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It was less than week away from their first ever concert in New York’s Madison Square Garden’s and their management had decided in their infinite wisdom the band needed to throw a party because it was good PR.

The band had reluctantly agreed, preferring to focus on getting ready for the concert and this was why Paul found himself unwillingly watching Richard being chatted up by just about every woman in attendance, obviously trying to get into his pants. Of course Richard being Richard he was clearly loving the attention but his body language suggested something was off only Paul had no idea why.

“Are you ever going to tell him?” Till asked, appearing next to Paul out of thin air and scaring the shit out of him. He leapt in the air like a startled cat, whirling on the singer and nearly spat his drink in Till's face.

“What?” He squawked dumbly, his heart trying to beat its way out of his chest.

“Are you ever going to tell him?” Till asked again, one eyebrow climbing up his forehead, his gaze piercing.

Paul hated that expression because he knew it meant he’d been sprung and Till was nearly always the one who could see straight through him. Only Flake was better at it for obvious reasons but because the tour had been so hectic up to this point they’d all been incredibly busy and distracted. Except for Till it would seem.

Paul was somewhat grateful Flake hadn’t come to the party, having had a bad bout of hay fever all day and taken antihistamines that had made him drowsy. New York hadn’t agreed with him at all but he would have seen through Paul faster than Till.

“Who?” Paul tried to play dumb, desperately trying to stall the inevitable conversation and the very subject he’d been desperate to ignore for the past few months.

“Richard and don’t play dumb with me.” Till saw through him instantly and at times Paul fucking hated that Till could read him so well. Right now was one of them.

Paul opened and closed his mouth a few times trying to think of anything that could distract Till.

“Don’t bother lying either.” Till added before Paul could utter a word.

Paul snapped his mouth shut. “Tell him what?” He eventually asked still trying to stall, even though he knew he’d already lost. He felt himself beginning to sweat, his nerves getting the better of him.

“You’re in love with him.” Till stated bluntly. “Don’t you think he deserves to know?” That was Till, always looking out for his best friend.

“No.” Paul stated simply, hoping Till would drop the subject knowing he wouldn’t.

“Why not?” Till demanded and Paul sighed in defeat.

“It’s not like I have any chance with him.” Paul said more bitterly than he’d intended as he watched Richard being chatted up by a leggy blonde. She looked stunning and was exactly Richards type and being American probably more so, he thought sourly.

“You’d be surprised, Paulchen.” Till said. Placing a large hand on Pauls shoulder he gently turned him to face the singer and away from Richard. “I know what it looks like right now but looks can be deceiving and you know him well enough to know he’s not comfortable at the moment.”

Paul had to concede that yes Richard clearly looked like he wanted nothing more than to escape the woman who was, in Paul's opinion being rather pushy constantly putting herself well into Richards personal space. “That doesn’t mean anything apart from the fact that he might not like her.” He said, his eyes locked on his hands that we gripping the glass tightly. He frowned at that not liking that he was clearly showing how much he hated Richard anywhere near the woman. Or any other woman he amended to himself.

“He’s not happy because it’s not you.” Till said to his friend, waiting patiently for Paul to look at him again. “Have you ever noticed that he’s always much happier when you’re around him?” He asked.

Paul had hoped that he hadn’t imagined that but he’d always convinced himself he was all in his head and Richard didn’t feel the same as Paul did when he was anywhere near the man. “Is he?” He asked anyway, almost desperate to hear someone else confirm what he wished for. To make it that bit more real.

“Whenever he enters a room, you’re the first person he looks for and nine times out of ten you’re the first person he goes to, Paul. He’s spent most of the conversation with her looking at you. He always knows where you are.” Till confirmed.

Paul tried not to let the hope get to him but it was filling his whole body and his heart, the bastard, felt it the most. “What if he doesn’t feel the same?” He asked Till, his eyes practically begging the singer to confirm that Richard did.

“I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised if you just talk to him.” Till said, frustratingly not saying whether Richard did or didn’t feel the same.

“Talk to who?” Richard asked materialising next to Paul and making him jump for the second time that night.

