“Poor innocent me, just going about my business, then you raped me down the ear with your gun."Lindsay nicks the bottle, smirking just slightly, and say's " You loved it, you tart.”

“Real-time creeps back in, and Lindsay realises the kid's on his knees beside him, saying his name over and over and over."What?""Oh, thank fuck... Jesus, you're bleeding like hell.""Thanks, Sherlock.""Can you see a bright white light?""Yeah.""Oh fuck. Fuck! Okay, listen to me, don't go near it, okay?""What?""Stay away from the light.""What are you talking about?""That's death, innit? Don't go near it, promise me.""I mean I can see the electric lights on the ceiling, you berk.""You berk! You knob, I thought you were dying.""You didn't specify what kind of bright light, you just said bright light,you might've been testing my eyesight.""I ain't fighting with you when you've been shot.”

“He tries again, swallowing hard to ease away the painful lump in his throat. "It's just important. I love you. I'm yours. I need people to know.""Alright," Lindsay says suddenly. He leans down to grab at Pip's bag, throwing stuff out onto the carpet, his iPod and phone and wallet and gloves and Attitude magazine until he finds what he's looking for, a green marker pen, and holds it between his teeth while he starts tugging at the hem of Pip's t-shirt. Pip's too surprised to do anything but submit, he lets Lindsay peel off his t-shirt and throw that on top of all the things from his bag then just watches as Lindsay pulls the pen out of the cap in his mouth and signs his name in big green letters on the side of Pip's stomach. He holds his breath, trying not to suck in the belly fat everybody else keeps telling him is imaginary. "There, you're mine, are you fucking happy now?" Lindsay snaps, and throws the recapped pen across the room to get lost in the bookcase somewhere.”

“Pip winds his arms up around Lindsay's neck and kisses him back, and this timehe's the one to close his eyes and escape into darkness so there's nothing in the world except the soft curls under hisfingers and the touch of Lindsay's breath on his mouth and the slow, sliding friction."Lindsay, do you still hate me?""I do when I remember to," Lindsay says quietly, but he doesn't stop moving and he doesn't stop kissing him for a long time, on his trembling mouth and his sweaty forehead and his wet, closed eyes.”

“Valentine clears his throat. "So. Why can't you just say it?" "Say what?" "You know what." "It's hardly the time or place." "It is if you're dying." "I can't." "You're a dick. Just fucking say it!" "I can't! I'm... English." "What am I, a Martian? I say it all the time. I know you love me, why can't you say it?" "If you know, then why do I have to?" "You're missing the point a bit." "I took your bullet, you little twat, don't you dare question whether I love you." "Yeah, but you could say it." The throb of the gunshots is pounding all down his arm and body. The pain's so bad he wants to cry, like he's five and he's skinned his knee coming off his bike. "Je t'aime," he says, through gritted teeth, to shut the kid up. "Je ne sais pas pourquoi. Tu es... complètement bête, tu t'habilles comme une pute travestie, je hais ta musique, tu es fou, tu me rends fou, mais je suis fou de toi et je pense à toi tout le temps et je t'aime, oui. Tu comprends? Je t'aime. Seulement... pas en anglais. Je ne peux pas." Valentine's shifting about like he's uncomfortable. "I ain't got no idea what you just said but I think I need to change my pants." "Maintenant, ta gueule.”

“It ain't embarrassing just thinking something's hot. You can be as sensible and respectable as you like through all the day and night but all that goes out the window when it's about sex. Just go with it. If it makes you hard and it ain't hurting no one who don't wanna get hurt, then it's a good thing. No drama. You need to just let go sometimes.”

“Still, Lindsay stops getting dressed, even though he's only half-done, because he gets this urge to ambush the kid with a hug. Just that, nothing else. He wraps his arms around Valentine's skinny body and pulls him close and rests his cheek on the still-damp hair and inhales the cherry-almond scent of his shampoo, and Valentine says, "Oh!" in a really odd way, like he's just read a particularly interesting fact on the back of a Penguin biscuit wrapper. Lindsay's got his eyes shut but he can feel the kid's hands creeping up his bare arms, over his shoulders. One stays there and the other comes to rest on the back of his neck, fingers playing idly with the ends of his hair, and several minutes pass without sound or movement, just the gentle thud of heartbeats. "What's that for?" Valentine asks, when Lindsay finally lets him go. "Don't know. Nothing. Just seemed the kind of thing you'd like. BAM, surprise ninja cuddles.”