Chapter Text
One of the best things about touring, in Alex’s opinion at least, is the food. Before every show, they’re almost always treated to an array of fruits and vegetables and cheeses and crackers. It’s good because everything on the platter pairs well with wine, and bad because most of the food items are incredibly throwable. This has, of course, played a part in many arguments among the band, but not tonight. They can’t be bothered with arguments, not when they like each other so much.
Tonight they played a game of catch with the grapes, seeing how many they can catch in a row and how far they can catch it from and if they can manage it while standing on furniture or kneeling on the ground. Alex wasn’t particularly good at it, but he did feel slightly more motivated when Graham swapped his grape for a cube of gouda, even if he continued to miss the majority of them.
Graham was a lousy pitcher, but he could catch quite well when he sat lower on his knees. Dave was a better giver than receiver, especially when Alex teased him with phrases like “it’s just a parabola, Dave, remember the quadratic formula,” and he was laughing too much to catch it properly. Dave and Damon made a great team; Damon was very interested in catching them as he jumped off furniture or hopped up and down, and Dave was perfectly willing to accept the challenge.
Alex tired of this soon and took a seat on the sofa, crossing his legs and resting an arm across the back of it. He was soon joined by Graham, who invited himself to rest his head onto Alex’s lap as he watched Damon repeatedly attempt to catch a rebound shot from the ceiling. Alex considered, for a moment, convincing Graham to go with him into the extra room. They had been given an entire lounge to hang out in while they waited, but there was a connected door with a lock on it for them to keep their things and change their clothes. He dismissed the thought as soon as it came however– he knew call time would be soon and Damon would pout and Graham would say no anyway.
Graham fiddled with a stem of grapes as he laughed when Damon got hit in the eye and Alex took them from him and dangled the bundle of them over Graham. He laughed and rolled his eyes before taking part in Alex’s game and lifted up his chin to grab a grape in between his teeth and yank it off the stem. He didn’t need the extra room. Graham, right here, joyful and relaxed was good enough for Alex.
He raised his eyebrows at Alex as he chewed, as if to say, “there, happy?” and Alex only offered him another as if he were a lady in waiting for a Greek god, happy to serve and pleasure him however he could. Graham was lovely like this. Smiling and relaxed, playful and beautiful. When they were in college, this was Graham most of the time. Since they started Blur, Graham had more and more episodes of being a sorry grumpy arse to be around; he would push everyone away until he got himself out of whatever funk he got stuck in. Sometimes he would talk about it with Damon and that seemed to help. Alex longed to be Graham’s shoulder, but he didn’t want to push whatever sort of emotional repression Graham had going on; it felt better to let him go at it at his own pace.
So when Graham was like this, cheery and laughing, letting Alex be as touchy and affectionate as he wanted to be all day long, Alex relished in it. He tried not to take advantage of it, push it so far that Graham would whine about being coddled, but Graham was so easy to love, Alex had a hard time holding himself back sometimes.
As he looked into Graham’s big brown eyes, thinking about tasting the grape juice in his mouth, Alex was interrupted from saying something stupid like "I love you,” or “you’re important to me.” Damon had finally caught his ceiling-rebound-trick-shot and whooped for joy, drawing all eyes on the room to watch him hop around the room and pump his fists into the air. He went for a victory lap, placing a loud solid kiss to Dave, a thank you for his excellent pitching. He put both hands on Alex’s face and smooshed their mouths together, an uncomfortable toothy affair as both of them were grinning from the ridiculousness of it. When he kissed Graham, Alex noticed that it was a longer, more sensual kiss than what he and Dave had received. He even saw a swipe of tongue before Damon parted and continued his celebratory lap.
The pang of jealousy was quick, but sharp, undeniable. It was stupid, really, that Alex was so hurt by it. He pushed it aside, didn’t let himself dwell on it. When the stage hand knocked on the door and told them they were on in five, he brushed it away completely and let himself get into the performer mindset. He apologized to her on their way out, sorry for any grapes that had been squashed into the carpet in their excitement.
