Chapter Text
Hayden keeps expecting Britney to still be attached to him somewhere - every now and then his hand flies to his chest like she’s still hanging there, and each time he finds nothing he feels newly fucked off by it.
They’ve all gone back to normal now the babies are gone, or as normal as the villa ever gets. Nobody’s screaming, and he’s stretched out on one of the loungers with one arm over his eyes, listening to everybody talk over each other.
He’s so fucking tired. It’s got to be at least ten at night - challenge days always overrun - and the decking’s still warm beneath him. Hayden sinks further into it, trying very hard to listen to Daisy.
“That’s put me right off having kids,” she says, “Luca and Rose were so fantastic at it, but our baby came straight from hell.”
Irina snorts. “I don’t think you were ever that sold on them, and those two weren’t wearing their baby like a Mini Kelly. Maybe that has something to do with it.”
“You were the one that put eyelashes on it!”
Hayden shifts his arm enough to look over. Alastair’s slumped in the next lounger across, and to the surprise of absolutely nobody, Shane is half draped over Ilya’s lap with a drink in his hand and no interest in it at all. He says something so quiet he can’t catch it, and Ilya answers.
Hayden clicks his tongue. “Room for one more? I’m cold over here.”
Shane opens one eye, smiling. “You’re obsessed with me.”
“I am,” Hayden agrees. “It’s becoming a real problem.”
“It always was.”
Hayden can’t argue that. With a sigh, he glances back out around at them all again - Rose is tucked into Luca’s side with both her legs over his lap, and he’s absentmindedly rubbing circles into her shin. Irina’s petting Daisy’s hair. It doesn’t bother him really - only if he squints at the pang in his chest, or pokes at it with his nemesis, the big stick of introspection. He’s not lonely. Especially when Effie and Lexie are acting like they’ve known each other for years, and his best friends are essentially in committed relationships. It makes him feel something - definitely not loneliness, though.
The patio doors slide open, and Sasha steps out fresh from the shower - his gaze lands on the group and skims over them with disinterest before settling on Alastair.
“There you are,” he says. “I was beginning to think you’d escaped.”
Alastair lifts his head from the lounger. “I was considering it.”
“And you stayed anyway?”
“I have a baby-induced migraine, adjust your expectations.”
Sasha hums, already half turning towards the door without giving any of the rest of them so much as a cursory greeting. “Come on, I’m tired, and I’d rather not sit around watching Shane and Ilya grope each other.”
“Close your eyes, then,” Shane snaps from Ilya’s lap.
“But then I’d still have to hear you.”
Hayden lifts his head to scowl at him. “You know, you could just say goodnight like a normal person.”
Sasha looks at him for the first time properly, and that’s a mistake - a big one, because now he has to keep looking long enough for it not to be weird, and that’s somehow worse than looking away too fast.
“Could,” Sasha shrugs, and the motion jostles the towel still wrapped around his bare shoulders - Hayden catches the scar that cuts along his deltoid, glimmering in the moonlight. “I won’t, though.”
“Right,” Alastair pushes himself up with a low groan. “On that note.”
Sasha steps back to let him pass, keeping one hand on the door. Hayden follows the motion, this time dropping his gaze to the scar he so rarely sees, because Sasha’s mic pack usually covers it - it’s low on the curve of his bare hip, jagged and silver.
It’s a fatal mistake because Sasha follows his line of sight, before flicking his eyes up to meet his. He raises an eyebrow, and Hayden looks away fast enough that his neck clicks.
“Don’t smother Alastair in his sleep,” Daisy says sweetly. “We’re all quite fond of him.”
“Find some new material, would you? This is getting dreadfully boring.” Sasha doesn’t wait for a response, clicking the patio doors shut behind them.
Rose exhales. “Well.”
“I don’t know how you put up with him for so long, Ilya,” Luca mutters, “five minutes is more than enough for me.”
Daisy sits up. “I hate to say it, but bed actually sounds incredible.”
There’s a murmur of agreement around the circle at that, and Hayden drags a hand down his face - he’s unpleasantly warm, and his eyes are heavy. “What time is it?”
