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feverinfeveroutfic · 3 years

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chapter sixteen: fluffy tufts

Much like Testament themselves, Anthrax played two nights in Long Beach, at a place not too far from the Queen Mary as it had stayed lit up with the Christmas season. Small clusters of bright red and white poinsettias dotted the edge of the makeshift stage and little twinkling lights adorned the rails of the stands all around them. No fake snow fell over their heads given it was a large arena that held a little over fourteen thousand people, but a rather large spotlight shone down upon the crown of Joey's head so he resembled to a choir boy. The same light shone down on the crown of Dan's head for the same effect.

It was Zelda's twenty first birthday and thus everyone got drinks for half price. But Chuck advised Sam and Alex to stay up in the handicap balcony on the other side of the room lest they both fall into that trap. Eric offered to sit with them both there in the small balcony overhead.

“Alex, do you remember that club we played at when we were first starting out?” he started out over the roar of the crowd down below. “The one that's like three blocks down the street from you and your parents' place?”

Alex hesitated for a second; Sam glanced over at him as his eyes wandered about whilst deep in thought.

“Vaguely,” he finally replied, “I think it burned down.”

“Yeah, we burned it down,” Eric joked, and Sam chuckled at that and he smiled at her. Alex sipped on his club soda and he shuddered a bit at the taste.

“Jeez, dude, put some lemon in that why don't ya?” Eric offered him.

“I don't really wanna go down there just to get a lemon, though,” Alex said with a shrug of his shoulders.

“It's—fizzy water,” Sam stated before she took a sip of her mug of Irish coffee. She almost gagged on the sharpness of the coffee paired with the whiskey inside.

“How's that Irish coffee?” Eric asked her.

“Strong,” she declared, and that time she coughed. “Woof—”

“Want a sip?” Alex offered her his club soda.

“Nah—it could genuinely worse, Alex,” she assured him as she stirred the coffee with her straw.

“I think it really could be, too,” Eric added as he sipped on his frosty glass of beer.

The crowd down below cheered for Anthrax, the four of whom stood there up on that stage and gave them what for in the last ten minutes alone.

“This next song is from a record called State of Euphoria,” Joey announced and the crowd cheered out loud at that, “and if I'm bein' perfectly honest with ya, Long Beach—Long Beach, California—seeing as it's New Years, I feel like we could use a li'l bitta help on this one.” Sam and Alex peered over the ornate black wooden railing: he stood there in the middle of the stage with that white flying V guitar slung down below his waist, way out of line for which Alex had suggested before, but he tied up his jet black curls into a snug thick ponytail at the back of his head. A few stray ringlets dangled over his shoulder and onto his chest.

“What do you think, Frankie?” Joey asked into the microphone; he turned his head for a better look at Frank on the left side of the stage.

“I think we do a bitta help on this one, Joey,” he proclaimed into his own microphone.

“C'mon out here, Scott!” Joey declared.

“What!” Alex yelped and he gaped back over the railing.

“Holy shit!” Eric sputtered out and he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Everyone in the crowd went wild at the sound of his name. Sam clasped her hands to her mouth as she and Alex watched Scott take to the stage: the spotlight followed him and his head of thinning black hair. He waved at everyone in the crowd down on the floor as Frank and Dan clapped for him; Joey slung his guitar behind his back and extended his arms for him. Sam and Alex flashed smiles at each other at the sight of the two of them embracing one another. Eric meanwhile loomed right next to her and the three of them watched Scott sling another flying V over his shoulder, one that was a creamy shade of white.

Sam remembered that from when they first performed “Madhouse” to her. He plugged it in and strummed it a bit to ensure it was turned on.

He gave his thinned black hair a little toss once he straightened himself out, and everyone down below the balcony roared at the sight of him.

Sam and Alex gaped at one another, and then she gaped over at Eric.

“Interesting to be back up on stage after a bit,” Scott remarked into Joey's microphone: that big Queens accent filled the room. “I feel like these four guys here could use a little help regardless of anything. You know, Charlie can see everything from the drum kit here. And I can see everything from the side of the stage. This crowd could use a little help, too.”

Several people cheered at that.

“Bullshit, Long Beach!” he spat and Joey laughed at that. “You guys here in California are tough especially after the Gipper's terror in the past eight years.”

“Yeah, but we got another Rep in the White House now,” Alex muttered into Sam's ear; she turned to see him shaking his head at that.

