|Title||The Nurse (Part 1)|
|Pairing||Me & Danny Jones|
|Rating||15 for sexual references|
Disclaimer: I don't know any members of McFly, and I do not know their sexualities. This is fiction and fantasy. The only truth is that I did go to the Nottingham gig and McFly did strip to their boxer shorts. Any other resemblance to events past, present, future or fictional by a different author are purely coincidental.
Author's Note: I am really ill, this is just a fantasy to make me feel better
If you'd like to read more of my fics, visit The Platonian
Freshers’ Flu: The name commonly given to illnesses contracted during the first few weeks at University. It is common at most institutions due to the number of people arriving from all over the world, each bringing their own diseases. Mostly, the infection is fairly minor. Or at least that’s the definition I submitted to Wikipedia. It sucks, and is usually stronger than a standard cold. My dad reckons it’s because you get two in a row, I just reckon you get the nastiest. Either way, the last week or so of my life has involved more tissues and cough mixture than any I can remember in my life. Slowly getting better since the weekend, which was a good thing, since I had to be at least… somewhat well for Wednesday. Deride my music taste, call me gay (ooh, close), but I was excited. I bought the ticket out of sheer boredom one night during the summer, which probably goes to show I shouldn’t keep my bank card by my computer. Wait… I didn’t leave it by my computer. So much for that idea to stop excessive spending. But I like cool things… I saw a rather cool kids toy in Oxfam today and had to buy it. It’s rather sad for a nineteen year old, I know, but it’s a little wooden snail with four spherical wheels and a patterned spherical shell sits on top, and it turns because it touches the wheels. It’s rather cool to look at.
I digress, heck, I haven’t even told you why I needed to be well for Wednesday. Unfortunately not my boyfriend coming to visit, more me going to visit the guy who in my dreams was the sexiest thing since… I don’t quite know. Sliced bread isn’t at all sexy, so I can’t say that… since whenever. Meh, it works. Stream of consciousness writing is never smooth. Visit’s probably the wrong word… see is better, and rather apt really, considering. I wanted to meet him, but… is it stupid to not want to to save him getting this fucking flu? Every cough feels like my liver is coming up my throat, or that my brain is being kicked around in some demented roller-disco.
So much for telling you why I needed to be well. I was going to see McFly’s final gig of their ’05 tour at the Nottingham Arena. Now, I’m a Nottingham resident, or rather, I live at Nottingham University during term time. Which means either walk halfway across the city in the pouring rain (I ran it in about thirty minutes once with a suitcase when I missed my bus to the train station) or a taxi ride. I chose the latter. £8.20 – fucking extortionate. I actually got to see their pricing scheme though. £1.60, add 20p for each 183 metres up to but not including 1464 metres, 20p per 254 metres thereafter. Or something. It takes £2 just to get off the campus. Queue to get in, and of course the drink of Tango is £1.90… and you don’t have that extra 10p. There’s a queue at the front merchandise shops, and the security guards won’t let you off the tiered seating to go to that one at the back of the pit that has no queue whatsoever. Bastards. Still, I bought myself a poster, a scarf and the official tour programme so I had something to read waiting for the gig to start. Serves me right for arriving when doors open. Still, I was a lot closer to the stage than I expected. The other problems with arriving early are that almost everyone has to go past you to get to their seats, and that after a while you realise that exactly the same adverts will be played, and that each time that second commercial comes on (which started “Make… Some… Noise!”) that all the teenies will actually do it.
Is it any wonder I want to cull everyone between the ages of nought and sixteen?
Everyone’s heard what happened at the gig by now – how Danny, Dougie and Harry appeared in boxers on top of Tom’s piano for She Falls Asleep, and were suddenly assaulted by a guy who started kissing Danny, and was pulled into a massive on-stage orgy… or just the bit about appearing on the piano. Dreams are too much fun. I know I was pissed at the teenies for cheering at the start of the song – it’s an incredibly sad song, and they’re cheering like it’s fucking We Will Rock You. As for Danny and co… that was just war in my head between “bastards, THE SONG!” and “oh god they are so fucking hot”. Go go base instincts.