“I’m putting bells on both of you.” He grumbled, willing his heart to go back to where it belonged and not in his throat as if it was trying to give itself to Richard therefore bypassing Paul’s reluctance to talk to the man. He looked anywhere but at Richard.

“Finally escaped the woman, Reesh?” Till asked his best friend.

“Yeah.” He sighed, frowning when Paul wouldn’t look at him.” She would not take no for answer until I talked her into going back to her hotel room because she’s under the impression I’m going with her.”

“Oh. Well I hope you have a good night then Reesh.” Paul said and practically bolted having only heard the last part of what Richard said as he mentally panicked that he would see straight through Paul as well. He didn’t want to be anywhere near that conversation and to be quite honest he just wanted to deal with the hurt racing through him on his own and nowhere near Richard who was bound to notice something was wrong.

Richards eyebrows just about shot off his forehead. “What was that about?” He asked Till looking hurt.

“You’ll have to take that up with Paul.” He advised his closest friend.

“Do you think he found out and doesn’t want to be around me anymore?” He asked now looking as worried as he was hurt by Paul apparently not wanting to be near him.

“I can categorically say that isn’t the problem.” Till said firmly. “Go talk to him Reesh. I think he really needs you right now.”

Richard narrowed his eyes at his friend. “Do you know something I don’t?” He asked him suspiciously.

Till simply smiled at Richard. “Nothing you talking to him wouldn’t fix.” He answered, frustratingly vague.

Their conversation got interrupted when Schneider practically bounced up to them, radiating excitement. “Oliver’s flat out drunk.” He informed the pair gleefully, interrupting the conversation.

“Our Oliver?” Richard asked in surprise, distracting him from his worry about Paul. Everyone knew Oliver barely drank alcohol after getting hammered at party when they were younger and spent three days throwing up. He still couldn’t look at a bottle of vodka without wanting to hurl.

They all wandered over to a clearly drunk Oliver who was sitting on the floor and laughing at absolutely nothing, a half empty bottle of Southern Comfort in his hand and a fan sitting next to him. Clearly the wall and the fan he was leaning against were the only things keeping him upright at this point.

“I didn’t want to leave him.” The man explained, looking concerned.

“Thank you.” Richard said before looking at Till.

“Well,” Till mused to no-one in particular. “He’s going to be paying for that tomorrow.”

Richard grimaced. “He doesn’t even like bourbon.”

“I’m betting after tonight he’ll like it even less.” Schneider said, still clearly amused.

Till heaved a long-suffering sigh. “OK you two, let’s get him back to his hotel room. Thank you for staying with him.” He nodded as the fan got up and moved away.

Between the three of them they got Oliver to his less than steady feet and into the nearest lift. It was with great amusement between them when Oliver began to snore faintly while still on his feet. Granted he was leaning completely on Till who was taking all of his weight.

“For a man as fit as he is, he’s bloody heavy.” Till struggled to hold the inebriated bass player up and grunted when Oliver nearly slid bonelessly to the floor.

Richard and Schneider hastily reached for the drunk man and nearly ended up in a heap on the floor with him, until Till got a good grip of Oliver again.

“Pauls gonna be pissed he missed this.” Schneider said then frowned. “Why did Paul leave so abruptly?” He asked remembering seeing him all but flee from the party.

Richards worry rushed through him again. “I don’t know.” He said, frowning at Till, suspecting he knew why.

“Like I said before, Reesh you need to talk to Paul.” Till said, frustrating Richard all no end.

Richard huffed in annoyance but before he could demand Till tell him what the fuck was going on the lift opened and again it took all three of them to get Oliver to his room and pour him into bed. “Has anyone got any painkillers?” Till asked, while taking Oliver’s boots off.

“I do.” Richard said.

“He’s going to have the mother of all hangovers tomorrow.” Schneider said. “Good thing we don’t have to be anywhere.”

“He’s not going to be a well puppy for the next couple of days.” Till agreed. “Do we even know how much he drank?” He asked both men.

“Given how little he drinks normally it wouldn’t take too much to get him this drunk.” Richard answered. “But just in case lay him on his side so if he throws up he doesn’t drown in his own vomit.”

That worried the other two having not thought of that. “Maybe one of us should stay with him.” Till suggested.

