Archive of Our Own

"When it comes to handcuffs, I'm the expert," said Rachid as Stuart took point up the stairs, grabbing the railing and setting a steady pace.

"No, when it comes to handcuffs, Maxine is the expert."

"Not that kind, the other kind. Look no further, I am the king."

"Forget I asked."

"Forget you asked the one interesting thing you've said since we got here? Not likely, mate."

"What do you need to know that much about handcuffs for anyway?"

Ashley snickered from behind both of them, bringing up the rear while Carl waited at his ambulance, chatting up the cat lady from 1B. They should have just let Rachid and Fat Carl take this one, but Stuart was back in a king-of-the-hill state of mind, and every call was suddenly a pissing contest.

"Allow me to correct my stress," said Stuart. "What do you need to know about handcuffs for?"

"For sex, obviously," said Rachid. "What does anyone need to know about handcuffs for?"

"Arresting people."

"Magic acts," put in Ashley.

"Do I look like a magician to you?" said Rachid. Ashley guessed that 'yes' was not the correct answer. "Go ahead, Stuart. Ask your question. What handcuff-related problem can I help you with today?"

"I was just considering which are better, regular or padded."

"Fuzzy," says Rachid. "How is that even a question? Girls like the fuzzy bits. Take me, for example."

"I'd rather not, if it's all the same."

"Fuzzy all the way down—"

"Really not relevant to the topic at hand."

It was a mercy that they finally reached the fourth floor, both for Ashley and for the unresponsive thirty-year-old male in the corner flat. This one was all Rachid's, which was good because Ashley stopped dead in the hallway and stared inside as he checked the man's vitals.

"What's the matter?" said Stuart, bumping against Ashley's shoulder to get him moving into the room again.

"I know him," he said.

"What, well?"

He shook his head and at the same time shook himself out of it. "Not well at all," he said. "But I can probably tell you where most of his birthmarks are."

"Oh, one of those. Well, if he turns out to have an STD, you'll be the first person I tell," said Stuart.

"How kind," said Ashley, and finally pushed his way in. He shouldn't have been struggling to remember the guy's name, both in a professional sense and a personal sense. He didn't like to think he'd had so many that he couldn't keep them sorted anymore, or that it mattered when the person in question was barely breathing.

"Vitals are stable enough," said Rachid. "I think it's an OD."

"You think it's an OD?" said Stuart, as Ashley dropped to a knee next to him to get the patient readied for transport. "What, you think the paraphernalia isn't just decorative? Doesn't everyone keep needles by the bed?"

Rachid didn't rise to the bait this time, just continued the examination. Ashley tried not to be too impressed; focusing on the work in the face of Stuart was part professionalism and part self-defence and only one of those should be rewarded.

Going down the stairs was a lot less smooth than going up them, but they found their rhythm before long all the same.

"So is he a recent conquest, or one from your more distant and fuzzier past?" said Stuart.

"What's this?" said Rachid, and Ashley shot Stuart a look that he knew he could read about as easily as the morning paper. "Are we resuscitating someone you shagged in a previous adventure?"

"Something like that," muttered Ashley. "He's no one. Stu and I can take him in."

"Not bloody likely," said Rachid. "This one's mine. He doesn't smell, he doesn't leak, and he's not likely to expire on the way to the hospital. This one has Team Rachid written all over him."

"Only if you took a felt tip to him while nobody was looking," said Stuart.

"Come on, let me have this," said Rachid. "If we don't take him in, the next call will be someone who's tangled with a hedge trimmer. You know what it's like."

"So you'd rather we got the hedge trimmer massacre?" said Stuart. "You partner with Fat Carl, you take your chances."

"You owe me," said Rachid. "I told you about the handcuffs."

"You didn–" Stuart began, but Ashley gave him a slight shake of his head and he bit back the objection. "All right, you can have him, but then you'll owe us one."

"You don't want to ride with him anyway, Ashley," said Rachid, taking point as they hit the ground floor again. "He might wake up and then it would get all awkward."

"Don't make me regret being the bigger man."

"You don't want to be the bigger man," said Rachid, "you want to be with the bigger man. Out of the way, little boys, we've got a patient to transport."

"You're a dick," said Ashley.

"Coming from you, that's a compliment."