“Late enough that you look like shit,” Shane smiles, but he can feel the way his friend’s gaze catches on the flush in his cheeks.
Hayden ducks his head. “That’s interesting, because normally you tell me I’m beautiful.”
“You’re always beautiful to me.” Shane finally peels himself properly off Ilya, though not by much, which seems to be enough for the others to take as their sign to start moving as well.
Irina passes, pausing only to nudge Hayden’s bare foot with her own - he catches her ankle for a second with a grin, before letting go to trail after them.
The bedroom’s much dimmer than downstairs, lit only by the pink glow of the neon signs.
Across the room, Ilya pops a few Ibuprofen, disappearing around the corner towards the bathroom with Shane in tow. Daisy clocks that the minute he does, and her head snaps up from rummaging in her makeup bag.
“They can’t be that tired, then,” she whispers.
Hayden bites the inside of his cheek. “You saw that too?”
“I’m not blind.”
There’s the distinct sound of the bathroom door clicking shut, and for a second they both just stare incredulously in its direction.
“Lufthansa, might I interest you in a wager on whether our beloved Shane can walk in a straight line tomorrow?”
Daisy drops her face into her hands, laughing. “Hayden!”
“What? You were thinking it.”
“I was thinking something much classier, but I’ll raise you a twenty.”
The door of the dressing room opens and Rose pokes her head through, already in pyjamas. “What’re you two cackling about?”
“Nothing,” Daisy busies herself with a tub of moisturiser, grinning.
Hayden has no such grace. “Shane’s getting railed in the bathroom.”
“I see - continue.”
Hayden drops onto the end of his bed, watching Daisy apply some gel strips to her under eyes. “You alright?”
She tosses him the bottle of Aftersun, and it thuds onto the end of his mattress. “Yeah - it was just a really long day.”
“Fair. Britney nearly killed me.”
“She did kill me. Your daughter screamed more than Vyacheslav, and that’s saying something.”
“You look great for a corpse,” Hayden sniffs, setting about applying the cream before Daisy bitches at him about it. “And how dare you speak about your goddaughter that way, you horrible woman.”
Ordinarily, Daisy might’ve clapped back at that, but this time she just tilts her head and the pit in Hayden’s stomach grows ten sizes.
“You okay, baby?”
Suddenly Hayden’s sunburned shins are completely and utterly fascinating to him. “Of course I am.”
“You’ve been a bit jumpy lately - I thought it was just the whole Effie thing, but -”
“I’m just shattered, Daisy,” he cuts in, careful to keep his tone as close to neutral as he can manage.
“That’s not what I meant.”
Alastair wanders towards the bathroom door with a phone charger in his hand, and Hayden tracks the movement before he can really help it - Daisy follows it, then looks back at him.
“Talk to me, or the minute Shane emerges I’m telling him you need a cuddle of epic proportions. You know he’ll give you one.”
Hayden chuckles, mostly just to buy himself time. Words have never been something that come easily to him, and even if they did, what could he possibly say?
He could say: To be honest, Daisy, since my situationship publicly humiliated me, I’ve been quite unwell. Not because I’m embarrassed, more because I don’t have a fuck to spare it. What’s that, you want to know why? Well, that’s the interesting part, you see. All my fucks are elsewhere, but locating them is incredibly problematic because you won’t like the answer any more than I do.
Or perhaps: I don’t know what’s wrong with me, exactly - I’m just suddenly finding it very hard to live under my own skin.
Instead, he shrugs a shoulder and looks obstinately down at his legs. “It’s been a weird week.”
Daisy only shuffles forwards until she can nudge his foot with hers.
“I said I’m fine.”
“And I said you’re not - don’t argue with me, I’ll destroy you.”
He looks away again. The bathroom door’s still shut, and somewhere on the other side of it Shane’s almost certainly having a great time - which he deserves, because unlike Hayden he appears to have the god given gift of knowing what he wants, even if his ways of going about getting it are a little strange.
It must be nice.
“I just feel a bit…” he trails off with a frown. There’s no word for it that doesn’t sound stupid. Off centre? As if he’s been moving through the villa all week half a step behind his own self. “I don’t really know.”