“I’ll do it.” Richard volunteered. “Just let me get some stuff from my room.” His insomnia was always worse during a tour so he might as well do something useful with his time other than staring at the inside of his own eyelids. He dived out of the room and was back in minutes with his guitar, notebook, laptop and bag, clearly having gotten changed into more comfortable clothes.

“Thanks Reesh. We need to go back to the party or management will kill us.” Till said with Schneider agreeing as they both left leaving Richard with an unconscious Oliver and his own thoughts which unsurprisingly spiralled back to Paul. In an attempt to distract himself, Richard opened his notebook and guitar and quietly started playing a few notes of a song idea he’d had floating around in his head and no time to write it down.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The next morning Richard was alerted to Oliver waking up by a pained moan that made him wince in sympathy. This wasn’t going to be nice at all. “How are you feeling Sleeping Beauty?” He asked the vaguely awake man.

“Who tried to kill me?” Oliver groaned, blindly groping for a pillow before slamming it over his face after stupidly trying to open his eyes even though the room was quite dark.

Richard chuckled. “You, my friend, got very drunk last night.”

Oliver peered out from under the pillow. “I did?” He grimaced at the taste in his mouth. “What the fuck was I thinking?”

“That is the million-dollar question.” Richard replied. Well one of two million-dollar questions he thought. Whatever was going on with Paul being the other.

 “I have water and tablets for you.” Richard said placing a glass of water in one hand and two painkillers in the other since Oliver had gingerly sat up but still had both eyes firmly closed.

“Thank you.” He grunted before swallowing the tablets and hoping he could keep them down. “Do I want to know what I was drinking?” Oliver asked as he slid back down under the doona and put the pillow back over his face.

“Southern Comfort.” Richard replied and promptly worried if he could get Oliver to the toilet in time when he heard a muffled gag.

“Why the hell was I drinking bour-, actually I don’t want to know.” Oliver mumbled hastily into the pillow. Something seemed to have occurred to the hungover man as he peered out from under the pillow again. “Have you been here all night?”

“Yup. Someone had to make sure you didn’t do a Bon Scott on us.” Richard said far too cheerfully for Oliver’s hungover state.

“Thank you…I think.” Oliver said.

Richard laughed. “Are you OK if I go back to my room now. I want to try and sleep for a few hours.” Richard asked, yawning.

Oliver flapped his hand at him indicating it was safe to leave.

“Don’t suffocate yourself no matter how much you want to.” Richard warned as he gathered his things.

“Won’t.” Drifted out from under the pillow before he left, bumping into Till who was about to knock on the door, instead almost knocking on Richards forehead. He did it anyway.

“Ha, ha.” Richard said, unimpressed.

“How is he?” He asked.

“Hungover and probably mentally vowing to never go near alcohol again.” Richard said, chuckling. “He’s taken painkillers and should be alright by tomorrow.”

“Good to hear. I’m off to breakfast did you want to come with?” Till asked him.

“Nah I’m going to see if I can get a few hours sleep. I think the bags under my eyes have bags of their own.” He muttered, trying not to look at Paul’s door.

“If you’re sure.” Till said amicably enough. “See you later Reesh.” He grinned at the guitarist, knowing full well Richard was thinking about Paul.

“Yeah see you.” He said. “And fuck off.” He muttered when he noticed Tills expression.

“I didn’t say a word.” Till protested innocently.

“Didn’t have to.” Richard grumbled before fleeing to the safety of his room.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Four hours of sleep and a shower later Richard emerged from his room feeling much better, his grumbling stomach drowning out all other thoughts except for food and coffee now until the lift doors opened and he all but walked into Paul.

“Hi Reesh.” Paul said, putting on a brave face and trying not to think about Richard with that woman. Had they gone back to his room instead? He damned himself for even thinking the question. He’d gotten up late after a restless night of very little sleep and had missed the rest of the band at breakfast.

“Hey Paulchen.” Richard said, automatically hugging the slightly shorter man because he could.

Paul closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around Richard, trying to hold in a happy sigh that he had this at least.

“Have you had breakfast yet?” Richard asked him as he released Paul. “Well more like lunch really since I think it’s even too late for brunch now.” He chuckled, looking at his watch.

