#Stone Gossard fanfic

[tryskomys]

Wet Sand

Stone Gossard x OC

Chapter 11 - She

Summary: let’s say that it was bad for my self-preservation.

masterlist

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notes: w o a h. this halloween story took so long that it’s half-past november. but finally, here it is. sorry it took so long, dearest readers. i feel like this is short af for some reason, even tho it’s fucking 6,6k words? idk i hope you like it <3 my timeline might be a bit off with this one - you’ll know what i’m talking about when you get there - but hey, that’s the way the cookie crumbles. the next chapter will be very important, so fingers crossed guys, let’s hope that it turns out cool! love you all <3

tws: mentions of shitty childhood, awkwardness, realisations. rude words (btw tipper gore is a ***** **** ** ***).

songs:

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October 31st, 1988

“Oh, look at you!” Keeva hollered as Jeff emerged from the staff room of the café, wearing little furry cat ears on top of his bandana. “Will you meow for me?”

“I’m not sure where you’re going with this, but you know - anything for the birthday girl,” Jeff shrugged and started re-filling the to-go cups.

“It’s a marketing strategy, Ames. You and your trapezoid jawline paired with cat ears equal big Halloween tips from every chick that walks through that door,” she explained, pointing at the paper bat decorations hanging along the walls. “And I really appreciate it, you’re like my little personal party clown!”

Keeva dreaded the celebrations that came with birthdays but thankfully, being born on Halloween slightly diluted everyone’s attention.

Back home, her birthday was usually acknowledged as an afterthought at dodgy Halloween parties and celebrated with a round or two of cheap alcohol. She never had enough friends to have a proper birthday party, but she didn’t mind - even a simple congratulation was a tough moment of awkwardness to swallow, so she appreciated the peace that came with being alone in the world.

But now, being in Seattle, she made more good friends in a year than any friends during all of the twenty years she’d been alive. And it showed - the day before, she visited Andy at the rehab center and he somehow managed to sneak in a piece of cake and wrote her a little song. They talked for hours, laughed, cried - and that alone was the most heartwarming celebration she’d ever had, which was strange considering the circumstances.

Chris called her first thing in the morning to congratulate her and to make sure she and Stone could make it to the release party of Soundgarden’s first album. It was supposed to be Halloween-themed - he was trying to sniff out whether they already had their costumes.

As soon as she came to work, Jeff popped out of the staff door with a cupcake and his signature cat-like grin, singing Happy Birthday as loud as he could because he knew she would be embarrassed - he got her the new guitar strings she’d been dying to try out.

But to her surprise, Stone didn’t tease her much in the morning before they both left for work. In fact, he didn’t make much of a fuss at all. She was glad, but deep inside she’d hoped that he would be the one to tease her the most, as always. It was strange that he was deliberately missing the opportunity to embarrass her.

“Well, if you make it ‘til the end of the day through all the birthday crap, you might get a little something.”

Keeva was inspired when Jeff put on Kiss at work a few days earlier - she did have a certain phase when she was a pre-teen, so she decided to tap into her inner child and dress up as Ace Frehley on the cover photo of Dressed To Kill. She’d borrowed a suit from Stone - she had to heavily cuff the pants and the sleeves and her tie was a couple of inches longer than it should be, but the whole attire ended up looking not too shabby.

The guys’ album was amazing. Electric, heavy and nothing like anything else going around. They played it live from start to finish at the official release party with all the important folks and then moved on to Kelly Curtis’s house to a more intimate party.

Keeva dropped the jacket some time ago, so there she was, sitting on the fluffy carpet of Kelly’s floor, her back resting against the wall. After tapping off the debris from her cigarette in the ashtray next to her, she took a big drag and let the smoke out through her nose with a big exhale.

She rolled up the sleeves of her white shirt and loosened the tie around her neck. When she was done, she sat back and silently observed the mayhem going around her - and for once in her life, she wouldn’t want to be anywhere else than a party.

Regan, sporting denim overalls and a straw hat, was in the corner next to the snack table, listening to a girl with pink bunny ears as she animatedly explained something to him. When he giggled, Keeva squinted with an amused smirk.

Is he blushing? What the hell…

Jerry, Mike and Sean from Alice - as the Three Blind Mice - were standing in a circle with Susan, who was the Tooth Fairy (Chris was the tooth), holding hands and frolicking to the rhythm of the Paula Abdul song that was booming through the speakers. She scoffed and took another puff.

God, Stoney must be having a field day with this soundtrack.

On cue, she searched for him in the crowd. He wasn’t with Kim or Jeff - The Godfather and Steven Tyler - who were standing by the speakers laughing, neither he was anywhere around the snack table. But after a few minutes of searching, her eyes finally fell upon him - he was alone, sitting on a cushion next to the fireplace and reading a magazine.

His face was obscured with thick weed smoke that swirled from his pipe, but the silver glitter around his eyes twinkled even through the cloud. She couldn’t help but giggle at the sight of his green boa jacket.

“Well, what do you think?” he exclaimed when he walked out of the bathroom and twirled around. She did a spit-take just as she was finishing her tea and stared at him. He had silver glitter smeared all over his eyes, along with some really strong black eyeliner. He had his hair down. It was unusually wavy today.

He looked otherworldly - from the neck up, that was. Keeva couldn’t hold a loud laugh when she darted between the big fluffy feathers he was wearing and the torn, clearly home-dyed jeans of a similar shade.

“You’re a hot frog?” she questioned, unable to tear her eyes off of the outrageous outfit. Stone rolled his eyes.

“No, try again.”

“A glittered-up bag of weed?”

“What? No!”

“A glammy quasi-reptile?”

“Yes! Exactly! I’m T-Rex!” he said and failed to keep a straight face, breaking into giggles. “T-Rex. Get it?”

She started cackling, too and felt her face paint smudge as the laughter forced a tear out of her eye.

“Sometimes I can’t decide if you’re a misunderstood genius or a complete moron.”

“Both can be true at the same time, Baby.”

Just as she was about to get up and go to him, something caught her attention.

Huh?

She wasn’t sure if she’d heard correctly, but under the general chattering and music appeared a silent melody from the other room. She could barely decipher the song.

Who the fuck is playing Stevie Ray Vaughan at one in the morning in the middle of a house party?

Her eyebrows knitted as she leaned backwards, curiously peeking into the room next to the hallway. Her lips slowly curled into an amused grin.

On a big velvet armchair next to the window sat a guy, clutching an acoustic guitar as he leaned closer to a record player to hear better. He was thin as a twig, the shadows of his ribcage kinda made him look like a kid. She could see all of that, because - for whatever reason - he was shirtless. He nodded his head back and forth to the rhythm of the song, brown hair shaking from side to side.

The widest of smiles spread across her face when he flipped his hair away, revealing his face - and most importantly the poorly drawn Ace makeup that was smudged all over it.

His eyes were rolled back into his skull and she could’ve sworn a droplet of drool was forming in the corner of his mouth. Most likely because he was shredding licks like there was no tomorrow.

He wasn’t playing as precisely as Stone or as sneakily as her - he was a completely different beast. It reminded her of a strange shamanic ritual, like he was trying to summon some sort of a blues deity that was living inside of him.

Keeva tried to perk her ears as much as she could, but she couldn’t properly hear him, so she decided to move a bit closer. She hopped up and snaked through the crowd to the other room. Even though the floor creaked as she stepped into the doorframe, the guy didn’t notice at all and continued his meditation.

She crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe as her grin grew wider. The way he was able to sustain the licks on an acoustic was mesmerizing. She was surprised she’d never seen him around before. Then, the record scratched and he went on his own for a few moments before finally stopping.

When he opened his eyes and noticed Keeva, he jumped in the armchair and let out a loud gasp. She could’ve sworn he muttered the tiniest “Ace?” under his breath in shock before grounding himself in reality.

Keeva giggled as he clutched on his chest. She could pinpoint the moment he snapped out of the trance - the melody visibly disappeared from his brown eyes as he rapidly blinked to focus on her, clearly somehow still not certain if Ace Frehley was really just standing there, judging his guitar playing.

That apparently wasn’t an easy task - with the way he was swaying in the armchair, rock and roll clearly wasn’t the only thing he was high on.

“Shit, how long have you been here?” he mumbled after he rubbed his eyes and squinted to get a better look at his surroundings. She sighed and nonchalantly checked her non-existent watch.

“About an hour and a half,” Keeva shrugged, but couldn’t keep a straight face when his button eyes nearly popped out of his head. Along with the thin pointy nose and bushy eyebrows, he reminded her of some small owl.

“Christ, sorry. Like, ten minutes,” she giggled, scratching her head. He huffed and cursed under his breath, softly banging his head against the guitar to wake himself up.

“Sneaking away, are we, Ace?” he questioned, giving her a cheeky smile. Keeva raised her eyebrows.

“I could ask you the same thing, Ace. You’re the one shredding along with the mighty SRV instead of socializing,” she quipped back but slowly began to feel bad that she interrupted what was clearly a moment of absolute peace.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude on you, just wanted to hear you better. I’ll be on my way again,” she continued and gave him a small smile, tapping the doorframe. “Just wanted to say you’re fucking amazing.”

“Uh, no, I’m rusty as hell, sorry. Haven’t played in some time. Thanks so much, though, thanks!” he humbly retorted just as she was turning around to leave. “I’m Mike, by the way!”

Keeva turned back and chuckled.

Rusty my ass. If you’re rusty, then I’m a freshly mummified Egyptian.

“Hey, Mike, I’m Keev-”

“Kiki, I know! So nice to meet you, greenie! Loved the show last night,” he babbled, motioning her to come back into the room. His enthusiasm was too contagious to shrug him off.

“Glad you did, Mike -” Keeva giggled and then a realization hit her, her eyes widening. “Wait. Mike…Mike? As in McCready?”

“Yeah?” he said, raising his eyebrows. She gasped.

“Oh man, so that’s why I haven’t seen you around!” she excitedly clapped and pattered over to him like a giddy child. She sat on the floor next to him, crossing her legs.

“Yeah, just got back a couple of months ago,” Mike said with a little slur in his voice. Her heart skipped a beat.

Fuck. Shadow. Let’s not go there.

"Stoney told me so much about you!” she rushed to change the subject and patted his bony knee. “Feel like I should get an autograph or something.”

“Not sure if that’s good or bad,” he chuckled and Keeva noticed a little blush filling his cheeks, even through the smudged white paint.

“Are you joking? We have a signed Shadow poster on the wall, sometimes I touch the little heart above the ‘i’ in your name for good luck,” she giggled again, but mentally punched herself.

Shit. No Shadow, idiot.

Mike was clearly not sure whether he should be happy or not.

“That’s cool.”

A few moments of awkward silence filled the otherwise empty room before he slid from the armchair like an eel and sat next to her, putting the guitar down in his place.

“Love the Jag, by the way! Such a cool one,” Mike said and ran his hand through his hair. Keeva grinned.

“Thanks! I love offsets in general, but Jags just have a special place in my heart. It’s like they have a bunch of built-in effects.”

“Yeah, that’s why I never learned how to work them,” he explained with a chuckle. “It feels like you gotta know fucking quantum physics to figure out all the switches.”

“Good point,” she leaned on her knees. “I’ve never really played anything else for as long, so…”

Mike’s eyes popped open.

“Wait, like this is your first guitar?”

“Well,” Keeva sighed. “Before that, I had a cheap little Mustang that fell apart almost as soon as I brought it home - bought that one off a kid at school for a bag of weed I stole from my parents.”

His innocent laugh indicated that he probably thought that was a cool thing. She continued with a shrug.

“So the first proper guitar, yeah. Seven years and counting. Although I think it’s, like, a ‘64, so it’s been going for quite some time.”

“Woah, nice,” he nodded and whistled. “Mom and Dad gave it to you?”

She let out a bitter scoff, which made him jump a little.

“Pft, fuck no,” she waved her hand and paused for a second. She surely wasn’t one to share childhood stories with anyone she stumbled upon at a party, but something about Mike’s eyes was so kind, so inviting. Like an old friend catching up with you, eagerly waiting to hear the tales of what had happened while he was gone. “One day I stumbled upon this tiny little music store near Shoreditch, that’s where I lived. I needed my Mustang repaired real bad - something wrong with the bridge.”

A tiny girl walked through a dim alleyway, dragging a guitar case that was nearly bigger than her - she was clearly struggling, her thin arms about as strong as two matchsticks. Little mousy curls were sticking out of her two pigtails as if she hadn’t brushed them for days and then braided them without a mirror.

Her eyebrows were twisted in a nervous frown and she chewed on her lips - even they were peppered with fair freckles, matching her whole face.

As she nearly stumbled through the door into a shabby music store, the bell above the frame rang so loudly she had to cringe. And her stress only grew when she walked in - behind the counter stood a man with a bushy beard, full of muscle and sporting an irritated glare.

He must’ve been at least six-foot-five. His huge hairy arms were crossed as he scanned her up and down, his face still hardened.

She could tell that he stopped to stare at the alarming grey patch of hair that was woven through the curls above her forehead - along with the deep dark circles under her eyes, it was obviously puzzling. Clearly, his sales didn’t come from malnourished greying pre-teens.

“Can I help you, pipsqueak?” he asked. His voice was gravely and deep as if he’d been smoking red Marbs ever since he was born - which must’ve been at least fifty years ago. She shuddered and dared to walk a bit closer.

“Um, t-this is my Mustang - I mean, my guitar,” she squeaked, looking everywhere but his face. The man scoffed.

“Yeah, I know what a Mustang is, love. What’s wrong with it?” he pressed and leaned on the counter. “Speak up, I don’t have all day.”

His accent was so thick that she had a tough time understanding him, even though she was born in this East End hovel with a similar one.

She had to swallow a sarcastic remark about his delusional belief that he was busy.

This is a run-down music shop in a dodgy alleyway in the middle of East London, mate. On a Tuesday.

“Well, here it is,” she said instead and struggled to lift the case up on the counter. When he reached out to help her, she gave him a shy smile and peeped a ‘thank you’.

He did a double-take between her and the guitar - the blue finish was battered and peeling, the bridge was covered in rust and the tuning pegs were falling apart.

“This bridge is fucking wank. This thing -” he pointed at the rusty piece of metal holding the strings. She interrupted him, though, unable to hold back her natural smart-ass attitude.

“Yeah, I know what a bridge is. Maybe you can tell me what’s wrong with it?”

She was surprised when he heartily chuckled, shaking his head.

“Little shit.”

He lifted the guitar and started studying it from up close - it looked like a toy in his hands. He grumbled when he fiddled with the bridge under the strings - it was wiggling from side to side.

“There’s a lot more wrong than the bridge with this piece of shit, love. Might be cheaper for you to just buy a new one,” he shrugged, pulling on the squeaking tuning pegs.

A wave of warm tears flooded the girl’s eyes, but she bravely pushed them back, fishing around the pockets of her leather jacket - it was at least three sizes bigger than it should be. Her hand shaking, she laid a crumpled ten-pound note on the counter and cleared her throat so her voice wouldn’t crack.

“What could I get for this? Maybe new strings at least? Or if you could just change one or two tuning pegs? I’ll make it work,” she pleaded, her cheeks flaming bright red when he raised his eyebrows even higher, darting between her devastated eyes and the money.

“That’s not how tuning pegs work, love. And you can’t put strings into this. Ask your old folks for some cabbage, I’m sure they’ll help out,” he said and put the guitar back into the case.

He frowned when he noticed a tiny tear falling out of her eye as she still stubbornly stared into the floor.

“Like fuck they would,” she muttered under her breath and unceremoniously wiped her wet nose with her sleeve before putting on a small smile. “Sorry. It’s okay, sir, thank you. I’ll figure it out.”

He hummed and crossed his arms again, but his expression started to soften.

“Let me guess, this used to be a twenty-pounder but half got dissolved into booze.”

That was the moment she looked up at him, proudly straightening her back with a defiant frown.

“No, it did not! It used to be a twenty-pounder and I worked very hard for it!” she said, her eyes filling with tears again. “Dad bought a bag of coke for the rest, not me.”

The man let out a big sigh and scratched the back of his neck, clearly feeling bad for judging so quickly.

“Sorry, pipsqueak,” he said and reached out to clumsily pet her head. “My folks were the same. I’d tell you it gets better, but you just gotta wait ‘til you’re old enough to move as far away as possible.”

“Yeah,” she peeped and started scratching off the already peeling faux leather on the case. There were a few moments of awkward silence as the man thought of his next words and then he pointed at her chest.

“You know any Zappa?” he asked, his voice gruff again. She nearly forgot she had this t-shirt on and now she regretted it. Warm goosebumps ran through her from head to toe and she felt like she was going to be sick. She didn’t expect having to play.

“N- well, y-yes…uh, I mean, no - or, I don’t know, I’m not very g-”

“You play me some Zappa and I’ll consider giving you a sale. Deal?” he raised his bushy eyebrows and walked behind a curtain made of wooden pearls before she could answer.

After a short minute, he came back - carrying a run-down pastel Fender Jaguar with deep wide scratches and dents in its baby pink lacquer. It was gorgeous.

“Try it on this one, love, think you two could be friends. Same attitude.”

Keeva woke herself up from the memory with a dreamy sigh, not even knowing how she told the story. But Mike’s smile was wide, latching onto each one of her words with an excited twinkle in his eyes.

“I ended up working in that shop, actually,” she said and couldn’t help but smile, too. “Mr. Hobbs kinda took me under his wing, taught me everything I know about music.”

“We should send him a gift basket, then,” he chuckled and nudged her with his elbow. She theatrically gasped and pressed her hand on her forehead.

“Oh, you flirt.”

Keeva could almost sense the familiar pattern of comically huge feet approaching the room.

“Who the hell is disturbing my Paula Abdul with this blues bull-” Stone’s mockingly agitated voice lamented as he entered. His coat was gone, hair even messier than before and glitter now all the way down to his chin. She couldn’t help a twitch in her eyebrow.

Fucking hell, why does he always look like he just made out with someone?

When Stone’s eyes fell on Mike, his grin grew so wide that his rare dimples appeared.

“Holy shit, McCready! I knew it was you! You’re fucking amazing,” he spewed and she eased up a bit. Stone suddenly had this childlike energy around him and it just melted her heart. And If Mike was excited before, now he was positively beaming.