“Lemme hear you, Long Beach,” Scott continued. “I'm back for you guys—and I wanna see what a California crowd has for a welcome back to the fold and a birthday present, too. I want all of youses to kill two birds with one stone for me. I wanna feel this fuckin' floor tremble and shake under my feet. I want Charlie to feel it—I want Joey to feel it—I want Frankie and Danny to feel it—and I sure as holy fuck wanna feel it. I want our pals up there in the balcony to feel it, too!”

Eric snickered at that.

“This song should be our new national anthem—it's called 'Now It's Dark'!”

“Ooh, I like this song!” Eric declared. Scott got it started with a little strum of his guitar as if he was genuinely rusty, but then once Charlie picked up the groove with the bass drum and those blast beats, he picked it up again as if he never missed a beat. Joey and Dan both followed suit.

Three guitars all at once for that upwards sawblade sounding riff. Frank joined in with a bit of overdrive on his bass.

“Holy hell, there's enough metal down there to salvage the Titanic,” Eric said, and Alex laughed at that.

But he had a point however: the second Joey opened his mouth and let out that first note, it felt as though several strong men were about to save something hard and heavy, as hard as metal itself, from the depths of something far too incredible to fathom right there. Joey's vocals were strong and lush, and to the point it almost tickled her in between the legs.

That big voice from that little body, from that flat little belly.

How was it even possible as she asked herself right at that moment.

There was also the way in which he blurted out the word “Mommy!” during the chorus. She thought about the way he knelt down before her with such ease and with such readiness as well, as if he was willing to give himself up to her.

He was in fact willing to give himself to her. He wouldn't have done that there in the hallway, out in public, if he wasn't willing.

But then there was Krista.

It made no sense, or maybe she overthought it again.

Dan launched into his solo right at that moment and down on the floor, people started moving about in a little circle. Sam swore that a few of them were skipping. From high up above the floor, she watched the entire floor coalesce into one big mosh pit. She had never seen a pit that big, not even during Testament or the Cherry Suicides' shows, or during any of the stops on the Stormtroopers of Death tour. But then again, she watched a few people closer to the stage and the poinsettias closest to Dan's feet: they pushed each other a little too hard.

Eric pointed at them and Sam nodded at it: the brunette punched the redhead, who then returned the favor by tackling her and then she smacked her head on the floor. More people saw this: one guy hit the redhead on the back but she turned and punched the guy right in the face. Another guy came behind her with his fists ready but then the redhead fell face first and right into the side of the stage, which made Joey and Scott both lunge back from the edge. One of the pots with the red poinsettias fell right onto her head and then a brawl broke out.

“I think we should go,” Chuck said from right behind them.

“Yeah, there's a fight down there,” Alex declared, “—between two women! Holy shit!”

The three of them ran after him and into the hallway: he led them down the stairs and into the front lobby of the Long Beach Arena. Sam paid more attention to the glass of Irish coffee in hand such that when Chuck led them back outside to the dark drenched street she swore that she was missing something.

“What's the matter?” Chuck asked her.

“I got it!” Eric proclaimed from right behind her, and he showed her her purse.

“Oh, thank you,” Sam breathed a sigh of relief.

“Yeah, I was finishing my beer and I noticed that you left your purse behind—so I got it for you.”

“God—thank you, Eric,” she repeated as she slung it over her shoulder. She fetched up a sigh as Chuck and Alex closer to her.

“Dunno if the girls are even going to play now,” Chuck confessed, “you guys remember that big ass brawl in Boston.”

“How could we forget?” Sam said aloud as she took another sip of her Irish coffee.

“And how could Eric forget?” Alex added.

“Damn panic attack,” Eric noted with a shake of his head and his inky black hair shimmered under the soft twilight and the streetlights which began to show themselves for the incoming nightfall.

“Did Greg and Louie go home?” Sam asked Chuck.

“I think they did?” He paused for a second. “Yeah, I just realized I haven't seen either of those two guys anywhere for like the past—couple of hours.” He craned his neck and Sam turned for a look herself. No one behind them, but a small line of people stood before one side of the convention center.

“No, wait, there they are,” Chuck pointed out, “and they're with Zelda.”

Greg's long dark hair streamed behind his head like a thick lush mane while Louie looked as though he had just seen a ghost. Zelda let out a low whistle and she ran her fingers through her short bob of dark hair.

“Well, so much for that,” Zelda proclaimed once they came within earshot; she fixed her the lapels of her button up shirt but she left it open so the cool ocean air caressed over her toned bare stomach and her black sports bra.

