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Live a Little

My piece for Day 2 of TGGTVAV Week! @tggtvav-week

Dreams | Historical AU | Side Character (Read on AO3)

This party is giving me a tremendous sense of deja vu. It’s the after-party for this year’s Annual Sportspeople of the Year Awards. Monty and I were both nominated for Best Footballer and for Best Media Personality, whatever that even means. Neither of us won either. I don’t care, not really (The player that did win Best Footballer scored two-thirds as many goals as Monty this season… but again. I don’t care.)

The same old formal wear, the same faces. I feel like I’m always at this bloody party. I’m standing in a corner with Monty, who is frowning down into his alcohol-free cocktail. I give him a consolatory nudge.

“Next year.”

“Hmm?” He looks up at me, then laughs. “Oh god. I don’t care. I’m just wondering who on Earth came up with the idea of a virgin mojito.”

“You could always drink tap water, you know.”

“Thrilling.”

I roll my eyes and he sidles up to me, pressing himself against my chest so that he has to stretch his neck to look up at me.

“Let’s go hooooome.”

“Why do you even bother coming to these events if you get bored after an hour?”

“Because I get to see you all dressed up, mostly.” I laugh and he pouts. “Next time, we stay home, and you put on a tuxedo anyway.”

“That would be a waste. You’d take it off within minutes.”

“That’s the fun of it!”

I smirk and lean down to kiss his forehead. “We won’t stay late. It’s good for me to do the rounds at these things. For the Foundation.”

“I suppose,” he says with a sigh, but he doesn’t move away, just buries his face in my chest.

I smile and stroke his hair, then I look up as someone walks over— my heart sinks. Richard Peele. The only man on Earth who doesn’t manage to look attractive in a tux. I nudge Monty slightly and he stands up straight.

“Incoming,” I mumble as Richard approaches. Monty turns to see him, then swears under his breath.

“Boys!” Richard says, his grin as cocky as ever. His aftershave is overpowering. Not for the first time, I wonder how Monty ever hooked up with him without gagging.

“Richard,” Monty greets him, more politely than he deserves.

“Congratulations on your awards!” He fake gasps, clutching his hands to his chest. “Oh wait! You didn’t get any.”

“Peele…” I raise an eyebrow at him. “You weren’t even nominated.”

He shrugs. He looks drunk. “Wouldn’t have wanted a nomination. Whole thing is shit anyway.”

“Well, we’re agreed there.”

“So, what are you two doing hiding away in a corner? Up to no good? What’s the current favourite, Montague? Coke? Speed? I remember your speed phase fondly. You used to be able to go for—“

“Oh, piss off Richard,” Monty cuts in, trying to look unbothered. But I know he isn’t. “Don’t you have any actual friends to talk to?”

I put my arm around Monty’s waist, protectively, and he leans into me. Richard rolls his eyes.

“Got plenty of friends, thanks. Just wanted to check in on everyone’s favourite couple.”

“Well, now you have.” I say, giving him a pointed look. “See you around.”

He curls his lip at me, stepping closer. He’s taller than Monty, but not taller than me. I have a couple of inches on him, but he’s clearly too wasted to be intimidated by this fact.

“You don’t scare me, Newton. We’re not on the pitch now. You can’t accidentally elbow me in the face this time.”

No, but I can definitely punch you on purpose, I think to myself.

I don’t say anything. He huffs, then turns to Monty. “If you ever get bored of this fairy,” he points to me. “And fancy a go with a real man again, you’ve still got my number.”

Monty blinks at him. “I’ll bear that in mind. Cheers.”

Richard gives him a leery look up and down, before giving me one last glare, then stalking away. I can feel Monty’s shoulders tense up where he’s leaning against me, and I’m not much better myself, so I take a deep breath and try to relax.

“Christ. He’s like a cartoon villain.”

“Was he always that ugly?” Monty looks up at me. “I swear he didn’t used to be that ugly. I categorically do not sleep with ugly people.”

“Maybe your standards just got higher after you met me.” He laughs slightly. But it sounds stilted. I squeeze his waist. “Don’t let him get to you.”

“I’m not.”

I raise my eyebrows at him.

“Okay! I am. Slightly.” He sips his drink, pulling a face. “It’s hard not to be bothered when one of your most shameful regrets can walk and talk and embarrass you at parties.”

“He’s just someone you hooked up with. It’s not that big of a deal.”

He scoffs. “You look like you want to scream every time his name is mentioned.”