“Yeah I have.” Paul said, wishing he hadn’t eaten now so he could go with Richard.

“Oh.” Richard said, looking disappointed. “Well I should go get something to eat.” He said, looking at the lift doors that were still open because they were half in half out of it and stopping them from closing.

Paul took a gamble and said. “I could do with more coffee though.” He really shouldn’t but any chance to spend more time with Richard was something he simply couldn’t deny himself.

Richards face lit up with a happy smile. “Well come on then.” He said, pushing the button for the floor the restaurant was on.

“Why are you up so late?” Popped out of Paul's mouth without any warning from his brain. He cursed himself not wanting to hear Richard talk about the previous night.

“Baby sat Oliver all night after he got himself spectacularly wasted at the party.” Was the surprising reply. So much so that it completely derailed Paul’s train of thought.

“Our Oliver?” Paul asked, shocked when his brain finally caught up with what Richard said.

“Yup, the one and only got himself plastered on Southern Comfort last night.” Richard chuckled.

“But he barely drinks.” Paul spluttered then cringed. That stuff had always tasted like cough syrup to Paul who could never understand why anyone would drink it. It was like liquid sugar with alcohol in it.

“I know but he was and since I’m not sleeping very well I volunteered to look after him so he didn’t drown in his own vomit or something equally as horrible.” Richard said as the lift doors opened.

“Insomnia’s back?” Paul asked, his concern shifting to Richard. The pure unadulterated relief that Richard hadn’t spent the night with that woman nearly brought Paul to his knees. He didn’t bother mentioning he’d barely slept either since his brain had spent the night torturing him with one image after another of Richard in bed with the damn woman.

“Unfortunately, yes. Stress and too much shit running through my head.” Richard admitted.

“Oh, well yeah that won’t help.” Paul said rubbing a hand up and down Richards arm trying to comfort him as they walked to an empty table and sat down. He’d find any excuse he could to touch Richard.

Paul ordered another coffee while Richard ordered lunch and coffee for himself.

“So what are you up to today, Paulchen?” Richard asked when he’d finally finished eating.

“Nothing much. Was planning on doing a bit of practice.” He said, lying through his teeth since he had no intention of doing any of that but it was the first thing that popped into his head.

“Want company?” Richard surprised him by asking. “I’m stuffing up a few of the chord sequences. I know I should know them by now but the more I try to remember them the worse I make it.” He admitted, flushing a little. They’d been playing as a band for a while now but every now and again Richard would stress himself into forgetting shit he knew like the back of his hand and playing Madison Square Garden just made the stress so much worse.

Suddenly that’s all Paul wanted to do. “Of course.” He said. “Your room or mine?” He asked, butterflies taking up residence in his stomach at the thought of being alone with Richard.

“Mine’s a bit messy.” Richard admitted looking slightly embarrassed after his rush to gather his stuff from the night before. “Yours?”

“Mine looks like a tornado went through it so it’s up to you.” Paul said holding his breath, hoping Richard didn’t want to go to his room. He didn’t want to have to explain why it looked that bad because he’d thrown a good old fashioned jealous fuelled hissy fit thinking about Richard with her. He’d been thoroughly ashamed of himself after he’d calmed down but not enough to clean it up.

“Mine it is then.” Richard said, smiling at Paul, whose stomach swooped at just how happy Richard looked.

Oh gods this was either going to go well or be the end of the band he thought somewhat hysterically knowing there was no way he could hide what he felt for his fellow guitarist if they spent more than five minutes alone which is why he’d tried to avoid him for months outside of soundchecks and obviously the concerts. He’d gotten away with it so far. He hoped.

He swallowed nervously beginning to wonder if this really was a good idea.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Richard closed the door to his room behind Paul before racing over to his suitcase that had clothes scattered around it when he’d turfed them out in his effort to find something to change into as quickly as possible to get back to Oliver. “Sorry about the mess.” He apologised to Paul.

“No problem.” He said and dragged his guitar over to the table. He took his baby out of its case before leaning it against the wall and sat down. He fiddled with the strings nervously not knowing what to do with himself which was ridiculous.

It’s just Richard, he mentally scolded himself. You play with him all the fucking time, damn it. You can do this. Paul really, really hoped he could convince himself of the obvious lie.

