No," I snapped.

That had a frown puckering his face with thought. "Then what did he tell you?"

"He didn't tell me anything! I had to see it on TV!"

"What did you see?" Now he just appeared confused.

I dropped my hands at that, and though I didn't go to hit him again, I kept up the deadly stare. "You know, this would have gone a hell of a lot easier if you would have just told me what was going on. You two must have been together when you called me and everything!"

There was a little smile tugging on the corners of his mouth now, obviously not that scared of my temper anymore. He knew the signs of it winding down, I supposed. Even I could feel the electricity that had sparked my blood going back to an even flow. "You were on tour," he said by way of explanation with a shrug. "You'd have had a fit if you'd known we were talking and you weren't around."

The amusement he wore so easily grated on my nerves, but I couldn't work up the urge to really tell him off. Instead I just sniffed, "So finding out from tabloids is easier?"

"But you didn't," he insisted, "I knew you wouldn't. Darling, you've got the definition of tunnel vision on tour. You don't listen to reporters anymore and you could care less about watching the telly. All your friends would have been too scared to ask in case it had you flying off your rocker. I knew what I was doing."

That only earned him a narrowed eyed look from me, and I told him stiffly, "Well, I'm happy you've got everything figured out. I mean, it's so easy to find out you're reforming The Bends from a TV show."

"Oh," said Cam slowly, realization dawning on him. "Fuck."

I gave half a snort at that, and agreed, "Yeah."

His eyes searched my face for some clue of how to proceed. I tried my best to keep my features clear but there was only so much he could do. "We're not getting the band back together," he told me carefully, "Well, not officially."

"You've been talking to Rob and Graham?" I prompted.

To that he only rolled his eyes carelessly. "I've never not been talking to them. I see them every week anyways! We've just been considering maybe playing a couple small gigs, feeling it out and seeing how it goes."

"Seeing how it goes?" I repeated incredulously. I inched closer and allowed my hand to reach out to grab Cam's free one, even as my other came up and brushed over that dangerously sharp edge of his cheekbone. "I remember how it goes, Cam, and there's no way you've forgotten, too."

That was the first time his eyes ducked away from mine. "It won't be like that again," he said, but more to the ground than me.

The sight made my lips pinch together.

He'd missed the band desperately, and that much he'd been willing to admit even if he wouldn't say the same about his brother. Cam was just the sort of guy that needed to be in a band. Even the suggestion of a solo project came with flat out refusal. He needed an outlet, but he didn't want to be in it alone. The music he'd been writing was nothing short of mindboggling, and the saddest thing was that I was the only one that got to hear it anymore.

The band's break up had been rash and neither of the brothers had thought what they were doing through. Yet they were also too stubborn to go back on it.

Still, I slipped a hand beneath his chin, forcing him to meet my eyes. "Hey," I whispered, "I know what it's like to miss your band desperately. I really do. But I also remember what that last year in the band was like for you."

Cam sucked in a sharp breath at that, like I was reminding him of things he'd to the back of his mind. I probably was, but it had to be said.

"You four are brilliant together, there's no doubt. But you were fucking miserable that last year. Logan was going at you constantly, and you were going straight back at him. It was bad, Cam, as bad as I've ever seen you two. You were fighting every day, and I swear every second day you two were coming to blows. It was bitter and angry and it was too much."

This time he swallowed, but he made sure to keep his gaze even. "It'll be better this time," he promised. I wasn't sure if he was trying to convince me or himself, though. "Angie's not around, it'll be better."

Yet I just sighed. "You can't just blame Angie, it wasn't her fault - you two used her as an excuse. It was thirty years of bad feelings bubbling up until there was no holding it back anymore."

Cam didn't reply, the truth of my words lingering on the air between us.

"And you've been so happy playing those solo gigs," I continued, a smile winding its way onto my mouth. "I've never seen you that consistently happy when you're playing live. It was always a gamble if you and Logan were going to get in a fight, or if he'd even turn up at all. And the stress of all that was going to give you a heart attack."

