Mature

No Archive Warnings Apply

M/M

Arctic Monkeys
Last Shadow Puppets

Miles Kane/Alex Turner

Alex Turner
Miles Kane
English

Facade
dontcareajot

Chapter 6 (http://archiveofourown.org/works/2617151/chapters/6292061)

“He's wonderful, of course. I've never felt this way about anyone. He's... he's my soulmate.”
The audience aw's and breaks into applause. The interviewer looks like she's going to melt. If Alex
were on camera and not standing just offset they'd probably have caught him rolling his eyes. Miles is too
busy trying to look earnest to glance over at him and check. “How sweet, Miles! I think there were some
of us who thought you might never settle down.”
“It weren't, er, planned. But when you meet the right person...” He trails off, shrugs. “Alex brings out
the best in me.”
More cooing from the audience. The interviewer's smile keeps getting wider. “Lovely,” she chirps.
“Is there anything you can tell us about the reclusive writer that we don't already know? He's a difficult
man to get an interview with.”
Miles does look at Alex then. He's leaning against the wall, watching, legs crossed at the ankles and
arms folded over his chest, bemused smile on his face. When he catches Miles looking at him he raises a
single brow, as if in challenge. As if to say, you've got nothing on me. But Miles would beg to differ.
“He'd kill me for telling you,” Miles says, still watching Alex over the interviewer's shoulder. “But
that Al, he's a cuddler, he is. And a big softie, too. The other day he teared up at that ad on telly with all
the sad pets. You know the one.”
Alex shakes his head but he can't deny it's the truth. The interviewer giggles, delighted. “I think we
all suspected he was soft and sweet under that cool exterior,” she says. “Anyone who writes the way he
does would have to be, wouldn't they? But it's nice to hear proof.”
Miles makes a vague noise of agreement. He supposes he'll have to read that bloody book sooner or
later, just so he's not caught looking like a poor boyfriend.
The interview wraps up with yet another plug for Miles' new album. As Miles walks offset Alex
takes his hand and whispers, “Gonna get you back for that.”
Miles smirks. His security, a bloke whose name Miles can't remember for the life of him, starts
herding them both toward the exit and out to the car. “I went easy on you, love. I've got pictures on me
phone they'd get a real kick out of. Pictures from last Halloween, for example.”
“Oi,” Alex says, offended. “That were a good fucking costume and I'll not hear otherwise.”
“Didn't win best costume though, did you?”
“Neither did you,” Alex grumbles. “Also, you were laying it on a bit thick out there. Soulmates,
Kane? Really? You're the one who said it was meant to be believable.”
“Just giving the people what they want.”
Alex opens his mouth to argue but winds up conceding the point with a hand wave. There are a few
paparazzi snapping photos as they slide into the backseat of the car. Miles flashes them a peace sign and a
winning smile. Alex is quick to duck out of sight.
“What's next?” Alex asks once Miles has climbed in and shut the door. “We've got that party thing
tonight, right?”
“Yeah. Just an excuse for a bunch of famous people to be seen together, really. I dunno if there's a
single person I actually like on the guest list. So, you know. Should be a good time.”
Alex already looks fidgety. “Remind me again why I've got to go?”
Miles kicks lightly at Alex's foot. “You know why. It'd be pretty fucking weird if I turned up without
you.”
Alex pulls a face.
Miles kicks at him again. “Look, it's not a big deal, really. 's not like you'll be giving interviews and
whatnot. Just try to enjoy yourself.”
“Easier said than done,” Alex complains.
“I'll be there,” Miles says. He's not sure what possesses him to say it. Obviously he'll be there, that
was definitely never in question. And what's more, his being there would've been a negative thing a week
ago. Maybe it still is. It's the first thing that comes to mind, however. “Er, I mean- I'll stick with you, you
know. If you want.”
Alex looks like he's on the verge of laughing but he doesn't make fun. “Thanks,” is all he says. He
half sounds like he means it.
