one of us (2/4). skandar/georgie/will p., hard r.

[likecharity]

See header post for more details.

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It's quite chilly, but not as bad as Will expected, and it's light enough for the three of them to feel safe walking alone. The light is strange, actually-the sky is a sort of silvery-blue, with streaks of bright white, and as they walk it grows gradually pinker. It's misty, too-Silent Hill levels of fog obscuring the roads ahead, which makes Will feel quite nervous, but Skandar and Georgie are confident with their directions. It really does feel quite a bit like a dream, and on some level Will thinks he's already accepted that it is, and he's just going along with it.

Then Skandar elbows him sharply in the ribs and it hurts, so he must be awake. "Ow," he says, rubbing at the sore spot.

"You're off in your own little world," Georgie observes with a curious smile.

"I'm still half-asleep," Will tells her, and yawns as if to prove a point.

Skandar is rummaging around in his backpack, and Will hears rustling, and clinking of glass, and then he produces two Clingfilm-wrapped sandwiches.

"Weird time for lunch," Georgie says, laughing as she takes one, "but I'm starving. Did you bring anything, Will?" Will shakes his head. "Oh, we forgot to tell you to!"

"I'm okay," Will tells her, "please, eat, don't mind me."

"Aw, no, I'm sorry, have some of ours, here-" She's tearing the sandwich in half, ignoring Will's stammered protests that he's fine, really, but then his stomach rumbles rather loudly and she giggles and thrusts the food at him. He blushes and takes it, gratefully babbling thanks.

"And Skandar?" Georgie prompts.

"And Skandar what?" grumbles Skandar, munching away.

This time he's the one to get an elbow in the ribs. "Skandar."

Skandar sighs and tears his own sandwich, proffering the (smaller) piece, and Will takes it, hesitantly. "You know you really don't have to-I should have thought to bring something myself-" he stammers.

"See? He doesn't even want it," Skandar snaps, snatching it back out of Will's hand.

Georgie gasps, shoving his shoulder. "Yes he does," she insists, grabbing it right back off him and returning it to a horribly-embarrassed Will, "he's just too polite to say so. Aren't you, Will?"

"Th-thank you," is all Will can manage, and he takes a big bite, staring off into the distance.

He's surprised to see the ship looming into view already, steadily appearing through the fog, huge and bright and high up on the gimbal.

"Aha!" Georgie cries triumphantly with her mouth full, and starts trotting towards it. "Success!"

It seems a little early to say that, but Will doesn't point this out. Instead, he just walks a little faster to catch up with her, and Skandar rolls his eyes and does the same. His mood seems to change pretty rapidly these days-he can go from pleasant and agreeable to almost childishly grumpy within the space of twenty minutes, and Will isn't sure why. He's not even sure if it is a recent development after all, or if he's always been like this.

Getting onto the ship is surprisingly easy, it turns out. So easy that Will wonders why it is that they're the first to do this, thinking that it's lucky the Dawn Treader hasn't ended up covered in graffiti and rubbish yet. He's almost tempted to suggest to someone that they increase security.

They have to clamber over a few fences, but even that's easier than Will was imagining. There are no alarms, and, as far as he can see, no security cameras. It takes them under ten minutes, Will would guess, and then they're on the deck of the ship, standing there in the hazy light and looking at each other in something like disbelief.

"Well," says Georgie, satisfied, sitting down on the steps, "that was easier than I expected."

Will laughs, and sits down too, and Skandar looks around for a further moment, sort of scanning the horizon like he thinks maybe it was too easy and they should be on their guard. But eventually, he sits down too, though he's still looking a little uneasy.

"Skandar, cheer up," Georgie snaps crossly, nudging him as he slings off his backpack. "We did it!"

"Doesn't feel like much of an achievement," Skandar grumbles, and then produces a bottle of wine from his backpack, placing it on the deck in front of him. "Drink, anyone?"

Will eyes the bottle uncertainly.

"Okay," says Georgie eagerly. Will remembers how no one would let her at any of the gathering during the previous week, how she'd only be allowed a sip or two from someone else's glass if she found someone drunk enough.

Will just nods, and looks off into the distance, watching the mist beginning to clear and the sun gradually rising higher up in the watery-pink sky.

"It's funny, the wine makes the whole sneaking-out-and-getting-drunk thing seem much more classy," Georgie giggles.

Will feels a little bit nervous when she says that-he doesn't think he's ever really been drunk before. His friends aren't big drinkers, so the most he's ever had is one glass of wine or champagne, with his parents or at the parties here in the past week.

But then Skandar says, "We're not getting drunk," still rummaging in his backpack and then producing three little plastic cups leftover from his birthday party.

He pours the wine, and they sip at it in a slightly awkward silence for a while. Will hasn't had any of the red kind before, and it doesn't taste how he imagined-more bitter than sweet, and not all that fruity. It's nice all the same, though-he likes the feel of it in his throat when he swallows, that slight tingle.

"We should do something," sighs Georgie in exasperation after a while of this.

"Like what?" Skandar asks. He's halfway through his wine already.

"Like-I don't know, play a game or something," Georgie shrugs. Will isn't surprised by this answer, but then she adds, "Truth or Dare. I don't know."

Skandar snorts derisively. "How old are we, again?"

"C'monnn," Georgie needles. "It'll be fun. Truth or dare?"

Skandar rolls his eyes, and takes another big sip of his wine as if to show he's in no particular hurry to play. Eventually, he says, "Dare, then."

Will is beginning to feel like Skandar and Georgie's entire lives are just one big game of Truth or Dare, and he's already starting to panic about what he should choose, what they'll want him to do and what they want to know.

Georgie says, "I dare you to leave proof that we've been here."

Will makes nervous noises. Skandar chuckles. "Do you want us to get caught?"

"No," Georgie replies, and then crawls a little way along the floor and reaches for one specific plank in the flooring. Will realises what she's doing-that plank is loose, it has been for a few weeks now, wobbling when anyone stands on it, and no one has got around to fixing it yet. She lifts it out, with a little difficulty, and then passes it across to Skandar. He just looks at her, eyebrows raised, and she reaches into his backpack and produces a Sharpie. Skandar grins, shaking his head.

When the plank is replaced, it's with the words S+G+W were here scrawled on the underside of the wood. And then, after Skandar-very childishly-dares Georgie to shout the word 'penis' at the top of her lungs, it's Will's turn. He knows that they expect him to choose truth, so he takes a deep breath and says, "Dare," and hopes he won't regret it.

Skandar raises his eyebrows and exchanges a look with Georgie, who smirks. "Down your drink," she says.

Will does so, grimacing as he gulps down the rest of the wine. He's relieved it wasn't anything worse, and, quite frankly, surprised.

"Truth," Skandar says, then, without being asked, as he starts to top up their cups from the bottle.

