The gathering of people in the Youth club was probably only a few handfuls of people. Intimate. Sherlock was very fond of the place. Good music, few people and most importantly... The boys here were gorgeous (call him shallow all you like but you'd be drooling too).

Both those in the local bands that performed live and those who came to watch said bands were beautiful and made Sherlock stare more than needed. It was a win-win situation and certainly worth the £4 entry fee.

Sherlock stands against the wall, resting against it as he held the can of cherry coke in his hand. Strict no alcohol rules as not everyone here was legally allowed to drink. Sherlock had been patted down earlier and he was glad the man hadn't found his bag of weed - not that he planned on smoking it here, he just didn't like leaving it in the house when he knew full well his nosy brother would happily root through his bedroom.

For now, music just played from the speakers as everyone waited for the next band to come out. Most people were stood in groups of three or more, laughing and already having fun. There were a few lone sharks like himself but he wasn't much interested in socialising with the groups or those with a group.

Sherlock takes a sip of his cherry flavoured drink before peering around again, taking a moment to appreciate the sight of a boy his age in tight black jeans and blue checked shirt who had gorgeous black hair that covered one eye (eye liner surrounded the one Sherlock could see). Sherlock spots a lip piercing and his rare smile appears. It drops when he sees the boy lean in and kiss the girl stood beside him.

Well, there goes any fantasy Sherlock may or may not have been forming in his mind as he watched the boy. Still... he could look.

The side door to the stage opens then and three people run on to the stage. The room quietens a little but mostly it stays noisy with the chatter of the youths here. It was the same every time and Sherlock doubted two weeks was enough time for any of these dim wits to form brain cells. They may not be major bands but they were still here to entertain. It wasn't a big ask for a bit of attention.

Sherlock moves to stand beside one of the speakers, in front of the stage, just as everyone seems to get the same idea and pushes forward, trying to get as close to the stage as possible. The teen grunts, uncomfortable with so many people close, and raises his eyebrow. He then peers up at the band that's just come out.

Are they well known in this place?

Sherlock had been coming here for just a few months and considering there's just two concerts every month, it wasn't a big surprise to Sherlock that he was yet to meet all the regular bands. He had meant it earlier when he said that this place was intimate. All the people knew each other and the band members. It was a little intimidating, really. To be such an outsider. Good thing he's used to that.

"Hey, guys!" One of the band members yells once he's approached the microphone. He's got spiked hair that's dyed a midnight black. There are spider bites in the right side of his mouth. Definitely a punky band. Pretty too.

There's a guy to his left, plugging his guitar into the system. Behind the speaker there's a guy setting up the drums with a large grin on his face.

Sherlock checks his watch. Yep, that makes sense. An hour before this place closes. They're the main attraction. That explains everyone plastering themselves to the front of the stage.

"Right, as I can hear some of you murmuring, yes, that is Greg on the drums and no, Jim anit here yet. Bastard is running late. Again." He points back at Greg. "But we all know this guy is on par with Jim's skill, right?"

The crowd cheers and Greg waves to them all. "Hey, everyone!" He laughs, leaning over to speak into the mic set up by the drums.

Sherlock's eyes lock on to the stand-in drummer and he suddenly feels the need to drool. God, he was gorgeous. He was wearing a simple white vest and black jeans, showing off his toned arms and tattoo. His dark hair hung over his forehead, almost covering one of his eyes. He looked less punk than the band member that spoke first but the look still worked for him. In fact, Sherlock thinks he looks better having kept it simple.

The band starts up a few minutes later with an original song and Sherlock moves to the music, tapping his foot and happily swaying with the crowd. His eyes stay on the drummer, on Greg, and he smiles to himself as he does. He felt a little creepy but, God, he couldn't help it. The boy, who must have been at least two years older than Sherlock (probably more), was just so damn sexy.

After the first song, Greg is sweating and panting quite a bit. He was certainly talented on the drums but he clearly wasn't all that used to drumming for extended times. Sherlock licks his lips as Greg pulls off his vest and wipes his brow with his forearm.

He had a faint six pack, perfect even tan (a natural one) and his arms were porn worthy. The facial expressions he pulled as he played were too.

God, he was too hot. Sherlock was struggling to breathe.

Sherlock barely hears the next two songs, too busy staring at the beautiful boy as he drummed and worked up a sweat.

The fourth song passes and Greg stands, panting softly. He picks his top up ad wipes his face as the main singer says something to the crowd. Sherlock really couldn't care less about what he was saying - something about someone called Jim. All he cared about was watching as Greg wiped his chest and face with his top, attempting to remove all the beads of sweat he'd collected while drumming.

