one of us (3/4). skandar/georgie/will p., hard r.

[likecharity]

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It's a long time before he notices he's being watched. Skandar is standing in the opening of the hall, leaning casually against the doorframe, one hand in his pocket and the other scratching absentmindedly at his brow. When Will sees him, Skandar smiles, and lifts his hand out of his pocket to reveal a little foil square held neatly between two fingers.

"I-listen," Will says, not entirely sure what he's actually going to say as he gets clumsily to his feet. He goes towards Skandar, because Skandar is showing no signs of being about to move.

"I'm listening," Skandar smirks. "You're not leaving?"

"No, I was-" Will starts, and then stops again, and he really has no idea where he's going with this.

Skandar is grinning openly now, amused.

"Look, don't you think maybe this is going a bit too fa-"

And then he notices Georgie behind Skandar, padding gently down the hallway, naked, and he stops abruptly. Oh god, oh god. He's distantly aware of Skandar moving, and then suddenly he's behind Will, hooking his chin over Will's shoulder and chuckling, low. Georgie comes ever closer and Will tries not to look at her, at the way her bare hips sway as she approaches him and at her body, his eyes darting all over the place. His mouth feels dry and his hands feel clammy and he can feel Skandar's breath tickling his cheek.

Georgie reaches him. She stands a mere inch or so away. Her nipples brush the front of Will's shirt. She's smiling, and she looks so sweet and kind and like she actually wants to do this, and Will panics, tries to squirm away and ends up with Skandar's arm wrapped around his neck. He splutters.

"I-I'm not going to run, okay? I want-I just-" he stammers uselessly.

The headlock Skandar has him in gets tighter, is really starting to hurt. He's leaning back against Skandar now like his legs have given out. Skandar has the two of them both propped against the kitchen table.

"Please," Will begs, "please. I don't want to fight, okay? I'm not resisting."

"So, shut up, okay?" Skandar says, crossly, but he loosens his hold just a little and Will breathes in noisily, gratefully.

"You know, Will, you aren't being much of a gentleman right now," Georgie says, pouting as she leans over him, her hair tickling his chest. His heart pounds as he stares up at her, into her eyes which seem suddenly dark, shadowed with desire and mischief. "Is the idea of having sex with me so horrible?"

"No!" Will cries. "No, no, it's not that, it's not that at all," he stammers, "I just...I've never-"

He thinks he feels Skandar's hold on his arms loosen a little, and Georgie's slight pout turns into a smile.

"Oh," she says. "Well, that's okay."

She shares a look with Skandar, one Will can't interpret.

"I've seen you," he blurts out, "I saw you-I saw you in bed together."

"Ah, our guest has been spying on us," Skandar says, exchanging a look with Georgie.

She smirks. "Well, that wasn't very friendly of you, Will," she says. "And we've been so welcoming..."

She drops to her knees as she says this, begins undoing his fly. He squirms in Skandar's arm, but Skandar just reaches down and tugs up his t-shirt, leans Will forward so he can pull it over his head. And then Georgie is easing his trousers down, his boxers too, and Will is too flustered to remember the picture until he feels Georgie pulling it from him.

"Oh, how sweet," Georgie says, giggling and looking at it. "Look, Skandar, he's been keeping me...close to his heart," she punctuates this with a look between his legs, and Will is mortified, clutching at his crotch, covering himself.

Skandar frowns, taking the picture. "Oh, so you've been snooping as well as spying, have you?" he says, but his voice is more gently mocking than genuinely annoyed. Even so, Will feels terrible.

"I'm sorry-I'm so sorry, I found it and I just-" he stammers, ashamed.

"Hey, it's okay," Georgie says, and Will can see the effort it takes for her to stop smiling. She stands up, and takes his hand, stroking it gently, which does actually help him relax a little. "I'm flattered. But-" She cuts herself off and giggles again. Her voice is a kind of breathy, nervous whisper when she continues. "Sorry. I was going to say 'you can have the real thing', but that sounds so sleazy, I can't pull it off."

Will barely registers what she's saying because as she talks, she's bringing his hand between her legs, shuffling them apart a little and then sliding his palm to cup her there. She holds it still, and he's speechless. He feels Skandar's hand on his hot bare shoulder, a rub and a squeeze, and he realises he's still sort of slumped against him. He tries to stand up properly but his knees are weak. Georgie looks more serious now, eyes wide and clear and gazing into his as she bites her lip.

"Like this," she says, and pushes.

She bites harder at her lip and her breathing comes heavier, Will can see her chest heaving with it. And then she lets go of his hand and leans gently into him, hesitant, until her face is too close for him to focus on and so he closes his eyes and then-her mouth, sweet and hot, and he stops panicking and goes on instinct, moving with her. He is hard against the smooth warm curve of her stomach, and Skandar is an ever-still presence at his back. Will is between them, and it feels so right that it's making him lightheaded.

"Okay," she breathes, lips wet against his cheek, and he aches and strokes and he needs her, wants her all around him. "Okay," she says again, and he stops.

He doesn't have the words to say anything, and Skandar is reaching for that little foil packet again and passing it to her, and he sees their fingers brush and then Skandar takes her hand and squeezes. She tears the packet open, and the sound seems so loud.

"I learnt how to do this in Sex Education," Georgie whispers, grinning but nervous, her voice shaky as she slides the condom on, her hands small and hot against him and the contact is making him go weak. "But I don't know if-oh, hey-there we go."

She smiles like she's proud and he smiles openly back, surprising himself, and she takes him in her hand and strokes and then she's pulling him gently down onto the floor. He kicks off the trousers and underwear that are still tangled around his ankles, and he lies over her, between her open legs, on the carpet. He doesn't even look up at Skandar, but he can see him out of the corner of his eye, leaning back against the kitchen table and shifting uneasily. Watching.

Will kisses her, and he bucks awkwardly forwards with his hips, and she reaches down for him-

"Help me," he murmurs, embarrassed, and she does, and it's so tight it kind of hurts him, and it's hurting her too-she's wincing, her face drawn in.

She cries out, sudden and broken, and he pulls back instantly-only to be guided back in, her hand splayed out across his backside, her legs hitched up to bracket his hips. It's awkward, and he feels like he has absolutely no idea what he's doing, all movements he's not used to and then, when it starts to feel good (so good) he has to try and hold back, because he's hurting her, and nobody ever told him about this, nobody ever said what it would feel like. It's not as simple as people make it out to be, it's not just easy mindless pleasure, it's everything all at once, and Will doesn't know how to cope with it.

It's strange to feel somebody else's body this close, skin against skin, and his thrusts are jerky and erratic and Skandar is watching and Skandar has probably done this many times before and Will just wants to be good, he wants to impress him and he doesn't know why, he just wishes he knew what he was doing. And when Georgie holds him close and starts to rock up against him, and they find a rhythm, he just presses his lips to her neck and stops thinking, and then it's all over, he loses it clutching at her hip and groaning stupidly against her throat.