I know I got rather hyper during it all – singing songs as if they were about Danny not some random girl, and for the last song I was standing on my seat dancing. Proof that you don’t need to have touched a drop of alcohol in the past week to be drunk. Now, by Wednesday I’d mostly got over it, but I still had (and still do, unfortunately) a bad cough that just gets worse as time goes by. By the end of the gig, I wasn’t exactly in great shape, but I was still fucking loving it. Still wanted more. About to get more. When my tickets arrived in the post there was a letter in it saying that my seat had been randomly drawn to meet McFly. One of ten apparently. I bet there was a lot of activity on ebay for the others. Anyway, come the end of the gig, I headed towards the backstage area, clutching my little bag of goodies and the letter in my pocket. Past the security guards, one of whom I swear I saw doing work as a bouncer at the students’ union bar one night. There were about six people milling about in a room that had some plates of biscuits out and a coffee urn, presumably waiting for McFly. I looked to be the only guy there. Three were obviously teenies, complete with flashing bunny ears (my mind was already preparing for the inevitable OHMIGAWD screeches), another a fairly demure blonde clutching the neck of (presumably) Dougie’s bass, a fifth obviously a mother who had gone in with promises to get autographs for a child, and a sixth another black-suited security guard standing ominously near the bourbons as if daring someone to try and take one.
Unfair, he was probably a nice guy. He just looked scary.
He probably had a “mum” tatoo somewhere.
Two more teenies appeared behind me and I ended up having a coughing fit. I grabbed a styrofoam cup filled with something resembling coffe and downed some to try and settle my throat, burning most of my tastebuds on the way. Not a hope of it working. I kind of wished I had a yellow t-shirt with “CONTAGIOUS” written on it in big letters. If nothing else it would be kind of cool. As it was I just had a white shirt with a random brown line down the middle for no good reason. Black trousers, with some mud around the bottom from walking across muddy fields on my way to lectures. Washing them is too much effort to do daily, or even regularly. I’m a student, I’m allowed to be lazy.
A few minutes passed, no one else turned up. I considered leaving for a few minutes so I could find a basin to try and cough into, but the double doors at the far end of the room finally opened. The ohmigawd was instantaneous and more ear-piercing than I’d figured – I actually winced in pain. I was thankful that it changed fairly quick to a mindless babble at a frequency that wasn’t going to make my ears bleed, though I swear even those few seconds came close. Wonder if that noise-cancelling technology can be changed to just cancel out all high-pitched noises. If so, you have to wonder if popstars would buy them. I know I would. I coughed again, and took another sip of coffee. I hadn’t dared the guard for a bourbon. Bourbons were remarkably hard to get for a while – apparently the bourbon factory burnt down. THE bourbon factory… you’d really think there’d be more than one of them. Maybe that was why he was guarding them – he didn’t know it had been rebuilt.
Or maybe he was just there for McFly. Who knows. They’d changed out of the clothes they’d been wearing for the gig, and looked as if they’d at least tried to dry themselves of sweat. I moved forward, leaning against a table while the teenies mobbed them. Even from here I could smell a strangely enticing mix of sweat and deodorant. It made me want to cough. Why did I not bring fucking strepsils…
Danny somehow managed to extricate himself from the teenies. I guess they were Dougie and Harry lovers… no one ever seemed to love Tom… except one or two people who were too old to be teenies (here’s to you guys). He started coming over to me, pausing to grab bourbons. He stank, and he said hi to me round a mouth full of biscuit.
Into a fit of coughing.
“Are you alright?” he said, putting a hand on my shoulder.
“Just a bad cold, I’ll be ok.” Bad pun (unintenional). He didn’t notice. “I’m Matt. It’s probably best if you don’t shake my hand.”
He smiled, “This your first gig?”
“First McFly gig – I saw Interpol at Christmas at the Bristol Academy, and unless you count folk concerts my parents took me to… that’s it.”
“You from Bristol then?”
I coughed again. “Yeah. By the way, tonight was brilliant, thankyou.”
“Don’t thank someone for doing something they enjoy, besides, I should be thanking you for coming. Only you or is there a little sister waiting out there?”
“Take your own advice, mate. And no, I came alone. A little sister would just annoy me… seriously, how do you cope with teenie screams on a daily basis?”