The show itself was nice, they played perfectly, Damon mostly avoided any acrobatics and Alex hadn’t been able to look away from Graham the entire time, but that part wasn’t new. Damon took a moment in between songs to get the crowd riled up and to chant Graham’s name, the exact sort of thing Graham wouldn’t usually tolerate. But tonight, there was only a single eye roll and then Graham was showing off, playing a few impressive riffs on his guitar and the crowd cheered even louder.
The less exciting parts of the show were when Damon would walk into Alex’s space. He wasn’t there any more than a usual performance, but it was the things he would say that threw Alex off his rhythm. When the crowd was distracted cheering for Blur’s beloved guitarist, Damon walked over to Alex, completely out of breath and lowered his mic to say “I want him so bad,” he could only be talking about Graham, “don’t you?” Alex, like an idiot, had licked his lips and nodded, not sure what to say, what he was allowed to say– this felt like some sort of test.
Of course, Damon spent most of his wandering time inserting himself into Graham’s space– messing up his hair, kissing his cheek, wrapping his arm around his shoulder. But when he wasn’t bothering– or flirting with– Graham, he was telling Alex all the dirty thoughts he was having about him. Alex wasn’t sure if he was being invited to join or if he was just an outlet for Damon’s thoughts because he couldn’t say anything to Graham, who would kick him for doing this during a show, and Dave had a wall of drums around him which made it difficult to speak even remotely quietly around.
Alex wasn’t sure if he would want to join even if he was invited. He knew Damon and Graham weren’t exclusive, they’d all fucked each other around before– even Dave had been in and out when he wanted to be– Alex didn’t know if there was any kind of name for it, but he knew he wanted a part in it.
When the show finished, Damon didn’t bother packing anything up or changing out of his sweat drenched clothes. He pulled Graham by his hand into the separate dressing room and Alex bit down on his disappointment at the fact that neither of them looked at him on their way in. The sounds of sex began immediately, wet lips smacking and heavy breathing, a thump which was presumably Graham being pushed against the door. Only a thin layer of drywall in between them and Alex.
He heard Graham, barely muffled, moan out, “Oh fuck, Damon,” and then decided that was enough. He dried the sweat off his hair with a towel and then left it on top of his head, an attempt to block the sounds out, though it didn’t do much. He tried to busy himself on the other side of the room with the snack table, but not even mini balls of mozzarella could make him feel better.
“Damon’s not very good at sharing, is he?” Dave snickered as he watched Alex pile cheeses and crackers on a little plate.
“Fuck off,” he muttered.
“Why don’t you just knock on the door? Damon was all over you tonight, I’m sure they’d be happy to have you.”
What Dave doesn’t know, apparently, is that Damon is only interested in Alex when Graham is involved. And of all the things he had said to Alex, none of them had actually included him, it was all just vivid imagery of exactly what Damon was doing to Graham right now. No Alex.
“I’ve got to keep you company, haven’t I?” He said instead of letting out his woes. “Don’t want you to get lonely in here.”
Dave knew Alex was full of shit, but still offered a “thanks mate,” with a pat on his shoulder.
Alex had made himself comfortable on the couch by the time Damon was finished with Graham. His snack plate went completely ignored on the table and he lay on his back, feet sticking off the other end of the couch. He didn’t look up when he heard the door open, but his entire body tensed up.
He was surprised by Graham laying his entire weight on Alex, tucking his face into his neck.
“You’re hogging the couch,” he murmured into Alex’s skin, he was still slightly out of breath. He smelled of sweat and sex, where their exposed skin met each other it was damp and sticky.
“You could have asked me to move,” Alex offered, the heavy feeling in his chest was beginning to lighten.
“Mm, I prefer this,” Graham mumbled. He wiggled to readjust and Alex scooted to allow him more room. They ended with Graham wedged between the couch and Alex’s chest, their arms wrapped around each other as much as they could manage. They stayed like that until the headliner finished and Ivan appeared to walk them back to the bus.