"And the answer is padded, by the way," he added as Fat Carl closed the doors on the patient. "Unless you're into bruises and scratches in obvious places, the answer is always padded."

"Oh, so you know a little something about it?"

"Of course I know a little something about it," said Ashley. "Relinquish your crown."

"Oh, I'm still the king," said Rachid. "You can be queen."

"Fuck off," said Ashley, and crossed to his own ambulance while he still had the last word.

*

"Patient name?" said the duty nurse while Ashley tapped his fingers restlessly on the countertop.

"Tony Murray," he said, grateful for the downtime that allowed him to sift through the names from his sordid past. "Anthony. Anthony Murray. Probably. Another team brought him in this afternoon."

She glanced up at the 'probably', but he couldn't read the look on her face. Likely nothing more than I've-been-on-shift-for-twelve-hours-and-am-struggling-to-care.

"He's stable, but not conscious yet," she said. "Do you want the room number?"

Ashley said 'yes' even when he meant to say no, thank you, and committed it to memory rather than taking any conspicuous notes. He didn't know him, not really, but it was nice to know that he was more or less all right.

*

Considering that Rachid didn't ride with them very often any more, Ashley still saw an awful lot of him. Such as in the corridor when they got off shift, pounding his fist against the vending machine in the futile hope that it would give up the goods.

"Call it a night," he said, slapping the back of Rachid's shoulder as he strode right on by. "A bag of crisps is not worth the aggravation."

"Is he the one who taught you about handcuffs?"

"Who?" He turned back for a moment just to puzzle that one through. "The vending machine man?"

"The bloke we brought in," said Rachid. "Did he cuff you spread-eagled on your bed? Is that how it happened?"

"Why would you think it was Tony?" said Ashley. "Because of the coincidence of us being on the call when you decided you were the expert in all things bondage?"

"His name's Tony, is it?" said Rachid. "Maybe there are no coincidences."

"And maybe you need to spend less time reading new age literature and more time going home."

"So he was the one."

"Fuck off."

He wasn't. He was no one. He was a vague and distant memory.

"Did he do it like this?" said Rachid, grabbing hold of one of Ashley's wrists and pressing it up against the wall. "Did he handcuff you to the bedposts?" And he grabbed the other one, holding them just a couple of inches apart above Ashley's head.

Ashley intended to wrench his arms away, tell him to fuck off again and leave for home. But instead he froze in place, met Rachid's eyes and breathed a little faster.

Sometimes he really hated his fucking cock.

Rachid didn't look smug this time, not like he had all day up till now. He looked faintly surprised.

"Right," said Rachid, and let him go. "You probably want to go visit your boyfriend."

"I just shagged him the one time," said Ashley, once he found his voice again. "I barely remember it."

"You remembered it well enough," said Rachid. "Come on, I'll buy you a drink to dull the pain."

"I don't have pain."

"Fine, I'll buy you one drink to allow you to free the pain, and another to dull it," said Rachid. "By the time I'm through with you, you won't even remember Tony's name."

Ashley would have plead prior commitments, but Stuart claimed to have a date tonight and right on the spot he couldn't even think up a reasonable lie. Somehow, the handcuffs were to blame.

"All right," he said. "Two drinks, if you're buying. But I'm not going to pretend to exhibit pain."

"That's the spirit," said Rachid, lifting his chin and looking smug again. "We'll have you fixed in no time."

Two drinks turned into six and a plate of chips, and Ashley's resolve to have a quiet evening in his own company fled in the face of greasy food and dick jokes.

"So what about him?" said Rachid, pointing an overcooked chip at the corner table, too dimly lit for Ashley to make out the genders of the occupants, let alone whether he'd shag them or not.

"I'm not playing this game," he said. "You're just going to use it against me."

"You wound me, mate," said Rachid. "I'm just trying to get you laid so you forget about what's his name."

"Tony."

"So obviously I have more work to do. What about the bloke at the bar? He looks big and burly. That's your type isn't it? Blokes like me, only gay."

Ashley laughed into his lager. "You're not my type," he said. "And if I wanted to get fucked tonight, I'd already be doing that instead of having a pint with you."

"The night is young!" said Rachid, even though the night was, at that point, rapidly aging. "Plenty of time to do both."

