Max and OB

Max/OB

Set just after Max returns from honeymoon. I wrote this way before they resolved the Claire storyline, so this is how I liked to think it would go...

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters and make no money from this. Feedback: good or bad, please let me know whether to write more.

"Well, how is he?" Tony didn't bother looking round. He knew OB would be exactly where he'd left him well over two hours ago, probably with the same cold cup of tea and despondent expression. And his feet up on Tony's French-polished coffee table in direct contravention of house rules. He closed the flat door, leaning his hand against it for a moment. "I could tell you he's happy and make you even more miserable" he said, then turned, watching for a reaction "or you could just go and ask him yourself" OB just slumped further down into the chair. Tony gave up and slammed the shopping down on the counter.

"He's...look, he's just out there" Tony waved distractedly towards the street, kicking open a cupboard and began unpacking. OB half got to his feet then sighed and thumped back down, knocking his fists against the arms of the sofa with a loud smack. His head bounced off the headrest.

"That's the furthest you've moved all day" Tony dumped the stuff unceremoniously into the cupboard and nudged it closed "Well done".

OB stared at the ceiling.

"Piss off Tony"

"And get your feet off that"

"Piss off Tony"

OB felt like throwing his mug at Tony, give him another scar to go with the one on his forehead, but instead he sighed and made a big show of getting his shoes off the table and back on the floor. Fair play, Tony griped but at least he hadn't made a big thing about it when it mattered, which was surprising if you knew Tony. OB trying to bust up his best friend's wedding and when that didn't work out, crying his eyes out like some dumped teenage girl. When he'd finally been able to open his eyes the next morning and blearily realised whose flat he was in and who had picked him up off the street when he was too drunk to know what he was saying...and god only knew what he'd been saying, because OB certainly couldn't remember beyond the teary second half of that bottle of whisky ...he hadn't been able to look Tony or Dom in the eye, known what they were thinking. What the whole village must have been thinking by that point.

Max and OB, OB and Max. They'd been a pair for so many years people never thought of one without the other. And when they'd been out at The Dog or the Loft, chatting up some girl, he'd just have to catch Max's eye and they'd start laughing, and the girl would sneer "you two joined at the fucking hip or what?" the cue for Max to sling an arm round OB's shoulders, slopping his drink on OB's shirt, drag him in tight for a long bear hug and say "yeah" against OB's throat. OB would grip Max hard round the neck like he was staking a claim, and wink at the girl over Max's shoulder, and they'd have a great night whether the girl hung around or not. Usually not, and OB hadn't let himself wonder why this made him happy, just been content to chuck drinks down his neck and Max's (usually pinching his nose closed), have a laugh and more or less carry Max home every time. No serious girls, no problems. And then they'd grown up and there was Claire, and now OB knew why and it was all too fucking late.

Max had only kissed OB once, down an alley on the way home on a Wednesday night. Fell into him drunk against a wall and OB, only slightly less pissed, had cracked his head sideways, and just when he was regaining the faculties to shove him back and laugh it off, had felt Max pin him, push him back against the brickwork, felt the cold of it hit one shoulder blade then the other, then his arse, and at the same time Max's warmth falling thump against his front, knocking the breath out of him, laughing, lips brushing open and drunkenly against his collarbone as he shook his head, trying to say sorry, and when OB'd turned his head to tell him to fuck off Max had looked up and in the same moment those lips had somehow slid onto his and he'd only got as far as "fuck!" before the words turned into a moan of surprise, felt a hand moving up to grab the back of his neck and they were kissing messily, awkwardly. Max's other hand got tangled in the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it up, and then OB's eyes were closing, the hand moving down to clutch at his hip bone, fingers hooking in his jeans, trying suddenly, roughly, to pull his body around, and OB, his hands hanging unsurely half way from his sides, not knowing if or where to touch, suddenly felt the hardness pressing against his hip, felt Max shift his weight onto his other foot until his hard-on slid up against OB's and pushed against him roughly with a odd little uhn sound in his throat and a tightness in the lips pressed against OB's mouth...and suddenly on reflex OB'd dragged his mouth up from Max's and tackled Max to the ground. He'd helped him up and walked him home, heart hammering the whole time, jesus, what the fuck? Had no idea if Max had meant to, had planned it. But the next day Max hadn't said anything, had never said anything, and OB didn't know how to ask. Oh he'd found himself jerking off to that moment quite a few times, and knowing that Max was lying in the next room just made it all quicker, but he'd never mentioned it once.