"Um," says Will, startled, still swallowing away the slight burn in his throat. He asks the first thing that comes to mind. "Do you-do you get homesick?"

Skandar laughs and rolls his eyes. "Of course," he says. "Truth or d-"

"No, wait, that wasn't it," Will blurts, feeling stupid. He really did just ask without thinking, and he supposes it was a question he'd been wanting to ask any of them for a long time, simply for reassurance. Skandar is looking at him expectantly. Will thinks fast. "Who do you miss the most when you're away?"

"Pointless question," Georgie sighs before Skandar has a chance to respond. "It's obviously 'old William'."

Skandar gives a sort of indecipherable smirk, a one-shouldered shrug, and then starts to fumble around in his backpack. "Truth or dare," he says to Georgie. She chooses dare again, and Skandar thinks about it as he locates a crumpled packet of cigarettes from the bottom of the backpack and lights one. Then, in a very calculated way, as he breathes out a little smoke from his first drag, he says, "Kiss him," with a jut of his head in Will's direction.

Will's mouth goes dry. He starts to say something, but whether he manages an "um" or just croaks vaguely, he has no idea.

"Ah, but I've already done that, Skandie-kins," Georgie says, brushing it off with a giggle, and Skandar wrinkles his nose at her, presumably in response to the nickname. "Very well, though."

She crawls over the short distance to Will and pecks him neatly on the lips while he stares like an idiot, and then, brushing the dirt off her knees, settles back in her place and takes a sip of wine. Skandar is looking at her, smirking again, in that way that Will can't quite interpret.

"What?" Georgie says.

Skandar shrugs, brings his cigarette back to his mouth. "Nothing."

"You're such a pervert," Georgie tells him affectionately. "More wine, please." Skandar grins at her and tops up her cup, and she looks to Will. "Will! Truth or dare!"

"D-dare," Will says. For a second he's just glad he's regained the use of his vocal cords, and then he starts to worry about what Georgie might pick for him; whether she'll want a follow-up. The game has been surprisingly tame up until this point and he has the feeling the stakes have been raised.

Georgie thinks for a long, long time, and Will grows increasingly more nervous, but then she flops back with a defeated sigh and says, "I can't think of anything." She looks to Skandar for help, and Will's heart leaps into his throat.

"I doubt that's true," Skandar says scathingly, and then, seemingly randomly, holds his cigarette out to Will.

"Um, no thank you," Will says, feeling awkward.

"No," Skandar is laughing, "it's the dare."

"Oh." Oh. Skandar gestures with the cigarette and Will hesitates. "Listen, I-I really hate smoking."

"Oh, come off it," Skandar says harshly, rolling his eyes. "I bet you've never even tried it."

"I have," Will replies defensively.

"You don't have to, Will," Georgie cuts in, a little anxiously.

"Yes he does," Skandar shoots back, "that's the rules. Truth or dare, or forfeit. And the forfeit's usually worse."

Will does not doubt this one bit, so he takes the cigarette from Skandar's hand while Skandar's still gesturing with it in Georgie's direction, and brings it to his lips. He tries to remember the technique he had for Son of Rambow, where he managed to make it look like he was inhaling properly so it would look real for the film, but he's trying to be too quick and too casual and he ends up just sucking in sharply and thrusting the cigarette back at Skandar, coughing a little as he exhales.

"All right, you don't have to get in a mood about it," Skandar grumbles, taking the cigarette back.

"Truth or dare, Georgie?" Will asks. He's not really giving Skandar the silent treatment, and he's not really that pissed off-in fact, already he's feeling sorry for making a big deal of it, making the atmosphere tense like this. He knows, somewhere, deep down, that Skandar is at fault too, but right now he just feels guilty.

"Um," says Georgie in a small voice. "Truth."

Will wants to come up with something light-hearted and fun, but for some reason, all he can come up with is, "What did you think of me when you first met me?" and immediately he feels stupid for it, blushing a little. He's relieved when he doesn't hear Skandar snorting with laughter.

Georgie is smiling, toothy and genuine. "Aw, well, I thought you were very sweet," she says, and to Will's surprise, she reaches out briefly, touches his hand. "I thought you seemed nervous, but that was understandable of course, and then when we started doing the read-through I was just really amazed at how talented you were." She laughs. "Are."

Will blushes deeper, shaking his head. "Oh-stop-I-"

"Hey, it was a truth, I had to be honest," Georgie interrupts. She turns to Skandar, who is looking off into the distance, lighting another cigarette. She tuts at him, and he sticks his tongue out at her. "What about you, Skandar? What did you think?"

"Is this a truth? I don't believe I specified."

"I chose for you. Don't avoid the question."

Skandar lets out an exaggerated sigh. "I thought he seemed really nervous. Like, so nervous it was almost painful." He's not looking at Will, and he's not looking at Georgie either-just off at the horizon, the sun still rising. "But then when we started I was impressed. I guess."

"You guess," sneers Georgie, batting him on the arm. "Be nice."

"Sorry," says Skandar, not sounding sorry at all, "I'm just getting bored of this. Let's go back."

Will fidgets nervously. Georgie pouts and says, "One more, okay? One more round."

Skandar sighs and slumps back. "Fine. Truth or dare?"

"Me?" Georgie asks, because Skandar hasn't said a name and isn't even looking at anyone, concentrating instead on pouring the rest of the wine into his cup.

"Will," he says, still without looking up.

"Tr...uth," Will says slowly, uncertainly.

Skandar puts the empty bottle back in his bag and then takes a long drink of his wine before saying anything. And then...

"What do you think about when you-?"

Skandar finishes the question with a crude hand gesture, cigarette between two fingers, and Will stares at him in shock. He feels his face go hot and he looks to Georgie, expecting her to reprimand Skandar for such a question, but she's just looking surprised and grinning, like it's all a joke.

Will stammers.

"You do wank, right?" Skandar goes on, puffing out a lungful of cigarette smoke in Will's general direction. "I mean, supposedly everyone does, but you...it's like you might not even know how."

Will's face burns. "I know how."

Skandar grins. "So what do you think about?"

And Will knows the rules, knows that he's supposed to tell the truth, but how can he, when the truth is that ever since that first night at Skandar's he's been unable to get off without thinking about Skandar and Georgie? He swallows uneasily, trying to think about what he'd think about if he were a normal sixteen year old boy; what celebrities he's supposed to fancy.

"Jessica Alba," he blurts eventually, feeling like an idiot.

Skandar seems satisfied, but Georgie leans in, inspecting Will's face like some kind of detective. "He's lying," she announces.

"Well, I figured," Skandar scoffs, leaning back and taking another drag from his cigarette. "But I was going to let him off." Georgie looks apologetic, and Skandar goes on, "So who is it really?" Will is silent. "Wow, you really don't want to say. Is it someone we know?"

"Oh my god, is it Anna?" Georgie cries suddenly.