Something is definitely different between them now, since last night on the balcony. Miles woke up
this morning thinking that perhaps it had all been a dream. The memories had that hazy quality about
them. But no- Alex woke up yawning and stretching and when he spotted Miles beside him he broke into
an honest, unbothered smile. The air has been cleared, at least somewhat. It's... a relief, in a way. It's
freeing. Miles no longer feels like he has to try quite so hard to maintain the mask around Alex.
And it would seem the feeling is mutual. Alex is more relaxed around him. Miles hadn't realized he
was tense before, on edge, but the by the way he behaves now it's clear that he was. Miles knows he's
partly to blame. He never exactly gave Alex a reason to feel comfortable around him. He feels like he's
slowly fixing that, though. Building a trust of sorts between them, which isn't even something he realized
he wanted until it was already happening, and it's certainly not something he's been doing consciously.
It's still hard for him to come to terms with the fact that he might've misjudged Alex so badly, and for
so long. There was a time when he looked Alex and saw nothing but his ego. An ego, it turns out, that
hardly exists at all. Now Miles looks at him and instead of arrogance he sees a self-defense mechanism.
Instead of narcissism he sees insecurity. And instead of seeing someone who should be torn down, Miles
sees someone worth protecting. Or so he imagines.
“You're staring,” Alex points out, breaking abruptly into Miles' thoughts. He touches the corner of
his own mouth. “Have I got summat on me face?”
Miles blinks. “No,” he says. He looks awkwardly away, clears his throat. “Sorry, just- thinking.”
“Oh. What about?” Alex hesitates, then adds, “You looked troubled.”
“Did I?” Miles smiles crookedly. “Don't worry your little head, Turner. 's nothing.”
Alex shrugs. He's kind enough not to push. Or perhaps he simply doesn't care all that much. Difficult
to say for sure. Miles may be coming around to the idea that Alex isn't a complete prick but he's still hard
to read.
-
 The party is taking place in a club downtown owned by a music producer Miles has never heard of
and never intends to work with- but Jones insists it's a good opportunity to make 'connections' and Miles
has never minded attending a party. Especially a party at a nice club with good booze and plenty of pretty
people. Granted, Miles can't do anything more than look tonight. He's not sure he'd even want to. They've
barely arrived and Miles has already deduced that Alex is the most attractive person in the room, scantily
clad women and perfectly coiffed men be damned.
Actually, the feeling is reminiscent of the first night they met. When Miles first laid eyes on him,
Alex took his breath away. Suddenly the pretty bloke at the bar seemed a lot less pretty. Miles knows that
while Alex is obviously attractive he's not, objectively speaking, most people's idea of stunning. But
something about him caught Miles' attention that night, and now he's caught it again. Miles still couldn't
say why.
Alex looks around the crowded club. It's a very industrial, bare-bones sort of place but it's packed
with people in fancy dress. The lights sway and strobe in time with the music to almost dizzying effect.
He takes all this in and slowly exhales.
“You alright?” Miles wonders, leaning close to be heard over the thumping base blaring through the
speakers.
Alex nods. His smile is somewhat forced but he doesn't seem on the verge of a breakdown. “Yeah,
mate. How about a drink?”
“How about several?” Miles fires back.
They wind up spending most of their evening at the bar. Miles promised Jones he'd be a social
creature and network with some of these people but he promised Alex he'd stick with him and that seems
somehow more important.
Besides, Alex is probably a better conversation partner. That's not something Miles ever thought he'd
say about Alex but the drunker Alex gets the more he talks and the funnier he is. It probably helps that
Miles is getting drunk right along with him.
They're just starting on their fifth drink when someone sidles up to the bar next to Alex and taps him