"Leave it alone, would you?" said Ashley, as if that ever worked with Rachid. Or Stuart. Or anyone, for that matter, so everyone's persistence in the face of his reluctance meant nothing except that maybe he needed to find better friends. He was uncomfortably reminded of Rachid pinning him up against the wall, and in that moment recognizing him as, against his better judgment, someone who could possibly, under the right circumstances, do it for him.

"Are you on about personal space again?" said Rachid, draining his glass and slamming it back down on the table with the clumsy force of the inebriated. "I thought we were mates."

"Mates doesn't mean sharing who you're taking home to bed."

"Or other places," said Rachid. "You like it other places."

"You have no idea how I like it."

"With handcuffs, in cupboards," said Rachid. "See? I already know you better than you think I do. So go on, what about the bloke standing by the toilets? That's a clear invitation, innit?"

"I'm not talking about this," said Ashley, as he cruised the guy by the toilets. "And I'm about ready to go home to bed."

"Alone?"

"Unless I'm taking you home to bed, it's none of your business."

There was a moment of silence, in which Ashley though he'd finally managed to shut Rachid up, or maybe that Rachid had slipped under the table because they were that deep into the night and the alcohol, but then Rachid spoke up again.

"Sure, I'll give it a go," said Rachid. "You're supposed to try everything once, that's what they all say. And who am I to deny you my giant prick in your time of need?"

There was a part of Ashley that reminded him this was a terrible idea, but it was a part easily silenced by his traitorous cock.

He blew Rachid in his kitchen, sloppy and hard, making him moan and writhe as the kitchen counter left an imprint at the small of his back. He got an inexpert hand job half on and half off the new sofa, a little too rough and fast but getting him off all the same. He didn't remember how they got from there to the bedroom but he was pretty sure there was some spanking involved, based on the livid red mark on his hip and ass.

What he did remember very clearly was when Rachid fucked him hard, covers tangled beneath them from knees and elbows and fists, Rachid flipping him over and pressing him into the bed with hands and hips.

"You want this," he said, over and over, "You want my giant cock."

And god help him he did, he did, he did.

*

"I think I might have done something irredeemably stupid."

It wasn't the first time Ashley had said those words. To Stuart. Whilst riding beside him on the way to a bicycle accident.

"Well, you've come to the right place. I've done them all."

"You haven't done this one."

"Does it involve handcuffs, a tambourine and a rib of beef?"

Ashley tried unsuccessfully to blink away that image. "Remind me to never ask how your date went last night."

"All right. So what happened to you last night? When I left you, you were planning to get takeaway and spend the night in front of the television."

"I might possibly have slept with a co-worker."

He let that simmer in the silence between them for a moment.

"Is that it? Should I start listing them until I get it right?"

"It's fairly obvious," he said, then added, "Don't worry, it wasn't you."

"Well that's a load off my mind," said Stuart. "So that leaves...really?"

"Apparently."

"Really?"

"Do you want photographs?"

"Did you take photographs? Because that makes the whole thing even more fucked up than it already is."

"This from the man who once pranced about naked on top of the ambulance."

"I thought we agreed never to speak of that day again," said Stuart. "It was an emotional moment."

"It was a naked moment," said Ashley. "So what do I do now?"

"Same thing you always do, that's what I think," said Stuart. "When you see him, slap a smile on your face and pretend nothing happened."

"I tried that," said Ashley. "I think he wants to talk about it."

"Talk about what?"

"The sex, possibly," said Ashley. "Actually, it would be worse if it wasn't about the sex, now that I think about it."

"That's what you get for leading straight boys to the dark side."

"You're a terrible confidant."

"One of my many redeeming qualities," said Stuart. "Is he giving you a hard time? Is he bullying you?"

"He left me a note on the pillow. And now he wants to meet for lunch."

"At least he didn't make you breakfast," said Stuart, "because what a nightmare that would have been."

"I'm never drinking again," said Ashley, and rolled his head back against the seat and promised his own deity and several others that he would never complain about a hangover again if it mean he could avoid the coming awkwardness. Though he didn't go so far as to wish away the previous night because...well, that was between him and Rachid's cock.

*

"You look hungry," said Ashley to the unconscious body.