Will has pretty much lost the ability to speak by this point, and Georgie seems to take his continued silence as a confession.

"It is," she squeals. "I wondered if you fancied her. You're always blushing and getting all clumsy when she's around."

Will is dismayed to hear this-he knew, of course, but he blushes and gets clumsy around both Anna and William, purely because he's kind of intimidated by them. Anna more, perhaps, but only because she's so pretty. But he never fantasised about her, and he'd hoped his admiration wasn't the kind of thing that other people noticed.

"Don't tell her," Will begs, because Skandar and Georgie believing this is bad enough but if Anna knew-he can just imagine the two of them telling her through their giggles, and Anna laughing too. Thinking he's pathetic.

Georgie draws her finger over her lips like a zipper and Skandar just takes another drag of his cigarette and makes a noncommittal sound. "She is waaaaay out of your league," he says casually. "Just so you know."

Before Will has a chance to respond-not that he has a response ready-Georgie is cutting in, trying to reduce the tension. "Okay, maybe we should-"

But then suddenly the words are coming out before Will has a chance to stop them. "All right then, who do you think about?"

Skandar is taken aback; he laughs in the middle of blowing a smoke ring and it disintegrates into a cloud. He coughs.

"You have to say," Will implores. "You made me."

Skandar fixes him with a stare so intense Will starts to feel nervous, quickly losing whatever small burst of confidence he had. Skandar's eyes are dark and wicked. "You," he says, and then leans back, taking another drag of his cigarette.

Georgie laughs, high-pitched, a startled reaction. Will is speechless.

The silence stretches on and then Skandar shrugs and adds, "I don't know, anyone, anything," and Will can't tell if this means he was joking before or not. "It's not like it's the same every time," he says, "I have an imagination."

"We should really go back," Georgie says, smiling but still nervous, agitatedly brushing Skandar's cigarette ash into cracks in the wood. "Doesn't shooting start in like a couple of hours?"

The walk there was much better than the walk home, Will thinks to himself after they've clambered back over the obstacles and are trudging back to the flats in awkward silence. Georgie-bless her-tries to keep the conversation going, but it peters out again and again and eventually she grows tired of trying. Will is tired too, over the excitement of the excursion and wanting to be back in his bed again. It's late enough now for people to be getting up; cars rush past and the three of them maneuver past people walking dogs. It's jarring to Will for some reason, like re-entering the real world.

The walk seems longer, too, and the three of them yawn repeatedly. There is tension, but it's a vague sort that Will does not know what to do with. He longs to apologise, but he's not sure what to apologise for, and he feels like he would only face Skandar's mockery and hostility in response. He trots along like a scolded pet instead beside Georgie, who walks between the two boys, a willing buffer.

They part with mumbled goodbyes in the corridor, and Will sneaks quietly back into his room without waking his father. He feels tipsy, and tired from the walk and lack of sleep, but when he clambers into bed he feels suddenly wide awake. He lies there, tosses and turns, eyes wide open, brain racing a hundred miles an hour. He thinks of Skandar's irritability, and wonders why he doesn't resent it but instead feels responsible for it. He knows, logically, that Skandar sulks and is sometimes unnecessarily cruel, but instead of disliking him for it, Will just wants to know how he can make him feel better.

He thinks of Georgie, bright-eyed and sweet, wanting to sneak out and drink and play games. He thinks of her lips on his, replays that split second over and over and over. He thinks he could feel Skandar's eyes on them. He remembers the way Skandar and Georgie looked at each other afterwards. He can taste wine and cigarettes on his lips and when he closes his eyes he can see the sunrise and the beautiful majestic ship spreading out around them.

This is what friends do, he thinks suddenly, the words coming unbidden. They're his friends. He thinks of S+G+W were here and the way they greeted him when he came down-Georgie's warm, tight hug and the way Skandar clapped him on the back. He rolls over onto his front. He's hard, pressing a stiff weight against the mattress. He rocks gently and hides a smile in his pillow as he thinks of Georgie yelling penis at ear-splitting volume and collapsing into giggles afterwards. He thinks of Skandar's hand gesture, the cigarette dangling from his fingers and trailing smoke as his hand shook up, down, brisk. It's like you might not even know how, Skandar says in Will's ear as Will takes himself in his fist.

He thinks of the intensity of Skandar's gaze and the way he said you, and he thinks of Georgie's wine-stained lips and cheeky grin, and he think of sunbursts and dragon heads and he comes, hard, whimpering weakly into his pillow. And then he lies silent and still, waiting for the sickness to come, to wash over him in waves.

***
Will gets maybe twenty minutes of sleep before his alarm is going off and he has to start the day. Really start it, or re-start it, or continue it-he doesn't know, and his brain hurts and clenches and he feels dazed and sore, unsure if last night was simply a vivid dream until he sees himself in the mirror, his eyes darkly circled and his lips deep purple in the cracks. The clothes he took off when he got home are lying in a heap beside his bed and he can smell cigarettes on his fingers.

He showers even though he doesn't really have time. His Dad doesn't even wake up as he's getting ready, and for some reason this hits him in the gut, makes everything feel worse. He doesn't know why. Ben is in the lift when he reaches it; he holds it for him.

"Morning," he sing-songs, and then, when Will gets closer, "oh wow, are you okay?" He places a comforting, concerned hand on Will's shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah, I just slept badly," Will replies. His voice is like gravel. He clears his throat.

The lift's doors begin to slide shut again when Skandar and Georgie appear from around the corner, and Ben hits the button again, laughing. The two of them look pretty awful, too, worse in the bright mirrored lights of the lift perhaps, and Ben says nothing for a moment, just presses lobby.

"We didn't get much sleep, okay," Skandar grumbles as the lift starts to descend.

"I feel like I'm missing something," Ben chuckles. Georgie is huddled in a corner, arms folded. The jumper she has on is unzipped a little at the neck and beneath it, Will can see the t-shirt she sleeps in. "Did you lot have another sleepover?"

The three of them sort of mumble assent. Ben narrows his eyes at them all and then seems to come to a conclusion. "If you did that thing you asked me to do, I don't want to know about it."

The day is hard. They're working on some of the scenes after the Pevensies and Eustace are picked up by the ship, and it requires Will to be at his most animated-panicking and ranting and so on-while Skandar and Georgie are their most dismissive. Each time they roll their eyes or give him withering looks, it really hurts, and Will feels idiotic, flailing around on deck and hamming it up as the two of them trade snide comments about him. It's acting, and it's always been acting, so he can't work out why it affects him so much today. His eyes keep being drawn to the place they were sitting when they were here not so long ago, and it's part paranoia-trying to see if he can make out any wine stains or cigarette ash or if it's obvious that the plank Skandar wrote on is a little bit askew-but it's also wistfulness, reminiscence, a little bit of disbelief.