“Well… he’s…”

“Rude? Obnoxious? Untalented?”

“He makes you feel bad about yourself. I don’t like it.”

Monty pauses at that, reaching out and squeezing my hand.

“You’re the one he called a fairy.”

“Fairy and proud,” I say with a shrug. Monty laughs.

“I love you.”

“Love you, too.” I tug at his hand, pulling him away. “Let’s find you something less disgusting to drink”.

We’re standing at the bar, Monty trying to get the perfect selfie while the bartender makes our drinks. He leans into me, trying to get my face into the photo and I smirk.

“Aren’t people bored of seeing me on your Instagram?”

“Why would anyone ever get bored of seeing this face?” He gently bites my cheek, taking another few photos, then finally brings the phone down to review the results. “God, we’re hot.”

I laugh. “Is that what you’re captioning it?”

He starts typing. “Well, now I am.”

I grin and nudge him, then frown when I spot something on the bar a small distance away. A set of keys. I reach over and grab them.

“Someone left their keys.”

“Mmm,” he replies, still busy making his post. “Hand them in.”

I shrug, about to get the bartender’s attention, when Monty glances up then gasps, grabbing my arm.

“Wait.” He snatches the keys from me. “Look!”

He holds them up in front of my face and I frown. “What?”

He huffs, then points at the car key. It has a very tacky leather tag hanging off it, with a gaudy metal Lamborghini logo.

“These are Peele’s car keys!”

I laugh. “God, he really is drunk. We should probably keep hold of them so he doesn’t try to drive home”

Monty winces slightly, and I immediately feel bad, but then he shakes it off. “Don’t you see what an opportunity this is, Perce?”

I give him a look. “Opportunity?”

“Yes! We have that prick’s car keys!” He looks at them, sighing happily. “His beloved Lamborghini.”

I laugh. “And?”

“And! We could play all sorts of tricks on him. We could break into it. Leave his lights on. Drain his battery.”

“You are truly wild.”

He huffs. “Well, what’s your suggestion?”

“My suggestion was handing them in!”

He rolls his eyes, dumping them on the bar again and returning his attention to his phone. I pick up the keys, turning them over in my hands, and I think back to ten minutes ago, when Richard dragged his eyes over Monty’s body. My Monty’s body. Suddenly the need to piss him off is overwhelming.

Why do I always have to be the sensible one?

“However…” Monty looks up at me, raising an eyebrow. “I have always wanted to drive a Lamborghini.”

* * * *

We manage to sneak out without drawing too much attention (and without spotting Richard), taking the lift to the car park beneath the building.

His car isn’t hard to spot. Bright yellow amongst the sea of silver and white Mercedes and BMWs. We walk over to it and Monty looks unimpressed, leaning down to scrub at a little scuff with his sleeve.

“This car is a midlife crisis.”

I laugh. “He’s 26.”

“Well, it’s definitely compensating for—“

“I don’t want to know,” I cut in, leaning down to look in the windows. “I think it’s gorgeous.”

“Really?” He folds his arms, tilting his head at the car. “It’s no Porsche.”

“I swear you love that car more than you love me.”

“Absolutely not.” He walks over and leans down to where I’m crouching to kiss me on the cheek. “But it’s a close second.”

I smile, then hold up the keys. “So? Shall we?”

He frowns. “You were serious?”

“Why not?”

“Well, for a start… you can’t drive, Perce.”

I scoff, pressing the key unlocking the doors. “I’ve had some lessons. And I haven’t had a seizure in a year. Anyway, it’s an automatic. How hard can it be?”

I start to climb into the driver’s seat and Monty grabs my arm. “Perce!”

“Come on!” I grin at him. “Live a little.”

He furrows his brow, but then lets me go, and I slide into the seat, pulling the door shut behind me. A couple of moments later, Monty opens the passenger door and climbs in, mumbling to himself.

“I’ve lived plenty. This is just stupid.”

I look around the car, taking it in. Monty’s car is gorgeous, but this is next level. Every bell and whistle included. It’s a shame it smells like Richard’s pungent aftershave.

I put the key in the ignition and Monty flinches.

“Are you sure, baby?”

I start the engine, and then I grin at him. It must be contagious, because after a pause, he grins right back at me.

“Go on then,” he says, with a resigned shrug. “Show me what you can do.”

I surprise myself. Driving is… surprisingly easy? And this thing can go fast. The roads are thankfully quiet, and I’m pretty sure I’m speeding, but the adrenaline rush is impossible to deny.