He didn't react, but then Ashley hadn't been expecting him to. He hadn't reacted when Ashley had pulled his covers up to his collarbones, or adjusted his pillows, either.

The room looked positively spartan, which could be said of most hospital rooms but this one looked especially spartan. No signs of life at all. No signs of visitation.

"Maybe tomorrow I'll bring you some porridge," he said, and didn't think about the fact that the first time he'd offered someone breakfast in ages was a bloke in a coma.

*

He could only avoid Rachid for so long; in this case 'so long' was a day and a half, running into him in the lot at lunchtime after bringing in a mild heart attack.

"Listen, what are you doing tonight, after shift?"

"Same thing I always do," said Ashley. "Go home, eat some food, look at some porn."

"You don't need porn, you've got me," said Rachid. "You could come back to mine. I can cook, you know."

"You want to cook me supper?" said Ashley. "I think we might have a slight misunderstanding here. We had sex."

"Yes, we did."

"Just sex," said Ashley. "Your cock in my arse. Which apparently you enjoyed, but does not come complete with pillow talk and dinner dates."

"It's no pussy, but sure I liked it," said Rachid. "Let's have another go."

Ashley was torn between asking why Rachid wasn't having a more complicated reaction to the whole thing, and pointing out that it wasn't meant to work that way. Though if he was particularly concerned about Rachid's mental state after having done him three times over, he probably would have talked to him about it yesterday.

"Flattery will get you nowhere."

"Aw, you know what I meant," said Rachid. "I get it now, the whole gay thing."

"You get the gay thing now? The whole thing? That's an impressive feat."

"I get why a bloke would want to do it with another bloke," said Rachid, and stopped short of cupping his cock with one hand but he did scratch high up on his thigh. Which Ashley would not have known if he hadn't been watching. "Are you really going to turn down sex?"

"It's sex with strings attached, and I don't do strings," said Ashley. "We shagged, and now we are closing the book, this is the end of our chapter."

"Bollocks."

"And even if I did do strings—"

"I bet you do ropes, though."

"—we work together. I cannot think of a worse idea than this."

"Skinny dipping in shark-infested waters with bait around your tackle."

"Do you not understand the whole concept of a one-off?" said Ashley. "Are we having some kind of failure to communicate here? I can draw you a diagram."

"I think you did that the other night," said Rachid, "but it washed off in the shower. What are you afraid of? Are you afraid you might like it?"

"I'm afraid you're never going to let this go and I'm going to have to transfer to an ambulance service in Australia."

"Fine," said Rachid, raising his hands and taking a step back. "Fine, have it your way. But you can't tell me you don't want to do it again. I can see it in your pants, mate. You can go back to your flat and eat a takeaway and watch porn, but you're going to be thinking about me."

What Ashley should have done was told Rachid he'd see him in the morning and turned around and gone back to his flat, to his food and his porn and his new and suspicious stain in the kitchen. Instead he sighed and weighed his options and followed Rachid home.

*

In the morning Stuart took one look at him and laughed his ass off.

*

The call came when Ashley was surfing the internet, for once not ordering up anything except a birthday present for his mum.

"Let me guess," he said when he heard Rachid's voice. "You just walked past a lamppost or a mailbox and got horny."

"I'm not horny," said Rachid, and from the way he said it Ashley actually believed it, even if that wasn't Rachid's standard state of being. "I need you."

"For what?"

"To talk to," said Rachid. "I just need you to talk to. I had a bad shift, and I'm sitting here feeling like I ought to do something about this kid we brought in—"

"We can't do this."

If there was one thing Ashley had learnt, it was to nip this one in the bud before it sprawled out like some weedy vine and got a lot harder to manoeuver around or extricate.

"What, have you got someone at the door or something? Did the microwave just beep?"

"Either we're shagging or I'm offering you emotional support, it's not both."

"What are you on about?"

"Otherwise it crosses a line," said Ashley. "There are very clear lines, and my intimate sexual situation is only on one of them."

"I can't believe you," said Rachid. "You think you're sorted but you've got the whole thing backwards."

It wasn't like Ashley would have hung up on Rachid if he was in legitimate crisis. He wasn't a complete arse. But things had already got blurry enough without letting them get really complicated. If you weren't careful, it all massed together into some kind of relationship.