We still had our hands tangled at his side, and Cam gave mine a quick squeeze. "It'll be different this time," he said, but with a little more optimism this time. "You were the one who wanted us to talk again."

"Yeah, talk," I agreed, "Not throw the band back together because one song went well."

"He needs this, darling."

"And I need you not to hate yourself and him for being in a band together," I corrected. But at his steady stare, I gave in with a sigh and dropped my forehead against his. "If it gets too crazy again, you're allowed to walk away."

Cam just repeated, "It'll be different this time."

I closed my eyes for a second, and when I opened them, there was a reluctant smile on my face. "Well, I bloody well hope so, because I'd really like to see The Bends play again and hear some of those songs you've written on the radio. But I'm on your side with this, you know? Whatever happens."

That had grin spreading across Cam's face, and I pinpointed the exact moment it changed from simply happy to something wicked. It was the change in his eyes, I thought. Like a sparkle had come into them with a new idea. And I found mine narrowing in response, already preparing for the worst

"Oh, that's good then, darling," he told me, "Because, you know, today is gonna be the day..."

He paused dramatically and my eyes flew open in horror. I tried to tug my hand away from his, but he held on too tightly. "Don't you dare," I warned.

What good did I think that was going to do? Because there was no stopping him once he got a thought in his head, and he said, "That they're gonna throw it back to you."

Without even a pause, I wrenched away from him, explaining, "Oh my god!"

Cam went to grab my hand, but I quickly pulled it away from his grasp, fumbling to get through the door before he could continue. But he was laughing loudly from behind me, obviously delighted in my reaction to the Oasis song.

"I don't believe that anybody feels the way I feel about you now," he quoted through the laughter, "And all the roads we have to walk are winding. And all the lights that lead the way are blinding. There are many things I'd like to say but I don't know how."

The door finally swung open and I almost fell through it in my attempt to get away from him.

Logan was peering over the couch confused as Cam trailed me inside, seeing the horror and disgust written across my face as I tried to escape my boyfriend.

"Don't do this to me!" I told him, "Don't be such a fucking cliché!"

There was a pause when I thought he might give in. However I read the moment wrong, so I didn't have the chance to run when he darted up, only had managed to spin away. And his arm was gripped around my neck loosely just as it had been back on the dance floor.

And I knew what was coming for me, so I could only give a loud disheartened groan as I shut my eyes and prepared.

"Because maybe, you're gonna be the one that saves me. And after all, you're my wonderwall."

To punctuate the lyrics, he pressed a sound kiss to my cheek.

Despite my horror at the fact he was quoting Wonderwall of all songs, I felt the urge to smile curving around my lips. What could I do? No matter how much I didn't need my boyfriend quoting it to me and making me feel like a prepubescent teenager, there was no doubting I did love the song - it was a moment of brilliance.

However we didn't get away with it for more than a minute because another groan broke through the room.

"God, if you two are going to start quoting love songs and shit, I'm going to poor the alcohol in my eyes."

That got a laugh out of me, and I allowed myself to open my eyes. It was just in time to see Logan snatching the bag away from Cam's grasp and plopping it down on the coffee table. Cam didn't bother to fight it, just continued to stand behind me casually as he watched his brother with his arm still hanging loosely. Logan ratted through it for just a moment before coming out with a two six of Jameson's.

That had my eyebrows shooting up as I twisted my neck to look at Cam. There was a laugh in my voice when I asked incredulously, "Didn't I say go out and get some beer and smokes? That's more than a beer."

Cam grinned at me and gave a shrug. "It's like you said, we're the Harrisons and Jude Turner in New York. We can't just drink beer."

The smile I gave him was probably blinding.

"He definitely got the smokes," said Logan, gaining my attention. "Now you two can stop taking mine."

It was a good thing I glanced his way too, because it was just in time to blink at the cigarette pack flying directly at my forehead. Thanks to some quick reflexes, I managed to avoid getting hit by flapping my hand, but the smokes ended up hitting the ground instead of being caught. It only made Logan grin as he twisted off the cap of the whiskey.