William and Anna show up at lunchtime, which doesn't make anything any easier. Georgie smirks knowingly at Will across the table when Anna sits down beside him, and she and Skandar are so caught up with the two of them that Will ends up mostly ignored, eating his sandwiches in silence and drinking bottle after bottle of water to try and get rid of his headache.

They leave that night, William and Anna, and Will declines the invitation to accompany them to the airport with the others. He thinks it might be rude, but he can't face that feeling again, that horrible left-out feeling that hasn't waned over the week of their visit. He says goodbye to them in the lobby instead, receives awkward hugs and goes back up to his room alone with the smell of her perfume and his cologne on his shirt. His Dad is in the bath, and Will takes off his shirt and sits on his bed for a long time holding it, fighting the urge to hold it to his face and inhale.

His brain tells him that he's pathetic, that he's a freak, and he ends up crying into the shirt, for so long that he hears the others return again, hears them stomping past in the corridor, chattering loudly.

***
The next day, during filming, he rushes into the costume tent and stumbles upon Skandar and Georgie. They still haven't really talked since the Truth or Dare incident on the ship, and though they've been civil, it's been awkward. And the fact that Georgie is currently in floods of tears and Skandar is comforting her definitely does not make things any less so.

"Oh-I'm sorry," Will blurts, "I just needed-a button fell off my-sorry."

Georgie sniffles. Skandar is holding her, and she's sort of clinging to him, and Will is taken aback by it for many reasons. He hasn't seen Georgie upset before, and it's disconcerting. She's usually so cheerful, bouncy, carefree, and to see her collapsing in Skandar's arms makes Will's heart ache. It's also the first time Will has truly appreciated the age difference between the two of them-Georgie really does look like Skandar's little sister, being comforted by him, and he looks taller and stronger and older, and at once Will is very aware of their past, of their growth together.

"Georgie's sad about Will and Anna leaving," Skandar says by way of explanation, and gives Georgie a squeeze. She lifts her head and a tear rolls down her pink cheek. She looks almost apologetic.

"Er-oh, I," Will stammers uselessly. "I'm...sorry." He has absolutely no idea what else to say.

"I said I'd take her out to dinner tonight and help her forget about it," Skandar continues. He's rubbing Georgie's shoulder as he speaks, almost absentmindedly, and Will is suddenly and violently envious; wants to cradle Georgie in his arms and tell her it's going to be okay.

"Maybe you could come," says Georgie in a small, broken voice.

"Oh," Will says, trying to snap himself out of it, but still fighting the urge to wipe away her tears. "Um. Yeah. Maybe."

Skandar and Georgie seem to take this as a definite yes, but Will really means his 'maybe'. He ruminates on it all day, and quite seriously considers not showing up. Deep down, he knows he's going to anyway, but for once, part of him genuinely doesn't want to. The visit from William and Anna has taken more out of him than he expected, and he's just tired, physically and emotionally. Tired of trying to figure Skandar and Georgie out, tired of feeling like somebody's playing tricks on him. It's exhausting, really, being in their company.

He deliberates for a long time, standing at the door of his own flat and trying to decide whether or not to leave. Eventually, his Dad wanders in and asks him what the hell he's doing, and without thinking, he says, "Going to Skandar's for tea," his mouth making the decision for him.

He heads down the corridor to Skandar's room and knocks before he has the chance to change his mind. The door opens, and the greeting is not exactly what he was expecting.

"I won! I won!" Georgie shrieks, whirling round to look at Skandar who is sitting on the sofa with a blanket over his knees, a book in his hand and a full glass of red wine on the coffee table in front of him. "IN YOUR FACE, KEYNES. I knew he'd come," Georgie cheers. She turns back to Will, a triumphant grin upon her face. "I knew you'd come," she says, a little more quietly, before turning on her heel and trotting over to Skandar, who is studiously ignoring her.

To Will's surprise-and he thinks maybe he shouldn't be so surprised, now, but their easy affection always seems to startle him-she leaps onto Skandar's lap, plucking the book from his hands and tossing it over her shoulder. Straddling him, she crosses her arms and ducks her head to look him in the eye.

"I won," she says firmly, and Will begins to feel like maybe that's all that matters. Not the fact that he's here, just the fact that Georgie knew he would be. He feels a little put out that they would bet over him, but he's not all that surprised. "Cough up, loser. Forfeit."

Something is simmering beneath the surface in Skandar. Will hovers in the doorway, wondering whether to come in and shut the door behind him. He can't seem to take action today, and the tension in the air keeps him rooted to the spot, watching them. Georgie is peering at Skandar intently, a little victorious smirk still on her face. Skandar's expression is dark, serious, angry. His brow is furrowed.

"You made me lose my page," he says. His voice is quiet but tinged with a subtle fury.

"Yeah, and you know what else you lost? The bet," Georgie replies. "So you'd better get on with it. I'm in the way, aren't I? Sorry." She clambers back off his lap, sits cross-legged facing him on the sofa instead. "And Will should probably shut the door, shouldn't he?"

Will takes the opportunity to do so, feeling as though the decision's been made for him. He steps into the room, turns to close the door and then hears Skandar's voice again and it makes him freeze.

"George," Skandar says darkly. "I'm not doing this."

Georgie laughs. "Yes, you are. It's the rules."

Will hesitates. What are they talking about? What could his forfeit possibly be? He's known about their little betting games ever since he arrived on set, sure, but it's always been for insignificant things as far as he could tell-small amounts of money, and doing each other's chores. They've always seemed a little bit grumpy about it, but nothing like this.

"You wouldn't," Skandar retorts.

There's a silence, then, and then Georgie shrugs this off. "Doesn't matter if I would or not, I didn't lose." More silence. "C'mon. What, are you a chicken? You can't chicken out now, it'll ruin the whole game. What's the point if you can just back out?"

This seems to get to Skandar, because he's very quiet now, no longer protesting. Will takes a deep breath and shuts the door, but he can't quite bring himself to turn around again. The sound of the door closing seems to remind the two of them of his presence in the room.

"He's pathetic, he's such a wimp," Georgie says to Will, snorting with laughter. "Isn't he a wimp, Will?"

Will says nothing.

"Methinks the lady doth protest too much," Georgie says, to Skandar now, her voice breathy and teasing. Will imagines her whispering in Skandar's ear. "Come on. You like an audience."

"Shut up," Skandar snaps, so sudden and loud that it makes Will jump. His heart is in his throat, he doesn't know what's going to happen, doesn't know if he wants to know. "God, you can be a bitch sometimes. A sadistic little bitch."

Will starts. He's never heard Skandar speak to her that way.

More silence.

And then, Skandar relents. "Fine," he says, quiet, and Will can still hear the resentment seething in his voice. "Fine. But get up. I can't, with you this close." He hurries the last words, almost blurring them together, suddenly sounding embarrassed and vulnerable.