"I just want to talk about my day, like mates," said Rachid. "And maybe a little phone sex afterwards."

"And there it is," said Ashley. If Rachid just wanted to talk about his day, that was fine, but that wasn't what he was asking for. "Could we not just skip to the second thing? Are you really going to be in the mood after telling me about some poor kid who...well, probably did something horrible to himself from the sounds of it?"

"Yes," said Rachid. "I'm always up for it."

It was kind of hard to argue with that.

*

"You're not a doctor," said Stuart, standing at Ashley's side as he looked in the door of Tony's room and watched the steady rise and fall of his chest.

"I am aware of this."

"He is not your patient."

"It stands to reason."

"So what are you doing here?"

Ashley sighed and pressed his forehead against the glass, already smudged with his own prints. "I'm doing the washing, obviously."

"You've got a problem," said Stuart.

"I just don't want him to be alone," said Ashley. "What if it was me?"

"If it was you, you wouldn't be alone, and you'd be slightly creeped out if you woke up to a strange man watching you sleep."

"Fuck off," said Ashley, but he didn't complain when Stuart put a hand on his shoulder and they continued to watch for a few minutes longer.

*

Kirsty knew. Ashley could see it on her face when she walked by them, that slightly-too-long glance, that tilt of her head. He waited for her to say something, because he was certain there was something to be said about this situation, and breathed a sigh of relief when she closed her office door without a word.

Until Rachid slapped him on the ass and winked at him out by the ambulance a few minutes later.

"What's the matter with you?" he said.

"What do you mean, what's the matter with me? Nothing's the matter with me. I am bang on, in fact."

"Anyone can see us in here, that's what's the matter with you."

"So?" said Rachid. "You're not my dirty little secret. I'm loud and proud, mate. Nothing to be ashamed of. Hey Dan, I like giving it up the arse!" He accompanied it with a fist gesture that Ashley hated himself a little for being turned on by.

"Do you really find it that necessary to announce our business, our personal private business?"

"Ah, now the truth comes out," said Rachid. "You are ashamed of me."

"I'm not ashamed of anyone or anything," said Ashley. "I just don't think Boring Dan needs to know what we do in bed, My sex life is need to know basis, and if you're not in my bed, you don't need to know."

"Or your shower."

"Or my shower."

"Or your kitchen table."

"It's the sexual component that's relevant. My business is my business."

"Our business," said Rachid. "This time it's our business, and I get to shout it from the rooftops if I like."

"Please don't do that," said Ashley with a wince. "I've got enough trouble with Stuart without you getting on board with the rooftop revelations scene."

Rachid just shook his head at him, like Ashley had just got the answer wrong in some sort of elementary quiz, and began to fuss with the buckle on his belt.

"What are you doing with that?"

"I thought of some more things I need to know," said Rachid, beginning to pull it free. "Get in the back. We're going to have a sexual component."

"We can't have sex in the back of the ambulance."

"Who says?"

"Health and safety," said Ashley. "And no sex is good enough to risk my job for."

"You wound me, mate."

Ashley couldn't deny that he was looking at Rachid's hands, his belt, his trousers, and all that implied, even though he was in no way joking about the ban on workplace sex. He licked his lips and rubbed his wrist, and Rachid smirked.

"So how about you save the belt for after shift," Ashley finally conceded, with a soft and faitly resigned sigh.

"Your place or mine?"

The fucking things he did for good sex.

Though in the deeply private space inside of his own head, it felt safe to admit it was nice that someone thought he was worth this much effort.

*

"I'm going back to Rachid's again after shift today," said Ashley, simultaneously a statement of fact and a somewhat shameful confession.

"You realise this may well be the stupidest thing you've ever done."

"I realise that, yes."

"And that in all likelihood you'll kill him by the end of the week."

"It is a distinct possibility."

"You'd probably get off with justifiable homicide, though."

"I'm counting on it," said Ashley.

They rode in silence for a few minutes after that.

"So why did you decide to do it, then, if you can't stand him and you're not happy?"

"I didn't decide to do it," said Ashley. The copious amounts of alcohol decided to do it. "And I didn't say I couldn't stand him. Or that I'm not happy."

"You just want to kill him."

"He's a straight boy who likes to stick his cock in things," said Ashley. "The whole thing is ridiculous."

