|Title: Something by zE -
Fandom: Lock, Stock & Two Smoking Barrels
Spoilers for Lock, Stock & Two Smoking Barrels (film)
Notes: Takes place early hours of the morning after the card game at Harry's.
All slang is borrowed or made up.
To Eve, my wonderful beta reader; for her unsurpassable knowledge of alcohol, and putting
up with my protests, you're a star hon.
Lock, Stock.. property of Guy Richie, Polygram & SKA films
- Ed succeeds in getting a reaction out of Bacon...
It was 3am when Eddy finally stumbled through the door of the flat, swearing softly as he
tripped over the curling carpet at the threshold, and splashing half a bottle of Bacardi onto the
threadbare floor covering.
Unable to find the light switch, he wove clumsily through the cramped living space and into
the bedroom. The room was dark, the smell of cigarettes hanging heavily in the air. What little
moonlight entered through the shutters, cut through the atmosphere in silver shafts. Coughing
slightly at the smoke, Ed crossed the room to open a window.
He got halfway before the light flipped on.
"Where've you been?"
Bacon was sat on the bed, his legs pulled up against his chest, one arm stretched across his
knees, a half full tumbler of ice and what looked like whisky dangling from his fingers.
"Jus' the fudge." Ed gestured with the bottle, swaying slightly as he spoke. As his friend
nodded, he took in the room, empty except for a few pieces of furniture, himself, and Bacon.
"'S Soap 'n' Tom?" He asked, watching as Bacon raised the glass to his lips and took a sip.
The older man swallowed and placed the glass silently on bedside table next to an
"Soap's having a conniption fit over losing his fingers, and Tom's taken him home." He folded
his arm back across his knees. "Their gonna call us in the morning."
Eddy took a swig from the bottle. "And what're you doing?"
"Sittin' here in the dark waitin' for you."
The younger man cocked his head then, losing his balance slightly, stumbled backwards
coming to rest against the wall. "Why?"
Bacon shrugged. "Nothin' on telly."
Ed closed his eyes against the spinning room, sinking back against the comforting support of
the plaster. When nausea immediately washed over him, he opened them and took another
swig from the bottle, frowning as a thought struck him.
"You're not angry."
Bacon shook his head slowly, the shadow from the night lamp dancing across the wall.
"Not much point is there?" He said simply.
Ed snorted. "Not much point?" He leaned off the wall, and stumbled over to the bed, Bacardi
sloshing over the side of the bottle and running down his arm. "I've got you half a mil in with
'arry the 'atchet. Six days from now The Baptist and his mates'll be round 'ere choppin' off
fingers and you're sitting there drinkin' yer Pet calm as a fuckin' corpse about it!"
Bacon looked up at him. "What d'you want me to do Ed?" He spread his hands, and touched
his thumbs together as he spoke, in an irritated little gesture that was usually followed by
some poor bastard getting the shit kicked out of him round the back of JD's. "We owe what
we owe," he continued, "we either pay it, or we don't. Running yer north off's not gonna get
us the gravy."
"We pay, or we don't..." Ed laughed humorlessly. "I think I liked Tom's reaction better..."
Bacon sighed, steepling his fingers in a parody of prayer, another shit-kicking prelude. Tiredly
he asked: "Tom's reaction?"
"Yeah. Least he showed some emotion. We could be dead in a week. You don't ev'n care."
"Then say something!" Eddy lashed out suddenly, knocking a lamp and the overflowing
ashtray off the nightstand, and into the wastepaper bin. Moonlight swamped them as the bulb
flickered and smashed.
He slammed his foot into the nightstand, hard enough to leave a dent in the wood. "Hit me.
Tell me 'm useless. Tell me you hate me. Tell me you're leavin' me. Just fuckin' say
something!" Bacon watched silently as the bottle smashed against the opposite wall,
showering the room with glass.
Ed dropped to his knees, driving his fists into the mattress. "Just say something." He choked.
Slowly, Bacon slid off the bed and knelt next to the shaking man, threading an arm around his
waist. He slid a finger under the brunet's chin and tilted it upwards slightly. As Ed raised his
eyes, Bacon leaned in and pressed his lips softly to his lover's. After a moment, the other's
lips parted. Bacon ran his tongue lightly over them, then slipped it inside, savoring the taste -
cigarettes and chewing gum, mixed with the sting of alcohol. A hand snaked up around his
neck, fingers brushing lightly at the stubble-like close cropped hair. The older man bit back a
moan and pulled away slightly.
His friend's face crumpled at the words. Bacon preempted the tears, capturing the younger
man's mouth in another kiss. This time, when he drew back he spoke softly.
"I hate you."
"I'm leaving you."
He pulled away and ran a callused thumb over Ed's cheek, smudging the almost dry tear
tracks. His mouth quirking up into a smile, he whispered.
Ed watched him silently, eyes dark, pupils wide in the moonlight, as something unspoken
passed between them.
Bacon snorted softly at that thought and ran his thumb over the younger man's bottom lip.
How long did it take to fall in love with someone? A year? A day? Three seconds of holding
their gaze longer than you should? Bacon couldn't remember when he stopped thinking of Ed
just as a friend - someone to go out with, have a laugh with, and wake up next to in the
morning. Now he found himself staring into his lover's eyes and knowing that he'd rather see
Harry dead, and deal with all the Hell that came with it, than lose the beautiful, fragile, man he
held in his arms.
Ed chose that moment to hiccup.
For a heartbeat the sound of each man's level breathing was all that permeated the stillness of
the room as they tried to hold on to the moment. The silence was broken as Ed collapsed
onto the floor in laughter, seconds later Bacon joined him.
Staring at the ceiling as the laughter finally faded away, Bacon mustered his courage. He
rolled onto his side to face the brunet lying next to him.
"Yeah?" The other replied quietly, studying some invisible pattern on the ceiling.
"I love you."
Ed turned his head to meet Bacon's gaze. He reached across the space between them, traced
his fingertips lightly down the side of the older man's face, trailing Bacardi in their wake, and
"I was beginning to think you'd never say it." He told him softly, then his smile broke into a
"The room's spinning awfully fast for a Sunday mornin'."
At that, Bacon just had to laugh. As Ed pushed himself into a sitting position, he placed an
arm around the smaller man's waist and stood. "Come on, let's get you into bed."
Ed allowed himself to be lifted to his feet, and leaning his head on Bacon's shoulder, as he
waited for the momentary dizziness to pass, he cracked a grin. "You know, I love you too...
"Don't push your luck." The other told him gruffly, drawing back the covers, so the brunet
could sit down.
"Why, are you going to take advantage of me in my drunken state?"
Bacon shook his head. "No, *you're* going to sleep it off. *I*, on the other 'and, am going
to sit in the dark all night, tryin' to figure out a way to get us up half a mil in under a week."
As Ed kicked off his shoes he asked: "What if you don't think of anything?"
The question caught Bacon off-guard, a frown crossed his features, but quickly passed as he
replied. "*Then* I'll take advantage of you in your drunken state." When Ed cocked an
eyebrow at him he shrugged. "Thinkin' always gives me an 'eadache."
He placed a hand on the smaller man's chest and gently urged him onto his back, tugging the
covers up over him.
As Bacon pressed a quick kiss to his forehead, Ed chuckled.
"Well, don't strain yourself on my account."
[BritSlash Contents Page]
[BritSlash Archive Page]