on the shoulder. It's a bloke- thin, blonde, with a pretty face. Something about him immediately puts
Miles on edge. Could be the cocky grin as he greets Alex with an overly familiar, “Al, love, how've you
been? I've missed you.”
Alex, for his part, looks stricken. He blinks at the stranger like he can hardly believe he's real.
“...Oliver?” he asks, voice wavering, just as the silence was starting to get awkward.
“In the flesh,” Oliver replies with a flourish.
“What are you doing here?” Alex wonders, perhaps too stunned to be polite.
“Here on business,” Oliver says in a tone of voice that suggests Alex is too unimportant to be privy
to the details. He waves a hand dismissively. “Boring stuff. Better question is, what are you doing here?
You never were fond of New York City, if I recall.”
Miles doesn't know who this guy is but he's clearly making Alex uncomfortable and that's enough of
a reason for to Miles to dislike him. Alex fidgets. “Er... I'm here-”
“With me,” Miles cuts in. He places a steadying and possessive hand on Alex's shoulder. Oliver
deigns to look at him for the first time since he approached. As he does, his smirk turns into a sneer.
“Alex was kind enough to tag along and keep me company,” Miles adds. “Weren't you, love?”
“...Yeah,” Alex agrees after a moment. “Miles and I-”
“Oh, you don't have to tell me,” Oliver interrupts. “I've seen the headlines, heard the reports.
Everyone is just fascinated by the two of you.” He leans in closer to Alex, once again ignoring Miles.
“You look really good, Al. You've still got my number, don't you? Give me a call when you get bored.”
They both watch him walk away. He crosses the room and disappears into the crowd. “Fuck,” Alex
swears vehemently under his breath.
“He was nice,” Miles deadpans.
Alex stares morosely down at his drink. “He's a wanker. Fuck him.” He glances back over his
shoulder at where Oliver had gone and shudders, like just being in the same room with him is
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discomforting.
They've clearly got a past. “Wanna talk about it?” Miles asks.
Alex shakes his head mutely in response.
Miles leaves it be. He's curious, of course, but better to let it lie for now probably. He tries a different
question. “Wanna get out of here?”
Alex tilts a brow at him. “Pardon?”
Miles rolls his eyes. “I'm not propositioning you, Christ. I'm not that drunk. 'm just sick of this
place.”
“Er, are you sure?” Alex asks. He sounds skeptical but there's a hint of hope in his tone.
Miles really should stay. He should talk to some people, make a proper appearance. But, “Yeah. We
can't leave out the front, though. Paparazzi'd be all over us for skipping out early.”
“So we sneak out the back,” Alex declares.
Miles looks out at the expansive, unavoidable crowd. He sighs. “They're all going to think we've
snuck out for a shag, I hope you know.”
Alex shrugs like he doesn't care. He tosses back the last of his drink, takes Miles by the wrist, and
leads the way to the exit. He casts a few wary glances in Oliver's direction and when they're finally
outside, standing in an alley between the club and a closed shop, he lets out a relieved breath. Miles
doesn't mention it. He wordlessly offers a cigarette, which Alex takes with a grateful nod of his head.
They walk most of the way back to the hotel. They don't talk much. Alex seems lost in thought. But
he livens up some once they've arrived. Miles expects him to go straight back to writing but he doesn't.
Instead, he grabs them both another drink, settles next to Miles on the loveseat to watch telly, and they
both take the piss out of a low-budget Lifetime film for an hour. Maybe it's some combination of drink
and sleepiness but after a while of Miles cracking dumb jokes just to make him laugh he gets giggly and
laid back, his run-in with Oliver evidently forgotten.
He's delightful like this, Alex is. Miles likes to think this isn't a side of him everyone gets to see.
“Alex,” he says, out of the blue. He's maybe a little drunk. “Al...”
Alex looks over at him, smiling, eyes bright and trusting, like there isn't two years of antagonism
lying between them. “Yes, Miles?” His voice is sinful. The way he says Miles' name especially. Miles
could fall asleep to the sound of his voice. He'd probably have sweet dreams.
