A/N: Linked a livestream with a timestamp above :) watch from 1:12:26 until 1:14:40. It. Is. Amazing.

Also, this chapter has a very, VERY big Smith/reader element. So you Smith fangirls, this chapter's probably for you. :)

You remember the feel of Lewis' lips on yours, his tight grip on your shoulders. It felt all wrong. It made you shiver inside, for all the wrong reasons.

"(Y/N)?"

You look up, mentally shaking yourself out of your daydream.

"Yeah, sorry?"

Sjin smiles comfortingly. "You spaced out a bit, that's all. I got worried."

"Nice of you," is all you can think of to say. 

You're in the Yogscast booth, waiting for everyone else to turn up - so far, only you, Sjin, Kim and a few others have arrived. Everyone's probably still recovering from last night.

Especially Lewis - he's going to be completely fucked up.

"Did you run into Lewis last night?" you ask, grinning.

Sjin shrugs. "If I did, I was too drunk to recognise him."

You whistle. "You feeling it today?"

"More than ever," he says a little sadly, hand moving to his head, which is probably aching badly. "Why? What did Lewis do?"

"Oh, he only went and got completely and utterly shitfaced," you say casually. 

"Just the usual, then," Sjin grins. "How's it between you and him, anyway?"

"Oh, it's fine," you say truthfully, smiling awkwardly. "We're on good terms with each other. I just need to pick up the confidence to - well, you know..."

You've already decided that you're telling absolutely no one - not even Sips, or your best friend - about what happened with Lewis the night before, or your thing with Smith. Because it's the sort of thing that's so personal, so secret, so intimate, that telling would feel like a crime.

And when Lewis arrives, you're going to have a very awkward conversation with him.

You watch as Turps arrives, followed by Smith, who gives you a sneaky wink as he walks by, and Ross. You can tell immediately that they're all very, very hungover.

"Don't even talk to me," Turps says, when you approach him. 

"What have I done?" you protest.

"Not a single pint!" he exclaims. "You didn't drink a thing. And then there's us, all suffering."

"Sounds like she made the right call here, though," Ross says, clutching his head. "This is fucking horrible."

And then Lewis walks in. 

He gives you a tired smile as he approaches, chucking his backpack to the side. 

"Okay?" you ask him.

"No," he sighs. "I feel like shit. I'm so fucking hungover. And I don't remember a thing that happened last night."

Something clicks inside you. "You don't remember a thing," you repeat.

He shakes his head. "I just remember I had a lot of gin."

"Well, you're right there," you grin, and he laughs. 

Your mind's in turmoil. Lewis... doesn't remember? So he doesn't remember what happened? 

"You don't remember anything you did?" 

"Nope," he says, popping the 'p' - and then his expression slowly turns to panic. "Oh, shit, what did I do?"

"Nothing, nothing," you laugh. "You just got totally shitfaced."

He sighs. "I'm an idiot."

"So true."

Is this a good thing? Should you tell him what happened? He has a right to know, after all...

But then, how would you break it to him? Oh, um, last night, we sucked each other's faces off, Lewis... 

No. You're just going to have to grin and bear it. It's good to forget about it anyway, though, isn't it? Lewis was drunk, and probably didn't mean a thing he said.

Let's just go with that.

With a sigh of exasperation, you prepare for your last signing session.

_____________________________________________

On the journey back, you're put in a car with Hat Films, Turps and some of the tech guys - as usual, you make sure you grab a window seat before anyone else. 

You're silently celebrating your victory when a voice you've been hearing way too often recently says, "You okay?"

And of course, there's Alex Smith, doing up his seat belt next to you, looking perfect as usual. 

"Okay?" he repeats.

"Yeah, m'alright," you smile faintly. "You?"

"I had God knows how many fucking pints, mate. What do you think?"

You grin. "Guess that's one nil to the sober team."

Smith laughs, and your stomach does a backflip. "You have fun, anyway?"

You nod. "We fucked up a bit with the live Wine or Cheese, didn't we?"

He sighs. "I'm sure they're used to it by now, anyway."

"I guess. In a true Hatter's eyes, that would've been gold."

"Maybe," he says, giving you one last smile before turning away to chat to Ross.

And you're left thinking that you are so, so glad that Lewis isn't with you at the moment. That would be awkward. You remember last night, when he said he was jealous of Alex...

But he was drunk, right? He probably didn't mean it. 

No, that's not how it works...

And then you feel guilty for thinking it.