Daisy waits, her brows furrowed in something so soft it almost makes him feel better about the way he’s floundering spectacularly without having said much at all.
“It’s not a big deal,” he says eventually. “I’m tired, and the Effie thing is weird. Britney’s given me a headache and everyone’s paired off like they were made for each other. It’s just a lot.”
That’s true enough that it should do, but this bastard universe has never once smiled fondly upon Hayden Pike, so it doesn’t.
“Right.”
There’s something about the way she says it that makes his body tense. “What?”
She accepts the Aftersun back from him, apparently satisfied he’s done a good enough job at lathering himself with it. “You never normally try to make things make sense before you say them. I’m just wondering why you’re trying to do that now.”
Hayden stares at her, then drops his head back with a soft groan to stare up at the ceiling. For a second, he lets himself feel it properly, just to see if that helps - there’s a restless, itchy sort of tension under his skin that has nothing to do with the sunburn. No matter how hard Hayden tries, it doesn’t turn into a useful conclusion of any kind beyond a godawful bad idea, so he only shakes his head. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“The truth would be nice.”
There’s no trace of probing in Daisy’s voice now - it’s fallen away to something humiliatingly earnest, and Hayden’s not sure whether that’s worse. He’s not a person that needs help. He doesn’t like receiving it, either. Needing is dangerously close to losing, and in all the ways that matter, losing isn’t something that can be covered up with a smile or a comedy bit - as good as he is at those.
When it becomes clear she’s not budging, Hayden sighs, picking the first thing that springs to mind when he examines the knot behind his ribs. “I think I’m a bit out of practice.”
It clearly isn’t what Daisy expected him to say, because she can’t cover the way her eyes widen fast enough. “With what?”
“Being - I don’t know. Being whatever I haven’t really had in here.”
“Being wanted?”
Hayden laughs despite himself, clutching at his heart. “Christ, straight in with the kill shot.”
He rubs at his thigh, though there’s nothing there except the residual heat from forgetting sun cream for an hour under Spanish sun. “I just mean everyone else seems very settled in their own bullshit. Everyone knows where to stand, and what they’re doing. Who they’re choosing, too, which has bitten me right on the ass.”
Daisy considers this for a moment, watching the short, frustrated little passes of his hands. “There’s nothing stopping you from choosing too.”
He opens his mouth - he wants to ask her who the fuck he could possibly choose, because there’s the very real problem that there’s no one in here that would want to be chosen by him, second only to the fact choosing at all makes him feel like he’s been shot in the chest.
Hayden allows himself to dwell on this for approximately 0.5 seconds. Lately every time he plants his feet, something comes along and nudges him half an inch to the left, and he’s so painfully aware.
He hates anticipation - it makes him feel young.
“There kind of is.”
Daisy nods, seeming to sense that pushing further won’t help him tonight, and as always he’s indebted to her astute ability to know when enough’s enough, as tricky as Hayden might make that sometimes. “Okay, change of conversation. Can I ask you something?”
Hayden waits for Rose and Luca to drift in and settle under their sheets before he leans forward again, keeping his voice low. “That depends how evil it is.”
“Not evil,” Daisy drops herself onto the edge of his mattress. He leans in instinctively, letting her fuss at him with gentle hands. “Just something I’ve been wondering. Have you ever actually been with a man?”
Hayden’s head whips around, incredulous. “I’m not a virgin.”
Daisy blinks. “That’s not what I asked, and even if you were, that’d be fine.”
“I’ve slept with women.”
“That also,” Daisy says, very patiently, “was not what I asked.”
“Hang on, why are you asking? I can like both without -” he falters, too tired to search for something that might make a little more sense. “Without having tried both.”
Daisy only smiles. “I know that, baby. I’m only curious.”
“That’s the biggest lie I’ve ever heard.”
“Humour me anyway.”
Hayden slumps, keenly aware of his own exhaustion. “No.”
“No?”
“No, I haven’t,” he repeats. “Nothing more than a few kisses that really weren’t my best work.”
