It begs the question when things began to change. It's not like there was a dramatic change, or as if anything had been building up because things were the same as always, save that knowing look Jones had because he knew Dan actually had the ability to smile when he really felt like it. No, nothing was different at all.

Except, except Claire had been staying out much more often. Dan didn't like to think why but it meant he and Jones were alone much more regularly than they ever used to be. Even before Claire moved in, they always stayed out of each other's way for the most part. There were alone more often, which meant there was nothing to hold them back when things got a bit out of hand.

The first time, Dan was drunk. Jones was high on caffeine and nothing else so there was never any question who was responsible when Dan woke up in the double bed Claire had claimed as hers next to a pillow that smelt like his younger roommate. He never questioned how he got there, why his trousers were unfastened and why, when he dragged himself into the kitchen with a thumping headache, Jones was leaning against the counter with a mug of coffee and a guilty expression.

"I only did it 'cause you asked me." Jones had said a few days later, completely out of the blue in a rare moment of silence in the flat. Dan pretended he hadn't heard. He was on the sofa with his eyes closed, cigarette resting lazily between his lips like he'd forgotten about it.

"You came in drunk." Jones went on. "You're always drunk and usually I don't go near you when you're like that but you started it. You can't play me, Dan. You're the one that started kissing me and what was I supposed to do? I couldn't just-" Dan hadn't even opened his eyes when he'd interrupted.

"Shut up."

Then there was silence for what felt like a long stretch of time. Then there was an awful choked sob coming from somewhere in Jones' direction and Dan opened his eyes. "Jesus, Jones. I tell you to shut up all the time, the fuck's wrong with you?"

Jones was in his usual spot: cross-legged in front of the sofa with his hands on his ankles and a sniff in his voice. "That's why I can't get my decks going. I feel so guilty, Dan. I took advantage of you…or something."

Dan looked at him in near disbelief; and at that moment, Jones saw Dan Ashcroft smile for the second time. "Don't think that's the reason your music's shit."

Jones looked at him and smiled back, wiping his face with the back of his hand. "Shut your mouth." He retorted quietly, shoving Dan's legs with his palms.

"Jones?" The younger man looked up. "Forget it, yeah?"

Jones nodded, fully aware that an understanding Dan such as this was a rare one. What he didn't notice was that he was the only one that Dan was remotely civilised to; he looked out for and yet couldn't manage to control himself around when drunk. It wasn't just that Jones was there, looking up at Dan day after bloody day, it was more than that. Dan wanted him.