She tilts her chin, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, and he lifts himself awkwardly off of her, her legs sliding down and opening loosely around him. She is sprawled across the carpet, her hair a messy, tangled damp mane, and the table creaks as Skandar takes his weight from it and comes around to their side.

He sinks to his knees beside them, and to Will's surprise, gently trails his hand down Georgie's quivering stomach and in between her legs. When he draws it back, it's wet with blood, fingertips smeared red and one crimson drop rolling down the back of his hand. Will stares at it in stunned bewilderment, in something like horror. Skandar feels the blood between his fingers, and his expression is unreadable. Georgie sits up. There are tears in her eyes, and Skandar goes to wipe them away, streaks red across her cheek and then suddenly, violently, they're kissing, Georgie sobbing quietly into his mouth and Skandar stroking his bloody fingers through her hair. Will watches them, frozen, speechless.

"Are you okay?" Skandar murmurs, desperately, urgently, his lips hardly parting from hers to ask the question.

"I'm okay," Georgie manages, even smiling a little against his mouth, "I'm okay, I just-"

"Yeah. It's okay. We'll get you cleaned up. Okay?" He holds her face in his hands, staring into her eyes. "I'm sorry, I didn't-I don't know, I-"

"It's okay," Georgie promises him, stroking at his back, his shoulder. Soothingly, like he's the one who needs reassurance. "I wanted to."

Will feels like he's not even there, like Skandar has just seamlessly taken his place, and his brain is too addled to make sense of it. He drops his eyes, peels off the condom and clumsily tries to tie a knot in it like he thinks you're supposed to, but his fingers are slippery and nervous and shaking.

"Here," Skandar says, suddenly and sharply, irritated, reaching out for it without taking his eyes off Georgie. Will flushes, hot and shocked, and Skandar gestures impatiently. Will hands it over, and to his surprise, Skandar takes it and ties it off, brusque.

"I'm-I think I need to go have another shower," Georgie says in a small voice.

"Okay. Yeah. Okay." Skandar nods, kisses her on the forehead and gets to his feet. Will shuffles back to let Georgie stand up, and he watches as she walks, wobbily, to the bathroom.

There is blood on the dark blue carpet, an almost purplish stain, and Skandar hisses a swearword at it, rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand as he hurries into the kitchen. Will sits there motionless as he hears the click of the bin being opened and then the rush of the tap and the creak of cupboard doors. Skandar returns a moment later with some sort of carpet cleaner, spraying it onto the stain agitatedly.

Skandar seems not to even notice that Will is still there, until he's in the way, and then Skandar's touching Will's ankle gently with his thumb because Will is just staring down at it like he can't remember the series of muscle movements necessary to slide his foot out of the way.

"Are you okay?" Skandar says, quietly.

The acrid smell of the carpet cleaner is making Will's sinuses sting, and underneath it all there's the smell of sex still lingering, and he really doesn't know if he's okay at all.

"Hey. Hey. Come on. Look at me."

Will blinks, shaking his head, and then Skandar's hand is cupping his cheek, cold and damp and smelling like soap, tilting his face up. He realises then how close Skandar is, freckles blurring into one another and dark worried eyes and-

"Are you okay?"

Will licks his lips, nods faintly. Skandar's thumb is on his too-fast pulse.

"I'm-I'm gonna go check on Georgie," Skandar says suddenly, "can you-" and he thrusts a sponge into Will's hands and just like that he's gone, and Will is left naked on his hands and knees, removing the evidence.

***
They all sleep in Skandar's bed that night, needing reassurance from each other that what they did tonight was okay. It's not a kind of reassurance that any one of them feels able to give, but the warmth of their bodies is comfort enough. The boys sleep with Georgie between them; Skandar and Georgie facing each other as usual and Will curled against Georgie's back, one hand tentative on her hip. He doesn't think he'll be able to sleep, but he does in the end, more tired than he thinks.

In the morning, Skandar is gone. Will awakes with Georgie's limbs entangled with his, and her eyes open, watching him. The thought that she's been watching him sleep is embarrassing, but it sends a flood of warmth through him, too, and on impulse he kisses her.

"Morning breath," she responds, nose wrinkled.

"Ah-sorry."

She grins. "It's okay." A yawn. "Skandar left a while ago. He went out to get croissants or something."

"What?"

Georgie laughs. "I don't know, I was half-asleep. He seemed very determined about it though. Like he was on a mission."

"A croissant mission?" Will grins. He nuzzles up against her, breathes in the lovely sweet scent of her hair.

"A croissant mission," Georgie nods.

There's a pause, but it isn't awkward. Will takes the time to appreciate the way she feels against him, the warmth of her soft skin, one of her legs casually tossed between the two of his, the jut of her shoulderblade against his chest. His fingers play against her hip, and, bravely, he dips them a little lower.

"How do you feel?" he murmurs.

She's quiet for a moment. "I feel okay," she says eventually, and she sounds serious, not her usual playful self. "A little sore."

"Uh huh," Will says, and tries not to let his face colour. He nuzzles her again, kisses her jaw. "I'm sorry," he says quietly, unable to help himself.

"Don't," she says, and she smiles, turns her face to him and kisses him.

They lie back in silence. There's a crack in the curtains; a strip of light plays against the wall.

"You know...when I first met you," Will says, quietly, "I thought...I just assumed that you and Skandar were..." He looks at her, and she raises her eyebrows at him, encouraging him to go on. "Together."

She laughs at this, interlaces her fingers with his. "We are together, silly," she says, and then sighs softly. "Every moment of every day. Mostly." She laughs again. "Not right now, but, you know."

Will shakes his head. "You know what I mean," he says. "I thought you were a couple. I thought you'd..." He sighs, wishing he could just spit it out. He tries again. "When I saw you in bed together, I assumed it meant you..." He trails off again, though, embarrassed.

But Georgie doesn't wait for him this time, just shakes her head, vaguely and then a little more firmly. "No," she says. "No. Uh uh. He wouldn't."

Will is surprised by the directness of her answer. "He wouldn't?" he echoes.

"He's too old...I'm too young...I mean, it's..." Now it's her turn to be inarticulate. "He wouldn't let himself...you know...feel that way. Last night was the first time he's even kissed me, properly anyway." She's silent for a while, and Will watches her, the gentle flutter of her eyelashes as she blinks and the strange feathery shadows they cast across her cheeks. Then, she says suddenly, "But he loves me. And I love him. We're...we are together, really."

"But he's never been inside you," Will says in a hushed whisper, not sure if he can really say it at all.

She brings her hand up across her chest, pulling his along with it, and letting it rest against her heart. "He's always inside me," she says quietly, distant.