"So you think he's going to get bored and move on."

"If he was going to move on, it would probably have been after the first night," said Ashley. "The straight boys tend to freak out like that. Rachid, I think he's got attached."

"Not so straight then, if you ask me," said Stuart. "I'd never have shagged you in the first place."

"I'd never have let you."

"So at least we're clear on that," said Stuart. "He's a little obnoxious for you, you're right."

"I didn't say he was obnoxious," said Ashley. Which obviously he was, but not in that tone that Stuart was using. "He just...tells you everything that's in his head. Whether you want to know it or not."

"Which is unbearable, obviously."

"It is occasionally interesting, I can give him that," said Ashley. "And unfailingly honest. And occasionally sweeter than it realistically should be."

"And irritating."

"You're irritating," said Ashley.

"I think everyone's at least vaguely irritating, so I'm probably not a good barometer for that one," said Stuart. "You, though, you're much more easy-going."

"I do tend to have a little bit more of a relaxed posture," agreed Ashley. "Take a few more things in stride."

"You might read 'irritating' as 'engaging', for instance," said Stuart.

"On certain occasions."

"But you obviously need to end this thing with Rachid as soon as possible and go back to your normal life. It's clearly intolerable."

"My normal life that is lacking in regular sex and dinner companionship."

"It is, is it?"

It wasn't as though Ashley was unclear on what Stuart was doing. He was just surprised at the wave of defensiveness that continued to rise up in him.

"God help me, I think I kind of like the git."

"You don't say."

"You were trying to make a point, weren't you?"

"I'm clever like that," said Stuart. "Did you notice how I subtly led the conversation towards your inevitable conclusion."

"If I noticed it, doesn't that defeat the purpose of being subtle?"

"Subtle's overrated anyway."

Ashley'd certainly been handling a lot of that sentiment in his life lately.

*

It was one o'clock in the morning and Ashley was gagged and spread on the bed with his ankles tied to the bedposts. Despite certain rumours that seemed to persist about him, it wasn't how he ordinarily spent his evenings.

"Smack me if it's too much," said Rachid, which wasn't exactly a safeword but it would do under the circumstances. It would have to go a lot further than this to be too much, though. Right now, and nearly every time, it was just exactly enough. The sex wasn't supposed to be this good, but Ashley'd have to be a bona fide idiot to complain about that, of all things.

Rachid slapped his ass and tugged on the gag with his own teeth and when they fucked it was fast and furious and loud, between the creak of the bed and the sounds Rachid was making and the slapping of flesh on flesh, Rachid as uncensored during sex as he was the rest of the time.

"Yeah, suck on it," said Rachid in his ear as Ashley's saliva soaked the gag, then pushed two fingers inside his mouth alongside it and Ashley sucked on those too, unabashedly, letting his teeth sink in when Rachid's fingernails bit into his hip. "Fuck yeah."

His fingers slipped against the covers as he tried to gain traction, to give back some of what Rachid was giving to him, until Rachid's fingers threaded with his and the weight of him gave Ashley the leverage he needed. He grunted as Rachid sank in deeper but Rachid was louder, shouting at the bedposts with every thrust of his hips and every push back he got in return.

Ashley was exhausted and dizzy and hot and pulsing and he lost himself in the rising sensation, Rachid's voice still in his ear going "fucking yes" and "push it harder" and "take it all" and when he wasn't talking his teeth grazing the shell of Ashley's ear in a rasp of nerves that went straight to his cock.

And when it was over they didn't even bother to try to find the covers, just lay sweaty and sated in the open air.

It felt good to fall asleep with Rachid's arm heavy on his side.

*

"I've got a problem."

"Is it six feet tall and rhymes with hash seed?"

"You're not funny."

"Oh, I'm hilarious," said Stuart. "You've just lost all sense of humour when it comes to your protégé."

"My protégé?"

"I'm not the one who introduced him to the joys of buggery," said Stuart.

"I've created a monster."

"Can't keep up with the youth of today?"

"He bought me a copy of Modern Warfare 3 and a cockring the other day."

"Are they meant to be used together?"

"The game was because I mentioned I wanted it but couldn't be bothered with the queues. The cock ring was for the usual purposes."

"Oh, how horrible," said Stuart. "He's nice to you and buys you things you like."