There's the sound of movement, and Will turns his head, peeking back over his shoulder cautiously. Georgie is getting off the sofa, picking up Skandar's wine glass and trotting over to the armchair on the other side of the room. She slumps down in it, getting comfortable, taking a sip of wine. Will looks back over at Skandar, and is so startled by what he sees that he can't quite process it right away. Skandar has his hands beneath the blanket that covers his lap, fumbling, and Will can clearly hear the sound of a zip being pulled, of the gentle rustle of fabric.

Blushing hotly, stunned and confused, he turns his head back to the door on instinct, needing to look away. He stares at the door, mentally tracing the shape of the whorls in the wood. He hears Skandar spit into his hand, and his face burns. Skandar is masturbating. In front of Georgie. In front of him. This-this-is the forfeit. He can't believe it. Part of him wants to run away, just to get the hell out of there. The door handle seems to taunt him, tell him go on, then. It's right there in front of him, all he'd have to do is pull it and go.

But he's stuck, his feet like lead. He knows he's too overwhelmed and stunned and curious to go anywhere.

That curiosity he feels is shameful, but strong, and he can't help but turn his head just a little bit again. To the right, just to look at Georgie. She's still slumped in the armchair, casual as can be, but her eyes are fixed on Skandar across from her, watchful and intense. The wine glass is held still at her lips. When she senses Will looking at her, though, she offers him a glance, and Will can't interpret her expression. It seems blank to him, giving nothing away.

When Will was twelve or thirteen, he used to sleep over at a house across the street. His parents were friends with the Mallinsons, and they had a son around his age, a little older, and the two were encouraged to be friends. Alex used to masturbate when Will slept over, right next to him on the living room floor. This was the way Will learnt how. He remembers vividly the sound of it, the gradual realisation of what his friend was doing, and he remembers one night, Alex pulling back the shiny polyester of his sleeping bag, letting Will see.

He can't look at Skandar. He can't. But he wants to, and he doesn't know why. Part of him wants to prove himself wrong, wants to see that Skandar isn't really doing what Will thinks he's doing. But it's obvious, and he knows it deep down, can recognise the rhythmic rustle of the blanket, the strain in Skandar's breathing, and beneath it all, the unmistakeable slick sound of skin on skin. He looks away from Georgie, back at the door. He can hear his own heart pounding a mile a minute. His palms are clammy. He can hear Skandar's breath catch, ragged. He wonders if his eyes are open, if he's staring right back at Georgie. The thought sends a slight tingle through him, and he suppresses it, mortified.

He can't help but think about it all, though; no matter how much of a jumbled mess the thoughts are, they come thick and fast. Have Skandar and Georgie done this before? When they share a bed, does he do it with her right next to him, not bothering to wait until she's asleep? Does he slide his hands under the sheets, or does he kick them away and let her see like Alex did-oh, Will has to bite back a groan at that, just the thought. He doesn't ever let himself think about these things, because it's wrong, because he shouldn't, because it makes him feel so dirty. It's only in the late-night when he's doing what Skandar's doing now, trying to focus on the physical side of it and not let his thoughts wander, but they do, and he gets so excited and so caught-up that he begins to lose control, finally adrift in a sea of filth in his own mind as he comes.

He wants to see Skandar lose it like that. See him forget that he's being watched, forget how wrong it all is. Suddenly, he remembers Skandar saying you, and forces himself to think of it in context, of the way Skandar implied-joking or not-that he thought about Will while he did this. Will wonders if Skandar is thinking of him now, and he cranes his neck back, just in time to see Skandar's eyes shut tight and his hips snap up, his teeth bite into his lower lip. He seems to shiver, shudder, and then he goes slack and still, and the heat in the room becomes sweltering. Will snaps his head back to face the door, unable to deal with it, and his heart is the only thing he can hear, hammering away in his ears.

The silence stretches out and Will can't stand it. Then, he hears a slight rustling, and he forces himself to turn around, hating every second of it. The awkwardness in the room is palpable. Skandar is wiping his hands on the blanket, and then he tosses it aside, coughing lightly and standing up, eyes cast downward. He checks his watch.

"Ben said he'd meet us downstairs five minutes ago," he says, quite simply. "I'm gonna go change."

But before he goes, he crosses the room to Georgie, standing in front of her in her armchair. Will watches, transfixed, as the two stare at each other for a long moment. And then Skandar snatches the wine glass from her hand, drains it in one and hands it back to her before disappearing down the hall to his bedroom. Just like that, he's gone.

Will's gaze flickers, lands back on Georgie. She isn't looking at him, just fiddling with the glass. And then she shrugs-seemingly to herself-and gets to her feet. To Will's surprise, she goes towards the sofa, looking at the blanket that lies on it in a discarded heap. She acts as though Will isn't in the room, completely unaware of herself as she inspects the blanket, reaching out to brush her fingers against the fabric. Then, suddenly, she seems to snap out of it, grabbing the blanket in her free hand and heading decisively into the kitchen.

With a clatter, she puts the wine glass in the dishwasher, and bundles the blanket into the washing machine. Her movements are businesslike, purposeful.

"I'm going to change too," she says, then, wiping off her hands on the sweatpants she's wearing. She looks at him, expectant. "You can go down and tell Ben we'll just be a minute, if you want."

"Wh-what-" Will starts, and his voice sounds horribly croaky, like he just woke up. He clears his throat. "What are we doing?"

"Going out to eat, silly," Georgie says, as though this was the plan all along. And then Will remembers, it was. "We're going to that Italian place Ben wanted to try."

"Oh. Oh. Okay."

"So, you'll meet us downstairs?" she asks brightly.

"Yeah. Sure. Of course."

Hands in his pockets, body hunched over, Will makes his way to the lift. It's only once he's inside that he realises just how hard he is, swollen and aching in his jeans, and he flushes with embarrassment and presses himself up against the cold mirrored wall, trying desperately to rid himself of the images in his mind.

***
It's difficult to cope with them in the restaurant. They're acting just like their usual selves, as though nothing out of the ordinary has happened. As though Skandar wasn't orgasming in front of the two of them less than an hour ago.

It's worse, Will thinks, with Ben there too. Oblivious Ben, acting like there's nothing unusual about Skandar and Georgie's relationship at all. Then again, Will realises, Ben hasn't seen the same things he has.

"Like Lady and the Tramp," Georgie's saying, "I always wondered if that would actually work."

"What?" Will snaps out of it.

"You know, the spaghetti thing," Georgie says.

"I think Skandar's giving you a good opportunity to try it out," Ben laughs, pointing at Skandar, who has a long string of spaghetti hanging down from between his lips.

Will wonders why Ben encourages them-if this is encouraging them, in fact, or if this is just normal for them, how it's always been. Georgie plucks the end of the spaghetti off Skandar's plate and places it in her own mouth, and then does the whole thing over again when she giggles and it falls out.