Just then, they hear the click of the door in the other room. A clatter of metal; Skandar putting his keys on the counter. Rustling of bags. Footsteps. The two of them listen, and wait, and then Skandar appears in the doorway. Will's heart flutters when he sees him, and he doesn't know quite why. For some reason, it is a relief, a thrill, a pure joy, to see Skandar standing in the doorway like this, in his pale blue button-up shirt and his baggy jeans and his Converse, clutching a paper bag of pastries and grinning at them as they lie naked together in his bed.

"Morning," Skandar says, and leaps onto the bed, narrowly missing Georgie's thigh and squirming into a place for himself, nudging the two of them aside. "I come bearing chocolate croissants."

"Pain au chocolat," Georgie corrects him in clumsy French.

"No," says Skandar, producing what looks like an ordinary croissant from the bag, and biting into it. He shows it to them; it has a chocolate filling.

"Ah," says Georgie. Then, "Yum. Gimme."

"I feel so appreciated," says Skandar with a roll of his eyes, and passes one each to the two of them. "We're getting pastry in my bed," he says after a few moments of quiet chewing.

"You've got your shoes on in your bed," Georgie points out.

"Hmm," Skandar says, and then, popping the last of his croissant into his mouth and licking chocolate from his fingers, he gets up. "I'll be back in a minute."

"You're being very mysterious this morning," Georgie informs him.

They listen to him go into the kitchen, and then the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

"I wonder what he's doing," Georgie says thoughtfully.

"Going to the loo?" Will guesses, yawning and rolling over, munching on the rest of his pastry and trying to ignore all the crumbs he's getting in the sheets.

"He's being too mysterious about it for that to be all it is," Georgie says, shaking her head. "Also, I want some juice."

Will goes into the kitchen and finds a carton of orange juice (and very little else) in the fridge. He brings it back, finds Georgie texting her sister and muttering to herself. She brightens when she sees the carton, and they drink from it, passing it between them in bed. It feels to Will, who has never eaten food in bed or drank juice straight from the carton before, very dirty and very decadent. He rather likes it.

They lie there, snuggling, chatting intermittently but mostly just enjoying each other's company in silence, for quite a while. Skandar is running water, and they are giggling, brushing pastry crumbs from each other's hair and attempting to feed each other orange juice, tickling each other beneath the sheets, learning each other's bodies the way they didn't have a chance to do last night.

Running his hand down Georgie's thigh, Will finds a slight raised patch.

"Birthmark," she says with a shrug. "I've had it ever since I can remember, anyway, and no one knows where it came from. I think I was gored by a bull there in a past life. Did you know birthmarks are meant to be injuries from past lives?"

Will did not. Georgie finds his; a dark splotch hidden mostly by his pubic hair. "I wonder what your past self died from," she giggles.

He starts to stiffen beneath her exploring hands, but she pulls away. The water has stopped running in the bathroom.

"We should get up," she says.

She is fastening a robe and he is pulling on a pair of boxers and trying to figure out whether they're his own or Skandar's when Skandar appears in the doorway again, his hands clasped behind his back. His socks and shoes are off and his sleeves are rolled up and he looks a bit sweaty, dark hair plastered to his forehead and curling a little.

"I ran us a bath," he says.

"You what?" snorts Georgie.

Skandar repeats it. It does not sound any less ridiculous this time, but it does actually sound quite tempting. "I used your bubble bath, I hope you don't mind," he adds. "Come on then."

The bath is not the only surprise Skandar has for them in the bathroom. Once they're inside, he holds out his hand, and in it lies what Will first thinks is a very crumpled cigarette, and then realises is a spliff. In the sink he sees a plastic bag full of something green, a packet of small papers, and a couple of little metal tins. He is shocked.

"Ooooooh," says Georgie appreciatively, plucking the little rolled thing from Skandar's palm and admiring it.

"Where did you get it?" Will asks, quietly amazed.

"Oh, I have my ways," Skandar replies slyly, grinning as he unbuttons his shirt and tosses it unceremoniously over his shoulder. He sees that Will is still looking at him, and sighs. "Okay, a make-up girl whose name I won't divulge. She's my supplier."

Will thinks of the Polaroid, and wonders how many people actually know that drugs are being dealt on the set of this movie. C.S. Lewis probably wouldn't be pleased.

"I was going to light some candles and stuff," Skandar says, "but I didn't have any."

"Oh, I have some tealights!" cries Georgie excitedly, placing the spliff carefully on the rim of the bath beside a neon yellow lighter before rushing back out of the room.

Skandar is shucking his trousers now, and Will still hesitates before undressing, even though he knows Skandar saw everything yesterday. It feels different, now, in the brightness of the bathroom, the lighting almost clinical, and it's just the two of them.

Skandar steps into the bath first, almost moans and sinks down into the water happily. "Perfect," he says, and seems almost stoned already, eyes heavy-lidded.

Will pulls off the boxers, hurried and awkward, and he can feel those lazy eyes on him the whole time, knows Skandar's watching even as he steps into the bath, fully exposed. He sits down immediately even though it's a little too hot, eager to hide his body beneath the bubbles. Skandar is looking at him expectantly.

"Mmm," Will murmurs appreciatively, and Skandar grins and retrieves the spliff and lighter that he set down on the bath's rim.

Will watches, and is aware of everything: the way his legs brush Skandar's in the water, the way Skandar frowns as he neatens the little paper tube between his fingers, the hiss and flare of the lighter. He's sure he looks anxious, or overly curious, but he can't seem to feign disinterest and it doesn't seem to matter. Skandar takes a few tiny little puffs at the spliff and then, seemingly satisfied, lets the lighter drop onto the floor as he sinks back further in the bath, sliding, legs pushing out until Will feels them on either side of his body. He inhales, deep and greedy. Will watches.

Georgie reappears, then, distracting him. Her robe, silky and pinkish-purple, is knee-length and loosely tied at her waist, exposing flashes of pale thigh and chest as she skips into the room. She's clutching a handful of tealights in various colours.

"Some of them are scented," she announces, "but I have no idea what the actual scents are, so this could be interesting."

"Yeah, combined with weed and-what is this bubble bath? Toffee sundae or something?" Skandar laughs. Smoke curls up from his mouth and nose, and Will is transfixed again. He smells it, then, earthy and strong. It's sort of sweet, too, but Skandar's right, it doesn't quite go with the sickly smell of the bath. The mixture is heady, intoxicating.

"Hot butter fudge," Georgie corrects him with a grin, as she begins lining the tealights up along the windowsill and every other available surface.

"You've never tried it before," Skandar says to Will, quiet and conversational, observing rather than mocking. He takes another drag, and Will stares at the way his lips meet around the damp paper.

"No," Will admits. "I've never really had the chance."