Then Greg is fist-bumping some black haired boy (the first with natural black hair that Sherlock seen) as he dashes on stage with a guilty look. They switch places and Greg picks up a nearby electric blue guitar. Ah, the newcomer must be their regular drummer. Sherlock looks at the actual drummer for a few moments as he settles himself where Greg previously was. His attention quickly goes back to Greg.

"Well, guys, now we can play you good stuff." Greg says into mic in front of him. He runs his fingers over the guitar strings and chuckles. "This is next song is called Let Me Use You. And yes, it's like that!" He winks, sending some girls mental. Sherlock joins them but his screaming is internal unlike theirs.

Before they start, the drummer leans to the mic and says "Sorry I was late guys but going by the way Greg's dripping over the stage, you got a good show without me." He laughs.

"Fuck you, Jim!"

"Oh, please do. Use me, Greg." The drummer winks.

Greg laughs but doesn't comment, simply starts playing. The singer prepares, stepping close to the mic again, and other guitarist joins in. Before long, the music is in full swing again. Sherlock eyes say on Greg, who is now singing as well as playing.

As he sings, he looks around and Sherlock might have been imagining things but he's sure that when he winked, it was after he caught Sherlock's eye. Sherlock brushes off that thought but then a moment later Greg's eyes meet his again and he licks his lips.

Sherlock pants. Greg bites his lip and looks at Sherlock as he sings another line. Sherlock's breathing hitches. Greg blows a kiss.

There's no way he's imagining all this. Greg is definitely looking at him. Oh, Jesus...

He steps back from the mic, his singing bit over for now. He looks out to the crowd, looking over everyone. He leans to the mic and speaks. "Let's get one of you pretty people up here. C'mon! Who wants to be used?"

The crowd goes wild, all the girls screaming and waving their hands. Sherlock stares, wanting to be picked but not having the confidence to raise his hand or to call out. Greg steps to the edge of the stage, looking down at them all as he continues to play.

He purses his lips before his eyes land on Sherlock and he smirks. "You there! The guy with curly hair that can't take his eyes off me."

Sherlock flushes. What? No. He's imagining this.

The small crowd in front of him part and he hesitates before walking forward. Greg smiles and holds out a hand, leaning down a bit. Sherlock's breathing hitches before he grips the hand and allows Greg to help him on to the stage.

Greg places him so he's stood in a space. Sherlock doesn't even realise he's moving to the music, he can't stop looking at Greg. The guitarist smirks and flicks on the headset mic he has. He then starts playing again, the music becoming louder and refined.

He starts to circle Sherlock, smirking as he plays and sings. "Let me use you, baby. I'll be gentle at first, won't break no skin. Not 'til you beg for it."

Sherlock swallows, scalding himself for the things he's imagining as Greg sings. It's just a song. Just a song.

The song comes to an end far too soon and Greg chuckles and smiles at Sherlock.

"What's your name, gorgeous?"

Sherlock blushes - again. Swallows. Then speaks. "Sherlock"

Greg nods and turns to the crowd, grinning. "Give Sherlock a round of applause, everyone."

The crowd claps and cheers and a few people shout his name. He even hears a whistle. It doesn't help the blush that seems to be imprinting itself on his cheeks. Sherlock flashes a smile briefly before he makes his way off the stage via the side steps.

A few girls tell him that he's 'so lucky' as he rejoins the crowd. He just nods and then wonders what happened to his drink. After deciding he didn't care - about the girls or his drink - he focuses on the band. Okay... That's a lie. He focuses on Greg.

They control the crowd well and their music was good. The room's atmosphere was changed just by their presence and everyone seemed to have smiles on their faces.

Sherlock was more than disappointed when the whole thing came to an end and Greg put his vest back on.

"Guys!" The drummer - Jim? - yells into the mic by the drums. "Before you all disappear, we're all going to stay back for a bit and take pictures with you all!"

"Hell yeah!" The singer chimes in.

Sherlock stops where he is, no longer heading towards the exit. He wasn't the only one who reacted this way and he was glad that it meant he didn't stick out. He was also glad that a number of the girls that tried to scream his eardrums away had already left.

A vague line is formed once the band decide on the spot where they're going to take the pictures. Sherlock's towards the back but he doesn't mind the wait. He gets out his phone and brings up the camera, prepared to give it to the lady that worked here and was using people's phones for the pictures.

Before almost every picture the band whispers to themselves and decides on some silly pose or positions for them to make for the picture. They'd make faces and hug each other or the people they were taking pictures with. In one, they hugged themselves. Sherlock's not so proud that he can't admit their silliness made him laugh and smile. They really are good with people and Sherlock can't help being a little envious of that seemingly effortless charm.