"You see my problem?"

"I see several," said Stuart. "Would you like them itemized in any particular way or should I just go with alphabetical?"

"It wasn't supposed to be this way," said Ashley. Despite the fact that Stuart was busily pushing his buttons, he knew that he already got what Ashley was talking about. "It wasn't supposed to be any way at all."

"If there's one thing I've learnt these past few months," said Stuart, "it's that we don't get a whole lot of say in how things are supposed to be. It's all about what we do with what we've got. You taught me that."

"You're an arse."

"Yes," said Stuart, grinning at him. "But I'm also right. So if he's not your protégé, what is he? Your boyfriend?"

Ashley winced. "Can we not tell anyone that bit? Particularly Rachid?"

"He is!" crowed Stuart. "You finally admit you're dating Rachid. I'm so proud. I feel like we've all grown as people."

"Fuck off," said Ashley. He in no way acknowledged the fact that he was smiling as he said it. It was too strange and new and inexplicable to deal with.

*

It took a few moments for Ashley to realise those alarming beeps were coming from Tony's room. Not that he was hovering near it once again, he just happened to be in the general vicinity, in an area of the hospital he had no business being in for any other reason.

"What's going on? Is he having a heart attack?"

"Are you family?"

"I'm his EMT."

She gave him an odd look, but he was in uniform. "He's fine, just a few changes we were waiting for. Nothing to worry about."

A patronising nurse. Just what he needed.

"So that's a good thing?"

"He's fine," she said again, like that actually meant anything.

*

Ashley told himself it was only because Stuart wasn't picking up, that he didn't even have Rachid's number programmed into his phone or anything (he did) so it didn't mean anything, that it was vaguely work-related anyway so it didn't count as crossing a line.

"I thought Tony was going to die today."

"What?" said Rachid. "Why?"

"There were noises."

"You thought he was going to die from noises?"

"The machines were beeping," said Ashley. "I thought he was going to die."

"How do you even know the machines were beeping?" said Rachid. That was a very quick turnaround from concerned to baffled, and then another straight to suspicious. "You were there."

"I was checking in, like any concerned EMT would," said Ashley.

"So what's this?" said Rachid. "Are you calling me to cry on my shoulder?"

"I'm calling for your medical opinion on said noises."

"You're calling me for emotional support. Sorry, mate, I'm told we can't do that and still have sex, and I choose the sex."

"Oh, fuck off."

"We can talk about the match last night, though—"

"Just shut up," said Ashley, no vehemence behind it this time. "Shut up and just let me talk."

"So you admit you are capable of combining both a sexual and an emotional relationship—"

"Must we use that word?"

"Get over yourself," said Rachid. "We're dating. If I can say it, you can say it."

"I admit we're something. I admit to you we're...something."

It was all he was going to get, and more than Ashley had been expecting to give.

"All right. Go ahead. Lean on me."

Ashley sighed, but there were no takebacks now. Retreat was not an option. "I don't even know why I care," he said. "He doesn't matter to me."

"Of course he matters to you."

"Not really," said Ashley, "but I thought he was going to die and that's different. It's different when someone you know dies. It's not a patient anymore."

"Don't pretend like this one was ever just a patient to you," said Rachid. "Do you want me to come over there? Do you need a literal shoulder? Because I've got two, and we already know they fit."

"Thanks, but no," said Ashley. "This is fine. This'll do."

"All right then," said Rachid, "I'm here for you."

And so Ashley let him be, for the moment. Like he would have let Stuart be there for him, in a purely and deeply platonic way. And actually, it felt okay.

*

"Your friend's awake."

It was the nurse from the previous day, and it did not take more than a half-second of consideration for him to know what she was talking about. It was just his luck that he had his wingmen behind him to witness the exchange.

"When?"

"They brought him out of the coma this morning. You can go up if you like."

Ashley looked from one side to the other, and wasn't sure he even wanted to go up anymore but at this point he needed to see the thing through. After all, Tony didn't know he was only a symbol, and it wouldn't be inappropriate or weird in any way for Ashley to just check in, in a professional sense.

"Go on," said Rachid. "I'll come with you."

"We'll come with you," said Stuart. "In case you become overwhelmed and have a fainting spell."

"I can catch," said Rachid.