"Okay, well this is far less romantic, for one," Ben chuckles, as the two of them try to contain their laughter as they suck the spaghetti between pursed lips. "It's actually just more gross."

They meet in the middle, peck each other on the lips with a giggle.

"So who's the lady and who's the tramp?" Ben teases.

Will puts down his cutlery suddenly with a clatter. He feels flushed, agitated, claustrophobic. He needs to get away from them. "I'm-I'm just going to go to the loo."

He leaves before they have a chance to respond, but he's still peeing when Skandar comes into the small bathroom and stands in front of the only other urinal, beside him. His eyes are shifty as Skandar undoes his fly, he can't help it.

"So," Skandar says, and there's a gentle sort of teasing tone in his voice. He's addressing the elephant in the room. "That was a bit of a thrill, right?"

"Wh-what?" Will stammers. He goes to wash his hands, turns his back on Skandar.

Skandar laughs. "You know what I mean," he says. "It's okay, you can tell me. I hate to admit it, but it was kind of exciting for me too. Don't tell Georgie."

"I don't," says Will, and then stops. He shuts off the tap, hears Skandar zipping himself back up and turns around. "I don't know what you want me to say."

"I don't know, anything," Skandar shrugs. He comes over, stands in front of him. "You're a bit of a closed book, you know."

"I don't understand," Will hears himself say helplessly. His hands are shaking, dripping water onto the floor between them. "Earlier you were talking to her like you hated her," Will says, "like you wanted to kill her."

Skandar chuckles. "That's how we are," he shrugs. "It's how we all are. It's just a bit of sibling rivalry, that's all. You know us. We're family. She's like my little sister."

Will feels a strange burst of anger at this. "It's not-" he starts, and then takes a deep breath. "You can't call her that. You can't say you're siblings, not when you-do that. Not when you force each other to do that."

Skandar tilts his head on one side, questioning. "You think Georgie forced me?"

His gaze is unsettling, so fixed. "Well," Will stammers, "well, yes."

Skandar laughs, again. Shakes his head. "It's just a game," he says.

He's so close. "It doesn't seem like one," Will hears himself say, quiet, shaky.

"Well then," Skandar replies. His hands slide onto the sink's edge, on either side of Will's body. He leans in. His eyes are dark and intense, his voice even more so. "Maybe you really don't understand."

Will's gaze flickers. Panic is beginning to well up inside him. Skandar's face is close, so close. Suddenly, he pushes him, just shoves him out of the way and gets out of there, wiping his wet hands on his trousers, hurrying back into the safety of the restaurant and its low buzz of noise and chatter.

"You okay?" is how Ben greets him, a look of concern on his face.

"Yeah," Will says, sliding back into his seat. "Yeah, yeah."

He knows he's blushing, can feel the heat of it across his cheeks. When Skandar returns to the table a moment later, Will notices the slight shape of a damp handprint on his shirt, where he pushed at his chest. Will sees Ben notice it too, sees his eyebrows raise in curiosity. Nobody mentions it.

***
The following week is trying. Skandar has gone back to sullenness, only speaking to Will when he has to, and short with everyone but Georgie.

"He has a temper," Ben says, one day, apropos of nothing in particular, and Will isn't sure that this explanation goes far enough. Skandar doesn't seem angry, just withdrawn, troubled somehow and tired of having to pretend otherwise for everybody else's benefit.

Georgie's older sister has returned, so she is-reluctantly, it seems-back at her own flat again. The messy divorce is ongoing, and at night sometimes, Will hears the two sisters arguing through his bedroom wall, Georgie shrill and shouting and Rachael's voice a low murmur. Georgie spends most of her time there, trying to work through her family issues, and Will only sees her on set.

It's strange, because there's some relief in it-as though the temperature got too high and the three of them need to cool off. But at the same time, Will can't stand it. He wants to dive right back into the boiling water, overcome with a sick excitement for what might come next. He's afraid that this might not be a phase; that this might be the end, that it all got to be too much and now they're done. That, perhaps, it was all Will's fault, that his involvement in their friendship caused complications they weren't willing to deal with. He worries about that night in the restaurant, worries that he offended Skandar, worries that he was too judgemental, that Skandar is waiting for him to apologise.

And more than anything he just misses them, misses having their attention focused on him. He misses the intensity of Skandar's stare, and he misses Georgie's casual affection.

Georgie is still kind to him, talks to him between breaks in filming, making an effort, and Will appreciates it, but it's not the same. Each day that passes, though, she tries to involve Skandar a little bit more. It's an obvious ploy, like trying to get a sulking child to join in a party game, but they pretend otherwise, and gradually, as the week comes to an end, Skandar's bad spell seems to do the same.

It's a Friday when things seem to return to some semblance of normal. Ben has the afternoon off, so it's just the three of them for the rest of the day. Will is sitting trying to get some schoolwork in during lunch when Georgie swishes past, dressed in a silky pale-blue gown and munching on a cheese toastie.

"Um," says Will, almost choking on his mouthful of water. "What's the-what-what scene is that for?"

It's not terribly eloquent, but she looks almost absurdly beautiful, and he's so caught off guard and confused that it's the best he can manage. Georgie laughs, and he's missed having that grin directed at him.

"It's not," she replies. "Isis still has a copy of all our coronation costumes, can you believe it? This is Susan's, I was so jealous of Anna, she got the prettier dress and now I can fit into it-"

They're interrupted by a wolf whistle, and they turn to see Ben grinning and waving from a few metres away, on his way off set. Georgie sticks out her tongue at him.

"It's-you look-um." Will isn't very good at this sort of thing, can't make the words 'beautiful' or 'gorgeous' sound natural coming from his mouth. "Wow," he goes for in the end.

She flaps her arms at him, showing him the long flowing sleeves of the dress. "I think I might get to keep it until we go home. I just want to like, wear it around the house all the time, it's so pretty."

Will gulps and nods at her enthusiastically, and then Skandar wanders over. He calls Georgie 'Susan', making her giggle, and offers to help Will with a tricky maths problem he's stuck on, and just like that, things feel almost normal again.

They end up working overtime and going out with some of the other cast and crew for pizza. Despite the extra work, which is usually a guaranteed trigger for his bad moods, Skandar seems cheerful, and by the time they leave the restaurant the three of them are laughing and joking as though nothing ever happened. Will isn't sure what they're pretending didn't happen: his and Skandar's altercation in the restaurant bathroom, or what caused it, or perhaps the entirety of the past week.

It doesn't seem to matter, anyway.

It's pouring it down when they leave the restaurant, and despite getting a lift back to the flats they're still drenched by the time they get inside. It's a real thunderstorm, Michael says, grumbling about how he hopes it doesn't last as the rain hammers down over them, soaking them to their skins in seconds.