Skandar nods, his eyebrows knitting in a frown as he breathes out more smoke. "People get weird about it," he says, "but I don't really see the big deal. It's not as dangerous as some things."

"Like what?"

Skandar is in no hurry with this conversation; he takes another drag. "Alcohol," he says, then, and his voice is strained, a little bit hoarse. Will thinks he likes the way it sounds.

"Really?" he asks, not even really that interested, just wanting to hear Skandar talk some more. He wonders if he's getting high from the smoke in the air; wonders if it's foolish to think that's possible.

"Yeah, I can't remember the exact statistic, but there are way more alcohol-related deaths than weed-related ones," Skandar replies off-handedly.

Will frowns. "Are you sure? That can't be true..."

Skandar straightens up a little, looking irritated, and his foot knocks against Will's hip and makes him jump. "It can and it is," he says sharply.

"But then why is it illegal?"

Skandar is in the middle of inhaling when Will asks this question, and he begins to respond with the spliff still sticking out of his mouth, letting it stick to his lips as he speaks. It waggles agitatedly with each word. "Because the government's fucking stupid, that's why," he snaps.

Will starts, afraid of Skandar's anger. He doesn't want to get into an argument, especially not when it seems like things might be calming down a bit. "Okay, okay. Sorry."

"Don't apologise," Skandar sneers, spliff still in his mouth, and he seems frustrated for some reason Will can't fathom. "It's not your fault that the government sucks, is it?"

He actually seems to be expecting an answer, and it takes Will a little while to realise that this isn't a rhetorical question. "Um, no," he says meekly, "no, of course not." He has to bite back another apology.

Skandar lies back again, seemingly satisfied, and Georgie tuts from somewhere behind him, apparently now lining tealights up in front of the door. Will wonders distantly if this is a fire hazard. His Mum made him read the fire safety regulations when they first got here but right now he can't remember a word of them. At least they're in a room with plenty of easy access to water.

He becomes aware of the awkward silence, growing ever longer, and clears his throat. He wants to change the subject, but can't think how, so he ends up saying the first thing that comes into his head instead. "So um," he says, and clears his throat again, "what's...what's it like?"

Skandar's lips quirk, and he does that smile again. "Good," he says, a little hoarsely.

Will is surprised Skandar hasn't offered it to him yet. It almost seems like he's waiting for Will to ask, but Will-well, he doesn't like smoking. This shouldn't, logically, be an exception. He can't help his curiosity though. "Yeah?" he asks.

Skandar sits up properly again, leans in. "Yeah." There's something mischievous lurking under his lazy expression. "C'mere," he murmurs, voice hoarse and scratchy from smoke, and he moves closer, soapy water displacing around his naked body and gently splashing Will's.

Will glances anxiously behind him, where Georgie is humming obliviously to herself as she lights the row of candles. He looks at Skandar, Skandar's wicked dark eyes glinting, and he edges in, just a little bit.

Skandar puts the spliff to his lips and breathes in, sharp and shallow, and then quick as a flash he's pulling Will close. Really close, and so suddenly that Will grapples at the bath's rim and starts to cry out. But then he's silenced. He feels a hand curling around the back of his neck, and then he feels smoke being gently blown into his mouth. He gasps and gulps, barely registering the feel of Skandar's lips against his own as he starts coughing violently. Skandar pulls back, chuckling fondly, and Will coughs and splutters like his lungs are aflame, and does the first thing he can think of to try and put the fire out-wriggles down and ducks his head underwater.

He comes up still spluttering, spitting out water, and Skandar is still grinning at him. And Will knows it was just the tiniest breath of it, but he thinks he feels a little bit high anyway, lightheaded and happy.

"Good?"

Will nods, hesitantly. "Yeah," he says, surprising himself.

"Again?"

But at this, he shakes his head vehemently. "No, no."

Skandar is grinning at him like-like he's some kind of adorable little animal or something, like he's amused by him but also finding him sort of endearing, and it's making Will feel giddy. He wants to know if it really is possible for him to be stoned already, but there's no way he can ask that without revealing himself to be a total idiot.

Just then, the lights suddenly flick off, and Skandar's face suddenly becomes a whole lot more interesting as the candlelight flickers across it, dim and orange and making him glow, and there are little shadows in the dips of his collarbones and everything is hot and smoky and Will feels dazed.

"Aw, you got it all wet," Skandar sighs, looking at the little damp stub between his fingers. He tosses it into the bin, missing by about a foot, and then rests his arms on the edge of the bath, tucking his chin over them. "Georgii-iiie?"

Georgie appears from behind Will, standing beside the bath with her eyebrows raised and a smile creeping across her lips. She has her hands on her hips and her expression is a good imitation of Anna. Will looks at her adoringly. "Ye-esss?" she sing-songs, mimicking Skandar now.

"Roll us another one."

Georgie's eyebrows raise even further and she crosses her arms. Will watches as the silky robe is hitched up a little, exposing more of her legs, and her small breasts push together. "What do you say?"

Will looks between them. He thinks he can actually see Skandar fighting the urge to roll his eyes. "Roll us another one, dear Georgie, most beautiful and wonderful of all the Georgies, love of our lives?" he guesses.

Georgie laughs, bright and sudden. "I was just going for 'please'," she says, "but that'll do. I'm done with the candles, anyway."

"I can tell," says Skandar, wrinkling up his nose. "It smells like strawberries. And like, patchouli or sandalwood or something. Simultaneously."

Will decides against asking Skandar how the hell he can even recognise those smells in the heady mixture that fills the room, instead watching Georgie as she gathers up the tin and papers discarded in the sink and settles down cross-legged on the bathmat.

"You know how?" he asks her, surprised.

She nods, proudly. "I'm better than him." She juts her chin at Skandar, who wrinkles his nose.

"I taught her," he tells Will, and before Will can even react, goes on, "and don't tell me I'm corrupting holy innocents or anything, because you're the one who was fucking her last night."

Will lets out a startled little noise, but is speechless. Georgie is looking at him, amused.

"You're so crude, Skandar," she tuts, and her fidgeting fingers leave the rolling paper to curl around Will's damp shoulder, pulling him close. He leans awkwardly over the rim of the bathtub, and she tilts her chin up and rubs her nose against his. "We made love, didn't we?"

Skandar makes a gagging sound, and Will can't help but laugh. "Yeah," he says shyly, and Georgie grins, satisfied, and goes back to her work.

"I really am ridiculously good at it," she says, happily and mostly to herself. "I should do origami or something."

Skandar chuckles. "Not quite the same thing."

"H-how much practice have you had?" Will asks, trying to make it sound casual, trying to keep any judgement out of his voice.

"Hardly any, which is why it's so impressive," Georgie replies, tucking her hair behind her ear and licking her fingers.

"It's for special occasions only," Skandar tells Will in a hushed voice.