While I watched, he took a sizeable sip straight from the bottle. I thought to offer to go get cups, but those were for the week - plus the other one I had was currently being used as an ashtray. "So how early is your guys' flight tomorrow?" I asked interestedly, wondering how serious our hangovers were bound to be.

"Same flight as yours," said Cam, giving me a squeeze back against him.

"Yeah," said Logan with a nod, "Same."

Cam stared wearily at his brother for a long moment, but when the bottle was offered, he took it all the same.

However I found myself wincing - it wasn't at the sight of Cam about to drink from the bottle, but another thought that I pushed to the back of mind since they'd shown up. The expression caused Cam to pause with the drink halfway up to his mouth and he asked, "What?"

"Yeah, about that," I began, a slightly guilty expression working its way on to my face. "I'm not on that flight anymore."

"What?" the two of them asked in unison.

At any other time that probably would have made me smile, but I was too entrenched in the hypocrisy of it all as I peered up at Cam. I was trying my best to wear an innocent expression. Maybe if I blinked up at him enough from beneath my lashes, he would leave it alone. "I've got to fly out to Vegas, pick up Prudence. Baby Turner is coming for a stay with us in London for a couple months."

For a moment I wasn't sure if the information registered with Cam, he just blinked down at me, one arm still wrapped around me with the other hand holding onto the whiskey. "What? Why?"

Figuring he'd forgotten about the bottle by now, I reached out and tugged it gently out of his hands to take a deep gulp of it. "Her parents are going through a messy divorce," I answered with a little grimace at the taste of the alcohol burning down my throat. "Steve managed to last six and half more years than I expected, but apparently it's getting messy. Martha asked if we could take her until it's all done."

That had Cam reaching out blindly for the whiskey, and he took a bit longer of a drink than I thought completely advisable. When he pulled the bottle away, there was a smirk around his mouth.

I bit back the groan. I'd known this was coming, and I deserved it.

"So you've been getting mad at us for not telling you every little thing we do in the day," began Cam. From behind him, Logan had begun to laugh loudly before snagging the whiskey for himself again. "And you were planning on showing up with a kid without even bothering to tell me?"

"Well, no," I lied, my nose wrinkling at his words. When he said it like that, he made it sound ridiculous! "I would have told you tomorrow."

Cam could only laugh, leaning into me. And his lips brushed against my neck, nose burrowed into my hair. "Sure you would have," he informed me when he could get words out. "Remind me to call you hypocrite instead of darling from now on."

I couldn't resist rolling my eyes. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," I warned, "But acts are gonna get cleaned up with a six year old in the house. He's not sleeping in our bed anymore -" Logan held his hands up innocently "- and David's going to have to give up his room for Prudence."

"Dear god," mumbled Logan as he handed me the whiskey, "Are you sure your dad doesn't listen to The Beatles?"

My eyes narrowed on him, but I took the whiskey all the same. "You're going to be sleeping on the couch," I warned before taking a long gulp. "No drugs and no smoking and we're cutting down on the alcohol."

The brothers gave identical groans.

It had me smiling broadly before I lifted the bottle in a mocking toast, and told them, "So we better get it out of our systems tonight."

That was all it took for our night to be sent sprawling onwards. We really should have just gone to bed with the reminder of our flights tomorrow; we should have tried to avoid the hangovers that were bound to be devastating in the morning. But, as Cam had pointed out again, we were the Harrisons and Jude Turner. There was no way we were just going to go to bed without giving it a good go.

Logan produced some spliff that he'd got at the bar while I plugged in the music and Cam got down to rolling. I turned up the music so it was deafening, just putting my iPod on shuffle in the hopes that it would attempt to stay upbeat.

Hours later, the window was open to combat the smoke filling the room and the heat that came on from dancing like mad. The whiskey kept getting passed between us and the laughter was ringing out loudly. It was a miracle that we were yet to get kicked out, but we'd hold onto it until the last moment.

And it was then that Don't Look Back Into The Sun came flooding through the built in speakers. It gave the three of us a pause. It was the song that the brothers had never ended up playing together, holding under covers and playing it separately in secret. They'd never gotten around to it on that first tour and after that it had seemed far from their minds; even it was always a niggling reminder.