OB had only shared a bed with Max once. Properly shared a bed, not just crashed out in the old van, a proper double bed with clean sheets and clean duvet in a tidy room that still smelled of the parents that were no longer there. The first night he stayed after he moved in, after Mr C had died. He'd said he was spooked, but even he couldn't remember now if that was true. "Just this once" said Max finally and emphatically, and when the light was out and Max's breathing had slowed right down, OB had hesitantly leaned over and rested his hand over the shape of Max's arm under the cover. Thought about the day he'd held Max for hours as he cried against him, sitting on the shop floor, felt guilty for liking it so much. The bicep twitched under his fingers, and OB felt the sweat on his own lip, closed his eyes. His fingers itched to grab that arm and drag Max over his side of the bed, roll him up into his arms and hold him again...shove his tongue into Max's mouth and his hand down his shorts. Without thinking he'd slid his other hand down under the covers and began to rub himself slowly, head tipped back on the pillow and he'd come quietly, not quite meaning to let it go that far, biting down hard, the hand on Max's cool arm lifting and flexing at nothing but air.

OB had told Max he loved him a hundred times but not when it counted

"I loved your dad more than I loved my own dad!"

He knew what he'd meant in that clumsy sentence. He just couldn't say it straight and simple, not in front of her. It wasn't about anyone else- it was about him and Max. Him and Max and Tom. And Max had chosen her.

"OB"

Tony was looking at him, arms folded

"OB go and talk to him"

OB took a breath, full ready with the "I don't" and "He's not" when the doorbell rang, loud short rings, twice. Max's ring. OB let the breath out like he'd been punched.

"He doesn't know I'm here. He doesn't...does he?"

Tony shook his head and OB visibly deflated"I thought it was better if..."

"Whatever Tone. I'm gone."

"Tony..."

"You alright Max? You want to come in?"

Shit, thought OB

"No, no it's OK, I thought..."Max's voice sounded odd, too level and monotone, even from the top of the stairs where OB was awkwardly perched.There was a pause. OB pushed himself forward, trying to breathe quietly, straining to hear, wished he could see the door.

"Has someth...Max?"

Then sudden footsteps moving away, fast.

"Max!"

And then the door closing. After a moment Tony appeared at the bottom of the stairs, looking thoughtful.

"He was looking for you, you know"

"Don't be stupid" OB pushed himself up off the step and came downstairs two at a time, avoiding Tony's eyes. He plonked himself back down in the chair. From a lack of anything else to do he picked up his mug, rolled it between his hands. Then he put it down again carefully on the ring it had made on the coffee table, not looking at Tony.

"Why...why would he want to see me?"

"After your Dustin Hoffman impression?"

OB looked blank. Tony sighed

"'The Graduate'? I was there OB- you did everything but drag him out of that church and onto a bus"

"What you on about Tony?"

"Never mind. Point is, you didn't see him, he was looking all round to see if you were here"

OB felt his stomach lurch

"So?"

"So...O'Brien, get out there and find him. NOW!"

The door was open when OB got there. Not just unlocked, but jammed wide open, with a red high-heeled shoe. It looked expensive. OB toed it away on the way in and pulled the door closed softly behind him. He stood for a moment, palm still against the cold handle, ready to shove it open again. Fast of necessary.What if Max had just wanted to warn him off a final time? He let go of the door and the handle sprang up, hitting his palm with a sharp click, making him jump. He ran a hand through his hair, realised he was shaking just a little.

"Max?"

Nothing.

"Max...mate, you in here?"

No Max, no Tom...no Claire? He could smell her perfume, but it was faint. His foot caught on something. Clothes, piles of them on the floor. He picked one up on the toe of his trainer and let it drop again.

"Stamp on 'em..."

OB spun round, caught at the counter to steady himself. Max was in the doorway, a bundle of Claire's clothes in his arms "...if you like"

"You alright mate?" OB tried to keep his voice level, squinted, trying to get a look at his face, but the kitchen light behind made Max an unreadable silhouette.

"Fine"

"Where's..."

"Tom? Sophie's looking after him"That calm voice again, like he was talking from a distance.

"...Claire?"

Max chucked the bundle on top of the others "I came looking for you. Earlier."

"Yeah"

"You want a beer"

It wasn't a question. OB nodded warily. Max held a bottle out. OB took it, touching fingers for an instant, drank deep without taking his eyes off Max. The beer was warm.

"You're not having one?"

"That's the last- I drank the rest waiting for..." the voice, steady and calm, tailed off.

OB swallowed another gulp, wiped his mouth on his sleeve cuff.

"...for me?"

He saw Max shake his head. Last chance then I quit, OB thought, taking a deep breath and letting it all out in a rush."I'm sorry, alright. I'm sorry I said those things...about your dad. About you. I just..."