When they reach Will's room, Georgie slips between it and him, blocking the entrance, grinning and biting her lip. Skandar tugs at Will's arm, and he doesn't even question it, doesn't even worry-he's in Skandar's room in the blink of an eye.

Georgie waltzes off into the bathroom for a shower to warm up, stripping off layers of dripping clothing as she goes and littering the hallway with it-a sodden silk scarf, socks that she removes one by one, hopping adorably down the hall. He doesn't think Rachael's left yet; Georgie doesn't bother letting her sister know where she is.

"I don't-I don't have any other clothes," Will says awkwardly, hovering in the hall still as Skandar goes ahead into his bedroom.

"You can borrow some," Skandar says with a shrug, already opening the closet.

He tosses Will a pair of trousers and a t-shirt, and Will only just catches them, losing his balance a little from the force of the throw. Skandar smirks and pulls his t-shirt off by the neckline, chucking it in the general direction of a radiator. It takes Will a long time-too long-to realise he's still standing there at the entrance to the room, watching as Skandar undresses, the older boy completely unselfconscious as ever, shucking his damp jeans and the boxers along with them. Will catches himself and ducks his head, averting his eyes as he hurries over to the other side of the room and begins to undress, facing the wall.

Will is prolonging his t-shirt switchover, dreading taking off his trousers with Skandar in the room with him, but Skandar's done long before he gets that far. Will, currently shirtless, feels eyes on his back and turns around, sees Skandar standing there looking faintly amused.

"I'm gonna go get us some drinks," Skandar says. He's looking at him, really looking at him, in a way that makes Will uncomfortable. "Okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, okay," Will says, trying not to blush.

It's a relief when Skandar leaves. Will waits a moment, then shuts the door before hurriedly peeling off his trousers, almost losing his balance once again and crashing into the wall. He pulls on the ones Skandar's lent him and then the t-shirt, draping his own clothes over the radiator. He hesitates, seeing Skandar's still in a soggy heap on the floor, and arranges them over the radiator too. He stands there for a moment, then sits down on the bed to wait.

He looks around. There's a stack of books on Skandar's bedside table, and, curious, he lifts up the top one. A history of Lebanon. He listens out, hears clattering from the kitchen and the steady sound of the shower in the bathroom, and feels safe in looking at the rest of the books. There's something by Stephen Fry, one of the Harry Potter books, a novel he doesn't recognise.

When he picks up the last one, he sees a few small photos scattered on the table beneath. Without really thinking, he picks them up, flicking through them. He recognises them as being Polaroids, from that camera Skandar's been carrying around on set. There's one of the four Pevensie actors, cheesy grins on their faces, at what looks like a party. It looks recent, and beneath it, there's a very similar one that includes Ben too, seemingly taken only seconds after the previous one as Ben looks like he's dived into the picture and is sticking up his fingers behind William Moseley's head. Will smiles to himself, flips to the next picture and sees that this one includes him, between Ben and Georgie, taken in front of the Dawn Treader.

The next picture surprises him-Skandar with a woman he recognises as one of the make-up artists for the film. It looks like it's been taken at an awkward angle by Skandar in order to include himself in the picture as well. The woman is red-haired, pretty with big blue eyes, and wearing a bright blue scarf with a pattern of little birds all over it, and she's kissing him on the cheek. Will is suddenly very aware that he's snooping, and he fumbles to put the pictures back down. But as he does, one near the back of the pile falls out, onto the floor, and he reaches down to pick it back up. It's of Georgie, he realises, sitting on this very bed, cross-legged with a sort of childish scowl on her face. She's in just her bra and knickers, with her mobile phone held to her ear. She looks sweet, her nose wrinkled and her hair in a messy ponytail, and Will can imagine Skandar behind the camera taking the picture to tease her as she protests half-heartedly, makes a face to get back at him.

Just then, Skandar's voice startles him. "Will? Can you open the door? My hands are full."

Will jumps up anxiously, quickly putting the books back on the table on top of the pictures. The picture of Georgie is still in his hand, however, and in a hurry, he goes to shove it into his pocket. But the trousers he's borrowed have no pockets.

"Will?" calls Skandar again.

"Just a minute!" Will calls back, panicky, and on impulse he stuffs the picture down the front of the trousers, into his boxers.

He rushes to the door and opens it, seeing Skandar standing there with three glasses in one hand, a bottle of red wine in the other, and a puzzled look on his face. "Took you long enough," he says suspiciously.

"I was getting dressed," Will lies, flushing. "Sorry."

Guiltily, he glances back at the bedside table, hoping it's not obvious that things have been moved. Skandar will notice the picture is missing eventually, though, he realises, and suddenly he wishes he hadn't taken it. He wonders if he'll get a chance to sneak it back.

"All right, twitchy," Skandar teases.

He rounds the bed, and sets down the glasses and bottle, placing the bottle right down on top of The New Face of Lebanon: History's Revenge without batting an eye. He leaps onto the bed, settling down against the pillows and patting the space next to him. Will hesitates, but clambers on, sitting cross-legged beside him. He has a strange feeling of anticipation, now, the silence between them feels charged somehow. The relief of their reconciliation, the joy of being back in their company-these things have faded, now, and the uneasy, anxious feeling he gets around the two of them has returned. The sound of the water in the bathroom has stopped, Will realises, and its absence only adds to his discomfort.

He wonders if he ought to say something to break the silence, but he has the strong sense that he shouldn't. Just then, there's a creak of a door, and a second later, another creak and then the click of the spare room's door shutting.

Will knows Skandar is about to speak before he does, but he doesn't know what words to expect.

"I bet," are the words, and Will feels as though maybe he should have seen this coming, because it feels like his heart sinks, as though some part of him has been waiting for this all along. Skandar chews his lip for a moment. His eyes are bright, mischievous, cunning. "I bet you," he says, "she's going to put on that red skirt. The one Anna gave her when she was here."

Will doesn't respond. Doesn't know what to say.

Skandar elbows him. "Yeah? What do you think?"

"Um," says Will. His voice sounds croaky. He clears his throat. "Yeah," he says, and this time it quivers, "yeah."

Skandar grins mockingly, shaking his head. "You can't agree, you idiot," he says. "Not much of a bet then, is it? Listen, you make a guess too and if we both lose, it's nothing." His voice is tinged with urgency. They can hear Georgie in the room next door, humming to herself.

"I don't-I don't know, I don't want to bet," Will stammers. He feels very anxious. He wants to know the stakes, but once again he has a strong feeling that he shouldn't ask. Floundering, he says, "You know her clothes better than I do, it's not fair."

Skandar chuckles, but his eyes are still watching Will intently. "That's...not really something I pay a lot of attention to. I think we're on equal grounds." He waits.

"I don't know, uh," Will stalls. He catches sight of the clock on the wall. It's getting late. "Pajamas?"