“Ehy, you get used to it.” I broke down into another coughing fit. “You really sure you’re alright mate?”
“I’ll get over it, really.”
“OK, well I’d better go talk to some other people, I’ll be back.” He smiled at me again – so unlike my own smile. His smiles were full-on teeth-baring. Mine were just slight grins usually. I drank my coffee. God he was gorgeous… and now I’d seen him topless… oh yes please.
Ten minutes passed, I got to speak to Harry and Dougie, but couldn’t get near Tom. The guard coughed. Not my cough I hoped. No, it wasn’t.
“Well, thanks for coming everyone, sorry we can’t stay longer, been great meeting you all.” Tom. Bah. I’d wanted to meet him. I coughed again. Danny appeared at my elbow.
“Come on, let’s go.”
“Uh… me? Where?”
“You’re coming back to the hotel. You’ll get even sicker waiting for the train in this weather. Besides, they don’t run this late.”
I tried to protest. “Seriously, I’m fine. And I don’t have far to go.”
“You won’t be able to get back tonight anyway. Come on, are you seriously going to turn me down?”
I coughed again. He just grabbed my arm and frogmarched me through the doors following Tom, Dougie and Harry. The guard neatly stepped in behind us, closing the doors, leaving the bourbons unguarded. I could still feel the jealous glares of the teenies even through the plywood. The others were dawdling at the end of the corridor.
“Hey Danny… why?” Tom asked.
“I’m not leaving someone who’s clearly ill out on a cold night several hundred miles from home.”
“Look” I said, “I tried to tell you, I don’t live…”
“Hey, wait… Tom, stand by him a moment.” I stood silent as Danny moved a few strands of my hair and stood back.
“Whoa… you’re kind of a brown-haired, less-shaved Tom.”
“You’ve even got the cheek dimple! You can’t play guitar can you?”
“Never really tried, but I doubt it…”
“Shame. We could take you instead next tour, and I wouldn’t have to lose at FIFA all the time.” He grinned widely as Tom started complaining about how Danny had beaten him last week. I just had another cough attack.
I hate football games anyway. Bet I could whip his ass at Goldeneye though. Old, but still brilliant.
I was led to a cab which took us back to their hotel. I gave up trying to tell Danny that I lived in Nottingham, it was just pointless. Counter-productive too. Amazing no teenies managed to see us on the way there, or in the foyer. We got into a lift and took it up to the sixth floor.
“You still coming out tonight Dan?” Dougie said.
“Yeah, meet you in the entrance in… forty minutes?”
“I’ll be in the bar.”
I tried to avoid coughing. Finally the doors open, Danny led me right, the others going left.
“Hey, wait, Tom.” I said. “Tes asked me to tell you she loves you.”
“Dutch girl,” I shrugged.
I followed Danny, occasionally coughing, right down to the end of the corridor, waiting for him to find his room’s swipe card.
“So how come you’re at the far end from them?”
“They say I smell.” His eyes sparkled. “Some mix-up with the reservation. It happens. In Birmingham they had Dougie on the first floor and the rest of us on the fifteenth. We made him a friend out of balloons so he wouldn’t feel lonely.”
The door beeped and clicked, finally allowing us access. Palatial, but decorated in that shade of cream that every hotel everywhere seems to use. A bag stuffed with clothes was shoved in a corner and various shirts lay strewn on the bed. Is it wrong to wonder if any of those would fit me and if they did what they’d smell like? I know there was some deodorant I really really liked. One of my first crushes wore it – sometimes I could tell when he was nearby just by the smell of it. I never found out what it was though, and I never got to see him naked or anything, even to kiss him… I loved him, or at least I thought I did. Now I don’t really know. I’m not sure now if I’d have him even if he asked… bah, water under the bridge. Spilt milk. All that crap. It’s not about what’s past but what’s the present, and making the future better. When I get rid of this fucking cough things will be better.
A towel landed in my arms.
“You grab a shower first mate. There should be shampoo and stuff in there. Just be quick about it would ya? I don’t share showers first time I meet people.”