"She's gone"

"...just...What?"OB felt the air kick out of his lungs. Max sat down suddenly on the floor and pushed at the clothes with his feet.

"Fuck, OB, she's gone"

OB felt a cold rush up his back, as much from Max saying his name as from...the words sank in.

"She told you?"

"No. No she didn't"

"You mean she left without....? She just ..."

"No!" Max reached up and grabbed at OB's arm, caught his sleeve instead."Just shut up a minute. Alright?"OB shut up. Max pulled him down so he was crouched at eye level, and OB saw his face, his eyes, suddenly thought of the day Max had trashed Drive and Buy, how it had just been them sitting together in that mess too.

"She didn't, OB. Right, she didn't run off, she didn't steal all my money, she didn't...knock me over the head and nick my credit card, and put Tom in a children's home, she..."Max shook OB's arm a final time, let it drop, and lent back against the wall, spoke quietly, deliberately."She left because I told her to leave"

"But she's a..."

"It doesn't matter"

"Course it matters! That wom...that...bitch had me arrested! She framed me. She...what do you mean you told her to leave? When? Why?"

"You. Tonight."

"Me?"

"You, you twat!"Max was trying to laugh now, but he was looking past OB at a spot on the wall, and OB could see his hand was shaking as he reached out to take the bottle from him. OB pushed the neck of it into his hand wordlessly. As Max raised the beer to his lips OB noticed the wedding ring had gone.

"I think I did it because..." Max took a deep swallow "because I had to know if..."

"If she was using you"

"Fuck, OB, are you listening? I was using her. I used her"

"Thought you loved her"OB knew he sounded petulant. Max didn't seem to notice

"I thought I loved her"

"You don't?"

"I don't know"

"Shit"OB slid down onto the floor.

"But..." Max rolled the bottle between his hands "I..."

OB felt a rush of indignation."You don't believe me do you?"

"OB..."

"She was fucking with you Max...she was going to take it all and..."

"And now she won't." Max looked sidelong at him "You don't get it, do you?"He carefully placed the bottle between his feet."It's you, you fucking moron"

OB stared at him.

Max stared at the floor.

"It's always been you"

Max turned, looked OB full in the face, tried a small forced smile.And OB felt everything shift, mind reeling, tried to find space for that admission in his head, and failed. Heard himself saying "Oh shit" instead. Saw hope change to hurt on Max's face for the second before he looked away again and shut down.

"Yeah, so here I am, OB. This is..." Max grabbed the bottle again, held it up in a mock toast.

"This is it. Close the door on your way out, eh?"He drank until the bottle was drained.

OB stopped trying to think and went on instinct, reached blindly and grabbed for it, chucked it away, then gripped Max's hands tight in his. The bottle hit the wall with a smash and thumped mutedly on the carpet behind him.

They stared at each other.

Then OB started to grin, felt the tension flow out of him suddenly, let himself slump forward till his forehead hit Max's, felt hair brushing soft against his eyelids as Max started to laugh nervously, breathlessly. Without knowing why, OB found himself rubbing Max's hands between his.

"You stupid bastard"

"Yeah"

"Fuck me!"

"Only if you want me to"

OB felt a laugh starting up in the back of his throat."You are not fucking me up the arse, Max Cunningham"

Hysterical giggles. Like two fucking teenagers again, thought OB distractedly, until Max took his hand back from OB's grip, reached out, still laughing, his fingers finding OB's cheek, thumb rubbing down his neck, chest, coming to rest on his stomach. OB breathed in and the hand dropped heavily into his lap. Suddenly neither of them was laughing.

All OB could think was how soft Max's bitten-down nails had felt against his skin, how different to the scrape of long sculpted nails.

Max breathed deeply. His hand grasped, found what it was looking for, pushed.

OB stopped thinking entirely.

"Max..."

"Shut up"

Suddenly OB was shoved up against the wall, and Max was holding him down, one hand going around his waist, the other rubbing at him hard through his jeans, Max just about climbing into his lap.

"woah woah woah!"

OB grabbed for his shoulders, pushed him up clumsily.

"Couldn't you just've got me drunk, or..."

"Tried that"

"Oh yeah"

He felt the laughter coming again, grinned

"What the FUCK will Tony say?"

"I told you so, prob'ly"

"Sanctimonious cunt"

"Do what?"

"Max..."

OB leaned forward, grabbed Max round the neck and pulled him down, smiling against his lips, running his hand down Max's body, down his jeans. Max's eyes fluttered shut as he pushed his palm against him hard.

"Just shut the fuck up and kiss me, yeah?"

End