Monty is watching me, laughing at the look on my face as I narrowly avoid hitting another kerb. Okay, maybe driving is sort of hard.

“Jesus, Perce!”

“Oops.”

“I hope you’re enjoying your little crime spree. It might be the last thing we ever do.”

I laugh. “Oh, he’s wankered. We’ll take it back in a minute and he won’t even know it was gone.”

“True. As long as you don’t—“ He gasps as I very barely avoid scraping someone’s wing mirror at the side of the road. “Damage it!”

“I won’t!”

“You know what, I resent that you’ve turned me into the reasonable one tonight, but I think I should probably drive us back. Just in case.”

I pout at him. “Five more minutes? Oh, wait! I have an idea.”

I take a left, so sharply that Monty has to grab onto the car door to keep his balance. He shoots me an annoyed look, but I don’t acknowledge it. I’m trying desperately to remember a certain spot I know of around here, and I think I’m vaguely headed in the right direction.

Monty stops trying to object. I think he’s enjoying this really— watching me cut loose a bit. I glance at him and he bites his lip, giving me that look that usually ends with at least one of our trousers around our ankles. I look back out of the windscreen and grin to myself when I see what I was looking for.

I pull up in a parking spot, braking far too aggressively, and we both jolt forward.

Monty takes a long, deep, relieved breath as I put on the handbrake.

“See? No one died.”

“I’m definitely driving us back.”

I shrug, then motion out of the window. “Do you recognise this?”

“It’s a hill, Perce.”

I frown. “It’s Primrose Hill. Remember? We had a picnic here.”

He pauses, then smiles. “This is where you asked me to move in with you.”

“Yep!”

He looks at me. “Baby, you really are a wonder. Combining a bit of grand theft auto with a romantic trip down memory lane.”

I laugh. “The duality of Newton.”

“This is very sweet.” He reaches out and squeezes my knee, giving me a fond look. “Thank you.”

“I just… I don’t like it when people drag up your past. Like it’s all you are. You’re… this. You’re picnics, and house keys, and romance. You’re all of it.”

He swallows, looking surprised. “Baby…”

“Don’t let anyone ever convince you otherwise, okay? Especially not Richard sodding Peele.”

He nods, and his eyes look a little wet, then he reaches for my hand, holding it up to his lips and kissing my fingers. “Okay.”

We share a smile, then Monty turns away. I stare at him. He takes a while to notice, too busy gazing out of the window. When he finally turns back to me, he starts slightly.

“What?”

“Did you and him ever…?”

He frowns. “I thought we’d already established this, darling.”

“No. I know.” I nod towards the backseat. “In here?”

He turns a little red, then looks away again, which is answer enough.

“Great. Nice.”

Monty huffs, looking at me with a sheepish look on his face. “Only a blowjob or two...”

I roll my eyes, tapping my hands on the steering wheel and staring out at the view in front of us for a few seconds. Then I shrug.

“Then we’ll just have to do more than that. Won’t we?”

He pauses, then frowns. “Eh?”

I lean over the centre console and take his face in my hands, kissing him. After a brief pause, he sighs against my lips and kisses me back harder.

“You really—“ he speaks between kisses, breathless. “Want to?” He stops to nip at my jaw. “Right here?”

I groan. “More than anything.”

“Revenge shag?”

“Revenge shag,” I confirm, starting to pull his shirt out of where it’s tucked into his trousers.

“There’s…” He sighs as I start to kiss his neck. “People could see.”

I bite down slightly and he gasps. “The windows are blacked out.”

“There’s not much room.”

“I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

He gasps as I find the lever on his chair, pulling it until he’s practically horizontal, and then I clumsily clamber over onto his lap, my legs either side of his.

He laughs in surprise, putting his hands on my thighs. “What the hell has gotten into you tonight?”

“Nothing.” I grin. “Yet.”

After, I lie on Monty’s chest and I can feel the dopey smile on my face. He’s gently twisting one of my curls around his fingers as we catch our breath.

“That was fantastic,” I say with a sigh. It’s stating the obvious. It’s always bloody fantastic.

He kisses the top of my head. “Obviously.”

I look up at him. “Better than Peele?”

“Peele who?”

I laugh. “I’m being serious.”

“So am I. Never heard of him.”

“Damn right.”

I lean up to kiss him and he gently strokes my cheek, then we both jump when we hear a buzzing sound. Monty grimaces, fumbling around on the seat around us trying to find his phone.

“Who calls people?” He finds it and holds it up. “Ooooofe.”