“Stoney, my guy!” he exclaimed and spread his arms. “What’s up, man? Greenie here tried to sneak away but I trapped her. Saw the show last night, you guys are killing it.”

“Thanks, buddy!” Stone said, patting Mike’s shoulder. He sat down next to Keeva and slapped his knees. “You should’ve said hi!”

Mike scoffed.

“I had a shift from 5 AM today and you’re fucking irresistible. I knew you’d end up getting me hammered by midnight.”

“So you’re responsible now?” Stone groaned. “God dammit, another victim of the LA lifestyle.”

Another tense silence paused the happy attitude in the room. Keeva could tell Stone knew he talked before he thought his words through - just like her. Thankfully, Mike was happy to speak and change the subject.

“So when’s the record coming out?”

They both rolled their eyes and shrugged in unison, making Mike chuckle.

“Not sure yet,” Stone sighed. “It’s changing all the time. We want an EP out in Spring but no clue about the album.”

“Right now, we’re aiming for early ‘90, but God knows,” Keeva added and Mike’s eyes popped open.

“Early ‘90?!”

“Yeah,” Stone muttered. “Takes ages, I feel like it’s cursed or some shit.”

“How’s Andy doing?”

Now it was Mike’s turn to talk without thinking. And he, too, clearly regretted asking when they both let out an identical cheerless scoff followed by a big sigh.

“Great. Yeah, he’s great. Good,” Stone repeated, trying to sound positive. Keeva took a quick peek at him before nodding.

“Great,” she said, giving Mike a tight-lipped smile. His eyebrows knitted and he nodded, too.

“Got it.”

Suddenly, it seemed like no one in the room wanted to talk - as if they were all scared that they’d make another unfortunate remark. The joy in the room was snuffed out too easily for Keeva’s liking.

Just when she thought this birthday would pass without crying, she knew that was exactly the plan her mind made up for when they come home.

“So you guys live together I’ve heard?” Mike broke the silence, trying to lift the mood. “Finally moved out of your parent's basement, Stoney?”

That made Stone chuckle and Keeva took the opportunity to jab at him. It always loosened the mood in the crowd - somehow, people enjoyed watching them bicker.

“Still live in the shack behind their house, only there’s two of us now,” she said, elbowing Stone in the ribs when he reached out to pinch her waist.

“Yeah, I guess Baby expected to move into the fucking Waldorf-Astoria when I told her I have a free attic room,” he gritted his teeth as he pulled on her hair, causing her to yelp and slap his thigh.

“You never mentioned your sweaty underwear on the bathroom floor, you smart-ass,” she hissed back and kicked his shin, causing him to retreat and raise his arms in surrender while sticking his tongue out.

Finally, Mike broke into joyful laughter and they looked at him, both hiding a satisfied grin from each other.

“How long has that been going on?” Mike said through giggles, pointing a finger between them. “You’re cute as fuck together.”

Once again, the joy turned into awkwardness.

“Oh, we’re not - no. God, no,” Keeva babbled, forcing a disgusted grimace. She looked at Stone, who followed her suit and raised his eyebrows”

“Ever heard of the term ‘roommate’?”

Mike darted between them for a few seconds and then squinted.

“…yeah, right.”

Not allowing another cringy silence, Mike quickly whipped out his wallet and took out a scratched laminated card with dog ears.

“Check this out, Stoney!”

Keeva felt her eyes fill with tears as she stared at the silver-rank Ace Frehley collectible card in front of her as if it were the Holy Grail.

No fucking way.

“Holy shit,” Stone exclaimed and lunged forward, snatching the card from Mike’s hand. “You still have it!”

Keeva followed it with her eyes, pushing the tears back with an unbelieving smile. It was as if their words were deep under the sea, dulled in her ears by the mass of water.

No. Fucking. Way.

“Yup, my good luck charm,” Mike proudly straightened his back, laughing when Stone slapped his forehead.

“Oh man, you ripped me off pretty bad on this one. Who did I get for it again? A bronze Lemmy?”

Before Mike could answer, Keeva entered their conversation, her voice still breathy with disbelief.

“Fucking hell. I can’t believe you actually have it,” she whispered, reaching out. “Can I hold it?”

Stone frowned and snorted, clearly thinking it was one of her sarcastic routines. She looked at him with such sincerity that he handed it to her without question, though.

“You good?” he asked and she shuddered when her fingers brushed against his. They were soft and cold as ice, casually handing her a piece of her lost innocence.

“Yeah, just…fuck. Long story,” she shook her head, still smiling as she studied the silver line around the card, running her thumb across the printed figure of the twig-thin man in the same face paint that was smudged on her cheeks.

“It’s not like he’s busy or anything,” Stone said, hoping to get a reaction from her, but he only got a punch in the arm from Mike.

“Fuck off, Gossard,” he chuckled. “You go on, greenie.”

For the second time that night, Keeva decided to share a memory, still squeezing the card as if her life depended on it.

“Well, first off, I was never really that into them until I saw them on the telly in, uh…’76 I think? A re-run of The Midnight Special show -“

“Oh!” Mike popped in, clearly aware of what she was talking about. Stone seemed to have no clue, though. “Good ol’ sexual awakening by Paul Stanley’s chest hair?”

“Uh, not exactly,” she grinned and looked up at them for a second before turning her attention back to the card. “You know how Ace ripped that solo on She?”

Keeva saw Mike nod in her peripheral, while Stone shook his head.

“Tall as fuck, hunching, built like a malnourished toothpick, face full of weird makeup. The shiny Sunburst…” she dreamily sighed and slowly laid on her back, lifting her feet up on the armchair. She felt a bit lightheaded. “Man, I was gone.”

She turned to them again, clutching the card to her chest like a teenage girl with her diary. Mike was beaming with enthusiastic nods. Stone, though, had one of his unreadable expressions on, laced with a small smirk. Her heart skipped a beat in her chest as she dared to linger on the sparkles around his overwhelming eyes.

It’s your birthday, girlie. Be a little bold.

“So that planted the seeds of my chronically bizarre taste in men.”

“Entertain me,” Mike chuckled, suddenly unaware of the subtext behind her stare. Keeva snapped to the ceiling, leaving Stone’s puzzled squint behind. She focused on the tiny cracks near the light - she couldn’t tell them apart from dirt smudges thanks to her poor eyesight.

Stoney Gossard’s bony shoulders accidentally shimmying off his kaleidoscope vest.

He’s so unathletic.

“Uh, Peter Gabriel - stage makeup and reverse mohawk phase,” she started counting on her fingers.

Stoney Gossard’s chicken legs bunny-hopping around the stage.

God, he’s like a newborn chicken.

“- Thin White Duke,”

Stoney Gossard’s sweaty nose scrunching when he mouths his own riffs like a nerd.

It’s definitely too big for his face. Isn’t it? It is.

“- Brian May and his spider fingers in that white bat wing blouse…”

Stoney Gossard’s bug eyes dissociating into a different plane of existence. Glowing in the harsh stage lights like two eerie gems, silver eyeshadow running all the way down to his cheekbones. Black eyeliner smudging around his eyelids, glistening with beads of sweat.

He looks so unhinged, it’s baffling.

Stoney Gossard. Period.

“Yeah, that is a fucking weird bunch,” Stone’s irresistibly annoying voice snapped her back to reality as if to spite her.

Yup.

“Thanks, Stoney. Anyway, after that, I was looking for an Ace card for years, and it was nowhere to be found. Couldn’t get any records either, ‘cause even though I was saving up, they were always sold out…so I gave up after a while,” she continued her story.

“But, like, four years later, one of the kids from band brought a tape to a rehearsal, the Kiss interview with Tom Snyder.”

Mike nodded again, leaning forward like he wanted to encourage her to keep on remembering.

“And Ace was fucking wasted, funny as hell - that maniacal laugh. It was hysterical, the best thing I’ve ever seen. True love never grows old, I guess,” she chuckled and lifted the card to her face again to admire it. “I think that was the day that I changed from a girl to a woman.”

“Honestly, I think I changed from a boy to a man with that one,” Mike said, making her giggle.

“I believe that. Well, the next day, the record store I talked about got stocked and they had a silver Ace card, just like this one.”

She allowed herself a second to decide if she wanted to continue.

“I didn’t have any money, though, so I dragged myself to my favourite spot in Hyde Park and cried for hours.”

Okay, that’s enough for today.

As endearing as Mike was, she felt like she could’ve told the whole story only if it was just her and Stone in the room. And that made her feel more vulnerable than she’d ever admit to herself.

Strangely enough, maybe she would admit it to him.

“Christ, that’s devastating,” Mike said and reluctantly took the card back when she handed it to him with a sincere grin.

“It felt like the worst day of my life. And my parents were dope addicts, so that’s saying something.”

● ● ● ● ● ●

As soon as they got home, Keeva let out a loud groan.

“Home sweet home. Man, I can’t wait to take this shit off my face, ugh,” she shivered and headed straight to the bathroom.

“At least your tear ducts aren’t blocked by glitter,” Stone mumbled, clearly tired as well.

“Your choice, smart-ass,” she called before she closed the door behind her.

They talked to Mike for a few more hours and then beelined straight home, surprisingly from Stone’s initiative. He was really eager to go for some reason. They didn’t drink that much, considering that it was such an event. Keeva was tired from all the dealing with Polygram and clearly Stone must’ve been too.

When she finally rubbed all the makeup off, she got out of the bathroom, but he wasn’t there. The curtain to her room was open, though.

Shit, is he up there? It’s so messy, Jesus. I left the bra right in front of the entrance.

“Stoney?” she called, confused.

“Uh, over here!” his voice came back from upstairs - even further than her room. Then she had a realization.

Oh. The roof window?

Keeva hopped up the stairs. The window was indeed open, just big enough for one person to squeeze through. The roof wasn’t really angled and seemed kind of stable, but…

“The hell? Are you snooping around my room? You won’t find anything, officer! Search the bottom floor, my roomie consumes more grass than a common barn animal -“

She trailed off.

“Ta-da!” Stone exclaimed and threw his arms open just as she popped her head up the window. She felt like she was in a dream.

There was a thick checkered blanket spread on the wonky roof tiles and on it laid a bunch of snacks, a six-pack, Stone’s acoustic, a few scattered papers and a plate with a tower of pancakes, a lit candle stuck in the top one.

“Come hither! Sorry that I didn’t get a cake, but I made your favourite trampled-tyre-instant-pancake extravaganza earlier,” he said and reached out to help her up. When she was fully on the roof, he scratched the back of his neck with an embarrassed grin as he continued to ramble.

“Oh, and I brought a guitar and your notes for the stuff we haven’t finished yet, you know, in case you wanted to work on them so you wouldn’t be stressed. And I got you something else than a Bud for a change. And I have some Sun Chips and that disgusting cheddar dip you love, you know, the one that doesn’t share a single molecule with any kind of cheese on the planet. And a pack of M&M’s that only has the brown ones. And we have grapes! Grapes! Can you believe that? Can you? Uh…happy b-”

Keeva almost knocked the wind out of him with the sheer strength of her hug. A risky move since they were standing on a lousy roof, but she couldn’t think about anything else than him at that moment.

No. I can’t say it. I’m not gonna say it. Don’t say it.

“I love - I love it. Thank you so much, Stoney,” she mumbled, burying her flaming red cheeks into his chest. He chuckled and tightly wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on her head.

“I know you said you hate surprises but I thought that maybe -”

“You changed my mind,” she finished his sentence and hoped that he would realize the weight of that statement. She felt a tiny kiss in her hair and before she could say anything else, he lifted her from the ground and swung her around like a doll.

“Holy shit, we’re standing on a roof! Put me down!” Keeva yelped, but couldn’t help but laugh at Stone’s little ‘wee’ sounds as the material squeaked under them. When he put her back down, he quickly flicked her nose and reached for a little paper bag next to the pancakes.

“This is for you.”

She grinned as she peeked into it, a blush spreading across her face. Her smile grew even wider when she pulled out an oversized black t-shirt, her eyes popping open. It had a big handwritten sign that spelled ‘I FUCKED TIPPER GORE’.

“It might be a little big, but I thought it was funny.”

He remembered the night they spent in the middle of the woods on his birthday drinking and devouring every snack they got their hands on. And he remembered their hour-long discussion about the whole ‘85 Tipper Sticker fiasco and her uncompromising drunken monologue.

“They just can’t handle the fact that music is inherently sexual! Like, it always has been and always will be, the very first songs were either religious or love songs and that makes complete sense! And when you play, you’re completely devoured by music as a feeling and it controls you. Your movements, your tempo, the way you slide on the strings, everything. You are fully under its control. And if music decides that it wants to express itself in an erotic way, then fucking fine! There’s nothing I can do, I’m just a medium that the music uses to do what it pleases. Christ, fucking ‘mothers for chastity’ my ass. No sad middle-aged housewives whose husbands don’t fuck them enough should have the power to tell kids what they should and shouldn’t listen to or how they should or shouldn’t express themselves. Especially when you just know those creepy old hags have been getting railed from the back in the front seat of a car at the drive-in movies not too long ago and creamed their knickers every time Elvis shook his fucking ass.”

Stone didn’t say anything after that, just broke into a fit of hysterical laughter until he couldn’t breathe.

“You made this by hand? For me?” Keeva said, astonished at the craftsmanship. He shrugged, clearly a bit embarrassed by the homemade gift.

“I took one of my plain black t-shirts and bought some fabric paint, the one that you iron after painting so it stays on. And, uh, yeah…I- I’m sorry it’s so shitty, but I wanted to give you something s-”

“It is so special, Stoney. I love it so much, I don’t even - I don’t know what to say, all of this is just…thank you, really,” she stuttered, giving him one more tight hug.

“It was like a ‘eureka’ moment for me back there, so I thought that the rant needed to be immortalized,” Stone chuckled and gave her a quick peck on the cheek.

“A what? Why?” she giggled as she pulled away and started putting the t-shirt back in the bag.

“Uh, let’s just…let’s say that it was bad for my self-preservation,” he mumbled with a smirk and sat down on the blanket. Keeva wanted to comment on Stone’s sudden sheepishness, but it was like she was frozen in a spot at the sheer beauty of the moment.

The sky was almost laughably cliché - clear with countless twinkling stars and a full moon that shined so bright it made Stone’s skin look almost transparent. The whole city skyline was visible from where she stood, the Needle proudly stretching out into the settling fog.

“Well, let’s rip off the bandaid, Baby,” his obnoxiously charming nasal voice tore her out of her thoughts. “Your cake is getting more inedible with every minute and I don’t want you to chip your little vampire teeth before you even got a chance to suck me.”

And when she looked at her grinning friend, Keeva felt lightheaded.

Stone’s eyes were glowing brighter than ever - a head-spinning green field, full of mischief and hope for the future - as a realization slowly wrapped around her whole body like a delightfully warm blanket.

I’m in love with you.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

[jjmichie]

In Too Deep Chapter 6

Just some Friday Stone-smut for ya! NSFW - 18+ only. Finally updating my fic . . . enjoy! In case you missed Chapter 5 you can find it here.

_____________

Stone fumbled with the crinkled sheet of notebook paper where Molly had scrawled directions to her cabin.  Squinting at curvy hand-writing, while trying to shield his eyes from the glaring sun and glaring snow, he struggled not to lose control of the steering wheel. 

“Turn left after Bear Gap Tooth?  No, Bear Gap Trail . . .?” he tentatively read aloud.  

There. There it was.

A gorgeous cabin nestled in the pines and the snow, with gentle tufts of purple smoke rising from the chimney.  Cabin?  More like a luxury chalet, Stone thought to himself.  The early afternoon sun streaked through the trees, reflecting the beauty of the mountain scenery in floor to ceiling windows.  He checked the address on the paper once again.  All correct.  And, Molly’s jeep was there, shiny and white as the snow beneath it, parked to the side, as if to make room for his ugly station wagon.  This must be the right place. 

Was it?

Leaving the safety of his station wagon, he breathed in the chilly pine-scented air and felt the snow crunching beneath his feet as he walked to the door.  A solid redwood door with a deep rich stain welcomed him.  

As he was about to knock, the door opened.  His hand awkwardly pounded against thin air, as it fell away. 

“Hi Stone!”  She greeted him with her usual bewitching smirk. “You actually found it . . .”  

Her blue eyes met his, complemented by a long baby blue cashmere V-neck sweater. It snuggled against her hips, leading down to her shapely legs, which were clad in tight-fitting faded jeans with a hole in the knee, and finally . . . bare feet!  Bare feet with pale pink toe nail polish.  

“You look cold,” she informed him, and ushered him in, pulling him inside, into the warmth, away from the flurries that had come from nowhere to begin swirling around them. 

“Fuck,” he groaned. “I thought I looked hot.”   

“Ha ha!” 

He loved it when he could make her laugh.  She had the cutest laugh.  

“Do you want a drink?”  she asked, still smiling.

“Wow . . .” Stone was taking in the view.  The interior of the cabin was equally beautiful as the outside, much more modern than rustic, with stainless steel appliances, open floor, soaring ceilings and glass block accents.  But cedar lined walls and an enormous stone fireplace offset the modern austerity just enough to lend a cozy warmth.  Not to mention the stairway with a railing made of logs, leading to a loft overlooking the whole scene.  And across from the open kitchen, a huge wall of windows showcased a deck that spanned the entire length of the living room.  And beyond that, views of the snow-capped Cascades.  

God he loved Washington. 

“This is beautiful.”  he felt compelled to say, even though he was totally stating the obvious.  

“We like it.”  She handed him a lowball glass, with what he imagined was very expensive scotch swirling at the bottom. 

“We?” 

She smiled at him.  But didn’t answer. Instead she reached up and unraveled Stone’s damp scarf, which he had wrapped around and around his neck. 

“Can I take your coat too?” Still smirking at him, she hung up his coat and scarf, and returned to the kitchen. Stone watched as she began effortlessly preparing a cheese plate.  

“My family has a cabin near here too,” Stone told her, still admiring his surroundings. 

“Oh?” she looked pleased.  

“They ski.  I grew up skiing.  I’m not very good at it though.  Not as good as my dad.”  

“What??  And here I thought you were good at everything.”  She smiled and tossed some smoked gouda slices onto the platter. 

“Do you ski?” Stone asked, letting her comment slide by.  