“Sorry.” Richard apologised again, breaking into Pauls thoughts that were beginning to spiral out of control. So much so that Paul jumped a little at Richards voice. “Paul?” Richard asked, looking worried.

“Sorry.” Paul said, flushing. “Got lost in my thoughts.” He hoped like hell Richard bought the excuse. “So what did you want to play?” He asked, hoping to distract Richard from the questions he could practically hear him thinking.

“I know we’ve been playing Ich Tu Dir Weh but the thought of performing at MSG is making me nervous and I’ve been stuffing up the lead up to the chorus since we got to New York.” Richard admitted a little self-consciously as he sat down at the table opposite Paul.

“Oh thank fuck I’m not the only one whose nervous.” Paul said. “It’s rather daunting thinking about the concert.”

Richards shoulders sagged in relief. “It very much is and it’s not like it’s difficult, I just keep going to the wrong chords all the time. I should be able to play this song in my sleep.” He said rather peevishly, annoyed with himself.

“Worry will do that to you, Reesh." Paul said trying to sooth Richard. "The more you try and push it the more you’ll stuff it up. Want to hear me play it then follow along?” Paul suggested. He might be nervous about the concert but he clearly wasn’t as nervous as Richard. It had been his dream for as long as Paul had known him and to be this close to it coming true could only be causing him to stress even more.

“That would be of great help, Paul.” Richard said as he sat and listened to Paul play the part correctly.

Richard played the part himself getting half of it right before going straight back to the wrong chords again. “Damn it.” He muttered.

“Oh gods that does sound wrong. Till will murder you if you butcher the song that badly on stage.” Paul said, grimacing at the thought of their lead singer pissed off.

“That’s not half of what our hungover bass player will do to me. If I fuck it up that badly he’ll sound even worse than I do.” Richard said, blanching at the thought of Oliver angry with him. He may not lose his temper very often but when he did Vesuvius was a minor eruption in comparison.

“Fucking hell we’re going to have to work on it cos we have the concert on Saturday.” Paul said, alarm making his voice pitch a little higher.

“Paul, that’s three days away.” Richard said, his eyes widening in panic. “I’m so screwed.” He moaned.

“What?” Paul squawked. It was Thursday already? When the fucking hell had that happened?

“OK let's practice it again together this time and see if you can’t push me to get it right.” Richard said, determination making his voice deeper.

Paul's mind went blank at the worst possible time. “Uh…” He said dumbly.

“Paulchen?” Richard asked him, looking up from his guitar and frowned.

Paul coughed, trying to rid his mind of thoughts of kissing Richard until neither of them could think. “Nothing. All good.” He said plastering a fake smile on his face. “Let’s practice.”

Richard stood up and put his guitar on his bed and turned to look at Paul concern on his face. Paul instantly knew he was screwed seven ways to Sunday. He gently placed his guitar on the table and swallowed nervously.

“OK I was going to let you get away with whatever is wrong with you but I’m getting really worried so spit it out.” Richard demanded bluntly.

“But we need to practice.” Paul tried desperately to deflect a very determined looking Richard while refusing to look at him.

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong.” Richard said, sitting down on the end of his bed, facing Paul, who really, really didn’t want to admit anything. Least of all to Richard.

“Nothing’s wrong.” He said in a last-ditch attempt to distract Richard.

“Bullshit. You’ve been acting weird around me for months and if I’ve done something wrong then fucking tell me.” Richard demanded, looking hurt which tore at Pauls conscience. He hated himself for causing the pain he could see in his eyes. So much for him having gotten away with it.

Paul thought frantically for something to appease his fellow guitarist, his brain choosing now to remind him just how much he was in love with Richard. Shit, shit, shit he thought frantically. “I…” He started then stopped.

“Paul you know you can tell me anything.” Richard pleaded with Paul to talk.

Paul let out a little bark of hysterical laughter. Not this, he thought panicking. But before he could think of anything else to say that would side track Richard his mouth, having clearly decided that his brain was being stupid, blurted. “I love you.” His eyes widened in horror. “Fuck!” He jumped to his feet. Forgetting about his guitar and ignoring Richard, he made a break for the door.