"He doesn't want me becoming a stoner," Georgie adds, her voice a comic stage whisper. And then, a second later and much more loudly, a triumphant, "Done!"

She reaches for the lighter and lights the thing-and even Will can tell, with his extremely limited knowledge, that it's much neater and well-packed than Skandar's screwed-up little tube. She admires it, and then gets to her feet and shrugs off her robe, passing the spliff from one hand to another as she slips her arms out of the sleeves. She stands there in the glimmering candlelight, and looks almost absurdly beautiful-her hair almost golden, tumbling down to her breasts; the long lines of her lithe body, skin glowing. Will catches himself staring, and tries to stop, but then Georgie is climbing into the bath, grinning and saying, "Budge up," as she fits herself between them.

She leans back her head, sighing at the warmth of the water which laps gently at her breasts. "Nice," she says appreciatively, and then notices Skandar's somewhat hungry expression. "Oh, you want this?" she asks, and it takes Will a second to remember the joint she's holding and taking great care to avoid getting wet.

Skandar nods, and Georgie snakes a path in the air with it towards him, making noises like an plane, like a parent trying to feed a moody toddler. She grins when he lifts his chin and leans in for it, but just as it reaches his lips she snatches it back, giggling when he groans at her in irritation. She meets Will's eyes, and Will gazes at her in something of a daze, finds himself parting his own lips in anticipation when she brings the spliff towards his mouth-and then she pulls back again, sinking down further into the water and letting out another sigh before taking a long drag herself.

She coughs a little bit and Will thinks he catches her eyes watering slightly as she passes it over to Skandar. He feels kind of glad that she's not that practised at this, and then he feels guilty for judging her, and then he just feels relieved he's not the only one who's not smoking perfectly and smoothly like an expert. He relaxes, letting his legs touch her in the water instead of keeping them close to his own body.

That's pretty much the last thing he remembers doing, and it seems like only a second has passed before he's being poked repeatedly in the arm and he realises he has a crick in his neck and his face is pressed into the cold rim of the bath. The water surrounding him is cool, now, almost uncomfortably so.

"Ow," he says croakily, trying to sit up properly.

"You keep falling asleep," Georgie giggles, continuing to poke him.

He blinks sleepily at her. "I do?"

"I'm dozing off too," Skandar adds, and Will looks across the bath to see Skandar slumped there with his legs wide open and-oh. Will realises, his own legs are now somehow beneath the arch of Georgie's, and his foot is resting against Skandar's inner thigh, and the realisation of that makes him quiver.

Georgie yawns. "It's like," she says, "two o'clock," another yawn, "in the afternoon."

"Naptime," Skandar announces and lets his head drop back.

"Not in here," says Georgie, prodding him instead this time. "C'mon, lazybones. Out."

Skandar groans, and Georgie steadily gets to her feet, wobbling slightly as she tries to navigate around the boys' legs. She clambers out and totters over to the towel rack, blowing out candles as she goes.

"Oh, don't make it darker," Skandar moans, "I'll never get up."

"Oh my god, I'm like a raisin," Georgie says suddenly, ignoring him. "Look how wrinkled my fingers are, Will!"

She skips back over to the bath, towels forgotten, and thrusts her hand in Will's face. Her fingers are indeed wrinkly. He says so. When he blinks, his eyelids seem to close for longer periods of time than usual. He says that too.

Georgie laughs fondly, stroking his hair. "Skandar, I think Will is stoned."

Will coughs weakly and tries to protest.

"I think we hotboxed the bathroom," is all Skandar says, struggling to his feet.

Will tries to draw his legs back as casually as possible to let Skandar get up. He intends to say, what's hotboxing? but instead, what comes out is, "I love you."

He lets out a startled laugh immediately afterwards, surprised at himself.

Skandar chuckles, and Georgie just says "Uh huh," softly, and strokes his hair again. It feels nice. He leans into the touch. "Tell us when you're not stoned, okay?"

"I'm not stoned!" Will insists. "Also," he pauses to yawn, "you're supposed to say it back."

"We love you, Will," Georgie sighs, wandering off again to get a towel.

Will frowns at her retreating back. "You can't just say it because I told you to," he says.

Skandar rolls his eyes. "C'mon, Will. Up. Out."

Skandar has not actually managed this task himself yet-he's currently perched on the side of the bath. Will narrows his eyes at him. "You first."

"Toss us some towels, Georgie," Skandar sighs.

***
In Skandar's bedroom, they attempt to get dressed. Georgie gets as far as pulling on a pair of thigh-high neon rainbow striped socks, and then, exhausted with the effort this has apparently taken, she takes a flying leap onto Skandar's bed and lies there face-down. She announces that she has no intention of moving. Will, who has only managed a pair of Skandar's boxers so far, decides this sounds like a good plan and joins her.

Skandar (who has been much more successful than the two of them and is wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt) groans at them. "No, c'mon. I wanna play on the Wii."

"So?" Georgie says, her voice muffled in the pillows. "Go play."

Will, lying on his back, sees a slight change in Skandar's expression. "Go into the spare room, then," Skandar frowns.

"The TV's in the living room, Skandar," Georgie drawls.

Skandar crosses his arms. He frowns in silence for a moment longer and then says, sharply, "I just feel weird about you two sleeping in here if I'm not."

"Well," says Georgie, rolling over, "that's stupid."

"Well, it's true," Skandar retorts. "So get out. It's my room."

Georgie heaves a huge sigh and hauls herself to her feet, stumbling slightly. She holds out a hand to Will. "C'mon, Will. I can tell we're not wanted."

Skandar steps aside to let the two of them, holding hands, out of the room, and Georgie leads Will into the spare bedroom.

"He's in a bad mood," Will observes, as the two of them settle down into the bed.

"Yes," Georgie agrees, like she's speaking to a young child who won't stop stating the blindingly obvious.

"Why is that?" Will asks. "Why does he get like that?"

Georgie shushes him, pulling him close to her for a kiss. "Because he's jealous," she says simply, and then kisses him again, deeper. "And I don't really care right now to be honest. He can be a moody little twat if he wants. And we'll do what we want."

"Are you sure?" Will asks nervously, thinking of Skandar. He's just a couple of walls away, moodily playing video games like a sulking teenager-they can hear the high-octane music, and, every now and then, the sound of gunshots.

"Yeah," Georgie smiles against his neck, snakes a hand under the covers and strokes it down his chest. She reaches between his legs, tucking her hand beneath the waistband of his boxers. "You don't want to?" she whispers.

Will's breath catches as she takes him in hand. "I want to," he murmurs, "I just-Sk-"

"Shh," she says simply.

It's better this time-she straddles him, eases him in and rides him slowly, and everything seems smoother and easier. After he comes, she stays there on top of him, smiling down at him, her hair hanging over her flushed face.