“Not really,” she shrugged.  “Not much time for it.  We’re always in the city, just not able to get out to the mountains that much.”  She placed the platter on the granite counter between them.  Stone noticed she had somehow included fig jam and hazelnuts on the platter without him even noticing.

“Well, maybe now you and James will have time.”  Stone picked up a gooey wedge of brie and licked it off his finger slowly, making sure she noticed. 

“Maybe James and I will . . .” she leaned forward on the counter, watching his motions closely.  The v-neck of her sweater dipped slightly as she did, making Stone’s eyes flicker downward.  She opted for a chunk of chevre.  

Why did she have to be so hot?  He could smell her hair, the strawberry-scent of her bob that swung just above her shoulders when she moved, or walked, or made a cheese plate.  The aroma blended with the cedar wood, and the gentle smokiness of the fire that warmed the room. He wanted to lunge across the granite counter.  He wanted to melt into her eyes and her hair and her body and forget what she had just said.  But he couldn't.  He had been waiting for an opening to talk about James, and she had just given it to him.  

“So . . .” he began.  “Speaking of . . . James . . .” 

She didn’t flinch.  She continued to meet his gaze, waiting for him to continue. 

“Speaking of James,” he repeated, “when is he going to be joining you?” 

“Next week.” She grabbed another piece of cheese and took a gentle sip of scotch. 

Stone waited for any sign that she was going to elaborate.  There was none. 

“But . . . I mean . . . I don’t want any trouble.  What’s going to happen when . . .?”

“There’s some weed here, if you like.” She abruptly stood up straight and opened a drawer in the center island, revealing a baggie, paraphernalia, and several lighters. 

“Oh! Nice!  Didn’t know you smoked.”  

It was unsettling how easily Stone could be distracted. He grabbed one of the delicate glass bongs from the drawer, while his questions about James dissolved from his mind. He picked up the baggie and a lighter as well, and took them all over to the couch to settle in.  He wasted no time in packing the pipe, and taking a hit.  

“Want some?” he tried to ask her, while holding his breath.  

“Thanks,” she smiled, coming over to sit cross-legged on the couch with him. 

Stone let his breath out, letting the blue smoke twist around them, and handed Molly the pipe.  She took a long drag as well. 

“Mmmm,” she smiled as she breathed it out. “I’m glad you’re here.” 

“I’m glad you invited me . . .” 

They both let the moment settle over them, the curling pungent smoke rising in the air, blending with the smoke from the fireplace, the sun filling the room with an angelic glow. The warm room contrasting with the distant icy mountains and the swaying pines outside the window.  Stone noticed for the first time that there was jazz music coming from somewhere, one of the few genres of music that he wasn’t all that well-versed in.  But at that moment he loved it.  It was the most beautiful music he had ever heard. He let his head rest on the back of the couch.

“Mother Love Bone is going to get SUPER famous, right?” Stone asked, his eyes beginning to feel bleary.  

“Yes.  Absolutely.”  Molly leaned her head back too and blew smoke high into the air.  

“I can’t wait.”  

“It will happen.  But for now, I think you should take another hit.” 

Never one to refuse, Stone giggled and took the bong again.  “Shit, this is strong!”  His head was starting to buzz and the sun was looking even more beautiful and the fire seemed to have a multi-colored halo around it, and he suddenly realized he wanted to eat the entire cheese plate.  

“Stand up,” she suddenly commanded, lifting her head, interrupting his reverie.   

Opening his eyes as best he could, Stone stood up, wobbling a little. “Okay. I’m up.”    

“Now . . . go in front of the fireplace.”  

“Yeah . . . did you notice that too?  The fire’s got like, this halo . . . do you want me to throw another log on?” 

“No . . .” Molly paused as she took another hit, and slowly blew it out. “I want . . . you to strip for me.” 

Stone froze.  He almost burst out laughing. 

“Uhhh . . . you want me to . . .what now?” he giggled. 

“You heard me.  Start with your sweater.”  

He looked at her.  Looked right into her eyes, which were wide and bright, despite the disorienting effects of the weed. She bit her lip and her nostrils flared just slightly.  She meant business.  He stopped giggling. 

He pulled at the bottom of the heavy wool sweater he was wearing, and pulled it over his head.  His hair crackled with static electricity as his scrunchy came loose, spilling his hair around his shoulders.  He still had a T-shirt on.  

“That next,” Molly said, looking at his T-shirt, not wasting any time.  

“Umm . . . okay,” he heard himself mumble.  He peeled off his t-shirt and let it fall to the ground.  A chill hit his bare chest and he shivered.  He crossed his arms and rubbed them with his hands, partly because of the cold, and partly because he suddenly felt shy.  And vulnerable.  

“Now, Stone,” she whispered.  “Please take off your belt and bring it to me.”  

He felt his heart starting to pound.  And his breathing was becoming heavy.  He slowly undid his belt and snaked it through the hoops of his jeans until it was free.  He looked at her, and at the belt in his hand, and walked towards her, extending his arm.  

“Thank you,” she snatched it and put it beside her on the couch.  “Now, your jeans.”  

He felt his cheeks flushing, the chill gone, as he slowly undid the button and zipper.  He looked up to meet her eyes.  She nodded at him.  She was slightly flushed too, he noticed.  He inched his jeans over his slender hips, and pushed them down, down past his knees, leaning forward to awkwardly pull them over his feet, hopping a few times to not lose his balance. 

“Good . . .” he heard her say as she took another hit.  Her eyes were roving over him, the way they had that day in his parents house.  

Standing there in only his boxers, he could feel his cock pushing against them, growing in anticipation of her touch.  

“Now what?” he finally asked, his voice barely audible. 

“Now I want you bare-naked.”  She motioned with her finger that his next instruction was to pull down his boxers, to take them off completely.  

He was totally hard now.  He knew she could see it through the delicate silk of his boxers, and that she was about to see everything.  He couldn’t hide the effect she had on him.  He took a deep breath.  He suddenly heard Andy’s words again – they seemed to be haunting him. I can’t let you do this! Why was he doing this?  Why was he taking a risk like this?  But then he looked at her, her beautiful body, her beautiful teasing smile, her bright eyes.  She wanted him.  She was asking him to strip for her.  How could he NOT do this?   

“Hey . . .” she said softly.  “I gave you an order.  Are you going to make me come over there?” 

Stone bit his lip, his cheeks red and his dick throbbing.  Slowly, slowly, he slid his long fingers around the elastic waistband, and started to lower it.  He looked down at himself as his pubic hair was exposed, and then his long shaft.  It was sticking straight out at her.  

He heard her breathe in sharply, and then saw her get up and come towards him out of the corner of his eye.  He was still looking down at himself, at his boxers clinging to his thighs. 

“Mmmm, is that for me?” she cooed. 

He swallowed hard, and closed his eyes, and nodded.  He felt his boxers sliding down his legs.  She had a hold of them and was pulling them down.  He stepped out of them when they reached his feet.  He felt her hands running up his legs, and then around to his ass, and finally up to his stomach, as she stood up.  But she didn’t touch his hardness.  Not yet. She left him dying for it. 

“Stone . . .” she whispered in his ear.  “Bend over.”  

He immediately did.  

And he felt the slap of the belt against his bare bottom.  

“Oww!” he cried in surprise.  

“You like that?” she asked.  

“Umm . . .” 

Another slap. 

“Yessss,” he hissed.  “Yes!”

Another slap.  Harder this time.  

“Good boy,” she began rubbing his ass gently, where she had hit him. “You’re nice and red. Now I want you to lie down.”  

He immediately got to the floor, and laid down on his back, looking up at her, his cock still standing straight up. 

She smiled at him, at it, and took off her own sweater, the blue cashmere sweater that had outlined her body so beautifully.  To Stone’s amazement and delight, she had nothing on underneath it.   The soft yarn had been playing against her tits this whole time. Stone couldn’t help but wonder how that felt. She squeezed her arms together slightly, giving him a delicious view of her bare chest, and then she undid her jeans as well, sliding them down over her hips and feet without any of the awkwardness Stone had encountered.  She never lost her grace or elegance.  No panties!  She had been completely nude under her sweater and jeans.

And then she was straddling him.  She took hold of his cock with one hand, and rubbed it against her wetness for only a few seconds before pushing it in deep.  Really deep.  

Stone couldn’t help but cry out.  She felt so fucking good.  

He opened his eyes and watched as she started riding him, the sunlight now creating a surreal halo around her, her eyes boring into his, her mouth open.  She leaned forward and took hold of both his wrists, pinning them to the wood floor beneath them, while she fucked him harder and harder.  

“Oh god,” she moaned. “Stone you are huge.  I knew I’d love your cock in me.”  

“Ahhhhhmmphfhh,” was all he could say. 

Continue to Chapter 7

[loverockawaitsyou]

So... I was perusing through Flickr for ummm... research purposes... I didn’t have any sinister intentions, I swear! Top right... MY GOD!

Photos by Crash Zone Photography on Flickr.

[golden-gypsy]

Blue

Pearl Jam fanfic

Wrote this one-shot about a week or 2 ago when I was sick and just thought I'd share here too in case anyone wants to read. It's also on ao3 and Wattpad. Hope some people enjoy!♡

And of course, this is entirely a work of fiction. All real characters are just used for fictional purposes and nothing more. No disrespect or anything of that nature is meant towards anyone.

Summary: A young woman travels across a desolate landscape with her two companions, searching for something better. But, nothing is quite as it seems.

Warning: I don't think there's any warnings unless you count pg13-ish sexual content... or tobacco use.

Eddie Vedder x ofc

☆☆☆☆☆

The sweat trickled down the nape of her neck as she tiredly lifted one foot, then the other, repeating the process over and over again. They felt heavy, weighed down with fatigue and the unforgiving heat radiating off the sun scorching them from up above. The cloth she had fashioned into a headband was soaked through with sweat, rendering it useless as she wiped the damp from her brow. It burned as it dripped into her eyes, singeing the surface and blurring her vision more so than it already was. Squinting, she looked ahead, trying to sharpen the lines that had long since become muddled together. There wasn't much to see anyway, aside from a few bare trees and patches of dying grass scattered across the barren and hardened landscape.

“Are you okay, Emmy? Do you need to take a break or anything?”

She turned to the voice next to her. Other than his name being Eddie, she didn't know much about him, but she felt like she knew him somehow. From somewhere before here. From another life, perhaps. Because, she knew for a fact that she didn't belong here.

Eddie didn't belong here either.

“Yeah… I think I could sit down for a minute.”

He smiled at her, the slight indent of his dimples barely visible, and pointed to a weathered tree not far ahead. “Let's go there. We'll at least get a little bit of shade.”

She nodded, adjusting the bag she carried on her back and glanced back at the rusted wagon that Eddie was pulling behind him. Mike was asleep in there, face covered with a hat to protect his skin from the sun. They had stumbled across the young boy in a dilapidated house when they were seeking shelter one night. He was alone, said his parents had left to find food but never came back. She and Eddie had waited there with him for close to a week before they were able to convince him to come with them. Mike's parents weren't coming back; she doubted they were even still alive. They asked what few passers-by they crossed paths with if they had any news of his parents, but thus far it had proven to be a useless endeavor. That was another thing though.

Mike didn't belong here either.

They reached the tree, and while the shade was meager, her overheated skin still thanked her for the respite. She pulled the straps of her bag off her shoulders, letting it drop to the ground while she rolled her aching neck in circles. The headband was saturated with sweat, so she untied it, letting her hair fall to her shoulders as she shook it loose. Her curls were dingy and perpetually caked with dust. She couldn't remember a time when they weren't, but she liked to imagine that her dusky hair was once vibrant with color… once upon a time ago.

She had a feeling though…

That somewhere beyond the desolate backdrop, there was a utopia full of everything from her most magnificent dreams.

She knew she didn't belong here.

Eddie was crouched on the ground, unlatching his guitar case. She couldn't remember meeting Eddie; it was like he'd always been there. His guitar as well. How many times had she tried to convince him to get rid of it? It took up space; it wasn't a necessity, but it was all in vain. Eddie was one with that guitar. It was a part of him, and as she watched while his fingers ran lovingly down its neck, she wondered what that might feel like. To be loved by someone like Eddie, cherished even. She couldn't remember if she had ever been loved by anyone.

She didn't mind the guitar so much anymore.

How many times now had he lulled her to sleep with soft strumming and the earthy baritone of his voice? How many times had his blue blue blue eyes met hers while she tried to pretend she wasn't watching him play? How many times… how many times… how many times… she rested her head on his shoulder as he played something she had never heard before. Something new.

Something strangely familiar.

His hair was pulled back, but a few strands had come loose, the earthy stands tickling her forehead. Earthy like his voice. That was her favorite way to describe Eddie. Earthy. A steady, grounding presence who kept her knees from buckling due to the shaking ground beneath her feet.

She couldn't remember a time without Eddie.

The song he played was ethereal in a way. Otherworldly. Like it could guide her through a maze of darkened tunnels, and at the end would be the utopia she dreamed of. Rushing waters, a lush landscape, and she would reach up to sift her fingers through a passing cloud as she drifted down to meet them. For Eddie and Mike would be there too.

Because they didn't belong here.

None of them did.

“What's the name of that one?” she asked after the echo of the final chord faded away.

“Oceans.”

She shifted so that she was looking up at him, his jawline coated in a light stubble. “Hmm… do you think we'll ever see the ocean?”

He smiled down at her, and she wished she could breathe it in. “I have seen the ocean.”

“When?”

“A long time ago.” His face lowered to his guitar again, eyebrows pulled together. “Sometimes I wonder if it was real.”

“I don't think I'll ever see it.”

His eyes met hers again, and they were blue blue blue.

“Maybe you already have, and you just don't remember.”

She watched him, and she could envision him at the ocean. A lone figure on the beach, hair damp from the water instead of sweat and his feet buried in the sand. Maybe that's where he belonged. And she wondered… if maybe she was there with him, in that time she didn't remember. The time before all of this. There would be two figures instead of one. Maybe that's where they both belonged.

She hummed as the images filtered through her head. “What's the song about?”

His grin turned shy as he looked down at his guitar, plucking a few strings before blue became all she could see again. It filled her up and elevated her to the highest of places.

“You've got freckles.”

“What?”

“From the sun.” He wrinkled his nose. “Right here on your nose.” His thumb gently swiped down the side of hers.

“Oh.” Her fingers ran over her nose, down the side of her cheek. “I didn't realize.”

“It's cute.”

She didn't realize it at the time, but he never answered the question. He was good at that, evading, only offering bits and pieces at a time. Maybe that's because she had nothing to give in return. After all, she couldn't remember her life before Eddie. 

“I'm hungry.” 

Mike's voice startled her, and she jumped as she peered over her shoulder at him. He was sitting up in the wagon, long dark hair matted on one side of his head. Persuading him to sit still while she brushed it was never easy, but cutting it was not an option. Anytime the suggestion was made, he recoiled, tears welling up in his sad brown eyes. At some point, she'd have to trim it though. It was already well past his shoulders.

Eddie nudged her with his elbow, drawing her attention back to shades of blue. “By the time we finish eating, it'll be getting dark. Why don't we just stay here tonight?”

“Out in the open?”

“It's far-off from the road.”

“Do you think we'll be okay?”

“Don't worry.” He smirked, his dimples making another appearance. “I won't let anything happen to you.”

She rolled her eyes and stood up to grab the canned vegetable soup from her pack. “I can take care of myself.”

“I know.”

They were running low on food, but that was something to worry about tomorrow. Maybe they'd find another abandoned store or a community with some friendly people, but that was something to think about tomorrow. Tonight, they'd fill their bellies with the soup she cooked on the fire, and maybe Eddie would tell them stories of distant and not so distant places that would ignite her imagination into roaring flames.

The temperature always dropped once the sun set, from one extreme to another. She wanted nothing more than to keep the fire burning, but it would attract attention from those who could possibly be traveling along the far-off road or beyond. And if there was one thing she could never forget, it was that it was that the people who roamed at night often carried ill intentions.

So, the three of them sat wrapped in blankets around the dying campfire, counting down the long-forgotten minutes until sleep claimed them. Tomorrow, the worries would return, and they would set out on foot towards their next destination… whatever that may be. And it would go on and on and on, with no end in sight. Sometimes she wondered where exactly they were trying to get to.

“Will you play a song, Eddie?” Mike asked, his face peeking out from under his blanket.

“Um, yeah. What do you wanna hear?”

Emmy sat forward, wrapping her blanket tighter around herself. “Play the one you played earlier. Oceans.”

His eyes caught hers with a soft smile, and he reached for his guitar. An extension of himself, and she could see the sea of blue that encompassed him.

She didn't mind the guitar so much anymore.

He played the song, and it was just as lovely as before. Maybe more so, if such a thing were even possible. If he wasn't the ground beneath her, she'd worry that it would split open and swallow her whole. But, Eddie was the earth, and his eyes were the sky, and the ocean was his essence. She was waiting for the day when he'd spread his wings and fly.

But…

She didn't recall a time before Eddie. 

And she didn't know if time would remain after Eddie. 

The weight on her arm was nothing more than a sleeping Mike, lulled to sleep by the sound of earth's embrace. She understood; how many times had that happened to her now? Countless upon countless, dream after dream. A million different lifetimes that were somehow carried by the same background music.

She wondered what she'd dream of tonight.

She actually kind of liked the guitar now.

Eddie carried Mike to the wagon, lined with a blanket to add some cushion. She and Eddie would lay their blankets on the ground nearby, using their packs as makeshift pillows. They never slept at the same time though, alternating who kept watch while the other one would try to secure a few hours of sleep. The persistent fatigue was a never-ending battle.

“I'll take the first watch,” Eddie said after Mike was secure in the wagon.

“You barely slept at all last night. I'll take first watch.”

“I don't need a lot.”

“Just try then. I'll wake you up before too long.”

That was a lie. If he succeeded in falling asleep, she wouldn't wake him any sooner than need be. Maybe she wouldn't wake him at all. Eddie was constantly going without, letting her sleep that extra amount of time while his own body was further depleted of energy.

She would be fine, sitting and watching the stars, knowing that Eddie and Mike were safely sleeping beside her.

She didn't know how life would be without them.

