Chapter Text
"A party? Me?" James says as he looks at himself in the mirror, phone on the duvet cover of his bed, switching between two shirts to see which one best fits his new, boot cut flared jeans.
"Ah, give over, Jim, y' know these lot, they do no harm." Will's voice comes through crackly, "I'll buy y' train ticket for yous like I always do."
James sighs, smiling to himself as he decides on a simply white, textured button up to wear. He shrugs it on, pulling up the sleeves and undoing the first few buttons, adjusting so that his chain lie central between his collarbones.
"You don't have to keep sucking me off, Will, I can afford a train ticket to London out of my own expense." quips James as he picks up his phone and moves out of his bedroom and into the hallway.
"Oi!! I don't do nowt t' y'! 'M just bein' a good lad t' yous. A good friend!" he hears Will gawp as he makes his way into his living room slash kitchen.
James plops himself down on his sofa, kicking his legs back and relaxing, an arm tucked under his head.
"Wanna see my fit?" he asks, thumb hovering over the icon that had a little video camera on it.
Will hums on the other side.
James taps the icon, and the request for face time was immediately accepted.
Will has his camera approximately five centimetres from his face, whilst James holds his quite far away. James cranks up the volume, unaware of the growing red on Will's face as he leans in, most of the camera taking in an intimate image of the man's quite frankly hairy chest.
"Fuckin' hell, y' could weave a whole furniture store out of that..." comments the Geordie and James sighs, shaking his head before tugging at one side of the shirt to reveal more of his chest.
"Awfully revealing, don't you think, darling?" James teases, and Will drops his phone, groaning and muttering nonsense. Now all James sees is the man's stippled ceiling.
"You are insufferable. Fuckin' insufferable twat." Will grumbles, picking up his phone again and reappearing with his hoodie up. James clocks something.
"You like it, don't you?" he says, grinning, "I can see that you do."
"Like what though, Jimbo?" Will retorts, his blue eyes ablaze with something that seems to be desire. James laughs boisterously, throwing his head back and holding onto his chest.
"Will. It couldn’t be less obvious!" he giggles, looking back down at his screen, "You like my outfit. Will I have to hold you from snogging me?"
Will lets out another groan,
"Won't just be that, lad, I'll fuckin' fight y'." he mutters, disdain clear in his now monotone voice; something that James picked up on a while ago now, noticing how when Will was caught, he'd act all defensive and 'tough'.
"With those prawny little things?" James grins, shifting the camera to his bicep. He flexes it and sees Will's face blossom red again.
"Oh my God, you are so gay." laughs the younger, turning the camera back to his face, disbelief and shock written on his face as the words exited his mouth.
"No, I ain't..." Will pulls up the hood of his white cotton hoodie over his head and shifts uncomfortably, "I gotta go. I'll see yous there, okay?"
James smiled at him knowingly, and nods,
"Yeah, man, see you there." he grins, and then, the call ends.
*
By the time James arrives, Will's had whatever random mixtures of alcohol Stephen has thrown together, and is quite frankly fucked. He sees James, in all his glory, stride into the room with searching eyes, and he watches as the tall man scans the crowd for his face, unaware that they were already practically staring at each other. When they lock eyes, James throws a charming smile at him as he approaches, casual in his gait.
He's wearing the same shirt as he did earlier, this time only the top button undone but the sleeves still remain rolled up, and Will counts the number of tattoos dotted along the man's frankly toned forearms - he loses count at five. His hair is curler than usual and he smells like the taste of a bitter Granny Smith apple, not quite artificial but not quite natural; Will drunkenly lets his mind wonder and somehow thinks of how the man showers. Still, nonetheless, he manages to drag himself back to his conscience, eyes still locked on his appearance. Yes, right, his curls; black in the dimlit room, but Will has known James long enough to know that his hair is just simply a very very dark brown. Loose coils cast over his eyebrows, in the way of his eyes, and as Will's eyes fall upon those captivating hazel, his notices the faint application of eyeliner. His trousers hug his frame a little too snugly, accentuating the man's quite bodacious hips and his belt is chunky and barely fits in the belt loops of the man's boot cut jeans. And Will doesn't have to check to know James is wearing his Chelsea Doc Martin's.
"Hi, Will." James smiles more now as he settles next to Will, "A little lively in here. I suppose it's all the drinking."
At the mention of alcohol, Will notices the man's eyes dim.
"Ahh, yeah, that's all Stephen, lad... I dunno what the fuck he's done but I'm utterly fucked." Will slurs and James hums, his dark eyes analysing Will.
Will is most definitely drunk, James epiphanises as his eyes gloss over the man's square face. Pupils blown, eyes wide, speech slurred, uneven balance - yeah, he's pretty fucked. Will's waves are curlier than usual, and James can't help but think they suit him. His eyes remain piercing even now in the dark, persuasive and thought-provoking. He's wearing the same blue striped shirt over the white tank, a look James has gotten used to but he just knows off by heart that it fits the man like a glove. His trousers are black, flowy and made of thin material by the looks of it, accentuating the blocky aspect of the man, but still, they look nice. He's wearing Berkenstocks too - James just huffs out a small laugh.