The car's not the most spacious - and while you're not suffocating in the lack of space, you're very conscious of the fact that Smith's very close to you. And it's March, and it's England, and it's four in the afternoon, so it's not exactly warm, whereas Smith is very much so.

"Okay?" he asks you. "Cold?"

You shrug. "Nothing I can't deal with."

He smiles warmly, then turns to Ross. "I swear," he says casually, making sure you could hear, "she's been secretly checking me out this whole weekend."

You feel your face heat up as both Smith and Ross turn to you. "You prick, Smith," you mutter. 

"Shouldn't feel embarrassed by it," Smith grins. "I'm single, straight and sexy."

You laugh, unsure what to say.

"Don't harass her, Smith, for fuck's sake," Ross smiles weakly, turning back to his phone.

Smith laughs, and squeezes your hand gently; you resist a sudden shiver from the feel of it. It's made you nervous, and it's strange, because he's never held your hand before - but you like it.

You clear your throat. "Don't worry, I'm used to Hat Films harassment by now," you grin. "Working in a room opposite yours everyday, hearing you guys, blimey..."

Smith smiles, and to your surprise and - delight? - doesn't let go of your hand when he leans back. "Oh yeah? What does it sound like?" 

You pause to think of a clever comeback, and Smith laughs again.

"What?" you protest.

"You know, you're fucking adorable," he says, looking down at you affectionately.

You feel tingling in your stomach again, and then heat all over your skin. Smith. Finds you. Cute.

"I'm not adorable!" you protest, trying to keep your cool.

"He's got to be obsessed with you, you know," Ross says, leaning over to look at you. "He never calls anything or anyone cute usually."

"O-kay," you say uncertainly. 

Does Smith mean adorable as in - well, adorable, or does he actually like you?

You look up at him again, and your heart nearly jumps out of your chest when you see he's staring back at you, with an expression you've never seen before on him.

You don't dare look away. You can see in your peripheral vision that Ross has turned away - it's just you two, stuck in this moment.

"Like I said," he says softly, that handsome smile breaking out on his features.

"Like you said what?" you stutter.

"Adorable."

This time, you don't even try to deny it, and make things awkward. "Thanks, Alex."

You can tell immediately that he's noticed the use of his first name; he stiffens slightly, surprised, but doesn't pull back.

"You should get some sleep," he says.

You smile slightly. "Okay, mum."

"At least try. We've all had a long weekend, we deserve some rest."

"I don't think I could get to sleep - even if I tried," you admit.

He smiles a little sadly, a little sympathetically. "I know the feeling. I bet you anything though, in an hour or so, you'll be fast asleep, mate."

You narrow your eyes. "I wouldn't bet on that. Mate."

"You better believe it."

You feel your phone vibrate in your pocket - someone's texting you.

Smith turns away politely as you scroll through your texts - of course, it's Lewis.

hey, hope the guys aren't torturing you too bad over there ;)

You text back: send help! but seriously, they're not that bad, they're harmless really.

they're lulling you into a false sense of security! dont be fooled!

very funny. 

watch out for smith. he's a shady bastard, that one. :D anyway, see ya.

You read his last text over and over again. Watch out for Smith. 

Is this his way of subtly hinting his jealousy? Because if he doesn't remember last night, it means he doesn't know you know he's jealous. Is he jealous? Or was he just drunk at the time?

You bite your lip, suppressing an outburst. You really need a break.

Smith turns to you as you pocket your phone again.

"Okay?" he asks. 

"Yeah."

"The next station's like, two hours away," he says.

You sigh. "Fuck. Way to make me feel better, mate."

He grins. "No problem."

________________________________________________

"Apparently, we just missed the other group," Trott whispers to you, picking a packet of gum off the shelf. "They were here literally seconds ago."

"Shit," you murmur.

You're at the service station now, wandering around with Trott until the rest of the guys finish up in the toilets. You've always liked hanging around with Trott, mostly because you're pretty much his height, so you can quite easily seem intimidating to him - whereas Smith and Ross literally tower above you.

"You going to get anything?" Trott asks.

"Nah," you say, stepping in line behind him in the queue up to the till.

"You know, Smith really likes you," he whispers.

You don't even try to deny it - by now, you're way too tired. "Did he tell you?"

He shakes his head. "Anyone could tell. Do you..."

Not pretending to misunderstand, you whisper back, "I'm not very sure."

_________________________________________________

You're home when you wake up again. 

You stretch as much as you can in the confined space, and reach to undo your seatbelt.