Her back was against the weathered tree as she sat, listening to sounds of their breathing fill the night. Everything else was silent. She felt like maybe she remembered the chirping of crickets, maybe the hoot of an owl, but she couldn't recall where those thoughts came from. But, it seemed like, at one point in time, that the night wasn't engulfed in such silence.

Their breathing was a comfort though. It was a reminder that she wasn't alone. Even though she would never admit it, that was what scared her the most. Being alone in the world the way it was. She had people to take care of her though, and in turn, she would take care of them too.

“Emmy?”

Her head was tilted up toward the sky, and she turned to see Eddie lying on his side with his head propped on his arm. His hair was a wild tangle of curls around his face, and she wanted to reach out to smooth it away with her fingers, but she didn't dare do so.

“You're already awake?”

“You let me sleep too long.” His voice was raspy with sleep.

“Not long enough.”

He shook his head and patted the space next to him. “Come sit with me.”

Her eyes stayed focused on his smile as she sat beside him, legs folded underneath her.

“Not like that.” His arms reached towards her, hands pulling her down faster than her body would allow her to react. 

She lost her breath temporarily, as if she forgot how. His face was so close to her own that maybe her not breathing was a conscious choice, fear that any slight movement would cause the moment to disappear. They were facing each other, side by side under a dingy blanket, his hand resting lightly on her hip. If she moved or even breathed, she worried she would lose the warm weight of his hand. She wanted it to stay.

She wanted him to stay.

“That's better,” he said, his thumb moving up and down, up and down.

“What was wrong with how I was sitting?” she dared to ask.

“You looked uncomfortable.” He lifted his shoulder in an easy shrug.

The motion caused her hand to shift, and she noticed… only then… the placement on his chest, below his shoulder, almost where his heart dwelled. She could feel the beating underneath the palm of her hand, a steady pulse to show that they were living and breathing… and existing. Her fingers curled into the thin fabric of his shirt, a reflex, almost as if she wanted to soak in the life that thrummed beneath her fingertips. Draw it closer. Bask in the light that radiated off the earth and the sky and the ocean.

“We both can't fall asleep.” Her voice was a whisper, flitting away on tiny, shaking wings. 

“I'm not falling asleep. I just want to lie here with you for a while.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

She thought again of the song he played earlier, Oceans, and how he said he had seen the ocean before. All she could remember of her life were days spent walking on the lifeless world she found herself in. It didn't seem real that oceans could even exist, but she believed what Eddie told her was true. She knew he would never lie to her. That was one of the few things she could count on, and it was so rare to have anything to count on.

“Why are you so tense?” he asked, and she didn't have to look to know he was smiling.

“I'm not.”

“You should relax.”

“I am,” she countered.

“You're not. Am I making you nervous?”

She allowed her gaze to lift up to blue blue blue, his worry showing itself in the lines creasing his forehead. He had a way of transitioning so easily from playful to intense. It made her head spin at times, dizziness just by being in his presence.

Her fingers smoothed over the fabric of his shirt. “You could never make me nervous, Eddie.”

That wasn't quite the truth though. Eddie made her nervous all the time, simply with his close proximity. It was such a strange swirling of contrasting feelings… because he was a comfort too. He comforted her all the time. That very same mixture swelled up inside her with the touch of his fingers on her bare skin, just underneath the hem of her shirt. It was a hesitant touch, like maybe how he would dip his toes in the ocean water to test the temperature. She could see him doing that.

She could also see him running in at full speed.

“Can I ask you a question?” she breathed as his fingers ghosted higher.

“Of course.”

“Do you think we'll ever find what we're looking for?”

She watched as his eyelashes brushed against the tops of his cheeks, and she wanted to run her fingertips just underneath them. But, she didn't dare do so.

His fingers were higher still, moving along her ribcage, and her skin tingled everywhere he touched. For who can say they were touched by the earth and the sky and the ocean all at once? The feeling was new, yet familiar. He was familiar, and he was here with her, there with her… just as he'd always been.

They didn't belong here.

Those same eyelashes rose again, and time could have stopped for all she knew. Maybe it already did. Maybe these were the last moments she'd spend on this godforsaken land. That would be alright with her. She'd see Eddie in the next life and the one after.

“I think…” he said as the tip of one of his fingers brushed against the underside of her breast. “I think that we already have.”

Was he right? They had each other. The three of them. They were something like a family.

A family…

It was getting harder to think. Her mind was hazy, and all she could see was blue blue blue. It was everywhere. In the sky above her, in the earth beneath her, in the ocean that she may or may not have seen. It was in the touch of his warm fingers on her cool skin, imprinting her with currents of blue. It was in her thoughts, as all she could focus on was how she wanted him to move his fingers higher still.

And he did… 

And he did… 

And he did.

“I can still see the blue in your eyes, even in the dark.” His voice was a gentle wave, washing over the sea of blue. 

“Me too.”

His fingers moved in such a deliciously tortuous way, and nothing else existed in that moment aside from the two of them. She could see him through the fog of her vision as if he were the only thing that made sense. The only thing that was clear. The only thing that was true in their world full of deceit. His lips only barely brushed against hers for a fraction of a second, maybe less, but it was something she'd never experienced before. The frailty of the wind seemed to pick up speed. The tree behind them seemed to shake from its roots to the tips of its branches. The ground seemed to tremble as if their world would soon fall apart.

The air changed, and it was magnetic. It was dragging her away as she fought to stay closer.

Could Eddie feel it too?

It was only less than a second, but the signs were there.

“I had a bad dream.”

Mike.

They pulled away from each other simultaneously. She could see hints of fervor in that blue blue blue.

Maybe Eddie did feel it too.

“Come on,” she told Mike, lifting the blanket. 

Eddie patted his head, exhaling slowly. “I'm going to go keep watch.”

Her eyes unintentionally followed him as he took her former place at the base of the weathered tree. He leaned his head back against the trunk, gazing at the stars between the gaps in the branches, and she thought maybe Eddie could reach out and grab one if he felt so inclined. Something about him told her that it would be possible for him to.

Mike curled up next to her under the blanket, soon fast asleep. It wasn't long before she drifted off herself, thinking about Eddie and the stars in the sky.

She dreamed of the ocean that night, of what she thought it might be. Mike was sitting beside her on the sand as they built a castle. An elaborate castle, with turrets, walkways with parapets, and a moat surrounding the outside of the castle walls. It resembled what she thought a castle might look like, for she'd never seen a castle before, and it grew higher and higher, wider and wider. Mike's laughter danced across the surface of the sand, and she'd never seen him so happy. She wanted the sounds of his laughter to last forever.

A shadow was cast over their ever-growing castle. She knew not to be frightened though. It was a face she'd seen time and time again. His hair was damp from water instead of sweat, and his feet were buried in the sand. The light reflected off his eyes, and they were a bright, clear blue blue blue. They were almost crystal-like, and he stood in front of the sun so that the yellows and oranges surrounded him in a brilliant halo sent from the heavens above. He was beautiful. Painfully so. And she wanted to reach out and touch him, but she didn't dare do so.

This was where Eddie belonged.

He stood over her, tucking a water-soaked curl behind his ear. “I thought I might find you here.”

“You did?”

“Of course.” The corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled. “This is where you belong.”

And that's what she wanted.

She wanted to belong.

The next day was the same as any other. They woke up and ate some dried-out bread she had made some days before, taking small sips of water. Everything had to be taken in moderation; none of them knew when they would stumble across more supplies or even a source of water. They carried four jugs for water and only had two left that were full. She always found herself becoming anxious once they reached the two-jug mark. The water went too fast, and she wished they could find a way to carry more… not just water though, more of everything.

But, more than anything, she wished the land around them wasn't dying.

Eddie didn't mention anything about the night before… but then, she didn't either. A part of her couldn't help but wonder if it even happened. But, she could still feel the sensation of his touch along her skin, and she shivered more than once even in the unforgiving heat of the daylight. So… it had to be real. It couldn't have been just a prelude to her dream from last night.

Her dream… 

The utopia that she prayed for every night to magically appear just beyond the next hill.

Or maybe the next…

The last hill.

“I hope we find water today,” she said after they had walked a long while in silence.

Eddie turned to her, a hint of a smile playing along his lips. “We'll find some. Don't worry.”

Her eyes were drawn automatically to his mouth, the curve of his lips, the indent of his dimples. The brief moment in time when she felt them against her own was permanently ingrained in a corner of her mind. She'd keep it there and pull it to the forefront every so often to reminisce upon in case it were to never happen again; she didn't want to forget.

Eddie's grin grew wider, and she knew he must have noticed her staring, stealing fleeting glances as they walked and walked… and walked. His pace slowed, and he inched closer to her, holding out his hand without saying a word. She looked down at his fingers stretched out toward her, his grin softening as he took in her hesitancy. But, she didn't want to think too much about it and whatever implications it could hold. It may have meant nothing but merely a friendly gesture, and she didn't want to think of the burning that would leave inside.

She interlaced her fingers with his before her doubt could lead her away. Because she wanted to be closer to Eddie, and she smiled to herself with the knowledge that maybe she already was.

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze as they continued walking. “You should smile more often.”

And she realized that maybe she should.

They didn't take many breaks as they traveled, wanting to cover as much distance as they could before the sun set. The landscape hadn't changed at all throughout the last days and the nights and the yearning for something more to come along. As it did every day, her vision became blurry in the blistering heat, the outer edges turning in their slow and lazy vibrations. The sweat trickled down her back, clogged up her nose, and caused her clothes to attach to her skin. But, she still held Eddie's hand as they wandered forward, and he never tried to pull away as he walked in the center of their group. Her on one side and Mike on the other.

They were almost like her family.

Maybe they were her family, one that she created all on her own.

“Hey, what's that?” Mike asked, his tiny hand pointing up ahead.

She saw it then, a wooden house in the distance. Chances were it was abandoned, and they could only hope that it wasn't cleaned dry from previous passers-by. It was rare to find a solitary house that was still lived in. Sometimes they'd come across small communities, communal-type living where everyone played a role, and in return, protection was provided through larger numbers. She never questioned why they didn't stay in one of those communities. It would have seemed like the wise thing to do, but it never fit quite right. There was something else waiting for them out there, and it propelled their feet to keep moving.

But, to find a lone lived-in house? That was the biggest rarity of all. Simply because it was too dangerous, too easy for someone to come in and take over. Some of the things that people would do were too horrific to even think about.

As they neared the small wooden house though, the sight of something caused her to grip Eddie's hand tighter, caused him to let go of the wagon to shield Mike with his other arm.

Not something though.

Someone.

Two someones rocking on a swing on the front porch.

One of them had his long brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, taking a slow draw of the cigarette sitting between two fingers. The other one looked taller, and he wore a straw hat decorated with a blue and purple striped band covering his long blonde hair.

She let go of Eddie's hand and took a few steps closer.

“Emmy, what are you doing?” he asked urgently.

She ignored Eddie and spoke to the two men instead. “I know you.”

“Yup,” the one with the cigarette replied.

What was his name?

Her feet carried her up the few rickety steps until she stood before them. She heard Eddie telling Mike to stay back before the creaking of the steps told her that Eddie was behind her. Really though, she didn't need to hear the steps to know; she could feel his presence from anywhere. 

He was her earth and her sky and her ocean all at the same time.

She pointed to the cigarette that ponytail held. “Can I have one?”

Stone. His name was Stone.

“I didn't know you smoke.” Eddie's puzzled voice behind her shook her eardrums, as only the earth could.

She didn't either, but it seemed like something she'd do. In that moment.

“There's a lot about me you don’t know.”

His eyes flickered over the features of her face before he answered. “I know.”

The one named Stone handed her a cigarette and held up the lighter to ignite the tip. She leaned forward to accept the open flame, but instead of hazel hues, she was met with blue blue blue. As far as her eyes could see, it was blue.

She inhaled the burning smoke down her throat, into her lungs, staring into Eddie's searching eyes as he passed the lighter back to Stone. He had a way of looking past her, through her, into the heart of her that she didn't know existed. It was in that way that he could both calm her and send a shock through every nerve in her body.

But, she knew now where he belonged, and it wasn't here. 

She hoped she could remember.

Eddie delicately removed the cigarette from her fingers, before she was even done with her exhale. As he brought it to his own lips, she was reminded of their almost kiss, how his mouth was now where hers once was. It was silly to think of something like that at that moment, but one can hardly help where the mind wanders at times. Even at this most critical juncture, when her thoughts should have been elsewhere, it was always him. Always.

“What is this place?” Eddie asked the two men on the swing, his eyes never straying from hers.

The one in the hat answered. “You don't wanna go in there.”

And his name was Jeff. 

She knew that now.

Eddie's head jerked to the side. “Why not?”

“Because no one who goes in there ever comes out,” Jeff said.

There was no explanation why. It was simply that. She knew it to be true though… somehow. Maybe for the same reason that she knew their names. Stone and Jeff. They were strangers, but still she could recognize their faces.

She stepped around Eddie, coming to stand in front of the door that led inside the house that was full of unknowns. It could be her demise, but she had to go open the door.

Eddie's hand found hers again. One last time. Or not. The possibilities were endless. “What are you doing?”

“I have to go in.”

“Why?”

She couldn't give him the answer he wanted, whatever that was. Her head shook as she gazed into those eyes that were so blue blue blue, the song he sang playing in her head as she saw his hair damp from water instead of sweat and his feet buried in the sand. It was the loveliest of visions, and she ached for it to come true.

She had to go in.

“Will you sing that song for me?” she asked him.

“What?”

“Oceans.”

He squinted at her as though she were crazy. Maybe she was. “You want me to sing it now?”

“Will you?” She took his hand in both of hers. “Please?”

And he did… 

And he did… 

And he did.

It was just as beautiful as the night before. If not more so. Because while his eyes were the sky, lifting her up so she could fly… his voice was the earth, destined to make sure her feet landed safely on the ground. And the song… the song was his essence as currents rolled above and beneath him, through him and around him.

That's where he belonged.

“I'm scared,” she said after he finished his song.

His hands clasped around the top of her shoulders, eyes intense in that particular way that only he could manage. “I won't let anything happen to you.”

She knew he'd never lie to her. That was one of the few things she could depend on in a world so full of falsity. And it convinced her that she needed to follow through as she reached behind her and turned the knob, the door swinging wide open. It was almost time, but there was still something left unshared. A final chapter to close the story, but it was just part one. There would be many chapters left to come as there was still the next life and the next… and the one after.

Her hands cupped both his cheeks as she held his face close to her own. Closer… closer… and closer still. She worried what would happen as the air began to shift around them. The signs were there, but she didn't want to live in the regret that she didn't know.

His breath fanned across her face as he drew her nearer, and she caught it as she pressed her lips to his in what was the ultimate defiance. They weren't supposed to be here, but they belonged somewhere… together. 

And just as Eddie was the earth and the sky and the ocean, she was the fire, burning the fraying ends away one strand at a time. The heat from the flames swelled up inside of her until it was too much to contain. It spread forth, nearly uncontrollable as his fingers sifted through her hair and her hands clung to the front of his shirt. They were the only two left on the planet, and it seemed inconsequential that the ground finally cracked and split, lava spewing forth and lapping at their feet as a cruel reminder of what was to come.

It should have been water.

But, the signs were all there.

The heat burned holes in everything it touched, but he held her close, and she didn't want to let him go. She didn't want to… because as his two lips continued to move against her own, she could feel it. Something new and something oh so wonderfully familiar.

Why did she have to let him go?

She could see him disintegrating away, or maybe it was her. And she wanted to hold on, for she suddenly feared she may never see him again. But, Eddie was the earth, and his eyes were the sky, and his essence was the ocean, and she knew somewhere deep within that he would never spread his wings and fly…  not without her. He would carry her with him wherever he chose to go.

He could go wherever he wanted to go, and yet he chose her.

The water would one day be enough to put out the fire.

And then, he was gone.

… 

…

…

She sat up straight in bed and wiped the cold sweat from her brow. The room she was in was small, too much so to hold many things aside from her bed. That was alright with her though; she didn't require much anyway. The tiny round window gave a view of the artificial neon lights and the smoky pollution that lived outside. She felt like she needed to be somewhere, but she couldn't remember where.

Her head swiveled to the side when she heard a knock at the door. 

“Emmy,” the voice called. “Are you ready?”

“I'm here,” she answered in a voice that she guessed must have belonged to her. “You can come in.”

The person outside her door could have been crazy, but she had a feeling…

“What are you doing still in bed?” he asked as he entered her room.

“Um…”

All she could see was blue blue blue. The neon created dancing light specks in his eyes.

“You need to get up. We're gonna get the shit beat out of us if we're late.”

She was confused, but what he said almost made sense; she felt the ache of bruises on her back. “Late for what?”

He stared at her as if she had two heads. Hell, maybe she did. “For work. Come on, we need to go.”

That's right, they had to go to work. That sounded right… but then, it wasn't.

No, it wasn't right at all.

She didn't belong here.

Eddie didn't belong here either.

[glorifiedgpjfic]

Chapter 48

As Jo drove to work she began making a mental list of what she wanted to discuss in therapy, she felt although it was easier to plan what she wanted to cover in each session to avoid rambling and not making as much progress as she possibly could. When she’d first started seeing Dr Isles, she found that for the first few sessions, she would tend to info dump and jump from one topic to another, which, luckily Dr Isles could just about keep up with, it took Jo a while to even realise she did it - so she made a note to be sure to know what she wanted to talk about in each session so she could tick it off as she went. She began trying to figure out what she was actually feeling, it was challenging because she knew she felt annoyed, yet somehow she felt angry, not at Eddie but herself, for not standing up for herself and her job, she felt angry at Marc O’Leary for being a misogynistic prick, she was angry for his first victim who wasn’t believed. But the problem with this anger was that there was nowhere for her to direct it or channel it so last night she had aimed it directly at the one person who didn’t deserve it.

When Jo arrived at work she was eager to get to therapy, she needed to vent desperately. She made a beeline to the office where her therapist was waiting for her, she took a seat opposite Dr Isles,

“Good morning, Jo- How are you feeling today?” Jo couldn’t help but let out a quiet chuckle,

“Well…” Jo then went on to explain how she was feeling about not being in the field and how she wasn’t quite adjusting to the new role, she explained how she was unintentionally growing resentful towards Eddie which she knew was unfair, when she finally finished speaking her mouth was dry and she found herself gulping down a glass of water, Dr Isles pondered what Jo had told him for a few moments.