"Your outfit is very much original, Will." he remarks, a slight smirk situated on his face.
Will looks down at himself, humming about how he just likes the way it suits him. James laughs again, quietly; as if it is reserved only for Will. To be fair, James doesn't usually mix in with these sort of other YouTubers, especially if they're drunk. In the corner, he eyes out Stephen at a makeshift bar with familiar brands of alcohol, surrounded by the likes of ChrisMD and Harry (W2S). Next to them are George Clarke, Isaac (Italian Bach), Arthur Hill and Arthur TV, all in which are nestling a small drink in their hands. All of a sudden, James feels like he is the odd one out.
But, Arthur Hill catches his eye, and they share a smile and a wave. James supposes they were similar in a way - the music nonsense and whatever. In general, it really wasn't a bad group of people; James just wishes he didn't have social anxiety and knows how to interact with others. And also wishes that no one else was drinking, or maybe that the music wasn't making his chest vibrate from the intense bass.
Is it bass or is it from standing next to Will?
Will is good looking, James has known that for a while, but recently things... have began to shift. They have been... flirting. It wasn't anything huge, just small comments that sometimes would grow into rounds of flirting.
Well, the business is complicated - James casts that thought away as he watched Stephen clamber onto the table in front of him, almost punting a bottle of alcohol into Chris's face.
"Oi!" cries Stephen, "Spin the bottle, ey? Seven Minutes in Heaven!" a crude grin appears on his face, and he adds: "I'll be checking to see if you're cheating or not!!"
Will guffaws beside James, collapsing a little into his side,
"Y're fuckin' weird, Stephen!!" the Geordie yells, and he grabs James's arm to pull him with him.
James just accepts his fate and begins to die inside.
That feeling only grows exponentially when the bottle lands first on him, then... on Will. The Northerner's face is ablaze and James knows his is too, but still, they scramble up together and head towards the bathroom.
"Defeat those allegations for us!" Chris calls and James laughs, shaking his head.
"No promises!" he responds, just before closing the door.
But as he does, there's hands on his face, he's suddenly been pushed up against said door, and a drunken Will's lips have crashed to meet his.
James's eyes shoot wide, wide enough he thinks they'll fall out from their sockets if he opens them just a few centimetres more. Will suddenly recoils, stepping back a little, huffing out a few breaths before James could even register what Will tastes like.
"Been wanting t' do that for fuckin'.. ages, lad..." Will whispers, and he shoots the taller a toothy grin, "Now we're alone-"
James frowns, placing his hands out.
"Will, you're pissed- Are you sure...?" he asks, and Will nods,
"Yes."
Fuck it. What's the worse that could happen? It's just necking on with your mate.
James reaches for him, a hand flying to cup his cheek as they once more connect lips, Will pressing James against the door. It quickly, within a matter of two slow, soft kisses, turns into a quite frankly passionate make out session.
And it's...
James doesn't want to stop.
It's brilliant - minus the fact that Will is drunk, but the man is most definitely a good kisser. He tastes of faint hints of a cocktail, some sort of spearmint gum that ultimately gives James a feeling of freshness even just from kissing him. Well, they're more snogging now, and with the way Will has been casting his hands all over him, James wonders if it'll go any further.
That's when his heart rate spikes, and he gets worried - not because it'll go further; it'll go further here, surrounded by drunk people, and it'll go further with a drunk Will.
"You... me... my place... We can finish it there..." Will hums against his neck and James nods, his hands all tangled in Will's hair. James doesn't even realise that Will's making marks on him until he feels a light grazing of teeth.
"Are you giving me hickies, for fucks sake, Will?" James huffs out a laugh and Will giggles against his neck,
"Yeah... Payback for earlier when y' teased me with y' shirt."
Will's hand creeps to James's buttons and he undoes a few, and is about to move there but there's a knock on the door, making them jolt away from each other.
James hurriedly buttons up his shirt whilst Will tries to sort out his hair in the mirror. Will scurries out and James follows, adjusting his sleeves.
That was... something. He ignores all the shouts and cheers as he sits back down, seizing as someone pats him on the shoulder. He's just made out with his best mate and he liked it, and it was clear Will did too - the man was fucking hungry for it.
What's the worse that could happen?
*
James wakes up, shirtless and his whole body aches; but most of all, he's in a bed that's not his. It was safe to say he did enjoy what happened last night. He stands, stretching and realises he's not just shirtless.
He glances back, seeing Will still in bed, and the man seems to be uncomfortable. James's heart strings tug and he quickly snoops around in Will's wardrobe for an old pair of joggers and some underwear and pulls them on before heading to the bathroom.
He looks at himself in the mirror, and the side of his neck and collarbone are littered with sore marks, all from Will last night. He was absolutely savage, but James really wonders if there is anything he can't take now.
The mission is to make Will comfortable again, and there's no doubt the man is brewing in quite the hangover. James makes him a cup of tea and a small breakfast (butter on toast), and then walks back to the bedroom.
Will is awake, sitting up, and at the sight of James shirtless and wearing his clothes, he yelps and his eyes go wide.
"What the fuck are y' doin' walkin' around like that? In me flat? Why y' in my flat?" the man asks, and James just sighs.
Fuck.
The worst thing happened.