She falls asleep after, long legs splayed out, one rainbow-striped sock fallen down to her ankle. Will lies there watching her for a little while, and then when his stomach's rumbling gets too uncomfortable to ignore, he pulls on his boxers again and ventures out of the room. Skandar isn't in the living room anymore, the game paused on the screen with the music still playing, and Will is a little relieved as he pads into the kitchen to find some food.

Sadly, the kitchen is extremely lacking. He makes a mental note to tell Skandar to go shopping, and returns with the only appetising thing he could find-an untouched jar of honey. All of the cutlery is dirty, and he's too hungry to bother washing anything up, so he just sticks his finger into the jar and licks the honey from it. It tastes good-really good, and he doesn't know if it's because he's just so hungry or it's some delayed effect of the weed. (He's still not sure if the weed could have actually affected him, but he's sort of convinced himself it has.)

Heading back into the spare room, he's startled to see that Georgie is no longer alone on the bed. Skandar is lying beside her, facing her-their positions mirrored perfectly, much like that night Will walked in on them asleep together. Skandar is dressed in a t-shirt and boxers, while Georgie, of course, is naked but for her socks. She's sleeping peacefully; there's even a slight smile on her lips. Skandar is watching her, Will thinks.

He sits down awkwardly on the floor by the side of the bed, leaning against it, his back to the two of them. Silence. He dips into the honey again and sucks it from his finger.

"Skandar?" he says in a small voice. No response. "S-Skandar?"

Skandar sort of grumbles, rolling over. Will wonders if maybe he was asleep after all. "I found this honey in the cupboard-it wasn't opened but you don't have much food left and I was hungry so I thought-"

"It's okay."

"It's really good," Will goes on, uncomfortable, talking just to fill the silence. "Do you want to try some?"

Skandar shakes his head, lying on his back now, hand to his forehead. Will strains round to look at him.

"I don't even usually like honey but it's really good," he says. "Try a little bit?"

"No," Skandar says sharply.

Will goes quiet again, licking the honey from his fingers. It's starting to taste a little sickly, too sweet, and his fingers are sticking together. After a tense moment, he says quietly, "I, um. I want you to know that I'm...you know, grateful."

"Grateful?" Skandar repeats. His voice is rough and he sounds mocking.

"For-for letting me...in," Will says weakly. "I mean...I feel like you two are so...you're so close, and," he flounders, feeling awkward, wishing he hadn't said anything. "I feel like I'm a part of you now," he finishes lamely, "both of you."

Skandar rolls over, turning his back on Georgie now and Will looks up at him nervously. "Let's get something straight," Skandar says, voice low, cruel. "You're nice, Will. I like you a lot. But no. It wasn't always meant to be the three of us, okay?"

***
A few weeks pass, and Will is inclined to disagree.

Throughout that time, Will spends just four nights in his own apartment, and the rest of the time only drops in intermittently, assuring his Dad that he's okay. His Dad has a lot of paperwork to do and Will's guilt is alleviated by the sight of him working, knowing that even if he were around they wouldn't really be spending quality time together anyway. He comes round to pick up extra clothes, his toothbrush, things like that-but before long he has everything he needs at Skandar and Georgie's, and the visits back to his own place grow less and less frequent.

Skandar and Georgie's apartment feels like home. He gets used to coming back from set and going straight there. Rachael has left once again, leaving Georgie free to move back in with Skandar, and so whenever Will shows up he gets a little rush of pleasure to see Georgie lolling around on the sofa watching TV as Skandar sits across from her, reading or on his laptop, eating ice cream straight from the tub or pouring glasses of wine. They'll look up, grin, say "hey," and offer him something, and it all just feels so right.

The apartment is a mess, because neither Skandar nor Georgie are particularly neat, and they claim to know where everything is, even in the piles of laundry and schoolwork that litter every surface. Skandar still fails to keep track of his grocery shopping, not accustomed to having to do it himself. The only thing he manages to keep a decent stock of is wine. But despite the lacklustre quality of Skandar's kitchen, gradually they start declining invitations to restaurants after work in favour of the cosy warmth of the flat, the familiarity. Why would they go out for pizza for the fourth night in a row, and have to wait to be seated, making awkward small talk with other members of the cast and crew that they don't really know? It seems much better to come back here, choose a selection of random items from Skandar's fridge and eat them in front of the TV with a bottle of wine, in varying stages of undress.

Skandar's moods ease off-slowly but surely-and the game, too, seems to calm down, the bets and dares returning to silly insignificance, and Will is not sure he has ever felt more comfortable. He and Georgie have sex every day, sometimes more than once-four times, on one dull Saturday-and there is no longer any effort to keep it secret from Skandar. They don't go into the spare room anymore; Will sleeps in their bed with them, has sex with Georgie there, regardless of Skandar's whereabouts. The third time they did it was when Skandar was in the shower, because they were still wary of his moods, his bouts of fierce jealousy, and yet it seemed worse to leave him, to go to Will's or even Georgie's seldom-mentioned flat. And Skandar returned from the shower sooner than they expected, saw Georgie spread-eagled on his bed with Will on top of her, and the two of them froze. But Skandar, drying off his hair with a towel, just nodded, and said "Hey," and got dressed as they fucked, settled down beside them as they finished, stroked a hand through Georgie's sweaty hair.

And now, it's commonplace. It feels right, having Skandar by his side even in such intimate moments. It feels right not having secrets from either of them, like he's known them his whole life. Every now and then, Will's heart aches for something more, when he feels Skandar brush against him in bed or when he sees Skandar smile at him sometimes when he comes, but this-this is more than he could ever have hoped for, and he won't dare to wish for more. It's enough, for now.

It feels to Will as though it was always meant to be the three of them, as though by some great cosmic plan they have been drawn together, the two of them have been brought into his life for a reason and it's perfect, and he's lucky, and he's happier than he has ever been.

"Oh my god," says Georgie, "I just had the best idea."

It is Wednesday, Will thinks, or maybe Thursday. They have the afternoon off, and it might be somewhere between two and five o'clock. He finds it hard to know for sure, or even care about dates and days anymore. Sometimes Skandar will go all day without opening a single curtain or blind in the apartment, sometimes they will stay up all night, and on weekends they lose track of day and night almost entirely. Will's Dad seems happy as long as his son is, and Ben has other things to concentrate on-he's practising for a part in a play, wanting to be ready to audition as soon as they return home.

Will chuckles, spreading a hand over Georgie's hip, thumbing gently at the skin. "Something tells me I don't have your full attention."

A smile slides over Georgie's lips. She looks kind of sleepy and sated, as she often does, and Will can't get enough of her like this-messy mane of hair, heavy-lidded eyes, sheen of sweat across her skin. "I get my best ideas when we're having sex," she murmurs, lifting her hips, leaning further down over him and rocking gently.