“I understand why your boyfriend doesn’t want you to be in the field, he obviously cares about you very deeply, I think you feel angry because you aren’t used to having someone looking out for you- since your grandparents died when you were young, you’ve grown up with a very small circle and now that's expanding and it scares you that someone cares about you. You’ve always been able to take risks with your job and do whatever you wanted, and now you feel that you’re losing control in your life, because for the first time ever you aren’t the only character in your story. And you don’t know how to let someone care for you.” There was a brief silence,

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, I don’t want to give up a big part of myself just so that Eddie sleeps at night. It’s like me asking him to stop singing just in case someone stalks him- it's unreasonable!”

“Why do you think it’s unreasonable?”

“Because I’m standing down because of a ‘what if’, this job is all I’ve ever done and I’m not dead yet. Why does this have to be the compromise?”

“I can’t answer that, only you and Eddie can.”

At potatohead Eddie was stewing, he seemed withdrawn which in the past wasn’t a good sign for the band, it was Jeff who broke the silence,

“What’s going on Ed?”

“I think I fucked up.” He went on to explain the situation and how Jo had spoken to him, he felt guilty but he thought it would be better to feel guilty than to have to plan Jo’s funeral. But then again he didn’t want to lose her again, he was so conflicted. The guys had very little input, the best they could offer their distressed friend was a place to vent without judgement, which he obviously needed.

Jo left her session with Dr Isles feeling confused, she needed to talk to Eddie and she needed to stop trying to avoid hurting his feelings they needed to talk frankly. On her way back to her desk she bumped into a very stressed Eleanor,

“I need your help,” Jo nodded and followed Eleanor to her desk, “it’s the Bonnie and Clyde case.” Jo felt her stomach drop, this case had been on her mind for weeks; the case had so many parallels to her parents and she knew that mentally she was not strong enough to even think about them. “We finally got them, it’s just-” Eleanor paused, “we can’t get a word out of them, they’ve lawyered up but we can’t find their latest victims.” Eleanor handed Jo a thick brown folder, “They’ve changed MO completely since you were on the case, hell, they’ve changed MO at least three times.”

“Is that what’s happening? Are they changing MO, or are they devolving?” Jo asked and Eleanor couldn’t answer, “So they’ve gone from burglary to murder and now they’ve abducted a couple?” Eleanor nodded, “what do we know about the couple they took?” Jo began flipping through the file looking for details about the couple but there wasn’t much, they seemed to be completely normal.

“We don’t have much about our Bonnie and Clyde, other than their names; Rose Hindley and Ian Knowles, we’ve got nothing on their history, it’s like they never existed.”

Jo was interested to find out whether the names they had were real, she couldn’t help but think of Myra Hindley and Ian Brady and the Moors murders. Were the names just coincidence? Or were they fake names chosen to pay homage to two of England’s most evil murderers? This thought made Jo nervous, why of all the duos would they name themselves after British killers? She pondered whether it seemed like something her parents would do, the truth was she didn’t know. She knew nothing about them, and truthfully she hoped they were dead. Eleanor led her to the interrogation room where Ian Knowles and his lawyer were having a hushed conversation, Joanne was relieved to see that Ian was no older than forty. Jo watched through the one-way mirror as he spoke to his lawyer gesturing frantically with his hands, his eyes were dark and Joanne was eager to speak to him; however, the lawyer was likely to make things difficult.

Before deciding who to speak to first Joanne went to observe Rose Hindley, she needed to try and figure out how their dynamic worked. In contrast to Ian, Rose sat ignoring her lawyer staring blankly at her reflection in the mirror, she was calm and collected; it quickly became apparent to Jo that she was the dominant one in their relationship. Now she just needed to figure out how to get her to talk, in previous cases, Jo had managed to manipulate the submissive one in the dynamic to turn on their partner and spill all the details of the case, she didn’t feel although this case would be quite so straight forward.

Eleanor and Joanne spent a few hours trying to decide how to approach the interrogation and before they knew it the day had flown by, they had decided to leave the pair’s interrogation until the morning. They had informed William of their plan for the morning and he had approved of it, offering to help should they need it.

“Today has been long.” Eleanor sighed as they gathered their belongings at their respective desks,

“You’re telling me, shall we go for a drink?” Jo had suggested and Eleanor had quickly agreed, so Jo had driven them to her apartment where she left her car and they had walked to the off ramp. Jo had noticed that there were no lights on in the apartment suggesting that Eddie wasn’t home yet, which she thought was strange unless he’d gone back to ‘Casa Cornell’ or was still at potatohead.

What was intended to be one drink quickly turned into several drinks and soon enough Eleanor was excusing herself to go home, she was quite the lightweight which surprised Jo. Not being ready to go home just yet Jo opted to stay for one more, which was a lie. She moved from the booth she and Eleanor had occupied to a stool by the bar, she felt out of place as she was still wearing her suit and everyone else was dressed much more casually. She stared blankly into her Amaretto and cranberry and thought about what she’d discussed in therapy earlier that day, she was desperate for a solution that wouldn’t ruin her relationship; but spending today with El and working on the interrogation made her miss being in the field even more. She missed how each case was a new puzzle and how she would be there for every stage, from the crime being reported to the suspects being arrested, sometimes she’d even be there in court to testify, she got to do it all. Whereas now, now she was stuck in a loop of; go to prison, speak to rapists and murderers, make notes, leave prison, repeat. And as much as she had found the research interesting it was monotonous, and she felt stir-crazy.

After a few more drinks she found herself feeling more chatty and upbeat, she struck up a conversation with the bartender and was laughing at a joke he’d told when she felt a tap on the shoulder, she spun around on her stool and was surprised to see Chris standing there with a concerned expression on his face,

“OMG! Cornell! What are you doing here? I am so happy to see you!” Jo jumped up from her stool and threw her arms around him some of her drink spilt down his back but he didn’t mention it, Jo quickly turned back to the bar and ordered a drink for her and Chris but before the bartender could start making the drinks Chris changed the order to two glasses of water, which Jo immediately began complaining about.

“Why don’t you go find us a booth? Somewhere we can talk,” Chris suggested with a reassuring smile, Jo nodded and bounded off in search of a booth. Chris soon joined her with their waters,

“Jo, what’s going on?” 

[hearditinthewind]

SCRUNCHIES

pairing: stone gossard x f!reader warning(s): none, just fluff word count: 990 authors note: a lil something i threw together after i got drunk and watched a bunch of temple of a dog videos the other night. im an absolute sucker for 1990, temple of a dog stone + his hair and big sweatshirts. also i know they didn’t sing call me a dog at this show at the moore but it’s my fave so i wanted it in here somewhere 

Seattle, WA - 1990

Backstage of the Moore Theatre ran rampant with excitement and nerves. You sat on a dingy dressing room sofa watching as the band flittered in and out of the room. Journalists and photographers popped in and out, some ran to get drinks and go see the opening band, Panic, as they kicked off the show, and the others lingered around backstage to grab a smoke and hang out to loosen up before their own stage cue.

You took a swig of your beer and watched as Stone searched through his bag on the vanity table. He dug through the side pockets and then inside, then tapped his pockets, a little defeated. He asked you, "have you seen my hair tie? The white one?"

Your first glance was to the coffee table in front of you - the hair tie was nowhere to be seen among the overflowing ashtrays and empty beer bottles. Your gaze dropped to your own wrist, the little white band nowhere in sight. "No, not since we got here. Did you grab it off the table by the bed?"

"Fuck, no, that's where I left it," he cursed with a grin as he turned to you with a smile, he felt stupid for forgetting it, "do you have a spare?"

Just under the cuff of your flannel was a bright pink scrunchie. Susan had given it to you last month from her own wrist when you got sick at the Off Ramp after too many vodka cranberries. It had come to use in emergency situations since, and now, it had another use.

You sat your beer bottle down on the table and unfolded your legs to pat the sofa. "Yeah, yeah, come 'ere,"

Stone started to bunch his hair together behind his neck as he walked over. He lowered down onto the floor between your legs and you reached out to pull his hair behind his shoulders. His brown wavy locks spread across his back and you ran your fingers through the stands to pull back into a ponytail, the pink scrunchie wrapped tightly around the hair so it wouldn't slip out mid-show.

Helping Stone with his hair was nothing new to you. He wasn’t bashful, he asked you to play with it, and if he didn’t want to verbally ask, he would throw his head in your lap and hope you got the hint. You always played with in when you could, you even made him do at-home hair masks with you every month or so, and you usually washed it for him in the shower in the early mornings he joined you when he wasn’t exactly fully awake. 

"There you go," you said with a twirl of the ponytail around your finger. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"Thank you baby," he grinned and turned his head to give you a quick kiss, rubbing at your arms before standing to grab his guitar from across the room.

The rest of the band trickled in with time to gather and double-check the setlist. You had fought hard with them to get Call Me A Dog on the brief setlist and Chris eventually cracked and jotted it down at your pleasure. Half an hour passed and with Panic off stage, just a mere hour before Alice in Chains were set to headline, Temple of the Dog took the stage as the second and final opener.

You stood at the side of the stage with roadies and girlfriends, and Eddie who was behind with a microphone stand, all to watch the band, to watch the crowd. They had only played one show as Temple of the Dog before that night, just three weeks ago, and the show went so well they immediately agreed when the record label came forward to ask if they wanted to take part in the three-band line-up at the Moore before Christmas. It was an early present for everyone, even them. And you, as well. Even though you witnessed rehearsals and soundcheck, you were still by the stage at every show, and it felt like a treat every single time. Live music was the center of your life before you met Stone, and that didn't change when you two started dating, even though you were quickly forced into the world of live music and a different perspective of it. Going to live shows made you feel alive, made you feel happy. So you and your friends danced at the side of the stage that night and belted the lyrics to every song on the short setlist like it was the first show you had ever been to.

Towards the end of their set, just before the last song, you watched as Stone reached up and pulled off his baseball cap, and then he pulled out the scrunchie. He looked down at the scrunchie in his hand and then over to you, and held it out in your direction with a wide grin as he walked over. You didn't think twice, you stepped out of the darkness of the stage wing and onto the stage, meeting halfway, in a sliver of light. 

You took the scrunchie from his hand and then pressed a brief kiss to his lips as he leaned over. A whistle echoed up to the stage and you both laughed into the kiss, but when you pulled back, Stone grabbed at your chin and pulled you back in for another, one that you gladly sank into. Public affection wasn't necessarily something that came out often outside of close friends and the band, but there were times when it slipped out, and you were both very unapologetic about it. 

Under the microphone feedback and whistles, you pulled back and said, "now, play me my favorite song," as your eyes listened in the lowlighting.

Stone chuckled, nose nestled against yours, "will do,"

[stonegossardfanfiction]

SAD DAY

As you all probably know by now the passing of Taylor Hawkins.  The foo fighters have had a profound impact on my life and their music was there when I needed comfort the most.  His abilities made an impact more than he will ever know and my condolences go out to all of his loved ones.  I know that I haven’t posted on this blog in forever but this felt necessary and I hope you guys are still out there.  If you need to talk you can inbox me or we can talk on insta about all the emotions.  this is bringing back a lot of past feelings, who knows maybe I’ll start writing again if enough people are willing to read and enjoy it.

Fly High T Hawk, We love youuuuu

I know I have said this before but I truly want to go back to this fanfiction, it has reminded me of the community that we had and the joy it brought me. much as did taylor hawkins! If theres something you want to see in the future chapters please let me know in my inbox, i’m going to re read the chapters now because its been a while LOL and then get my butt to writing.  

[stateofloveandnegan]

Sweet - Stone Gossard

Can you write a Stone Gossard one shot? Something really fluffy about how you met and he had a crush on you for a while before asking you out or something but he is super sweet and says the kindest words? I don't know something cute and sweet!! Thanks! 😁

It’s finally up! I totally forgot about this one so I’m sorry about that. Also, I couldn’t really come up with a good end for the story so I hope this is good enough..

Requested by: anon

“Stone, mate, you’re staring again.” Mike mumbles in his ear as his eyes are on me, unbeknownst to me. Stone quickly blinks and moves his gaze away from me. “When are you gonna tell her?”

Stone laughs and shakes his head, “Yeah, that’s never gonna happen, Mike. Forget it.” Mike rolls his eyes and sighs, “Whatever, Stone. Just know that you’re gonna regret it if you don’t act upon your feelings sometime soon.”

I laugh as Eddie tickles my sides, before wrapping his arms around me, “Ed! Ugh, let me go, you stinker!” I giggle and Eddie shakes his head, “Never gonna let you go, little one.”

Eddie and I have been very close, ever since the first day of him being in the band he’s been like a brother to me, nothing else. People always talked about us and how we’d be a cute couple, but for Ed and I it’s just weird to think about it like that. We have talked about it, if we should try dating, but after one date we were both very sure that it was just awkward. And besides that, I’ve had my eyes on someone else for as long as I can remember…

“Go to your man, lovebird.” Eddie mumbles in my ear and I blush, pushing him away from me and mouthing ‘fuck you’ at him, to which he smirks and points at Stone, mouthing ‘fuck him’ back to me.

I roll my eyes, but walk over to Stone and Mike anyway, letting Eddie get back to what he was taking about with Cameron and Jeff. “Hey, Steno,” I smile at him, biting my lip. He turns around and smiles at me, “Hey, beautiful.”

Stone always says the sweetest things to me, probably another reason why I’ve fallen so deeply in love with him. “Always the smooth-talker, hmm?” I smile a little teasingly to hide my blush, and the fact that his words absolutely make my heart skip a beat.

“It just goes naturally when I’m with you.” He winks before walking off to the other guys. I sigh softly, “Why doesn’t he actually like me?”

Mike chuckles and shakes his head, “You have no idea about what’s going on I that head of his, (Y/N), but I can tell you, he’s as stubborn as a donkey.” And Mike walks off as well.

That’s how it always goes… Stone and I flirting here and there, but it never turns into something serious, every time I want to make a comment about it, Stone’s already off to somewhere else and it’s driving me wild.

So, one night, while we’re all in the bar and Stone and I have been flirting for longer than usual, something inside me snaps when he walks off again, this time to greet some sort of girl who gets way too touchy with him. I grab my bag and run off outside, tears already streaming down my face.

The guys call after me and in the corner of my eye, I notice Stone turning into my direction, but I don’t budge and keep walking, trying to hide my face as much as possible. I go to the spot I always go to when I want to be alone, when I want to cry about stuff, the roof of my apartment building.

I sit on the roof, in the corner, where I built a little place for myself, crying and hugging a blanket around myself as I try to come up with excuses as to why I left and trying to think of how I’m ever going to live with the fact that I’ll never get to be with Stone like I’ve always dreamt of being.

After a little while, I’ve calmed down, occasionally letting out soft sniffles, but most of the crying has died down. With a can of coke in my hand, a blanket wrapped around me, I sit on the edge of the building, my legs dangling down. The view before me always seems to calm me down, that’s why I always go here when I’m feeling sad or stressed.

“(Y/N)?” a very soft, familiar voice speaks up. I immediately tense up, biting my lip as I keep gazing at the view. “Stone…”

I can hear him sigh as he walks up to me, sitting down on the edge beside me and I can feel his eyes on me, but I don’t spare him a look.

It takes him a while before he speaks up. “I’m an idiot, (Y/N). I’m an idiot for never realising that your flirting with me was because you had genuine feelings for me.” He speaks in a guilty voice.

I bite my lip even harder to keep the tears at bay, not wanting to cry anymore. “I always cut you off, because I thought it was just joking around. I cut it off, because I wasn’t able to continue, thinking it wasn’t serious.”

My brows furrow in confusion at his words, and for the first time, I turn my head to look at him, unshed tears in my eyes. Stone meets my eyes and I can see the guilt on his face for making me cry. “W-What do you mean?” I speak in a quiet, hoarse voice.

“I’m madly in love with you, (Y/N). And I have been for so long… Mike always told me to make a move, but I was so scared. And I know you and Ed are like family, but I couldn’t help myself that, when every time I saw you two so close, I thought there was more that you guys weren’t telling us.”

I look at him in disbelief, not believing his words, and open my mouth multiple times, but nothing comes out. Stone looks away, sighing and mumbling, “I shouldn’t have believed Mike when he said you felt the same.” He moves to get up and speaks louder, “Forget I said anything.” and starts walking away.

For a second, I’m frozen on the spot, not knowing what to do or what to say, but soon enough I regain sense and jump up, accidentally pushing the can of coke off the edge, down the building. I hurriedly walk after Stone, catching his wrist in my hand and pulling him to me before planting my lips onto his when our faces are close enough.

I can feel Stone freezing under the sudden feeling of my lips on his, but very soon he gathers himself and kisses me back, his hands coming to rest on my hips as our lips move in sync. Everything around us seems to fade and nothing else matters in this moment, just Stone and I, holding each other, kissing each other.

After what feels like hours, but seconds at the same time, I pull back, needing air to breathe. Stone and I stand there, foreheads resting against each other’s as we catch our breath. My eyes are still closed, but after a minute I finally dare to open them and I’m immediately met with Stone’s.

As soon as I notice Stone opening his mouth to say something, I speak up and beat him to it. “I do love you, Stone. So fucking much, it killed me to see you so close to that girl earlier.”

“She means nothing to me… I met her once and I just wanted distraction from you, because until then, I thought you could never be into me, let alone love me…” He admits with a sheepish smile on his face.

I smile at him and bring my hand up to his face, my thumb brushing over his cheek. “Well, you were wrong, Steno… I do love you, very much so.”

Stone chuckles and leans in for another kiss, this one much softer, but still just as meaningful. When we break apart, Stone takes my hand in his and walks me back to the edge of the roof, sitting down with me and grabbing the blanket before draping it over both our shoulders.

I look at him with love in my eyes and he returns the look easily, wrapping his arm around me and pulling me a little closer into his side, pressing a soft kiss to my temple. “I’m never gonna back down with the flirting now, do know that…”

[tryskomys]

Wet Sand

Stone Gossard x OC

Chapter 8 - Over My Head

Summary: that would be a shame.

masterlist

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

notes: didn’t expect to finish another chapter this week, yay! i hate hate hate describing outfits, it always feels so wattpad. but hey, hopefully it’s digestable. this one somehow feels short - still, it’s 4,1k but you know, sometimes it just has this vibe. hope you like it anyway <3

tws: none this time, just lead-heavy tension and a bit of clumsy fluff.

songs:

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

22.4.1988

Keys rattled in the main door and Stone hurried in, his grown-out hair slightly sticking to his forehead. Keeva peeked out of the curtain in front of her room, holding an eyeliner pencil.

