Make Me (Remdy)

We All Get A Little Flustered

Trigger warnings: Mentions of death, sex?

Andy exhales heavily, like he's either deep in through or deeply irritated. Then he shakes his head and lets Remington go.

He watches with an intense stare that Remington can feel as the younger walks down the path, eyes fixed firmly on him even as he rounds the corner and disappears from sight.

Just seconds later, Remington comes back around the corner, head bowed, looking at Andy through his lashes. Andy furrows his brows and stays where he is, one hand in his pocket while the other touches his leg.

Remington stops just shy of being in contact with the elder, looking at his face with the same intense stare that Andy previously sported. His expression is firm, concentrated, serious. He grabs Andy's hand suddenly – the one that isn't in a pocket – and his stare switches downwards to where their hands are now touching. A deep exhale is visible on Remington's behalf.

Andy pulls his hand free. "I thought you wanted to leave," he taunts, "this doesn't look like leaving to me."

Remington puts a deliberate finger to Andy's shoulder. "That doesn't look like 'just friends' to me," he retorts. Then he turns and, with a knowing smirk, walks away.

Startled, Andy's focus snaps down to his pants. He closes his eyes, whispers, "fuck," and takes his jacket off to tie round his waist. Now he'll have to do something about that.

Rehearsal the following day is as awkward as Andy had expected. He knows Remington now has the higher ground because of last night's incident and that makes it worse because Andy hates not having the higher ground. A fight isn't fun when he isn't the one who's winning.

The other guys notice the tension, and the fact that it suddenly seems a fashion choice of their singer's to have a jacket tied around his waist. Andy knows they're whispering about his complicated relationship with Remington when they think he can't hear. He decides there are better things to do than start a fight with them, too.

"I think you got the words wrong," Remington says towards the end of the day, "in the chorus."

Andy doesn't look at him. "I don't think so."

"No, you definitely did. You sang 'it's the end and I'm not afraid to die,' but what you were supposed to sing is, 'it's the end and I'm still a fucking cunt.'"

There's a chorus of muffled laughter and Andy clenches his jaw. "Oh, did you re-write the song about yourself? That's cute."

"You've now called me cute, pretty and princess. What's next? Baby? Babe? Sweetheart?"

"You're hanging by a thread, you know that?"

"Lighten up already, it's not my fault your cock gets a little excited when you see me."

Andy turns to look at him now as the others fight laughter. "My cock isn't any of your business."

"Then why're you wearing that around your waist?"

"What's wrong with wearing this around my waist?"

Remington shrugs. "Nothing except the fact that it's only because you're scared you'll get a hard on and everyone will see." He smiles sweetly. "Are we playing the last two songs or not?"

Andy doesn't let Remington go home without finishing the argument. He opens the car door as the boy is just about to set off, saying, "you embarrass me in front of them again and you're out."

"Please, the only one embarrassing you is you."

"You can't come into my life and start fucking shit up for me. Before I met you, my life was way better."

"Oh? So you were in a really happy marriage then, yeah?"

"Stop bringing my marriage up."

"No."

"I'm serious."

"I'm Remington, what about it?"

Andy visibly tightens his fists, one hand on the top of the door that he holds open. "I've been nice to you, what's your issue? I fucking let you sleep in my bed even though you didn't ask."

"Oh please, you enjoyed that and we both know it. I bet you ain't ever held your wife so tight."

"I said fucking shut up about my marriage."

"Ex-marriage, actually."

"Fucking stop!"

Remington raises an eyebrow. "Sorry, am I supposed to be intimidated? I just find that really difficult when I know you've probably got a stiffie under there."

"You were the one banging on about me not being nice, and here you are, being rude as fuck to me. I'm terribly sorry if my divorce is an issue for you but fucking quit it, alright? I ain't in the fucking mood."

"You sure about that?"

"Remington, I swear, I will hurt you," Andy threatens in a low voice. Remington finds it more attractive than he should.

"You don't have the balls to hurt me."

"Oh, you don't think?"

"No, I know. You get close, but then you wimp out and ask me out for dinner instead. So go on, ask me out to dinner. I fancy Chinese tonight."

Andy closes his eyes and puts a finger between his eyes. "Fucking hell," he mumbles. "Go see the graveyard or something, I'm done here."

"I will go see the graveyard. Because at least I know where my brothers are, which is more than can be said about your son."

"You can shit talk my wife and my divorce, you can claim I'm attracted to you, hell, you can even insult me, but I draw the line at using my dead son as a way to push my buttons because you should know better! You know what it feels like to deal with death, and you know how hard it is to think about, and to fucking bring it up in such a...such a disgusting way is not okay! I thought you were better than that. I though you were supposed to have a heart!" Andy slams the car door and goes into his house, angry and disappointed.