Will has to admit that this is true. "Go on, then. What epiphany have I brought on this time?"

"I think we should go skinny-dipping."

"Skinny-dipping," Will repeats.

"In the sea?" Skandar interrupts, sounding vaguely interested. He's sitting on the floor beside the bed, leaning against the wall with his laptop balanced on his crossed legs. "That sounds like fun."

Georgie tosses her hair back, tilts her head to look at him. "Yeah. I always wanted to do it when I was younger. I hate swimsuits, you know how they feel when they get wet? All clingy and ugh." She shakes her head. "My parents wouldn't let me, though. They said it was indecent."

"Well, it kind of is," Will says. "Isn't it illegal?"

Georgie shrugs, churning her hips a little bit as she starts to ride him faster, letting out a breathy sigh. Skandar is typing, tapping away on his keyboard, apparently Googling for the answer.

"Indecent exposure," he says after a moment, "but if we did it at night there'd be no one around."

"Do you think it would be too cold?" Georgie asks, turning once again to look at Skandar. She looks at him over her upper arm, pressing her mouth to her own skin.

"I dunno." Skandar says, frowning. He rests his head in one hand, looking at her thoughtfully. She wrinkles her nose, half-shrugs, her hips working away almost of their own accord, Will's bucking up shallowly under her to meet the movements. "We could always just try it and see."

"Georgie," Will says in a strained voice, clutching at her a little tighter. "I'm going to come."

Skandar's frown turns into a slight smile, and he turns his attention back to his laptop screen, flicking a finger across the mouse pad. The discussion is over for now.

***
They do go.

Will is concerned-about sneaking out at night for the second time, about the cold, about the risks of being naked in public-but of course it doesn't matter. He doesn't have the confidence to voice his worries in a way that will make Skandar and Georgie take him seriously, and like before, the two of them are so excited about it that it seems to be contagious, and before the week is out he ends up actually looking forward to their next adventure.

Will is sleeping over that night of course, though they don't really sleep, too excited and opting just to lie in bed instead, chatting, reading, waiting. It makes it less nerve-wracking when they make their way quietly out of the flat at 4 o'clock in the morning. Georgie says confidently that they can go a little earlier this time, as it's October, spring, and the sun will rise sooner. (And Skandar, cleverly, has thought to check the tides.) But even so, it's dim and chilly outside, and Will is wearing a heavy hoodie of Skandar's and can't even imagine taking that off, let alone the rest of his clothes.

It's not so far to the nearest beach, and Will has to admit that when they reach the shore, he is quite tempted to get in, to swim. He's always liked the ocean, felt a strange connection to it. There's something comforting about being near the sea, near the edge of land. He feels comfortable there, more than he ever does in London, closed in on all sides by towns and cities, claustrophobic.

He's the first to begin undressing, even, kicking off his shoes and pulling off his socks. He takes off his trousers, too, but stops there, shivering a little in the chill and toeing the water experimentally. His eyes have adjusted to the darkness significantly now, but the water still looks dark and surreal and strange at night, reflecting the moonlight in its waves. It's even colder than he expected, and he jerks his foot back instinctively, gasping.

"Oh no." Georgie looks disheartened. She's shucked her trousers too, and she shrieks loudly when she tentatively slides her foot into the water.

"Wusses," says Skandar, chuckling, and they turn to see that he's stripped off completely already and is up to his knees, more or less, the water lapping around his shins. The moonlight shines on his pale skin, shadows the hair between his legs, and the frigid water brings out goosebumps, though he doesn't seem to feel it.

"You're such a freak, Skandar, it's freezing," Georgie says, with feeling, shuffling back along the sand with her arms folded. She's wearing one of Will's sweaters, and it's a little too big for her, the sleeves hanging down over her hands. She bundles herself up in it protectively.

"C'mon, Will," Skandar encourages, ignoring her.

He gestures for Will to undress, and Will, embarrassed, bends over to peel down his boxers. The cold is doing him no favours, but at least Skandar has the same problem. Taking a deep breath, he straightens up, pulling off his hoodie and t-shirt in one go and striding into the water as bravely as he can.

"Come on, Georgie," he says through chattering teeth, after a minute or two of pained shivering. "You get used to it."

Georgie is looking at them doubtfully. "There might be octopuses," she says. "Octopi. Whatever."

Skandar snorts. "I doubt it."

She hesitates for a long moment, and then hooks her thumbs into her knickers, dragging them down and tossing them into the pile of clothing on the sand. She takes off the sweater reluctantly, and her nipples are so hard beneath it that they almost look painful. Arms folded tightly around herself, she trots towards them, wincing as the water gets deeper.

Will cheers when she reaches them, hugging her close to him on an impulse. Her breath is warm against his chest and he can feel the stiffness of her nipples. It's too cold for him to get excited, but he feels a tingle of arousal anyway as she clings to him.

Skandar is wading ahead, and when they catch up, Georgie clings to him instead, taking him by the arm and begging him to go a little more slowly. Suddenly she yelps, leaping sideways and dragging him with her.

"That was seaweed, Georgie," says Skandar, rolling his eyes.

Georgie scowls. "It could have been an octopus. You don't know."

They paddle forwards a little bit more, and then Georgie, shivering, shakes her head. "I can't do this. Ugh, it's freezing as well-it's actually making my head hurt."

"It's not that bad," Skandar shrugs.

"Yeah, for you. You're a freak of nature, you don't feel the cold," retorts Georgie, grumpily kicking at some seaweed and splashing Skandar.

"Fine, you can stay here," Skandar says. "Will can cope with it, can't you, Will?"

Will looks from Skandar to Georgie. Georgie is looking a little bit pathetic, pleading with her eyes, and Skandar's expression is challenging. He knows Skandar expects him to stay with her, and he feels a desperate urge to prove himself.

"Yeah, it's not so bad," he says, even though the temperature of the water is giving him a headache too, and each wave that laps at his shins brings a fresh shiver of cold. The seaweed tangling around his ankles doesn't bother him so much, though he's not sure how he'd feel about being out deeper, where it could tangle around other things.

"C'mon then," says Skandar, taking a few strides forward.

Georgie hangs back. "You okay?" Will asks her, and she nods as she turns around.

"I'll just go sit on the shore and wait for you two weirdos," she teases.

To Will's relief, Skandar doesn't want to go too much deeper, just enough for them to be able to duck down to their shoulders comfortably-though comfortably is perhaps the wrong word. Will has grown used to the water around his legs, but each new part of skin it touches is another shock to his system. It's like ice on his chest, his back, and finally lapping at his shoulders, and he notices that even Skandar is wincing a little and biting his lip.

In the distance, they can see Georgie sitting on some discarded clothing, her sweater back on and her legs stretched out, letting the waves play at her feet.

