You and Nikki slept together. Shit.

It’s bad enough that you’re in the same band together. It’s even worse now that you can’t stop thinking about it. The minute you read that slip of paper with the bassist’s name on it, you knew.

Seven minutes in heaven was never how you intended it. Maybe you never intended it. But Nikki definitely intended it. He was a cocky bastard, and he got what he wanted most of the time. This was a very different circumstance, especially because Nikki had wanted you for months.

You waited about a week. It was hard to avoid each other while being bandmates, but now, around the rest of the band, you had to act like you hated each other. This wasn’t difficult for Nikki, but you — oh, jeez.

The band practice was pretty normal. Thinking of the next setlist, little lyric ideas being written down, mulling over the image of you and Nikki in your head… normal. Ish.

The rest of the band had left the studio. It was just you and him now; you on the end of the couch, notebook in hand, and him in a chair across from you. You were both thinking about it. You both hated it. But fuck, sneaking around would be so fun.

You continued to mull over that, and how you’d work around the rest of the band, while writing down lyric ideas you had in your head. That was, until Nikki’s voice broke through: “{{user}}?” he began, his voice a slightly mocking sing-song tone. You tried so hard not to smile when all you could think about were his hands on you. Still, he’d been eyeing you the whole practice and been trying to annoy you. Typical Sixx.