He got all of three steps when a hand on his shoulder spun him back around to face the one person he was positive he was never going to be friends with again. “Rich-“ He started to say, although what he had no idea when Richard brought both hands to cup his face silencing him.

Paul could only stare mutely at him, dreading what was about to happen when Richard did the unthinkable as far as Paul was concerned and kissed him. They’d only ever kissed each other when they were drunk, being egged on by the rest of the band and much, much younger so Paul wasn’t prepared for just how good it felt.

Richard kept the kiss simple, merely pressing his lips to Pauls but Paul loved it anyway.

“What?” Paul asked stupidly when the kiss ended.

“I love you too.” Richard said.

Paul damn near melted in relief. “You do?” He whispered.

“Very much so Paulchen.” Richard admitted, smiling softly at Paul as he wrapped his arms around the man dragging him as close as he could.

“I thought your type was tall blondes with big boobs.” Paul said, still not sure this was really happening but happily returned the hug.

Richard chuckled. “Usually it is but I seem to have developed a thing for slightly shorter men with dark brown hair.” He said, pecking a kiss on Paul’s nose.

“Oh!” Paul said, before admitting, “I was kind of a bit jealous of the woman last night to be honest.” He blushed badly, ducking his head into Richards shoulder.

“Is that why you took off from the party last night?” Richard asked finally putting two and two together.

“I thought you wanted to be with her.” He admitted in embarrassment, lifting his head and gazing at Richard not bothering to hide just how much he was in love with him.

Richard chuckled, his own relief lending a happy tone to his voice. “I didn’t want anything to do with her. All I want is you.” He said adoringly. “I thought you’d found out that I was in love with you and didn’t want anything to do with me.” He confessed, a shadow of hurt crossing his face.

“I only want you.” Paul reassured Richard.

Richard searched Paul’s eyes before he crashed his mouth to Pauls kissing him with all the love he could and Paul was convinced he was going melt through the carpet when his brain shut down completely and he returned ardent kiss.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The next morning Richard woke from the best sleep he’d had in years. It took him realising Paul was next to him to work out why and he smiled stupidly at the ceiling until Paul stirred and he transferred his attention to him. “Morning Paulchen.” He said, his voice dreamy.

“Morning Reesh.” Paul said, his voice gruff from sleep. “How did you sleep?” He asked still worried about Richards insomnia.

“Like a baby. If I’d known you were the cure from my insomnia I’d have done this years ago.” His smile turned cheeky when Paul blushed.

Eventually Paul chuckled. “Well I’m glad I could help.”

“Want to have a shower and get breakfast?” Richard asked, smiling like a loon.

“Sounds good. “ Paul smiled at a clearly happy Richard.

After a lengthy shower where they spent more time kissing than cleaning each other they finally emerged and got dressed. Paul dashed to his room to get clean clothes and promptly blushed scarlet at the mess he’d forgotten all about.

“What the fuck?” Richard said having followed him and staring open mouthed at the clothes strewn on just about every surface in the room. His eyebrows rose when he spotted one of Paul’s t-shirts hanging off the curtain railing.

“Uhm…” Paul said dumbly still not willing to admit the reason behind the mess.

“You weren’t wrong when you said it looks like a tornado went through here.” Richard mused to a thoroughly embarrassed Paul. “What on earth happened?”

“Nothing at all.” Paul said finding a clean pair of jeans and t-shirt that he hastily changed into before dragging Richard out of the room by his wrist. He’d clean it up later and hoped to any deity he could think of Richard would forget about it.

“You know.” Richard said conversationally and Pauls heart sank. “I’m going to find out what happened to your room one way or another.”

“The fuck you are. I’m taking that to the grave.” Paul vowed.

Richard merely grinned before holding his hand out which Paul took without a second thought lacing their fingers together.

They wandered over to the lift and Richard was about to press the button to summon it when they got swamped by the rest of the band.

Considerably less hungover, Oliver raised a single eyebrow at the pair holding hands. “Is there something you two want to share with the band?” He asked.

“Yes. Yes they do.” Till said beaming from ear to ear and looking for all the world like a proud father.

“Fuck you.” Richard spluttered at his best friend.