He grimaces and turns the screen to me. Peele is calling. There’s an eye-roll emoji next to his contact name.

I grimace back at him. “Shit. Why would he be calling you?”

“Perhaps because he pissed us off and then his car disappeared?”

“Should you answer it? Maybe you should answer it.”

He scoffs. “And say what? Oh, your car? Yes, we stole it and just did something filthy on the expensive leather.”

“Well, no. You can lie. I’m pretty sure you’re capable of lying.”

“Ouch! True. But ouch.” He takes a deep breath, then answers. “Richard!”

I hear muffled, angry talking. Monty bites on his lip to stop from laughing, before trying to get a word in between the ranting.

“Richard, I— What do you mean? Which car?” The muffled talking gets louder and Monty grins. “Oh, that car! Well, how did you manage to lose that? Seems pretty irresponsible.”

“Very careless,” I whisper in agreement.

Monty puts a hand over my mouth, still smiling, then suddenly his face falls. “Tracking device?”

My eyes widen. Shit. Shit shit. Of course, there’s a tracking device. This car is top-of-the-range ridiculous.

“Well, that’s good then.” Monty continues, somehow managing to sound calm and collected. “You’ll find it easily. Good luck!” He hangs up. “We need to get out of here. Immediately. He’s waiting for a cab and he knows where the car is”

I scramble off of him as quickly as I can, climbing back into the driver’s seat and looking for my clothes. “Shit, shit, shit.”

Monty does the same, laughing. I shoot him a look.

“What’s so funny?”

“You. Panicking. Naked.”

I find this shirt and throw it at his face. “Twat.”

I find my boxers and pull them on, and Monty picks his own up from where they were discarded in the well of the passenger seat. I suddenly have a thought, and reach out to grab his arm before he can pull them on, too.

“Wait.”

I snatch them from him and he gives me an extremely confused look. I lean over into the back seat and place them on the leather, stretching them out so that they’re nice and displayed.

“A departing gift for our gracious host.”

Monty cackles, throwing his head back. “You’ve completely lost your mind.”

I grin at him. “Is it a problem?”

He pulls me in for a wet, sloppy kiss. “Absolutely not. Now come on.” He pushes me away again and starts pulling on his suit trousers. “We have to clear out of here before—”

There’s a sudden, loud sound, like fabric ripping. We both freeze. I look down and see that the button of Monty’s trousers has caught on the corner of the passenger seat. The leather has torn dramatically, showing the foam underneath. Turns out even the most expensive, luxury cars are no match for Monty’s clumsy streak.

I look up at him. “Before what, love?”

He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. “Well, this has turned into a very expensive night out.”

“We can afford it.” He opens his eyes, then narrows them at me. “I’m aware that’s not the point.”

“This was your idea, you know. You decided to have a naughty streak, and now we have to buy— No. Actually. You have to buy Richard bloody Peele a new car.”

I scoff. “It’s just a little rip. It’s not like we’ve trashed it.”

And then… I picture it; Richard, hopping in an uber to where his little tracking device is pointing him, furious, that spiteful face all red and flushed. He gets here and Monty and I are long gone, his beloved Lamborghini is… trashed. The windows are smashed. The seats are ripped to shreds. And Monty’s Tom Ford pants are on the backseat.

I smile.

“We should trash it.”

Monty laughs, pulling on his shirt. “I’m cutting you off. No more carnage. We’re going to go home, you’re going to have one of your sad little sleepy teas, then we’re going to bed.”

“Montttyy,” I whine, and he gives me an incredulous look. “It’ll be funnnn!”

“Of course it would be fun! It would also land us in prison.”

“No one would know it was us!”

He points to the underwear on the back seat. “Have you never seen CSI?”

“Since when were you such a spoilsport?”

He stares at me, one eyebrow raised in challenge, then slowly reaches down and tugs at the rip in the seat, making it even wider.

“Oops.”

I grin, turning around in my seat and looking for something to break. I look back forward, spotting the rear view mirror, then I lean up and grab it, yanking at it hard until it snaps off in my hand.

Monty gapes at me.

“Holy shit.”

I grin at him. “Shall we see what else we can break in the next five minutes?”

The answer is quite a lot, apparently. The seats are torn to shreds. The dashboard is cracked. Monty has scraped a key all along the exterior. And I’m currently working on burning holes in the leather seats with the dashboard lighter, still wearing nothing but my underwear.