Daisy reaches out to skate her nails along the rigid line of his shoulders, and he shivers at the sensation. “You want to sleep with me tonight? Irina won’t mind having the bed to herself - apparently I kicked her last night.”
His first instinct is to say yes - though violent when asleep, Daisy’s warm and safe, and he wouldn’t have to lie in bed alone feeling weird. On any other night he probably would, but he might just crawl out of his skin in the night, and that doesn’t really need an audience. “I’m good, but thanks.”
She brushes his hair back from his forehead and flashes an easy smile. “Alright, but get some rest, yeah?”
“Yes ma’am.”
She gives his knee a squeeze and climbs back into her own bed just as the neon clicks off, and the bedroom sinks into true darkness.
Obediently, Hayden lays back on top of the sheets, but nothing about it feels right. Despite the air conditioning, the room’s too warm, and the way the blanket is twisted around his leg is irritating - when he fixes that, the pillow’s suddenly very wrong as well. He turns over then back again, before flopping onto his stomach.
Daisy’s voice drifts through the dark. “If you’re still awake in ten minutes, I’m tying you to the bed frame.”
“Go to sleep,” he mutters.
“You first.”
Hayden shuts his eyes again, almost pleadingly - absolutely fucking nothing comes.
It’s almost impressive how awake he still is, even as the minutes pass and it’s evident Daisy’s already unconscious in Irina’s arms. His body’s wrung out, but his head’s decided now’s the perfect time to really lock in - Hayden can feel every inch of himself with far too much clarity.
He turns onto his side and punches the pillow into a different shape just before bathroom door opens. Hayden freezes at the sound of bare feet, and Ilya murmuring something he can’t quite make out. Shane says something back, and even with his eyes shut Hayden can hear the smile in it.
Their mattress creaks and settles, followed by the brief shift of sheets and silence.
Someone - Luca, probably, dreaming about annual returns - sighs in their sleep. Hayden impatiently waits for his own body to take the hint.
He lasts another twenty minutes before sitting upright to stare into the dark.
Alastair and Sasha’s bed is empty, but that’s nothing unusual - they often take the Hideaway, so the risk of bumping into either of them is minimal enough for Hayden to swing his legs over the side of the bed and stand. He pauses when the frame creaks, but no one moves.
Pulling a hand through his hair, he heads for the door in nothing but joggers and a bad mood, slipping out into the hallway and pulling it almost shut behind him. The air out here feels cooler straight away, but it’s not a match for the heat still buzzing under his skin - he needs proper air. And maybe a drink.
He doesn’t bother with the kitchen in the end, heading straight for the terrace. The villa’s strange at night - Hayden can only hear the crickets, and the distant hum of where someone’s left the dressing room lights on. Everything’s paused long enough for him to hear himself think, which isn’t ideal, but by the time he reaches the top of the stairs the air is fresh enough that he no longer feels like he’ll suffocate.
Hayden swings the door wide, braced against the rush of the night breeze, and stops dead.
Sasha’s leaning against the railing with a cigarette glowing between his fingers - it lights up in the dark each time he drags on it, and smoke slowly catches on the wind. Hayden feels something inside him go unpleasantly alert as he clocks the shape of Sasha’s mouth around the filter.
“Can I help you?”
Hayden’s first instinct is to say something sharp in return, which would’ve been the sensible route to dive down, but then Sasha lifts the cigarette back to his mouth and his train of thought derails so badly he can almost hear the screech of wheels.
“I came out for some fresh air,” Hayden snaps. “Didn’t realise it was booked.”
Sasha exhales, turning his head enough to sweep over the sheen of sweat across Hayden’s bare chest, unimpressed. “Then leave.”
The reflexive assholery of it all makes this easier - Hayden feels something settle back into place, pushing off the doorframe to settle himself at the opposite end. “No. You don’t own the terrace.”
The other man only shrugs.
The pool glows blue below them, and for a treacherous second Hayden lets himself wonder whether he’s got a vape on him - his mouth feels empty, and he needs something to do with his hands that isn’t white knuckling the railing. Confirming he is in fact vapeless, Hayden immediately reaches for the bottle of water he also does not have, remembering he never got one, and swears under his breath.