Skandar looks amused, doubtful. "Oh, the night is young, but I'll take that," he says, shaking his head as he reaches for the wine bottle and begins unscrewing the cap.

"No-wait, okay, not pajamas, I take it back-" Will says, a little frantically, thinking of the tiny vest and knickers Georgie wears to bed. Surely she wouldn't put those on and then come and hang out with them? Not while they're properly dressed? Besides, pajamas are merely a formality where she and Skandar are concerned-

"Too late." Skandar is grinning, and it takes Will a moment to realise it's not at him, but at the door behind him.

With a sinking feeling, he turns around. Georgie is leaning against the doorframe, grinning and looking a little bemused. A red wool skirt hangs in loose pleats to her knees. For a long moment, nobody says anything further, so she shrugs and enters the room, sashaying over to Skandar's iPod dock on top of the chest of drawers beside the bed.

"This isn't the greatest background music in the world," Skandar says, rolling his eyes, as the quick and heavy beat of a song comes on. Loudly.

"Shut up, you like Bloc Party," Georgie replies off-handedly, but flicks her finger around the iPod's wheel to turn down the volume a little anyway. Then she turns, goes to the end of the bed and places her hands on the footboard, leaning down to look at the two of them expectantly. "So what's going on in here then?"

Skandar chuckles, placing the cap of the wine bottle on the back of his hand and then flicking it across the room at her. She ducks to one side quickly to avoid it; it skitters off out the door and across the hall floor. Skandar makes a face at her and then takes a large swig from the bottle. Clearly, Will realises, the glasses were a formality as well. Easily dispensed with.

"Will here just lost his first bet," Skandar says, eventually, wiping his mouth and smearing a little dark red across his hand.

"Oh, really?" Georgie's grin doesn't look like it could get much bigger without breaking her face as she leaps up onto the bed like a cat, in front of them on her hands and knees. "And what does that mean?" she asks eagerly.

"Well," says Skandar. "Well."

A little bit of the playfulness has left his voice, now, and Will's heart begins to beat faster at the sound of it. What is he going to be asked to do? What do they want him to do? It's confusing, he thinks, how he can be simultaneously so offended at the notion of this, yet know deep-down that whatever it is, he'll do it. It makes him feel so weak, so pathetic, but he can't help it, he wants to be a part of this, and as nervous as it makes him to join in the game, he feels a little bit flattered just to be included.

"Well, Georgie," Skandar continues, leaning closer to her across the bed, voice lowered conspiratorially. It's like they're deciding what to do with their new toy, Will thinks. "You may be a sadistic little bitch, but I'm not."

Georgie frowns a little, puzzled but still enthusiastic. "And what's that supposed to mean?" she enquires.

"It means I just want to see everybody happy, you know, getting what they really want, even if it's not something they'd admit to wanting," Skandar replies casually. His voice drops again as he continues, "And that's why..."

Georgie leans in closer, anticipating. Her grin is back, and Skandar's lips quiver, just a little. When the words leave his mouth, Will can hardly believe what he's hearing-though, at the same time, again he feels he should have seen it coming.

"...that's why I want you and Will to have sex. In front of me."

Georgie's smile only wavers a tiny, tiny bit, but Will buries his hot face in his hands, body crumpling. For a short moment, there is only the sound of the song approaching its end, a loud climax.

"Not in here, though," Skandar says off-handedly, "I don't fancy sleeping in someone else's revolting spunk." He takes another swig of the wine, and Will peers out from between his fingers in shock and catches Skandar's eye. Skandar grins around the bottleneck, and claps him on the shoulder. "No offense."

The song has ended. There is silence. Awful, deafening silence.

"So," Skandar says, looking between them, "what do you say? Spare room?"

The next song begins, quiet and low. It sounds almost ominous, to Will's ears. A slow build-up. Georgie shakes her head, suddenly, decisively.

"I won't do it," she says, but she's still grinning, like this is no big deal.

"You won't?" Skandar quirks an eyebrow.

"You wouldn't," she retorts.

Skandar's eyes flicker to Will briefly. "He's not my type." They talk about him as though he's not in the room. "You can't back out. It'll ruin the whole game. You said so yourself."

Georgie frowns. The music is getting louder, the beat of it hypnotic, marching on. "You're right. Okay."

"You sure?" Skandar asks. "I wouldn't want to-" he shoots Will a Look, "force anybody." He smirks, and takes a long pull at the wine bottle.

"Oh, we're perfectly willing, aren't we, Will?" Georgie grins, mischievous. "Willing Will..."

Will grabs the bottle from Skandar, spilling a little bit of wine down the front of his shirt as he brings it to his lips in a hurry, taking a swig. Georgie rolls her eyes, snatches it from his hand and does the same before replacing it on the table, and then crawling back across the bed and getting off it. She sways her hips gently to the thudding beat of the music, unbuttoning her blouse, and Skandar smiles, takes the wine again and drinks from the bottle as he watches her.

She untucks the blouse from her skirt, undoing the last few buttons and then letting it hang open as she reaches up to pull her hair from its ponytail. She shakes it out, and Will watches the way her breasts bounce a little with the movement, the way little droplets of water are set loose from her damp hair and splash onto the skin of her chest, rolling down, wetting the fabric of her bra. She's dancing, sort of, just gently swaying, undressing slowly as she goes. She pulls the blouse from her shoulders gracefully, tosses it aside and then reaches behind herself to unhook her bra. Her eyes are closed, her chin turned upwards, and she looks perfectly at peace, relaxed, while Will's heart is hammering in his chest a hundred miles an hour.

It's not that he doesn't want this. God, he wants it. But like this?

She pulls off the bra and holds out the piece of underwear by one strap, lets it dangle from her fingertips with both of her arms outstretched. Will stares at her, and feels guilty for it, feels like he shouldn't even though she's deliberately exposing herself to him this way. And he finds himself thinking, god, she's perfect, gazing at her small, pale breasts, the little mole above one nipple. The bra drops to the floor with a gentle thud and Will is startled by it, catching himself. Georgie's hands go to the zipper of the red wool skirt, at her side, and the sound of it being pulled cuts through the monotonous beat of the music quite harshly.

The skirt slides down her legs in one fluid movement, crumples at her feet. Will's eyes travel the length of her legs right up to the gentle curve of her stomach, and he stares at her, now clad only in a pair of threadbare blue knickers, and he feels hot and panicky.

"No, I-I have to go," he hears himself blurt out, and he's leaping up suddenly, almost pushing past Skandar in his hurry to get out.

Neither of them stop him-in fact, neither of them really react-and he only gets as far as the kitchen before he's breaking down, sinking onto the floor and shaking and letting out a raw little gasp that seems to come from nowhere. He thinks of her-beautiful, naked, offering herself to him-and then he thinks of them, beautiful, naked, in bed together, and he doesn't understand.

(3/4)