“Okay, this is the only brown colour they had, but I think it’ll do,” he called over his shoulder, waving to call her downstairs.

“Perfect! I asked your mom for a hair dryer, it’s in the bathroom,” she said and gathered her makeup. She hopped down, trying to shake the nervous chills off when he turned around and looked at her.

Xana worked in a little vintage clothes shop and when Keeva mentioned that she didn’t own a dress, she rummaged through the depths of the shelves and gave her one with a huge sale. She even altered the seemingly shapeless drape of dark purple linen into a cute sundress.

She wanted Keeva to have a fancy look for the first official Mother Love Bone concert - Andy came up with the name and no one had the slightest idea what it meant, but it was perfectly weird and off-the-wall, just like his lyrics.

Keeva felt so uneasy. She hadn’t worn a dress since fifth-grade prom and Xana didn’t exactly leave much to imagination.

The thin straps were really too much for her, so she put on a baggy checkered shirt she stole from Stone’s drawer and decided to wear the dress on top of it.

The dress was too short as well, but she managed to make herself feel a bit better with some bike shorts she found at the bottom of her suitcase and thick woollen socks.

She was dreading Stone’s reaction, expecting him to either laugh at her or at least tease her heart out of her throat for being scared to wear a skirt.

She could already hear his nagging nasal voice in her head.

‘Awooga! Look who’s here, the Virgin Mary herself. What are the shorts for, Baby? Afraid to show an inch of your thigh?’

It was very refreshing when he just looked Keeva up and down and quickly turned back around without a word, digging around the CVS bag he brought with him. She softly sighed, trying to shoo the uncomfortable thoughts out of her brain.

Wow. Great. Gee thanks, that was such a nice thing to say, Stoney. You’re so sweet.

“Lookit,” Stone said after clearing his throat and handed her a box of brown hair dye. “You think it’s fine?”

“Yeah, that looks about right,” Keeva nodded and reached up to compare the photo of the brunette woman on the packaging with Stone’s roots. “Yup. Well, bathroom, off you go. I’ll be there in a sec.”

On cue, he ran his hand through his hair and walked away, unusually sheepish. She shook her head and quickly finished the eyeliner, her fingers jittery.

Jesus, is it that bad? Should I change?

Keeva threw the pencil away on his bed with slightly too much strength before following him to the bathroom. Stone was sitting on the cold tiled floor, picking on his nails. She started unpacking the box dye while carefully watching him rub his fingers together.

“You want the roots too or just the grown-out part?” she questioned, skimming over the instructions.

“Just the orange bit,” he took a fleeting look at her legs and quickly focused back on his hands.

“Calm down,” she softly mumbled, making him frown.

“I am calm.”

Stone’s fidgets were a clear indicator that he was, in fact, not calm.

They played a few house parties over the last two months, but this was different.

A proper show at The OK Hotel.

“When was your last gig?” Keeva ignored his irritated tone as she put the rubber gloves on and vigorously shook the plastic bottle of liquid to mix it with the dye powder.

“October,” Stone muttered and put his index finger to his mouth to chew on it. “You?”

“May,” she answered, softly tutting to make him stop. He just threw her an annoyed look and continued to bite on his hangnails.

As Keeva hovered above him with the dye bottle, Stone laid his hands in his lap and closed his eyes as if he was bracing for some sort of impact.

“You ready?” she sweetly scratched his head and he visibly relaxed, humming in agreement. “Good boy.”

That made Stone snicker and he reached out to pinch her calf. She squealed and gave him a little kick before proceeding to squeeze a bit of dye in his hair and smearing it in.

After a few moments of anxious silence, it was as if a switch flipped in him and he straightened his back with a big sigh, levelling his head with her stomach. Then, he rested his forehead on her hip bone. Keeva shivered.

Don’t do this to me.

“Careful, you’ll ruin my fancy dress,” she near-whispered and took a tiny step back, but he just chuckled, his breath tickling her thigh.

“That would be a shame,” Stone mumbled and lifted his head with an absent gaze. He raised his hand to softly tug at the rim of her skirt. “It’s nice.”

A painful rush of red filled Keeva’s cheeks as he slowly ran the tip of his index finger up her thigh and under her skirt. A freezing jolt of chills ran down her spine and she twitched - accidentally sending her knee forward. She softly kicked Stone in the chest, but he didn’t seem too bothered, tutting.

“Ow,” he lazily deadpanned and finally shuffled further away from her. She let out the breath she didn’t know she was holding.

What the fuck is your problem, beanpole?

Keeva couldn’t decide if the silence was awkward or not, but it was nerve-wracking either way.

“You’re still breathing on my leg,” she said as she rubbed the dye between her fingers, working it into a strand of Stone’s hair. He hummed.

“I am.”

“It tickles.”

“Tough shit,” he scoffed and softly blew on her skin. She kicked him again, this time on purpose. Stone grabbed her leg mid-air and started tickling her knee.

“Stop!” she yelped and and tried to step back. “I have your precious hair in my hands, asshole, don’t test me!”

They yanked each other back and forth for a few moments before Stone finally let go of her leg with a loud hiss.

“Ow! Okay, yield, yield, Jesus!”

Keeva stopped pulling his hair, too, giggling.

“The longer you distract me, the longer it will take and we have to leave in two hours. So if you want to go out there with ammonia mud in your hair, go ahead,” she spewed, nudging him with her foot. Stone wolf-whistled.

“I’m distracting you? You sweet talker,” he chuckled.

“Yeah, your pants are too tight,” she gave him a sarcastic smile and he - slightly panicked - quickly looked down at his jeans, then back at her.

“Your dress is too short,” he mirrored Keeva’s smile and watched her get red in the face again, clearly entertained.

Yeah, thanks for the honesty, mate.

Encouraging as always.

“I know it is,” she muttered under her breath and then took a long pause. “You think I should change?”

Her voice came out much more insecure than she planned. Stone tilted his head and Keeva was surprised that he seemed so puzzled.

“Of course not,” he frowned as if it was the most obvious answer under the sun.

“What’s ‘of course’ about that? It’s short and I’m short and my knees are scabby and I have bruises all over my legs and -”

“You look amazing, shut up,” he said matter-of-factly. Keeva raised her eyebrows.

That almost sounded like a Stone compliment.

“You shut up,” she shook her head with a bashful grin and hurried to break the eye contact. She pretended to squint at whatever she was doing. Whenever Stone’s hair was wet or tied back in any way, his stare somehow managed to be even more overwhelming.

“Thanks,” she silently added and quickly tried to change the subject. “What are you wearing, anyway?”

“Nothing this cute, let me tell you that much,” Stone started poking her knee again and she gave him an annoyed frown.

Yup. Here comes the mocking.

“Sorry,” he chuckled and raised his arms in surrender. “Uh, I don’t know. Probably a Green River t-shirt, that seems like a nice touch of irony.

Keeva snorted.

“No, you will not.”

“Watch me,” he shrugged. “I think I’ll take the Scumbag cowboy hat, too.”

“Oh, good grief,” she whined, holding back a laugh.

“Here we go! This is the shit,” Andy exclaimed and reached into one of the large bags of clothes in front of him. He fished out a felt cowboy hat with a few huge feathers sticking out from behind the rim. Stone started laughing, immediately grabbed it and put it on.

“Jesus Christ,” Keeva stuttered out and slapped her forehead. Andy and Regan clapped.

“Oh, you have to,” Regan cackled, whistling when Stone batted his eyelashes.

“It looks so fucking good with the whiskers, you’d be drowning in pussy if you wore this every day,” Andy giggled and kept on digging in the bag.

“Ew, don’t encourage him! I live in the same room,” she complained and started searching through one of the bags as well.

“Shut up, Baby, you’re just jealous that you don’t have a cool hat,” Stone grinned as he took it off, studying the feathers closer. She hooted.

“Oh, but I do,” she said and pulled out a big satin top hat. They all gasped.

“Put it on! Put it on!” Regan chanted and loudly wolf-whistled when she did. It was slightly big for her, but she felt amazing. It felt like armour.

“Are we playing any T. Rex today?” she giggled, looking up at the rim of the top hat with childlike delight. Stone giggled.

“Well, now we are!”

“Yay! Thus, Tom and Jerry’s Scumbag Jukebox was born,” Andy announced and clapped, clearly overjoyed.

Stone and Keeva exchanged a look and after a few seconds of silence, they both burst out in giggles - and they continued to do so until they were both on the floor, tangled into each other as they cramped through a fit of laughter.

“If you wear your Scumbag hat, I’ll wear my Scumbag hat,” she warned and wiggled her finger at him after putting a plastic shower cap on his stained hair. “Done.”

“Please, wear your Scumbag hat. That will be, like, a crown to this outfit,” Stone chuckled and tugged on her skirt one more time before getting up. Keeva narrowed her eyes at him.

Great. Great for my confidence.

“What now?” he added, taking a look in the shabby little mirror above the sink.

“Thirty minutes and wash it off,” she said and took her rubber gloves off. “But honestly we could keep it like this, too. The slicked-back look really makes your eyes pop.”

Stone looked at her and slowly widened his eyes while extending his arms, creeping closer to her. She squealed and started running out of the bathroom - however, he caught up with her in two brisk steps. He grabbed Keeva from behind with a theatrical growl, lifted her off her feet and started spinning in a circle.

“No, put me down! Careful with the dress!” she screeched through laughter, frantically slapping his forearms. Stone cackled and squeezed his arms around her waist.

“Would be a shame, wouldn’t it? Haha!”

“Yes, it would, put me down!”

“Say you look great and I’ll release you from my clutches,” he squeezed tighter and started spinning faster.

“Let me go!”

“Say ‘I look great!’” he mocked her accent with a high-pitched voice.

“Stop, I’m gonna be sick, Stoney!”

“Say it!”

“Okay, I look great!” she yelped and Stone finally stopped spinning, but still didn’t put her back on her feet.

“See? Wasn’t that hard,” he hummed, shaking Keeva from side to side. He squeezed her one more time in a tight hug and then set her back on the ground, planted a quick kiss on her burning cheek and hopped away to his clothes drawer with a cocky grin.

● ● ● ● ● ●

“Ow! Son of a bitch!” Stone’s yelp echoed from the bathroom, followed by a fierce kick into the lousy cupboard under the sink.

“Calm your tits, I’m not fixing the door again,” Keeva chuckled and walked in to see what’s going on.

Stone had washed the dye off and blow-dried his hair, now attempting to detangle a scrunchie out of his ponytail. It was a bit dehydrated from the dye, so it easily matted into a big messy knot.

The darker hair looked amazing. It definitely gave him a certain air of maturity, a thought that made Keeva laugh as she watched his childish frown.

He was redoing the ponytail for the fourth time. She had no clue why, it looked the same as always, but Stone just wasn’t satisfied with it. Now, he was just aggressively pulling while grunting in frustration.

“Jesus, how did you manage to do this?” Keeva squinted, stepping on her tiptoes. She tugged on his kaleidoscope vest to take a closer look.

Stone was already in his chosen gig outfit - he really did put on a Green River t-shirt and she could do nothing as he threatened to spin her around again if she didn’t stop nagging.

“I don’t fucking know, I’ve been standing here for, like, half an hour and I can’t get…this…fucking…thing…out. Ouch!” he squealed again when Keeva tried to help him.

“I can’t see shit in this lighting, move,” she mumbled and grabbed the hairbrush he was holding. She dragged Stone out of the door by the wrist like a little kid.

“You’ll be bald by thirty if you keep fucking with it like that,” she said as she tugged him down on the floor with her. “Sit.”

“I’m not a dog, asshole,” Stone muttered back but did as she said and crossed his legs. He hissed when Keeva pulled him by the tangled mess so he’d shuffle closer to her.

“Yeah, dogs don’t yap as much. Stop bitching and stay put,” she retorted and slapped his hand away when he tried to rip on his hair again.

Now softer, Keeva pulled a little so he’d tilt his head back, giving her a better look at where the knots were.

“Good grief. Why did you redo it, anyway? It looked great on the first try,” she tutted and started carefully untangling the mess strand by strand. Stone finally seemed to calm down a bit.

“It was uneven and it looked like shit, so I tried to make it straight, but I loosened it too much. So I untied it and did it again and that was off, too.”

“Ehm ehm, Narcissus,” she teased, giggling when Stone reached behind him to pinch her thigh.

He hissed in pain when she accidentally ripped a lone hair out in an attempt to wiggle it out of the scrunchie.

“Fuck. Sorry, Stoney, sorry,” she whispered, cringing at his pained grunt. “Stop wiggling.”

“It’s just at this weird length where I can’t put it up without having a bunch of little hairs sticking out like a muppet and it’s bothering the fuck out of me and now it looks even worse when it’s not bleached,” he rambled and waved his arms around, which caused another few accidental rips. “Maybe I should shave it off.”

“Yeah, over my dead body, mate.” Keeva scoffed and quickly checked her watch. They still had a solid hour before Bruce was supposed to pick them up for the soundcheck.

“What, you think I couldn’t pull it off?” Stone asked with a grin, finally easing under her hands.

She couldn’t stop her vivid imagination from carrying her away.

She pictured him with a buzz cut, which made his strange features even stronger - the Roman nose seemed longer, the cheekbones and jawline sharper, and the freckles more noticeable.

And the eyes. Oh, the eyes. She definitely couldn’t take any more of that.

The glistening sweat on his temples and cheeks without any hair obscuring his flushed face made her heartbeat far too quick for her liking, snapping her out of her thoughts.

She shook her head when the fading image of an older Stone - with a shaved head and an unshaved face - smirked.

Keeva successfully detangled the last strand and theatrically threw the scrunchie across the room, then gave Stone a brief playful scratch and took the hairbrush.

No way I’m allowing that. Keep it ‘til you’re old enough to be hot.

“I mean, sure you could. But you seem to be -” she raised an eyebrow at Stone’s perfectly timed heavy sigh, “- enjoying yourself just the way it is. Maybe we could make a deal…let’s see. If we ever play, like, a really big festival, then you can shave your head.”

As soon as the brush touched Stone’s scalp, he leaned his head back and his eyes fluttered closed.

“What’s a really big festival? How many people are we talking?” he said with a growing smile.

“Not in terms of people, just…you know, the feeling,” she shrugged.

Stone chuckled.

“Deal.”

After all the knots were gone, Keeva neatly brushed half of his hair up, took the thin blue scrunchie on her wrist and softly tied it into a high ponytail.

She noticed that he tilted further and further back under her fingers, slowly resting his body against her chest. By the time she was done, Stone’s head was lying on her shoulder as he silently hummed an unintelligible tune with his eyes closed.

Keeva had never seen him so peaceful before. So innocent. A whiplash-inducing contrast to his prickly attitude from earlier.

How very you.

“Hey, don’t fall asleep on me now, you’ll mess up my masterpiece,” she softly nudged Stone, but he didn’t budge.

“There’s a knot right under my ear and it’s really pulling, maybe you should give it another brush,” he mumbled, not moving an inch. Keeva chuckled again and decided to entertain his jabs.

She put the hairbrush away and ran her fingers through the loose waves. Stone sighed again.

“Still pulling.”

She briefly brushed her knuckle against his artery while reaching up. She could swear she felt his heartbeat fasten. There were no knots left, but Stone’s eyelashes fluttered every time she touched his scalp and that was enough to make her play along.

“Pulling,” he lazily muttered, egging Keeva on to continue.

“Oh, wait, I think there’s a tangle right here,” she whispered and reached to the other side of his head, running her fingers through the brown strands behind his ear.

A chuckle rumbled in his chest, followed by a deep sigh.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he breathed out.

A rush of blood inflamed her face and she snapped out of the dreamy limbo she was floating in.

Stone was lying in her lap, resting his forehead on the nape of her neck. When he spoke, his nose brushed against her clavicle and his shivering exhale tickled her skin.

“Fuck, I wouldn’t shave it if they paid me.”

Keeva couldn’t stop herself from caressing him again. She knew that she was just adding new knots by brushing through the hair over and over, but he didn’t seem to mind.

On the contrary, Stone’s ears were growing warm and red and so were his freckled cheeks, forming a burning patchy blush to match hers.

She was too busy studying his peaceful features to realize that she rested her arms around his neck in a loose embrace.

“You’re a witch, you know that?” he mumbled after a few minutes of silence, finally opening his eyes. Up until that point, she thought that he’d actually fallen asleep.

However, Stone seemed completely lucid when he darted across Keeva’s face with curiosity, as if she were a compelling book. His eyebrows slowly knitted into a soft frown when he stopped at her lips.

“What time is it?” he suddenly asked before she could speak, completely glossing over the previous comment. Keeva blinked a few times, still digesting his scrutinizing stare.

“Uh, half past four. We still have, like, a bit over an hour -”

“Cool,” Stone interrupted her and abruptly snaked out of her arms, stood up and skipped over to the bathroom in long hops.

“Thanks, Baby. I dub thee my official hairstylist from now on, looks fine,” he called after her. Keeva still sat in stunned silence, giving her cheeks a few slaps to drag herself out of the haze.

“Wait, like I’m forever stuck untangling your knotty scrunchies like you’re a little girl? Braiding your pigtails?”

“Better leave it up to you, then it will be your fault if I’m bald at thirty,” Stone peeked out of the door and stuck his tongue out at her.

“And pray tell, what do I get out of it?” she crossed her arms and squinted at him. He shrugged.

“You get to play with my luscious locks, of course.”

Keeva raised her eyebrows.

“You just said you look like a muppet, but fair. You know what that means though, right?”

“Hm?” he frowned.

“You have my hair tie. You’re branded as my property now.”

“Backhanded flirting doesn’t work on me and you know it, sweetheart,” Stone shot back a bit too casually for her ego’s liking and disappeared back into the bathroom. “I’m free as a bird and I intend to keep it that way.”