Sasha eyes him. “You look lost.”
Hayden makes a valiant attempt at staring at his own two hands. “I’m not lost, I just don’t like you.”
“Shame.”
The cigarette glows again. Without his consent, Hayden’s eyes snap up to it, then his mouth, then to that silver slash at Sasha’s shoulder, before dropping back to the way his fingers deftly flick a few flakes of ash over the side of the terrace.
“If you want one,” Sasha says at last, “ask properly.”
“What?”
Sasha lifts the cigarette out to him - the filter is ever so slightly wet, and it makes Hayden genuinely consider putting his head between his knees. “A cigarette - keep up.”
“I don’t want a cigarette,” he manages - that’s true, because he quit those last year and his mom would kill him. He does, on the other hand, quite fancy banging his head against the wall until his good sense returns to him.
“Sure.”
“I mean it.”
“Not convincingly.”
Hayden has to laugh or he’ll cry. “God, you’re fucking exhausting.”
The other man takes another drag. “You haven’t left yet.”
Something far too close to panic twists in his stomach.
“Sorry, is this your thing? Being as rude as possible until people leave you alone?” Hayden shoves off the railing to round on him. “You’re relentless with Shane, you don’t give me the time of day unless it’s to criticise me, and you only leave Daisy alone because you know she’d actually throw a punch. I’m not surprised you’re out here alone.”
Sasha pauses - not for long, but Hayden can see something flicker behind his eyes all the same. “Do you want me to give you the time of day?”
“That’s what you’re taking from this? Fuck me.”
The other man’s face hardly moves. “I’m also not surprised by anything you do.”
That sort of thing would usually bounce right off him, or at least get filed under Sasha just being an ass, but tonight it slips between his ribs and sits there. Hayden’s body has already been rubbed raw enough by the day, and he hasn’t slept right in a week - he flexes his hands, horrified to see that his fingers are shaking.
“Fuck off,” Hayden says eventually. It’s not smart or nearly as barbed as he wants it to be, but it’ll have to do. It’s all he has.
“After you.”
Hayden takes a step forward before he really means to - he doesn’t often get angry, not like this. Insults and petty jibes are water off a duck’s back, but there’s something about the sheer audacity of this man that sets his teeth on edge. Combined with the fact he’s one strong breeze away from losing his humour entirely, he almost doesn’t recognise the way his voice sounds now. “You think this is funny?”
“No,” Sasha murmurs. “I think you’re making it obvious.”
“Making what obvious?” When Sasha only looks at him, his jaw tightens. “If you’ve got something to say, say it.”
“I think I just did.”
“God forbid you answer something straightforward like a normal person,” Hayden hisses.
Sasha makes a show of lifting the cigarette away from himself, dropping it to his side - Hayden keeps his eyes firmly on his face.
Unfortunately, when Sasha puts it back between his lips, Hayden’s gaze flickers down to catch the way his mouth parts around it before he can stop himself.
The other man chuckles under his breath as the smoke curls up, disappearing over the side of the terrace. He can hear his own breathing, which is annoying enough on its own without Sasha standing there listening to it as well.
“I thought so.”
Hayden’s stomach drops. “Thought what?”
Sasha straightens, unhurried, and crushes his cigarette in the ashtray before taking a step towards him.
“Oh, right,” Hayden mumbles, gesturing to the railing, “what, are you going to throw me over?”
He’s close enough now that Hayden can catch the heady mix of sweetness from that stupid soap he uses - it might be honey, or caramel. Something toasted and warm that would be sickly if it wasn’t undercut by the harshness of the tobacco and sweat. They’re almost flush, and Hayden can’t do anything but back up again - until his shoulders hit the wall and there’s nowhere else to go.
He inhales sharply at the cold stone on his skin - he can feel the heat radiating from Sasha without needing to touch him, and it’s somehow worse than being touched ever could be. Hayden’s hands fall useless and twitching at his sides - he swallows, like that might help the fact his mouth has gone dry.
“What -” the word cracks as he’s crowded backwards, and he has to try again. “What the fuck are you doing?”
