Catfish and the Bottlemen Imagines

Under My Skin - 10 - Bondy

"Bloody hell, they just keep getting better, don't they?" Sam's voice was quiet, but I knew it was directed at me.

We were stood stage right with Cassie, Artemis and Miriam, watching on as the lads roared through their set. This crowd was wild, crowd surfers and mosh pits everywhere.

"Yeah," I said. I was trying to watch Benji, but my eyes kept drifting back to Johnny. He had such quiet command of his instrument, such stage presence without even moving much.

But I also kept stealing glances at Sam, who stood quite near my side and, I'd noticed, had spent much of the show sidling closer to me. I'd made sure I invited his subtle touches as we talked and laughed: his hand on my elbow when he pointed at something one of the lads did, or his fingers in my hair to brush it from my ear when he whispered conspiratorially.

The way he was whispering now, which made my spine tingle with lust.

"Supporting these guys was so good for me," he said. "I reckon you lot will start gettin the recognition you deserve after this run, break the international markets."

I scoffed, rolling my eyes and pushing him jokingly away, but he just grinned and moved closer, threw an arm around my shoulders.

"No word of lie, love. You've got great songs, loads of talent, a fantastic singer...and I reckon that bass player's a spitfire, think?"

His last words were low, teasing, in my ear again. As I turned to retort, I looked up and caught Johnny's eye.

Even while he played, he was watching us, his eyes unreadable. When my eyes met his, he looked quickly away, concentrating on his guitar.

Jealous. That fucker's jealous, I thought. And he has no fucking right to be. Anger rose into my chest, fueled my movements. Deliberately I snaked on hand around Sam's waist and placed the other seductively on his chest as I stood on tiptoes to whisper back.

"You've no idea," I purred, and Sam chortled, pinching my hips, causing me to squeal and jump away from him.

I grinned and reached for my beer. It was my second - or maybe third? -- of the night, and I had a right buzz on already. It lowered my inhibitions, made me bold and confident. I'd already decided I would work my way into Sam's bed tonight, and the way things were going, he seemed like he was just as keen.

Sam's chiseled features fell into a serious look as he shook his head, musing.

"Really it's all Bondy," he was saying, crossing his arms over his chest and looking reverently at him as he ripped through a solo in Tyrants.

"Known him since a was a lad in Shields, he's like another big brother to me. He's gotten me out of so many scrapes, set me head right when a really needed it like. Wan't for him egging me on, getting me to write me own stuff, that I would probably still be working up the Low Lights. I'd trust that guy with me life. He's right solid."

Sam's lips pressed together and his eyes glistened, and for a moment I thought he'd shed a tear. I didn't respond, but just looked at my hands, twisting my fingers together.

Yes, that's the type of person I'd thought he was, too, I wanted to say.

The crowd went crazy as the song's last notes rang out, and Van's signature "Sinabit!" echoed through the speakers.

As they exited the stage the crew greeted them with towels -- several for Van alone -- and bottles of water.

Sam beelined for Johnny and clapped him on the back, then pulled him into a sweaty hug.

"Sam, ya daftie, I'm a right squalid mess, what're ya--" Johnny laughed as Sam squeezed him.

But Sam wouldn't be thwarted, squeezing the smaller man tighter, talking right over him.