“Keep whatever you want, Casanova,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes. “But it’s like, the kindergarten rule number one. ‘Thou shalt belongest to the wench whose scrunchie thou wearest on thy wrist.’ Something like that.”

Stone’s chuckle rang in her ears, but he had no further snappy comments.

● ● ● ● ● ●

The OK was packed. Way more than they’d expected. Although Andy carried himself like the confident frontman he strived to be, his giddy nervousness backstage was extremely contagious.

Keeva didn’t mind, though, as it was a welcome change from her sickening nervousness - she had to leave the soundcheck two times to vomit.

Once they came on, though, it was like something possessed her and took away the tense cramp in her stomach.

Greg was tightly holding everything together, effortlessly professional and giving her encouraging smiles whenever the two of them found the right groove for a song.

Jeff was jumping around and bopping his head while never missing a beat, she had to come over to him a few times to lift his floppy hat away from his eyes - and she earned a huge twinkling smile from him.

Andy bounced around like a flying comet, commanding all the attention of the crowd and playing them like a fiddle, while Bruce watched him with a gleeful smile, overjoyed to be on stage again working his black-and-white Telecaster.

The lights were low and dimly glowed through the small venue. She could see the encouraging faces, familiar or not, whistling and headbanging like there was no tomorrow.

The whole of Soundgarden, Regan and his and Stone’s friends Shawn and Josh, Jerry and Mike from Alice in Chains, some of the guys from Sub Pop and hers and Jeff’s co-workers. Even Mark and Steve from Green River showed up, along with their new bandmates - all four of them screamed their hearts out and Mark even crowd-surfed at one point. Xana was there, too, clapping and hooting from the side of the stage.

Stone was in his element, writhing from side to side as he mouthed along to his riffs. It was mesmerizing - the way his flushed cheekbones shimmered when Andy called for a lone string of light to be pointed at his lanky friend.

She could do nothing but stare at him in awe, quickly closing her agape mouth shut whenever he turned at her with a half-lidded and out-of-focus gaze, barely present as he gave her a firm nod to cue her to join him.

He had such a strange way of handling himself while playing, a silhouette that haunted her dreams.

“What?”

“Nothing, just your posture.”

“What’s wrong with my posture?”

“Nothing wrong with it, it’s just…it suits you. Perfect ninety degrees. Edgy.”

“I get cramps when I angle it. It’s the arms. You know - beanpole.”

“Hey, can you turn the reverb down a bit?” Stone called after her during one of Andy’s in-between-song comedic routines. They stood right next to each other, but her ears were buzzing, so she gave him a confused frown.

“Huh?”

“The reverb,” he mouthed again, but Keeva shrugged. He shuffled over to her, a bit out of breath from jumping around.

He affectionately took her around her shoulders and squeezed her closer - his cheek was sweaty and flaming hot as he brushed against her forehead while bending down to her.

“The reverb, could you turn it down?”

This time she heard him, leaning back to press her lips against his ear.

“Come again? Sorry, I can’t hear a word you’re saying over that absurd hat, feels like it’s screaming into my face.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

[jjmichie]

In Too Deep: Chapter 8

New chapter! Had hoped to finish this on Friday, but wanted to work on it over the weekend. Usual disclaimer: this is all imagination, nothing real. Enjoy! In case you missed Chapter 7, you can find it here

***

“By the way, what did you want to talk to me about?”

Still warm with afterglow, Stone opened his eyes.  Molly was gently tracing his nipple with her finger.  Her head rested on his shoulder.  The room was alive with evening light, as the sun gasped out its last pink and orange rays before descending into darkness.  It was hard to believe that the evening was still young.  Both of them were spent. 

“Hmm?” he asked sleepily. He closed his eyes again.  His arm instinctively tightened around her, pulling her closer, letting his hand rise to touch her hair and run his fingers through it.  

“On my answering machine, you said we needed to talk about something.”

“Oh . . .” 

His serenity was instantly broken, like a rock had cracked the surface of a still lake somewhere deep inside him. He sighed, and shifted away from her.  

“Uh oh,” Molly raised her head and pulled her hand away from his chest. 

“It’s nothing bad . . .” 

“Is it something good?” she giggled. 

“It’s just . . . a shitty thing happened at the bar yesterday.  Mark Arm was there.  Do you know him – ?”

“Not personally.”

“He was there, and . . .” Stone sighed again, not really wanting to get into it.  “Did you know that people are actually . . . talking . . . about us?” 

“Ha ha!  What?”  She sat up.  

It was the first time Stone had ever seen her rattled.  

“Yeah . . .” he continued, her expression demanding that he explain further. “Mark basically implied that Love Bone got signed because I'm sleeping with you.” 

“Oh my god . . .” she groaned and laid back down.  “What the fuck?  Love Bone got signed months ago, before I even moved here.” 

“Right . . . but we had met.”  

She rolled her eyes and shook her head.  

Stone got up, out of bed.  He stood naked, his slender body still carrying the slight sheen of sweat they had worked up together.  He noticed her eyes tracing over him. He began pacing.   

 “The craziest part is . . . I get the feeling Jeff actually thinks it’s true!”  

Molly laughed, but her laughter died quickly.   

“Yes, we had met, hadn’t we . . .” Her laughter was replaced by an oddly peaceful smile.  “I remember that so well . . . meeting you for the first time.”  

He stopped his pacing and looked at her.  Her eyes continued to explore his body, but she suddenly seemed far away.  

“You were wearing those funny shorts and tights. . . your knees looked so cute.  And that leather jacket . . . and all your necklaces and belts.  And your hair was as gorgeous then as it is now . . .” 

Stone was quiet, a little confused.  

“You . . . remember what I was wearing?”

“I knew right then . . .” She continued to smile.

He crossed his arms in front of himself.  Why was a butterfly forming in his stomach? 

“Wait . . . you knew . . .?” 

“Tell you what,” she suddenly interjected, getting up, changing the mood abruptly.  “Let’s forget about this. Let’s do something fun.  It’s still early.  Why don’t we go out?  If people are going to talk anyway, we might as well be totally conspicuous!” 

But Stone was still squinting at her.  

“I’m going to take a quick shower.  Why don’t you go downstairs and help yourself to a beer. Then we’ll hit the clubs. . . okay?”  She gave him a quick peck on his opened lips, and disappeared into the bathroom.  

He stood staring at the empty space where she had been standing.  Steam from the shower began to slowly infiltrate the room.  

A beer.  Yes.  A cold beer would help.  He pushed away the uneasy feeling as he made his way down the stairs into the dark kitchen. 

Still naked, he opened the refrigerator, and studied Molly’s beer selection.  Misty brown bottles of Red Hook and a Belgian beer that he couldn’t even pronounce beckoned him.  Of course. Even her beer reflected her taste and elegance.  Not a can in sight.  None of that commercial mass produced crap that was typically stuffed into the fridge of their practice space.  Or Andy’s apartment.  Or his own little mini fridge that his parents let him keep in his bedroom. No, she had only the best.  

He grabbed one of the Belgian bottles, savoring the coolness against his hand.  Then he grabbed a Red Hook too.  Why not?  He knew the first would go down in one gulp.  Now he just needed to find an opener.  He closed the refrigerator door, and paused for a minute, letting his eyes adjust to the sudden loss of light.

And that was when he felt a chill. 

Something was bringing a chill into the room where he stood, and it wasn’t from the refrigerator.  A chill was hitting him from the other side, from the direction of the front door.  In the dimness, something was taking shape at the entrance to the kitchen. A large shape.  And with the shape, the chill.  And the smell of cold mountain air, a blend of pine and fresh car exhaust.  

Oh fuck. 

He gasped and froze.  The shape cleared its throat and made a slight noise, like the jingling of car keys.  

Fuck. FUCK. Fuck.  

As his pupils dilated he saw him clearly now.  James.  Fully clothed in a corduroy winter coat with a fur collar and lining, jeans and hiking boots, his chiseled jaw and piercing eyes, which squinted at him curiously. The face he had tried so hard to avoid looking at in the photo Andy showed him, now alive in front of him.  His stubble and wind tossed hair a picture of masculine perfection. Even beneath the coat, Stone could tell he was strong, solid, and undoubtedly about to snap him in half, just like Andy had warned. 

Andy.  Why didn’t I listen to you? 

James’ eyes rolled over Stone’s body, over his hands which still clutched the two beer bottles. Stone felt unbearably naked.  Because he was.  James’ gaze stopped deliberately at his cock, which Stone simply couldn’t hide.  

Stone swallowed, and shut his eyes, hoping against hope that somehow when he opened them again that James would be gone.  That this was a horrible dream.  An inexplicable mirage.  That this wasn’t really happening.  

But he could hear James coming towards him.  He could hear each step of his expensive hiking boots on the tile, coming closer and closer.  He felt a lightness in his hands, and realized James was taking the beer bottles away from him.  He was so close now that Stone could smell his aftershave and feel his breath on his face.  

“You’re sleeping with my wife,” James’ voice said. Somewhere between a statement and a question.  An oddly patient voice. Deep and velvety.  Not as menacing as Stone had expected.  

Stone opened his eyes. His mind felt blank and fuzzy.  His heart was pounding in his ears.  What could he do?  What could he possibly say?  Trying to deny it wasn’t an option.  No, I’m just hanging out naked in your kitchen . . .

“Yes.”  Stone heard his own voice answer.  It sounded far away.

James came even closer.  Stone could feel the metal of his belt buckle and the roughness of his coat rubbing against his bare skin.  

“I’m so sorry,” Stone whispered desperately in James’ ear.  “If you just, please just let me get my clothes and I'll leave.  I’ll be out of your lives, you’ll never see me again.  Please let me leave.  I’m so sorry.”  

James put a hand on Stone’s cheek, a large rugged hand, causing him to flinch and wince. 

“Please don’t hurt me,” Stone begged again, his eyes tightly closed now. ‘Please don’t hurt me.  Just let me leave.  Please?” 

“I’m not going to hurt you . . .”   James’ hand began to stroke Stone’s cheek, cupping it, and then Stone felt his thumb dance across his nose, then his lips. “I just didn’t know . . . that she had company.”  

With his other hand, James began to pet Stone’s hair, and then, he ran both hands down Stone’s bare arms, and then up again, causing him to convulse with shivers.  What was happening?  

Opening his eyes in surprise, Stone saw something beyond James’ shoulder, by the front door, something that gave him hope. It was his own coat. He had worn his long thrift store raglan coat to Molly’s that night, and there it was, hanging on the coat rack, with his car keys and wallet tucked inside the pockets.  If he could just get to it.  If he could just get past James, get his coat, get to the door, then he could get out of here.  He could get home.  Alive. 

But James was still running his hands up and down Stone’s arms. Despite the roughness of his palms, the motion seemed oddly . . . soothing?  

Molly’s shower abruptly stopped.  The white noise of gushing water that had filled the space around them fell away, leaving a loud emptiness that sent a jolt through them both.  James breathed in sharply, and removed his hands from Stone long enough to turn his attention toward the stairs.  Toward the absence of sound.  

It was all Stone needed.  

He darted around James and fled toward the coat, toward his wallet, toward his keys, toward the door.  Grabbing it with a swoosh, Stone flung the door open and felt the icy sharpness on his bare feet as he ran toward his car.  His stupid station wagon seemed to somehow be getting farther and farther away with each step, and each foot threatened to slip out from underneath him as he ran. 

Almost there. Almost there. 

Luckily he had left the driver's side door unlocked, and he pounced inside, grasping desperately at the pocket of his coat to find the keys.  There.  There they were.  They jingled maddeningly as he struggled to free them and get them into the keyhole.  Fucking Christ.  He was like a character in a horror movie.  Come on!  Come on!  Why didn’t his fingers seem to function?  He dropped the keys on the seat.  Patted around in the darkness to find them again. Tried to put them in the key hole again. Oh god hurry hurry hurry!  Finally getting the key to penetrate the hole, he dared to glance back toward the house.

No one was coming after him. 

Molly’s front door was ajar, still swaying slightly as it recovered from how violently Stone had flung it open.  James was not chasing him.  James was not lumbering toward the station wagon with an ax in his hand, like Stone had half expected to see.  James was not about to lurch onto the hood of the car, or suddenly appear in the drivers side window, teeth bared.  No.  Everything was quiet.  

Forcing his fingers to remain steady, Stone successfully started the engine.  Breathing deeply, he backed the car out of the driveway before pulling the raglan over himself and turning on the heater.   

It was a long drive back to the city.  

Continue to Chapter 9

[ivebeentolddreamingsfree]

14 I've Been Told Dreaming's Free

Chapter Fourteen

Charlotte breaks a heart.

Charlotte lay flat on her back in her bed, watching the ceiling spin above her. She was feeling the effects of all those beers that Stone got for her. It was too quiet. The quiet was making the room spin faster. She missed the city noise at her apartment in Seattle. Struggling to untangle herself from the mound of blankets on her childhood twin bed, she finally broke free and stood up, reaching for the bedpost to steady herself.

Charlotte wrapped a heavy pink fleece robe around herself and shuffled out of her room and down the two flights of steps to the basement. “Stone,” she hissed into the darkness.

A lamp flicked on and Charlotte had to squint for a moment, making out Stone’s shape on the pull-out couch.

“What?” he whispered back. “You okay?”

“Can’t sleep.” She wandered over and climbed onto the squeaky, thin bed.

“Uh, your parents will murder me if they find you down here.”

“Nah. It’s fine.” Charlotte murmured as she wiggled down, under the blankets.

“What are you doing?”

“Going to sleep.”

“No, Chuck. I mean it. What are you doing?” Stone sat up and crossed his arms.

With a huff, Charlotte blurted out, “Isn’t this what you want?”

“No. I mean yeah, but not …”

“Not what? Not in my parents’ basement?” Charlotte giggled. “Come on. Isn’t that exciting? I think it’s exciting.” She lunged at Stone to kiss him.

He moved away. “No, not while your drunk. That’s the only reason you’re doing this, right?”

“Really? Fine. Whatever.” Charlotte struggled to get out of bed, fuming with humiliation. She fought to free herself from under the blankets, her robe getting wrapped up in them. She tried to stand up and fell to the floor, howling in pain.

Stone jumped up and flew around the bed, picking her up in his arms and trying to shush her at the same time. “Your parents,” he whispered.

Charlotte wrapped her arms around his neck and groaned. When Stone put her down on the bed, she kept her arms around him and pulled him down with her, giving him an awkward but lingering kiss.

“Chuck,” he tried to say her name as he reached up and unclasped her arms, bringing them down as he stood up.

“I want you gone by morning,” she mumbled and then turned away, fighting back tears.

Her parents glanced at each other with worry while Charlotte stared at her plate, pushing her mashed potatoes around but not eating a single bite. She woke up on the fold-out couch alone with a sore back and a wicked headache. Stone was gone. She had no idea when he left. He didn’t say goodbye or leave a note or anything. Her mother caught her trying to sneak back upstairs to her bedroom at seven AM. 

“We’ll talk about this later, young lady.”

“Nothing to talk about,” she mumbled her reply.

“Where’d Stone go?” Kelsey piped up, breaking Charlotte from her sullen thoughts. “Why’d he leave?”

Charlotte gave her sister a sharp look.

“Uh,” their mother spoke up quickly. “Stone had to go home to have Thanksgiving with his family. Right, Chuck?”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess. Who cares.”

“Did you guys break up?”

“Shut-up! We were never together, Kelsey!”

“Mom! Tell her not to yell at me!”

Charlotte stood up, threw her napkin down on the table, and ran upstairs. She immediately dialed Dana but Dana’s father said they were in the middle of dinner and Dana could not come to the phone.  Bitter, angry tears began to sting Charlotte’s eyes. She really screwed up this time. As she wiped them away, she looked at the phone again. She picked it up and dialed.

“Happy turkey day! Gobble, gobble!”

She laughed in spite of her tears. “Jerry?”

“Hey! Who’s this?”

Her laughter died. “It’s Chuck,” she mumbled, already thinking about hanging up.

“Oh, hey.” Jerry’s tone changed as well.

“Uh, happy Thanksgiving. I, uh, I called yesterday. You weren’t there.”

“Yeah, I know. I just didn’t …uh, aren’t you at home?”

“Yeah. You know, pretty boring.”

“Cool.”

They fell into silence. Charlotte squeezed her eyes closed to try to stop the tears from falling. 

“So …uh, I gotta get going if you don’t …” 

“Oh! Oh, yeah. I just called to say, um, hap-happy Thanks …giving.”

“Yeah, same to you. Uh, when you coming back?”

“Sunday. I’ll be back Sunday. Do you …Jer, can we hang out or something?” Charlotte took a deep breath. “I miss you. And uh, I think I was wrong.”

“We’re playing the Central. Come down.”

“Yeah, okay. Cool. I will. Thank …thanks, Jerry.”

“No problem. See you then.” And he hung up before she could say another word.

Charlotte spent Saturday night at Dana’s house. Her father would take them both to the bus station in the morning. She sat on the floor of Dana’s bedroom with her back against the bed. Between them sat the phone and a pizza.

“I really fucked up, Dana. Stone left in the middle of the night and I haven’t heard from him at all.”

“He’ll be fine. You’ll see.”

“I don’t think so. I can’t believe I was so stupid. He’s so sweet to me but …Jerry is …” She sighed and put her hands over her face. “I should have never tried to kiss him. He’ll never forgive me.”

“Of course he will. He likes you and he cares about you. He’s just kinda embarrassed over what happened.”

“I don’t know.”

“So you called Jerry and you’re gonna meet him tomorrow night?”

She nodded and couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face.

“Cool. Can I have Stone then?”

“Dana!” Charlotte laughed.

“You should try calling him.” Dana glanced at the phone.

“No. No way. I need to let things settle down. I’ll talk to him when I get back.” But there was a tiny part of Charlotte that needed to know how Stone was. She also glanced at the phone, chewing her lip. “No. No! It would only make things weirder.”

Charlotte did not listen to Stone’s mix tape on the bus ride back to Seattle. Instead, she chose the tape she avoided before: Alice In Chains. They were so good. Jerry’s guitar wailed and Layne’s voice was perfect. Charlotte knew they were going to go places and it hurt her heart a little. The idea of being in Seattle without Jerry around made a lump form in Charlotte’s throat.