"Well, won't you look at that," Smith says from beside you, smirking. You look up questioningly. "I won my bet."

"Shit," you mutter. "I forgot about that."

"I'll have a tenner, thanks, mate."

You recoil, and put on a disgusted face. "What the fuck? No!"

He laughs. "I was kidding." He stares out of the window for a moment, giving you plenty of time to look at him. His eyes are tinged a light pink from tiredness, pupils glowing an eerie yellow from the light outside. 

You watch him smile a little, and turn back again, eyes glinting. "You think I don't notice," he says, eyes fixating on a loose strand of hair over your ear. You brush it back self-consciously.

"Don't notice what?" you ask, deciding to play dumb, when you're internally cursing yourself at being caught staring. Again.

"I've got stuff in the office I need to get," he says. "I'll see you tomorrow, lads and lass." He looks at you pointedly, smiling.

You smile back, and then you remember your conversation with Lewis before the trip. "Crap, I need to go find Lewis and Duncan. I said I'd give them a lift."

Smith rolls his eyes. "'Alright mate, you do that."

You text Lewis and Duncan that you're waiting in the common room in the office, and then make your way through.

You sigh, relieved. It's great to be able to finally just sit back and relax in a room on your own, without having to worry about anyone watching you and judging you.

You lean back in your chair, listening to the low buzz of the light, the wind outside, the quiet sound of a guitar playing a few rooms down...

You sit up again, bolt upright. A guitar.

It doesn't take a genius to figure out who it is.

You sigh, just sitting and listening to the playing. Craning your ears, you can hear a voice now, a beautiful, beautiful voice that you've only heard a few times before.

This is your chance.

You hoist your bag over your shoulder and walk to the corridor to investigate.

As you enter the Hat Films room, where the music's coming from, Smith looks up at you, and stops playing immediately.

You open your mouth to apologise, but not before Smith utters his own: "Sorry. I couldn't resist - we were doing this stream thing, so we set up everything, and I saw it, and..."

"It's fucking ten at night, Smith," you say, pretending to be angry. "Can't put up with this shit right now."

"Um -"

"I'm kidding, mate," you grin. "Keep on playing - I just came to make you feel like you've got an audience."

He nods. "Does the audience have any requests?"

"Surprise me," you say, setting down your bags to sit opposite him.

He closes his eyes, fingers feeling along the strings. "Okay."

As you listen, you think to yourself how you'll never be able to get used to his voice - it isn't just a matter of how good at singing he is; he's got this special tone that really hits home, that you realise you've fallen in love with.

You don't even know what the song is - some sob story about a guy falling for a girl, it seems, except when he sings it, it's different. It's not cheesy, and it's not cliche; you find yourself closing your eyes to concentrate on the sound - on him.

When he stops, you look up at him; his eyes are closed, and his fingers are still hovering over the strings with a hint of uncertainty, as if he's not sure about what he's done - as if it isn't good enough.

"Alex?" you whisper.

He turns. "Yeah?"

"That was amazing."

He shakes his head. "It's - it's a special song to me. Because..."

You look at him imploringly. "Because what?"

"I, er..." He trails off. "I've only sung it one other time before. It was with my... my girlfriend. Ex. Ex-girlfriend."

You realise the implication behind his words. You suddenly realise how little you know about - well, any of the Hat lads. You've never really had a chance to talk to them properly - most of the time, when you do, it's in content, or during a break, or to tell them to quieten down because they're disturbing your recording.

For example; you never knew Smith has an ex.

"I'm sorry," you say quietly, looking down at the floor, guilty. 

"Don't be. Four years now.."

"Oh." You hesitate, your nerves tingling. "You've stayed single for four whole years?"

He nods, that cocky smile splaying over his features. "You surprised?"

Without thinking, you say, "Yeah, of course."

He doesn't seem surprised by the answer. He packs away his guitar, putting it to the side. 

"Am I keeping you? You said you were giving Lewis and Duncan and a lift."

You curse yourself, remembering - but you can't leave now. You'd be regretting it for the rest of your life.

"Yeah, but they said they'd be a while. Still got shit to do," you say, standing up. "I've got time. Why?"

He shrugs. "Just wanted to make sure I'm not making you late." He moves closer towards you, until he's close enough to reach for your hands with his.

Which he does.

"Tell me to stop if you don't want this," he whispers, hands moving to your shoulders.

A/N: TO BE CONTINUED. (Obviously.)

Sorry to leave this on a cliffhanger, but I don't want this chapter to go over 3000 words. :(