The pause didn't last long, though.

I was the first one to break the silence, giving a delighted shout as I raised my hands over my head. It got both brothers' eyes on me before they began to laugh at the sight of me jumping up and down on the hotel room bed.

Logan took a long drink from the bottle before bursting out to sing along to the song, and we allowed him the first verse. "Don't look back into the sun. Now you know that your time has come? And they said it would never come for you." I burst out laughing as he moved his shoulder along to the song. "Oh my friend you haven't changed," he sang, hitting his brother in the shoulder, "You're looking rough and living strange. And I know you've got a taste for it too."

When the chorus came, I didn't join in but watched instead. I even froze where I stood on the bed, hands going up to cover the enormous smile on my face as I watched Cam jumping around to the song as Logan laughed at him. They sang it together.

"They'll never forgive you but they won't let you go, oh no. She'll never forgive you but she won't let you go, oh no."

At that line I was cast identical looks from the brothers, and it shocked me into moving again. With a hand pointed in Cam's direction, I began bouncing on the bed with far more gusting, spinning around. And then my hands were above my hand as I danced through the jumping.

"Don't look back into the sun. Where you've cast your plans and you're on the run. And all the lies you said, huh did you say?" shouted Cam in a question as he played air guitar - and of course it would have been absolutely perfect. There was a smile etched across his face and it made my stomach warm just at the sight.

Before he could start into the next verse, Cam was pointing a hand in my direction.

It was with a brilliantly ringing laugh that I jumped into it without hesitating. "But they played that song at the dead disco. It starts so fast but ends so slow. And all the time it just reminded me of you." With that I made sure to point at both of them as I shook my hair around my face wildly, my breath coming out in short delighted gasps.

The three of us sang the chorus together this time.

"They'll never forgive you but they won't let you go. Let me go! She'll never forgive you but she won't let you go, oh no."

At the short instrumental break, I took two running steps and then leapt across to Cam's back. My arms probably came close to strangling him even as my legs made sure to tighten around his waist, and Cam immediately almost lost balance for the second time that night. However instead of ramming into the armchair, we hit Logan who almost toppled over as well, but ended up to be our saving grace in staying upright.

I was laughing madly, head back and then Cam was spinning me around until forcefully disentangled myself.

Not wanting to miss it just in case it was the last time, I slipped an arm around Cam's waist while doing the same to Logan. They in turn instantly wrapped arms around my shoulders. Logan gave Cam's head a light shove, but the younger brother only laughed as we jumped to the last chorus.

"They'll never forgive you but they won't let you go. Let me go! She'll never forgive you but she won't let you go, oh no."

- I can't believe that this is the end. Like when JWIN ended I was only thankful, but I knew I wasn't letting go of the characters because I already had BOTR planned. This is different because there's going to be no sequel to this. I REPEAT NO SEQUEL. And I can't let go of these characters yet! I love them too much. I think they're the best batch I've ever created. The perfect jumble of ego and charm and dysfunction that's hindered by addictions and love and being so perfectly human. They're just REAL to me. Jude and Cam and Logan are so entrenched in my head, they're voices are forever going to be there. It comes in handy when I need a little help in certain situations.

All that being said, yes, I plan no sequel. There might eventually be a spin off, but I've promised myself I'll finish BOTR before that and I have no idea how long that'll take. Still, I'll probably post little scenes from their lives - I have so many in my head. Oh, and I have a little novella think I might bost when I need a break from BOTR, which I planned down to ten chapters, I think? Whatever, all of that is long in the future.

Oh, and the dedication is to ChloeFerociousBeast because she reminded me of the song Famous Blue Raincoat for this story. It really is a perfect song for them.

So, yes, I might go cry myself to sleep a little bit now. But as I cry, I'd like to know how you guys feel at the end of the Jude Turner and Harrison Era?

Oh and feel free to ask me any questions about their lives and parts of the book now, there's nothing that needs to be kept hidden anymore. The book - and I - are quite literally open now.

I