"Do you think she minds?" Will asks, and the sound of his own voice makes him realise they've been silent since being left on their own.

Skandar shakes his head, bobbing about in the water. "Nah," he says. "She might be kinda disappointed though. It was her idea." Will nods. "I'm sure we can make it up to her," Skandar goes on, running a wet hand through his hair, making the slight waves of it come out. "Well. I'm sure you can."

There's another silence, then. Will doesn't know what to say. Skandar seems to have lost interest in the conversation before long, and he suddenly ducks under the water completely, just takes a deep breath and submerges himself, coming up quickly and shuddering slightly. He makes a hoarse sound, wiping his face. He's pink in the cheeks and grinning.

"Your turn," he says. It sounds like a dare.

Will laughs nervously. "I'm good."

Skandar bobs closer, and Will's heart begins to pound. They messed around like this a little in the water tanks on set, but that was different-the water wasn't ice-cold, and they had supervision. He's not quick enough to get away, though, and Skandar gets him around the neck and forces him down. Will's head plunges beneath the freezing water, and, not quite prepared, he comes up spluttering and coughing. Skandar looks a little shocked, and even though Will feels like his lungs have just been filled with ice, he still manages to be surprised when Skandar starts apologising frantically. He's got his hands on Will's shoulders, sliding down to his chest, and patting him on the back uncertainly, trying to help.

"Are you okay?" he asks. "Shit, I'm sorry."

He's ducking his head to look Will in the eyes, and Will is blinking the saltwater out, Skandar gradually coming into focus. Will is finding it harder to recover like this, with Skandar so close, concerned, caring about him in a way Will rarely sees. He's bewildered and he can't tell if his heart's rapid rate is something to be worried about or if it's just the effect of Skandar, Skandar's wet skin against his, Skandar's dark eyes fixed on him. He coughs again, and though his throat burns the water seems to have cleared. His eyes are streaming, though, blurring his vision, and all around him it's the shimmering blackness of the water, and he feels a sudden flood of fear and panics, thrashing under Skandar's hold on him, desperate to get back on land.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Skandar's voice comes again, and there are strong hands holding him still, and he realises that he's facing the wrong direction, looking off into the deep. He turns wildly, sees Georgie on the shore, standing now, worried.

"It's okay," Skandar assures him again, and his voice has a softness to it that Will isn't sure he's ever heard-at least, not directed at him. He's heard Skandar talk to Georgie with that voice. He likes the way it sounds-gentle, concerned, attentive.

He realises then that he's clinging to Skandar, tightly, fingers pressing into the skin of Skandar's hip and back. He tries to focus on Skandar's face, and it's close, so close, and all he sees is the wetness of his open lips, the pink flush across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, the darkness of his eyes reflecting the ripples of the ocean.

Will kisses him, suddenly, and like he's drowning, clutching at his body and bringing their hips close under the water, a thrill shooting through him like electricity and setting every nerve alight. Skandar is stunned at first, and Will's lips work at him desperately, needing this more than he ever realised until Skandar responds, slowing him down, going deep and sure with his tongue until Will's not sure he can take it anymore.

They part, both panting, and it's instinct to look to Georgie, who is still standing, stock-still, too far away for them to make out her expression. Will looks back at Skandar, at his profile bright in the moonlight, and realises that he can barely feel the cold anymore. There is a heat in him, and he wants to make sure it stays.

"We should go back," Skandar says then, gruffly, and Will barely hears him-it's only when he starts wading back towards the shore that he realises what must have been said.

They make their way back out of the water, dry off with sandy towels and dress in sandy clothes, silent. Will catches Georgie's eye and she's smiling, looking a little caught out. He returns the smile uncertainly, and pulls on his hoodie, smelling Skandar on it more than ever before.

As they walk back, Skandar remains quiet, and Will is afraid that he's in one of his moods but it seems different somehow, more reflective than irritated. Georgie tells them both, animatedly, about the dead octopus that washed up beside her on the shore while she was waiting for them. It was swept away again, she explains, before she could show them.

"It was probably a jellyfish," Will says, and is surprised to hear Skandar saying the exact same thing at the exact same time. Startled, they look at each other, and Skandar breaks into a grin, and then all three of them are laughing.

Georgie, between the boys, pulls them in close to her, and they walk like that all the way back home.

Back in the flat, Georgie heads into the bathroom for a shower, and Will and Skandar go to change out of their damp clothes in the bedroom. The sun is coming up, and the two of them are silent again as they undress, almost shy. It feels to Will as though there's something charged between them, sparking between their bodies with every subtle movement.

He wants to know how Skandar feels, wants to know what this means. He doesn't know what it means for him, but he knows that ever since he was young he's liked other boys in ways that his friends didn't, in the same way he liked girls, as if whatever divide there was supposed to be in his brain was missing, as if there was no differentiation. He's never met a bisexual man, never even known of one, and so he's always felt a little uncomfortable with it, ashamed of himself, as though it's something he should be able to control.

"Have you-" Will stammers, breaking the silence and feeling his cheeks heat at the sound of his own voice. "I mean, do you-" He can't get the words out because he hasn't chosen which ones would be best to use, and he doesn't want to offend Skandar "Are you...?"

He lets the words hang in the air, hoping that by now, Skandar has caught his drift. And, thankfully, he has.

Skandar smirks. "Only with guys called Will," he replies off-handedly, towelling off his wet hair.

At first Will assumes he's joking, avoiding answering the question with some quick wit, but then an image flashes into his head, and he remembers the way he saw Skandar with William Moseley in his arms, in a quiet moment, the two of them just silently holding each other as though their bodies needed to catch up with each other after the long separation. He thinks he understands, then, and wonders what else he's missed due to Skandar's joking, casual manner.

"Hey, listen, don't make a big deal of this, okay?" Skandar says, striding over to the radiator, draping his clothes haphazardly over it. He stretches, body long and pale and naked, and Will lets himself stare.

"Yeah. No. What?"

Skandar turns, laughing as he crosses the room again, and to Will's surprise he is suddenly being embraced, held fast in Skandar's arms. He sort of melts in them, body going limp, and his heart thuds and aches deliciously and he wants Skandar to kiss him again, wants it with every fibre of his being. He has his head resting on Skandar's shoulder, Skandar's wet hair tickling his chin and smelling of saltwater. He presses his lips firmly to the crook of Skandar's neck, heart pounding, and mouths at the cool damp skin. Skandar's hands are smoothing circles on his back, and Will's tongue darts out-he can't help himself, he wants to taste the salt on Skandar's skin, and he kisses messily, licking along the hard line of Skandar's jaw-

"Hey, hey," Skandar says, drawing back, holding him at arm's length. He's grinning. "Easy."

Will flushes, ashamed. "Sorry," he mumbles.

(4/4)