The other man almost smiles - almost - and Hayden half expects a comment of some kind. What he doesn’t expect is the way Sasha reaches to tilt his chin up and kiss him.
Hayden makes a startled sound as Sasha’s tongue sweeps just once along his lower lip - it’s enough of an opening that he takes it immediately, and Sasha wastes no time at all, flooding his senses until he’s dizzy with it. His hands fly up all on their own, knotting tight around the back of the other man’s neck as need flashes hot through his stomach - it’s so unfamiliar that Hayden doesn’t recognise what it is straight away, only that he wants. He wants.
The next pass of Sasha’s lips is slower, and Hayden can feel the stone digging into his back - he truly couldn’t care less, because the Sasha makes a low sound in his throat that he can taste so viscerally that his entire body lights up as it vibrates through him. Hayden can’t hear anything but his own gasps any more. The crickets can get fucked. The rustling palms can go as well. His pulse is hammering in his chest, but his brain isn’t fighting him now - it’s quiet, pliant, until Sasha pulls back an inch.
He’s breathing hard, but his face is the picture of calm - infuriatingly so. “I was wondering how long that would take.”
Hayden can only stare at him, his chest heaving, as something low and thudding snaps loose in his stomach.
He grabs Sasha by the shoulders and kisses him back hard. Their teeth clash, but he barely feels it - devastating relief courses through him with such force he’s grateful to be pressed against the wall for stability, the buzz in his head silenced the moment Sasha opens his mouth again.
If Sasha’s surprised, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he meets every frantic shudder and press of Hayden’s tongue with a soft click of approval that goes straight to his stomach.
Hayden shouldn’t be doing this - he knows he shouldn’t be. He also can’t bring himself to stop, diving after the heat of the other man’s mouth and the resounding quiet it brings, rolling his hips until the friction finally connects and something white hot explodes at the base of his spine.
He drops an experimental, nervous hand to coast down the hard line of Sasha’s chest, then lower, catching his thumb over the ridge of that jagged scar on his hip - Sasha’s breath catches, and Hayden almost misses it, because he’s currently weighing up the logistics of dropping to his knees to mouth over it until it’s wet and glistening. His knees buckle almost of their own accord before his brain’s even caught up to the realisation he’s doing exactly that, but Sasha catches him firmly by the chin.
The pressure in his fingers is enough to stop Hayden half way down, eye level with Sasha’s navel until his thumb shifts to tilt his face back up. “No.”
Hayden straightens, awkward in the very little space available to him, and does the first useful thing that occurs to him - he smiles.
“Right,” he says, his voice bright enough to disguise at least half of the tremble in it. “Bit forward of me.”
Sasha lifts an eyebrow - not in mocking, for once. More like he’s just figured out something important, and Hayden has to pivot sharply away from the wall to avoid seeing it in his face. “Hayden -”
“No, no, it’s fine,” he lifts both hands with a dazzling grin before smoothing down the front of his joggers. “Alastair probably wouldn’t love finding you with Shane Hollander’s best mate on his knees for you, would he? We’ll just forget that ever happened, yeah?”
Sasha moves towards him, but Hayden’s already got one hand on the terrace door. “Listen to me.”
“I’d rather not,” Hayden wrenches it open, backing over the threshold. “This was really strong work from both of us tonight, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anybody.”
“You’re not hearing me.”
“No,” Hayden says, as pleasantly as he can manage. “I’m hearing you perfectly. That’s why I’m leaving before this gets any worse.”
“Fuck, would you listen to me for one second?”
Hayden takes another few steps into the corridor, and for a second he thinks Sasha might follow him and say something that would make him stop. Something honest, maybe, or something that might quell the way hot tears of humiliation are burning in his eyes, but Sasha just stays where he is.
Perhaps that’s kinder - right now it just hurts.
“Night,” Hayden manages, bolting back towards the bedroom.
When he pushes the door open, everyone’s still asleep - Shane’s snoring quietly, and even Daisy’s motionless, tucked under Irina’s arm.
The moment Hayden gets back under the sheets, the smile falls straight off his face.
He stares into the dark, furious with himself, and his mouth still tastes like smoke.