Finally back at the apartment, Charlotte showered and dressed in a black floral ruffled dress, black tights, and her boots. She lined her eyes in dark, thick black liner and drew on a red lip. On top, she threw on her leather jacket and her hat and scarf. 

She walked into the saloon and stopped, looking around. Spotting Jerry at the far end of the bar, Charlotte began to weave her way through the crowd. Just before she stepped in front of Jerry, Andy appeared on stage. Then Jeff, then Greg, then Bruce. And finally Stone. She watched him for a moment, prepared to turn back to Jerry, when Stone raised his head and his gaze fell on Charlotte. She watched as he then looked at Jerry. A look of disgust flashed across Stone’s face just before they burst into song.

Charlotte’s heart sank but she turned and smiled at Jerry. “Hey.”

[josiebelladonna]

Chapters: 41/41 Fandom: Soundgarden (Band), Nirvana (Band), Metallica, Anthrax (US Band), Pearl Jam, Alice in Chains Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Chris Cornell/Original Female Character, Dave Grohl/Original Female Character, Lars Ulrich/Original Female Character, Joey Belladonna/Original Female Character, Stone Gossard/Original Female Character Characters: Chris Cornell, Dave Grohl, Lars Ulrich, Joey Belladonna, Stone Gossard, William DuVall, Original Female Character(s) Additional Tags: Art, Inspired by Art, Eventual Romance, Awkward Romance, Slow Romance, Friendship/Love, Dorks in Love, Love Triangles, Erotica, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Modern Era, Science Fiction, Body Worship, Post-Pandemic, Coming of Age, POV First Person, Slow Burn, Sexting, Phone Sex, Making Love, Hand Jobs, Coming In Pants, Sexual Humor, Gallows Humor, Banter, Joey and Chris being dorks, Stoney too, Pining, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Unreliable Narrator, Orgasm Delay/Denial, First Time, Cowgirl Position, Asian Cowgirl Position, Voice Kink, Kink Discovery, Exploring Sexuality, Strong Female Characters Series: Part 3 of at land's end Summary:

She was an artist in a world rocked to its foundations by the coronavirus pandemic, and even in the ashes of everything, she found herself an opportunity with the black haired singer from Soundgarden. A gallery and some time, and along came a spider in the form of some equally handsome men, and a particular group beheld a little something different for her. A little change of pace, that is until it seeps through her canvas and the proverbial paint on her hands. Can she keep it all a secret from her parents' curiosity?

**********************

can’t believe it’s been a year since i completed the artist. even with my exodus from the grunge fandom, it still holds up!

[sisterthecloud]

Sharing it because it's so amazing. One of the best and most original in Wattpad.

[yaggerdangs-remedy]

I'm trying to finish up my current TOTD/Mookie Blaylock fanfic so I can start writing an OC story and it's proving to be a lot harder than expected.

The story has gone on much longer than I ever anticipated 😂 and I think it's hard to finish it because it's hard to say goodbye to the characters and their story

I might one day write a part 2 for it but idk yet

Anyway if youd like to read it, I'm SGS1966 over on Wattpad and the story is called A Blessing On The Wind. 😽

[glorifiedgpjfic]

Glorified G - Chapter 46

January 22nd 1992

Over the past few weeks Joanne had had her first few CPT sessions, they seemed to be going well and they helped her to keep the nightmares and flashbacks at bay, she did however still struggle to sleep and the people around her were often victims of her angry outbursts- which Dr Isles had assured her were a side effect of the PTSD. Joanne hadn’t rushed to ask the director to take her out of the field as she was apprehensive about it and she didn’t want to risk losing her job by asking to be moved out of the line of fire, and she certainly didn't want to be sent back to London to go back to Interpol. She hadn’t told Eddie this of course, as far as he knew the wheels were truly in motion for her to be taken out of the field, she felt awful about lying to him but she just couldn’t bring herself to do it, not yet.

Eddie and Jo had spent every free second they had together looking at houses, they’d managed to find three contenders- all were relatively central to both potatohead and the FBI building, meaning that their commute wouldn’t be any longer than it currently was. The house that Jo liked the most had a large gate on the driveway and high walls that she felt would be good considering Pearl Jam were gaining popularity, she’d done a project on celebrity stalkers when she was at university so she was armed with enough evidence to convince Eddie that although it is rare, celebrity stalkers can indeed be violent, for example Mark David Chapman who shot John Lennon in 1980. Having high walls and a gate offered her piece of mind, Eddie hadn’t seemed opposed to it, which was something Jo was grateful for, she didn’t want to have to argue with him on this.

The guilt of hiding the truth from Eddie was starting to get to Jo, so she had asked William to have a meeting with her so she could discuss the prospect of her getting out of the field, she was concerned that this would make her seem weak to her boss and that he might even suggest her transferring out of the office into a full time teaching role, which as much as she loved her teaching experience with John Douglas, she didn’t fancy it full time as she found it rather tedious. She hoped that she would be able to stay exactly where she was just without going out into the field, but she knew that being in the field was a big part of her job description and the only real exception to getting out of being in the field was if you were injured and generally even then that was only a temporary thing. As she took a seat in the director’s office the nerves began to pool in her stomach,

“Good afternoon Agent Taylor, how are you doing?” William asked while making the two of them a cup of coffee,

“I’m doing okay, I’ve been seeing Dr Isles, and I think that it's helping- I’m still struggling to sleep ya know?” William nodded at the young woman in front of him, the truth was he knew exactly how she felt he knew exactly what she’s going through,

“You know, everyone on this team has cases that have stuck with them, mine was one of the first cases I was on-” He paused, a brief look of sorrow graced his features, “There was a serial killer abducting young children, little girls- his type just so happened to look exactly like my daughter, each time we got a report of another girl being taken my mind always assumed it was my baby- it struggled so hard to stay focused on that case. And weeks after we found the guy a part of me still expected him to come back and get my girl, the images of the children he killed stuck with me for years, i used to see Louise’s face ion the faces of those we didn’t save- Dr Isles helped me through that so I know you’re in good hands.” Jo gave him a small smile as he sipped his coffee,

“I uh- I’ve been thinking, is there any chance I can have some time out of the field? I’m not sure how long I’ll need, I just- I’m not as focused as I should be in the field and I’m worried I’m putting everyone at risk.” Jo searched William’s face for a hint as to how he was going to respond, she took a sip of her coffee as he pondered what she was saying for a few moments,

“Do you want to be out permanently?” He asked, Jo shook her head violently,

“No! Just for a little while till I get back on top of things.” He nodded before speaking again,

“Do you mind if I make some calls and see what I can arrange for you?” Jo raised an eyebrow,

“Could I not just consult on cases and do paperwork? I’ve got a stack that will probably take me a while to finish,” The director shook his head,

“Jo, if you do that you’ll be bored out of your mind, I’ll see what I can find you- if there isn’t anything then you can do that.”

“Why are you going out of your way just to make sure I don’t get bored? If you don’t mind me asking, sir.” Jo knew that he didn’t have to find her an alternative to field work, yet for some reason he was making it his duty,

“If I’m honest it’s because you’re one of the best agents I’ve seen in a very long time, and I’d hate for you to leave us when you’re such an asset to this team.” He spoke slowly as though he was pondering the weight of his words, “and I can’t help but feel responsible for what you’re going through, you were right when you said it was me- if I could change it I would believe me-” Jo was quick to silence her boss,

“Sir, I was upset that day and it was all such a shock to me, I promise you I didn’t mean any of what I said- it was out of order for me to say that.” She offered him a small smile as a silent apology,

“I know, but you weren’t out of line I completely understand, and I would’ve been just as upset if I was in your position.”

Jo left William’s office feeling less guilty than when she entered, she was glad he valued her for what she did as much as she loved Eleanor and her colleagues she knew for a fact that her paperwork was always done to the highest standard while they generally rushed to get it done so they could go home, occasionally they asked Joanne to finish for them. She sat at her desk trying to tackle some of the paperwork, but at the same time she didn’t want to start it if she was going to be working on something else for the foreseeable so she decided to sit and stare off into space for a while.

William Webster racked his brain trying to think what he could get Joanne to do, there wasn’t anything in the office that would be a good use of her time, so he decided to give an old friend a call.

After an hour or so of Jo staring into space and trying to busy herself she was summoned into William’s office once again, she took a seat opposite him eagerly waiting for him to tell her what she was going to be doing for the next few weeks or months. He grinned at her as she sat down,

“So, I’ve made some calls, and how would you feel about doing some research for John Douglas? It’s local so you won’t have to move or travel any more than you already do,” Jo nodded before thinking about how she’d felt during the time she had spent teaching alongside Douglas,

“Is it a teaching role?” She questioned and William gave her a smile and shook his head,

“No, I know how dull teaching can be- John is doing some research that I think you might be interested in, I’ve told him you’ll give him a call,” William paused briefly, “He can explain it better than I can.” Joanne gave an awkward smile, she began to ponder what the research could possibly be, was he going to study her and her plethora of trauma?

“I’ll go give him a call now, thank you Sir.”

Eddie was on the phone to Mike discussing a potential song when he heard Jo’s car pull into the driveway, he watched with caution as she seemed to skip to the door - he quickly brought the call to an end, puzzled by his girlfriend’s sudden change in behaviour. He put a pot of coffee on to brew as Jo beamed stating that she had ‘so much’ to tell him, she quickly changed out of her work clothes into some joggers and an old Motley Crue band tee, Eddie handed her a mug of coffee before taking a seat opposite her,

“So? What’s got you in such a good mood?” He asked with a curious smile,

“Well, John Douglas wants me to help him with some of his research! He’s interviewing violent offenders to try and see if they have anything more in common that can be used to help law enforcement when searching for offenders. So, I get to go into prisons and conduct interviews on his behalf, so we can cover more ground between us if that makes sense- I’ll probably be only meeting with a handful of the prisoners, but he wants me to try and build up some sort of rapport with them, ya know? Try and gain their trust and not antagonise them, see if they open up to me. The best bit? I’ll get an acknowledgement when he publishes his findings!” Eddie smiled at Jo’s enthusiasm, it amazed him how she could be so passionate about something that would scare him half to death, he wouldn’t even dream of speaking to one of the monsters that Jo would be interviewing, but that was one big difference between the two of them; Jo tried to see them as more than their crimes, she wanted to understand them, help them. Whereas Eddie saw them as animals, monsters who should be locked up.

Joanne had been briefed by John about how to behave in the prison setting, she knew that they would most likely lie to her about their crimes, and that when they did, rather than calling them out on it in an accusatory manner she should simply state that she’d read the case file, she knew every detail about the case. She knew how vital it was that she’d learnt everything about the cases, so she wouldn’t be shocked or disgusted by anything they told her. He had also informed her that they were more likely to open up if she wasn’t making notes during the interview and that taping the interview could often distract them or prevent that from divulging certain details. She knew all of the theory that would help her for this research, however no amount of studying could prepare her for what she was going to face when she sat down across from serial rapist, Marc O’Leary.

[belladonnaandulriched]

the artist | chapter forty

“I'm so glad you could make it, Stone.”

“I wouldn't miss this for the world,” he promised me as he adjusted his mask.

For all I knew, it was going to be my last art show with all of these boys there with me. Air travel was growing tighter and I knew Anthrax themselves planned on being there for a mere week, and they were coming up on the end of their week given they spent most of it traveling up to the Northwest. I had to relish every moment of this art show. From all the people who walked in through that door, to the fact that that might have been the last time I would stand in between Joey and Lars. Stone took his seat in front of us with the mask over his face. Even behind that little piece of thick cloth, he looked exhausted.

“I still can't believe I managed to drive my ass here,” he remarked.

“Are you feeling alright?” I kindly asked him.

“I've been really dizzy since I got home from the hospital,” he told me. “Like—been spinnin' around in a whirlwind of a time, if you will. That was lame, I know.”

“No, no, no,” I assured him with a chuckle. I spotted my parents entering the speakeasy from across the room. As long as Chris, Joey, and Lars kept their cool around them, I wondered how this whole thing would fare for us all, especially since they were unable to make it the first time around. I shifted my weight as they strode over to the paintings and the drawings on the wall. As long as we kept mention of my digital art under wraps, I had no reason to feel so nervous about this.

But I felt nervous about it anyway. My parents were looking at my art, especially in the wake of everything and in the wake of my dad's belief that it had to be nothing more than a hobby. I watched the look of wonder on his face as he gazed on at my drawings of Chris and Joey. He turned his head to look at me with a thoughtful look on his face, a look I could make sight of even from behind his mask.

“I like these two,” he told me.

“Those ones?” I said; I turned to Joey, who hunched his shoulders at the sight of him.

“Yeah. They're—good looking guys. Perfect for this sort of thing.”

I sighed through my nose. It felt like someone had lifted a dead weight off of my shoulders. My dad was proud of me.

No sooner had they returned to the art on the walls when Chris stepped into the room right then from the hallway. He adjusted the mask to keep it over the bridge of his straight nose.

“Good job on that painting,” he whispered into my ear. I turned to look at him.

“What're you talkin' about?” I demanded in a hushed voice, to which he nodded towards Joey. I forgot I still had that painting propped up on the easel back in the art room. But Chris flashed me a wink, and I spotted a smile emerging from behind his mask. The secrets were between me and him, and we would take them to the grave if we had to.

“Hang on a second,” Lars spoke out of the blue right then. He bowed away from us and ambled across the floor. I recalled the conversation he and I had on the back porch the night before, and I wondered about that woman who just walked in at that moment. Stone turned to me with his eyebrows knitted.

“Typical Lars,” Chris told him. “The dude's got a silver tongue.” Something about the way in which he said that made my lips twitch from behind the fabric. I felt something caress my lower back.

I turned my head to look at Joey, who raised an eyebrow at me.

“What?” he asked, innocent.

“Don't you 'what' me,” I scoffed. I looked down at his fingers pulsating down by his hips.

“Not in front of my parents,” I whispered to him, to which he winked at me.

“Besides, Chris wants ya,” he pointed out, and I turned around to look at him.

“I didn't thank you for that drawing you made of me the other night,” Chris started in a low voice. “I hope you can do something with your digital works because they're—they're something else.”

“It's my pleasure,” I said to him, also in a low voice. “And I do my best.”

“We're all doing our best,” he replied. “But you, especially. It's tough being an artist, and if you ask me—well, if you ask Stone...”

I directed my attention to Stone himself.

“An artist is the toughest career you can take up,” he told me. “It's right up there with musician and also sex worker. We take so much shit and we're takin' even more shit right now, y'know? So—if you ask me—you're as tough and powerful as any of the docs and nurses in the hospital right now.”

“Well, thank you, Stoney.”

“That's Stoney Pony to you,” he teased me, which brought a laugh out of me. I heard Lars tell the woman, “okay, thank you” and then he hurried back to us, albeit with a look of concern upon his face.

“Alright, gang, I got some good news and some bad news,” he informed us.

“Bad news first,” I quipped.

“Statewide quarantine is returning in full force tomorrow at midnight. If anyone has a plane ticket back to their state, they're saying to get your asses back home.”

“Which means we're all heading on home?” Joey asked him.

“Which means we all have to return home,” Lars replied. “The sooner, the better, too. I have to check my mail anyways.”

“Yeah... I do, too...” Joey's voice trailed off.

“And—what's the good news?” I asked Lars.

“The good news is the woman I just spoke to is in publishing, and she told me to give you this—” He handed me a card with a phone number on it. “—call her up and perhaps strike a deal of sorts.”

“Oh, my God, thank you so much, Lars!” I exclaimed. I couldn't resist it; I threw my arms around him. I wanted to bear hug him but I was unsure if he wanted to bend his spine back that far.

“Well, don't kill him, Holly,” Stone scoffed.

“Oof—no, I promise you—she—won't kill me,” Lars sputtered. I stepped back to look at him one more time. All these boys, they had become my friends and even with the impending distance, they would be my friends for life no matter what. And Chris, Joey, and Lars had come a step closer than that title, too. But as far as I knew, and as far as my parents knew, they were three boys who were my friends, as opposed to my boyfriends.

I knew they were all going to be taking the next red eye out of Seattle, and thus I made sure the art show went without any sort of problem all the way to eleven thirty at night. A successful artist deserved a late night round of dinner and a cup of coffee.

Tom left earlier, but I managed to give red Dave a hug for the road. I put my arms around Scott, Dan, Frank, and Charlie, and part of me expected Joey to peel off his mask so as to kiss me one last time. But instead, he held my head to his chest so I could hear his heartbeat.

“Call me when you get home,” I told him in a near whisper.

“That'll be the first thing I do,” he whispered back to me; his brown eyes never seemed more liquid before than in that moment.

I gave Lars another big hug, to which he almost picked me up upon holding me. I groaned at the feel of his hands on my lower back and then he set me back down.

“Oh, forgive me! I just want to relish in your kindness one last time,” he explained with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Oh, and Lars?” I called after him. He turned around to look at me with his eyebrows raised.

“Thank you again.”

“Of course,” he vowed with a grin on his face, which he obscured with his mask. I watched him stride off into the darkness.

Even though they were right near us, I gave blond Dave and Stone hugs, too.

“You're one of the best friends I could ever ask for,” I told Dave as I put my arms around him.

“And you are, too! Swing by the garden whenever you want—well, whenever quarantine lifts, anyways.”

“And I'll be back here, too,” I said to Will, who emerged from behind us with the keys to the speakeasy in hand.

“You better be,” he teased me.

“I don't give you nearly enough credit,” I told him, to which he shook my head.

“Nah, don't sweat it. Lemme just tell you that—” He gestured for me to come in closer to his face. “—you're the best client I could've ever asked for.” To which he winked at me, and I showed him a grin in response.

We all stepped outside to the night, where we were met with the chilled breeze from the Puget Sound. The first thing I planned to do once my parents and I returned home was wash my hands and clean my mask. Will shut off the lights in the speakeasy and closed and locked the door behind us. I was about to head on over to my parents' car when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to see Chris, cloaked in darkness from the street and the side of his face illuminated by nothing more than the light of the city and a street light not far from there.

“Call me tomorrow?” he asked me in a soft voice.

“Of course,” I told him. He peered behind me and then behind him, and without another word, he peeled off his mask. I did, too, and we pressed our lips together one last time. I had no idea when I would see Chris again, but I knew it had to be soon. Surely, it had to be.