But sharing would be fun… his wet, naked body sliding against mine, fingers teasing, testing… slipping in felt so good, coming out so odd, so strange you’d think it would be opposite but it’s not. Flesh quivers against flesh under the thin coat of lather as lips meet at last, ushering in a new sensation of belonging, of total acceptance and love. Union of two bodies, two souls in the coitus of lust and…
And coughing. Fuck it. I pushed the door to the bathroom shut behind me and turned on the shower. There was a bewildering array of shampoos, conditioners, anti-spot lotions, shower gels, soaps, moisturisers. I wasn’t sure which were his and which the hotel’s. I read somewhere that he was rather vain at times, but… surely that was just taking it to an extreme.
Which made the best lube I wondered. And had he tested them? Visions of Dougie bending over came to me… He was pretty cute. Danny, Tom, Harry, Dougie… Gorgeous, odd, suave and cute. Though I guess Dougie was pretty odd too, just not physically. Anyone who wears a badge saying “sometimes I wish I was a monkey so I could throw poop at people and it would be legal” is just… well…
“You done yet?”
“Yeah, just towelling off.” I yelled back in the general direction of the door, turning off the shower. He knocked at the door, so I grabbed one of the white bath robes hanging on the wall and quickly pulled it round myself before letting him in. He had a towel wrapped around his waist but that was it… At risk of sounding like that bitch from Little Britain, he was gorgeous. I mean, sure I saw that at the gig, but that was from a distance and on a screen… this was real…
“Hey, room service should be up soon with some cough syrup and throat sweets – follow the instructions on the packet. I don’t want to have to do CPR.”
I laughed, which promptly turned into another coughing fit.
“Nurse eh… I hope my bum doesn’t look too big in the uniform. Go get into bed, I’ll be done soon.”
I picked up my clothes and went back into the bedroom. I pulled on the boxer shorts and moved his stuff off the big double bed. You certainly got what you paid for at this place. A smart rap at the door announced room service, and soon enough having taken my medicine, hopefully to the contentment of my nurse with the sweet arse, was lying in bed in my boxers. My throat was starting to feel a bit better, but I was still coughing a lot. I wished I could watch Danny showering – however much of him you saw naked for however long, it was never enough. Dreams of him climbing into bed and screwing me senseless… of him singing to me, all about us…
Back through the door, still with just a towel, water dripping off him so ridiculously sexily. I just stared as he bent and started digging through his bag of clothes, the towel slipping slightly, nearly…
“No staring, you’ve seen enough.” How the hell did he know… eyes in his arse? Or did he do this often… Or did he think all guys that went to McFly gigs were gay? To be honest, he was probably right. Well, those that weren’t there to take children, though I guess you never knew. Don’t get me wrong, I love the music, the fact that I want to take them all to bed with me is just a happy aside. Or rather, the music is an aside here probably. I mean, really. Who among you reading this does it because you like the music? Thought not. You’re reading it because there’s a tantalising glimmer of homosexual relations involving one or more of McFly, and because my stories are usually incredibly dirty. Shame on you all. Can’t you just go look up gay porn on google or something? It would be much easier for all of us.
Danny finished changing into a new shirt and trousers and came to sit on the bed by me. This was so weird looking up at him like that.
“You gonna be okay?”
“Yes nurse,” I replied mockingly, then descended into a fit of coughing. He put a hand on my forehead, so warm… caring… he was sweet. His fingers brushed my lips as he pulled away… accidental… maybe? Probably?
“We’re going clubbing, be back in a few hours. I’ll try not to wake you.”
“Try a club called NG1, and stay away from the Cookie Club.” I shouted at his retreating back.
“Thanks for the advice…” he stopped in the doorway. “Wait, how did you know?”
“I tried to tell you, I actually live in Nottingham. I’m a student. I go to university here.”
“Oh.” The expression on his face was perfect. I grinned.
“Thankyou for this, I appreciate it.”
“Well…” he grinned back at me a bit, “Next time I’m ill, I’m staying at your place.”
The door clicked shut behind him, and I turned over, coughing slightly, my body snug in Danny Jones’ hotel bed.
A half hour later my phone buzzed. New message.
OMG McFly r dancing @ a gay club
I grinned. Danny, enjoy NG1.