Miles kisses him with no preamble. He leaves him no time to prepare- or to protest. Alex makes a
noise of surprise but he settles into it quick enough, kissing back, his hands coming up to cup Miles' face.
His lips are soft, perfect, and when he smiles into the kiss Miles can't help but smile as well. It stays
chaste, as if by some mutual unspoken agreement, but Miles would be lying if he said he didn't want to
take it further. To open Alex up, to really taste him, to have him moaning.
Miles is the one to break the kiss, much as he'd rather not. “That should do it,” he says, halfway out
of breath.
Alex looks dazed. His eyes flick from Miles' lips to his eyes and back again. “What?”
Miles smirks. He holds up his phone. “I'd say that's Instagram worthy, wouldn't you?”
Alex blinks at Miles, then at the picture displayed on his phone. “Oh. Right,” he says dumbly.
“Instagram. Sure.”
Miles lowers the phone. He's still smirking. “You wanted to kiss me,” he declares.
A blush starts a the tips of Alex's ears and spreads to his cheeks. “What? No, it was- you were taking
a picture.”
“But you didn't know that.”
Alex scoffs. “Don't be daft. It were- heat of the moment, like.”
“So if I did it again...” Miles says carefully.
Alex rolls his eyes. “Stop taking the piss,” he mutters. He goes to get up, to put distance between
them, but Miles takes hold of his wrist, stilling him. He holds it loosely. Alex could break his grip if he
wanted.
“Don't run away, love. You don't have to go anywhere.”
:
 Alex sits back down. He eyes Miles, wary. That hadn't been Miles intention, to make him suspicious.
“Never gonna live that down, am I?” Alex wonders, opting to keep things light.
Miles releases his wrist. He pastes a smile back on. “Never,” he agrees.
When Miles posts the photo to Instagram he captions it simply yours. It's not true. Miles maybe
wants it to be.
-
They've having breakfast the next morning when Alex brings it up.
He's been looking distant, dreamy, so Miles asks, “What's the matter, Turner? Hungover, are you?”
Alex looks up like he's startled to be addressed. “Er, no,” he says, voice still with that morning
quality. They've only just woken up. Miles didn't even bother to put on real trousers to go down to the
hotel cafe for breakfast. “Nah, I'm just thinking.”
“About what? Care to share?”
Miles expects him to say something about his book or some other inane, seemingly random thing, as
he's usually wont to do. Instead he says, eyes fixed firmly on his plate, “Last night.”
“...Oliver?” Miles asks hopefully.
Alex looks tempted to roll his eyes at the very mention of the name. “No, Miles, don't play dumb.”
“Ah. You mean the, er... other thing.”
“Yeah. Specifically the bit where you asked about doing it again.”
Miles gestures vaguely with his fork. “Like you said it were, er, heat of the moment and that. And it
were just a bloody kiss, it doesn't call for looking so glum, mate.”
“So you don't want to do it again?”
Miles wants to. He very much wants to. He wants to be able to kiss Alex whenever he pleases. And
more, too, but breakfast in a room full of other diners isn't the best place to be entertaining naughty
fantasies. It's so easy to imagine, though. The two of them together.
He can't actually bring himself to say no outright. Instead, he shrugs, gives another vague gesture
and leaves the meaning for Alex to interpret. Evidently he interprets it as a negative because he says,
“Good, then. It'd just complicate things, wouldn't it? Best if we keep it professional.”
The worst part is he doesn't even sound bothered. He comes across as perfectly nonchalant. That
stings. Surely Miles' attraction isn't one-sided? He'd thought he and Alex were on the same page.
Miles opens his mouth, on the verge of contradicting him, but what comes out instead is, “Right.
Professional.” Because he is right, unfortunately. It would complicate things. And what's more, Miles isn't
sure he wants to hear Alex's rejection spelled out any clearer.
“Glad you agree,” Alex says. He's still not making eye contact.
They eat the rest of their breakfast in silence. For the first time in a while, it's awkward.
Close (#)
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