When it's Sherlock turn, he hands over his phone and the band glance at him and whisper like they had done with everyone else. He takes a small breath, nervous. Then, Greg and Jim are smiling and inviting him into the space between them so he's perfectly in the middle of the photograph.

"You just stay there and look pretty, all right, sweetheart?" Jim chuckles, touching his shoulder.

Sherlock nods. Greg smiles at him and winks, touching his other arm.

He's going to die, Sherlock decides. Too many cute boys in one place. That will be his death. Death by hotness will be craved into his tombstone.

Sherlock stands between them and takes a breath for the second time within thirty seconds. He smiles pleasantly as the two band members on the outside arch their arms around him, Greg and Jim. He doesn't question it, just continues to smile. Then, he feels pressure on both his cheeks at the same time.

He's being kissed. By Greg and Jim. His cheeks explode with colour and the camera flashes.

The band lose their positions and chuckle. Sherlock looks to Jim and then to Greg, eyes wide. They laugh even harder. The girl still waiting cheer and scream at what just occurred - Sherlock even hears one girl squeal "kawaii!"

"I.. I..." Sherlock tries before he just ducks his head and steps forward to retrieve his phone from the woman that had taken the picture for him.

"Hey, Sherly!" Jim calls.

Sherlock turns back to them and raises an eyebrow. "Y-Yes?"

"Stick around for a bit, yeah?" Greg asks, beating Jim to it.

Jim pouts and glares at his band mate while Sherlock nods eagerly and then moves out of the way for the next people to take their photograph.

What he's just been asked and what he agreed to doesn't settle in unlike he's at least five paces away from them.

He pauses and his eyes widen again, reality settling in. Oh, fucking hell.

"I'm going to die." Sherlock murmurs, moving to the drinks stand and buying another cherry cola.

He then leans against the wall once again. He taps in his password on his phone and brings up the photo as he takes a sip of the drink. That was a bad move.

Sherlock nearly chokes on the liquid when he realises what the outside band members were doing. They'd arched their arms into a heart shape around Sherlock who had two boys kissing one of his cheeks each. Sherlock's breathing hitches for maybe the hundredth time that night and he sets the picture as his phone background before he slides it back into his pocket.

Ten minutes later, Sherlock is pulled from a day dream by Greg wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Sherlock's face glows once again as he looks up at the older boy.

The guitarist grins down at him. "Thanks for waiting!"

"N-No problem."

Jim appears then and pouts at them. Greg throws him a look and seems to press closer to Sherlock.

Are they.. fighting over him? No, Sherlock thinks, that can't be right. No one fights over him. Hell, no one wants him to begin with. Shouldn't they be fighting over the pretty brunette girl that had her photo with them before him, instead?

"All right, Sherly. Choose. Which one of us gets to steal you for the evening?" Jim demands, looking at Sherlock with that charming smile of his,

"Um.. What?" Sherlock asks, trying to curl in one himself.

This doesn't happen. Not to anyone... never mind him!

"It's simple, you see." Greg says. "Jim here is under the impression that he's going to be the one taking you for a midnight coffee when I'm the one who've been staring at all night. And I know you have in case you're going to try and deny it - I know because I've been staring back when I got the chance." A pleasant laugh leaves his lips.

Sherlock flushes and looks up at Greg with wide, innocent eyes. "You want to take me for coffee?"

Greg nods.

Jim throws his arms up in the air. "Jeez, Greg. You just have to steal the gorgeous guy!"

Neither Sherlock or Greg replies, they're too busy staring at each other. Sherlock's completely in awe as he stares back at Greg who's wearing a small, cute smile.

Jim huffs and walks off, leaving them to it.

Greg leans forward and presses his lips to Sherlock's own. Sherlock's eyes flutter closed and he doesn't even think about how he's just met his guy, he's immediately kissing back. His fingers slide into his hair and he feels Greg's large hands settle on his waist, pulling him closer as he grins against Sherlock's lips.

Their lips brush together gently a number of times before Greg starts to suck on his lower lip, causing Sherlock to part his lips. He happily accepted Greg's tongue into his mouth, making a small sound of approval when Greg begins to kiss him harder than before. He doesn't even realise that they've moved until he feels his back against the wall.

He's oblivious to the people around them. All he cares about is Greg's soft lips on his own and Greg's tongue completely dominating the kiss and taking charge as he puts maximum effort into bruising their lips.

When they part, they stand there panting and sharing air. Sherlock's head is spinning and his hands are gripping the front of Greg's vest - he doesn't even know when he moved his hair out of Greg's hair but he doesn't exactly care.

"So... coffee?" Sherlock asks breathlessly after a few moments.

Greg nods and leads them towards the door. "Coffee." He agrees.

Sherlock had a strong feeling the coffee wouldn't be the only thing keeping him up tonight.