"Not in my experience," muttered Ashley, and turned for the stairs without actually acknowledging either of them.

Tony was sitting up in his bed, looking out the window until Ashley cleared his throat. The room at least seemed inhabited now, if still devoid of any human touch. No cards, no flowers, no condoms on the bedside table.

"Are you here to take blood?"

Ashley shook his head, and heard some kind of undecipherable noise from behind him though he couldn't quite work out which of them it came from.

"I brought you in last week," he said. "I just wanted to see how you're doing."

"Much better, I'm told," he said, his voice raw and painful sounding. He was clearly unwell, still, and yet didn't waste any time cruising Ashley. "You look just like a bloke I shagged on a staircase this one time."

"I've just got one of those faces," said Ashley. And that was it. The end of this thing, whatever it had been. "Well, I've got to go. It's good to see you on your feet again...so to speak."

"Thanks for looking after me," he said, after a pause where he worked out what it was appropriate to say to the men who picked you up off your floor and possibly saved your life.

"Any time," said Ashley, "though if you'd try not to do it again, we'd all be better for it."

Tony just kind of half smiled and leaned back on his pillow and that was all that Ashley needed. He backed out of the room again, mercifully not running into anyone as he did, and still didn't look at either Stuart or Rachid as he walked back down the corridor again. They might as well have been ghosts.

"Well, that was enlightening," he said finally. "He's not actually me."

"Of course he's not you," said Stuart. "He's nothing like you."

"Well, we've got some things in common," said Ashley. "Beyond the obvious things, I mean. It might be better if we had fewer."

"You wanker," said Stuart. "Is this what your whole manufactured crisis has been about? You want to change your life because someone you shagged has a drugs problem?"

"No, of course not," said Ashley. "I don't want to change my life. I like my life. My life fits me."

"You could change it a little," said Rachid. "I'm just saying. It could fit more than it does."

"And that," said Stuart, "is my cue to exit this conversation. Ashley, be less stupid. You know what you want to do."

"No, I don't."

"Well, you will," said Stuart. "Eventually."

"Thank you, that's helpful," said Ashley, and Stuart just shrugged and left as promised, quickly turning a corner so that Ashley didn't have to watch the back of him.

This wasn't going to be awkward at all.

"He didn't even remember you," said Rachid. "I'd remember you. I'd remember everything."

Ashley hadn't expected to be remembered. He'd barely done the remembering himself, except that he was good with faces. But the night with Tony, and this bizarre thing he had with Rachid now, suddenly stood in stark contrast. For a moment they were both reduced to symbols, Tony for everything he'd been and Rachid for all the might-have-beens, for the Ryans in his life who'd been diminished by his outlook.

"Maybe I'm not looking for that."

"But maybe you are," said Rachid. "Maybe you already know it deep down where you're all scared to look."

"I'm not going to hold your hand," said Ashley. "There are going to be no romantic outings or candlelight dinners."

"I have met you, you know," said Rachid. "I'm not an idiot."

"Sometimes you're an idiot."

"Sometimes you're an idiot, too," said Rachid. "And I can light candles if I want to. I get to decide things sometimes too. It's not all about you."

"You're not going to make this easy, are you?"

"It's already easy, "said Rachid. "This is about as easy as it gets. And I should know. I've done this before."

"And fucked it up."

"So maybe I know how to not fuck it up this time," said Rachid. "Maybe you can figure out how to work it out too. Because you're not that guy in the bed upstairs and you never were, and you never even thought you were anyway. Whatever you told yourself it was about, it wasn't about that."

Well, he knew that now. It was true in a way that he didn't think Rachid would have picked up on, and yet there it was. Maybe there were other things he underestimated, because Rachid was also right about the fact that this whole thing wasn't all about Ashley. He got to decide his own life, but they were sharing something here and he couldn't pretend that Rachid was on the outside knocking in anymore. They were both on the inside of something.

"All right," he said. "Let's get a pint and go back to mine. You can use that weird thing you bought at the sex shop the other day that you don't think I know about."

"Now we're talking," said Rachid, and when he lay a broad hand against the small of Ashley's back, he didn't push him away this time. He hadn't seen this coming, but then, when did anyone ever?

Maybe it was time to see what was on the other side of might have been.