Suddenly, I hear a very high pitched shriek. I abandon the lighter and scramble out of the car to check on Monty, who was halfway through trying to pull off one of Richard’s wiper blades. He’s now ducked down, hiding behind the bonnet of the car. I quickly join him.

“What?”

“He’s here! I just saw an uber.”

“Shit. How did he get here so quickly? Maybe we were shagging longer than we thought?”

He hisses at me. “Not really relevant right now, Perce. More worried about getting out of here without him seeing us.”

I grimace. “I left my clothes in the car.”

“Then I guess you’re streaking. Come on.”

He quickly glances over the hood of the car, then once he decides the coast is clear, he grabs my hand and pulls me up.

And then we immediately collide with Richard Peele.

He seems to have snuck up from the other direction and well… he doesn’t look terribly happy.

“What—“ He’s so angry, he can barely get his words out. “In the name of fu—“

“Richard!”

God bless Monty for attempting to be charming, even at a time like this.

“Awful news! Someone was trying to damage your car. Me and Percy scared them off.”

“How stupid do you think I am, Montague?”

“I don’t think you want me to answer that.”

Richard hisses through his teeth, stepping closer to Monty, and I decide it’s time to intervene, standing in front of him protectively. .

“Don’t even think about it.”

He curls his lip, looking me up and down. “Why are you naked?” He glances back at the car, then at me again, his face turning white. “Did you two...“

I smirk. “Twice.”

(It’s a lie. But he doesn’t need to know that.)

He looks like he wants to throw up. Then he pulls back his fist— but he’s still tipsy, and his reflexes are slow. So, I take a step back to dodge his punch, before reeling my own fist back to throw one of my own.

It connects with his nose. Hard. Kickboxing is one of my favourite workouts and I’m twice as strong as he is. The result being that his nose starts to bleed instantly and he staggers backwards. Monty yelps behind me.

“Shit!”

He tries to pull at my arm but I ignore him.

“Not bad for a fairy, right Peele?”

“Perce!”

“Monty, it’s fine.”

“No! Percy! The car!”

He pulls my arm even harder and I finally turn around. The car. The fucking car is on fire.

“Jesus! What happened?”

“Not sure, but shall we try and figure it out somewhere further away from the flaming car?”

I let him drag me away and we take off at a sprint. Richard isn’t far behind us, trying to keep up.

“The lighter,” I shout to Monty. “I dropped the lighter on the seat!”

The amount of serious crimes I’ve committed today is becoming difficult to keep track of. Car theft. Reckless driving. Public Indecency. Assault. And now apparently a bit of semi-accidental arson. But are they really crimes if the only victim is Richard Peele?

“Save it for court!” Monty replies.

When I think we’re a safe distance away, I stop, pulling Monty to me. We’re both gasping, out of breath. I hear Richard coughing nearby. He must have inhaled some smoke.

I ignore him, pushing Monty’s hair out of his eyes, then cupping his face in my hands.

“Are you okay?”

He takes a deep breath. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Are you?”

I grin. “I’m amazing.”

He smiles back, exasperated. “You’re a lunatic is what you are.”

“I love you.”

He shakes his head, then puts his hand behind my neck, pulling me down into a kiss. I lean into it, my hands sliding to his waist and dipping him slightly, making him laugh against my lips.

And then… there’s a loud bang.

I don’t get the chance to glance over at the car before we’re being thrown into the air by the force of the explosion.

* * * *

I wake up with a flinch so huge that the bed shakes. I hear Monty groan next to me.

“Baby, what…?”

Jesus Christ, that was vivid. I can still smell the smoke.

Monty rolls over to face me with a huff. “Perce?”

“Sorry.” I rub my face. “Sorry, I was…”

“Dream?” he asks, mid-yawn.

I pause, then smirk. “Dream.”

He stares at me for a second, then snorts. “Oh god, not the car one again.”

“The car one.” I shuffle over to him, pulling him closer so that our noses are touching. “It was a good one. This time I punched him.”

He gives a sleepy laugh. “This dream almost makes me feel sorry for the man…”

I raise an eyebrow at him. “Monty…”

“I mean. Your subconscious is regularly ruining his life! Just because he used to give your boyfriend the occasional hand job after a game…”

“Perhaps the next dream will be the one where I finally murder him.”

He laughs, leaning in to kiss me and placing his hands on my chest. “Your heart is still pounding.”

I blush. “It was fun. There was an explosion.”

He rolls his eyes. “We’re never watching Die Hard before bed again.”

I laugh, rolling on top of him and making him yelp.

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