“Seriously?” Eric asked her, stunned.

“Yeah—the guys were like 'get out of here, it's gonna be bad'. Rose and Min are both loading up the van so I can't stick around. That pot of poinsettias literally fell on that chick's head!” She pressed her hands to her hips and she showed Sam a smirk.

“Look at you drinkin' Irish coffee,” she joked.

“It's real strong, though,” Sam told her, to which she frowned and grimaced. “The bartender gave me a little too much whiskey.”

“Fewer things in life are as hard as an Irish coffee with too much whiskey,” Louie remarked, and Zelda laughed at that.

“Well, today's your birthday, though, Zelda,” Chuck pointed out, “I kind of wanna do something for ya.”

“Yeah, I do, too,” Sam added.

“Well, Rose made me a cake,” Zelda explained.

“Rosita made you a cake, really?” Greg asked her.

“Yeah, this little cupcake about the size of my hand. She told me it's got a little bit of booze in it, but—it's a surprise, though.”

Sirens wailed off in the distance and Sam wondered if they were headed their way there in the parking lot of the arena.

“There is a bar across the street, though,” Eric pointed out, “I mean, you only turn twenty one once in your life.”

“True.” Zelda had a little twinkle in her eye. “If we go over there, maybe we can give Sam something a little better than a glass of strong Irish coffee.”

Before Sam could say anything to her, she then turned her head back in the direction of Rosita and Minerva.

“Ask the girls first,” Greg advised her, to which she doubled back to them. Sam swirled the glass of Irish coffee but she knew that wouldn't do any justice of sorts.

“Not gonna lie—I kinda miss you,” she overheard Louie tell Zelda; she raised her eyebrows at him but she never said anything in response. Instead, she ran back towards her band mates.

“Sam!”

Sam herself peered past Eric, and Joey hurried towards them with a flat white box tucked underneath his arm. Eric stepped back a bit so he could stand right in front of her.

“Hi,” she greeted him in a soft voice. He handed her the box.

“I was gonna give this to you sooner as like an apology for—being such a prick and a half but—you know. It's Christmas and it's almost your birthday, too.”

“What is it?” she asked him.

“Open it,” he encouraged her.

She handed the glass of Irish coffee to Eric and she lifted the lid. Inside of there was a large woven black dream catcher with five large black beads attached to the weaves such that they formed a star shape; five black and red feathers dangled off the bottom all the while. Even in the waning light, the beads glimmered and shone as much as her fire opal bracelet.

“Aw—oh my god.” She lifted it out of the box for a second look at the beads, at the way they glittered and shone.

“Good man, Joey,” Chuck said aloud.

“A li'l sump'n to keep the bad dreams away,” Joey explained.

“They go up in the dream catcher and then they blow away in the morning winds,” Chuck added.

She then set it down inside the box and extended her free arm to Joey: he returned the favor as well as with a kiss on the side of her neck.

All the while, the sirens came closer and closer to them.

“Again, we should go,” Chuck declared.

“Thank you,” Sam whispered into Joey's ear.

“I'll see you again,” he whispered right back at her, and he bowed away from them. She watched him run back into the shadows, towards Anthrax's van parked next to the curb. He was sincere. He belonged to her, or so she believed as she watched him duck into the back of the van: Krista was back there and she greeted him with a kiss on the side of the neck.

“Zelda's gesturing for us to join them,” Eric pointed out right behind her. The six of them ran together the other way towards the Cherry Suicides' van on the opposite curb. Zelda and Morgan stayed there on the floor of the van and right under the plain white glow of the light on the outside of the arena: as they came closer, Sam noticed bright red glitter embedded in the roots of Morgan's hair.

“Gentlemen—” she greeted them, “and lady!”

“So what're we doing?” Eric asked them.

“Well, Zelda's gonna have her cake and eat it, too,” Morgan explained, “and then we're gonna take her to that bar in question over here.”

“Except Mr. Skolnick here isn't twenty one yet,” Sam pointed out.

“Ah, damn it!” Zelda groaned. “You can always say you're almost twenty one, though.”

“Nah, they'll probably see right through that,” Alex replied.

“He'll be all alone, too,” Greg added. Sam turned her attention to Alex and his tucking his hands into his jeans pockets. Even in the dim light, she could tell the black hair dye was already beginning to wear off from his head: even in the dim light, that little pearl of gray now a singular tuft, stood out from his head as if it was from someone else's head.

And then she remembered that they weren't too far from the port for those boat rides down to Avalon.

“Shall we head on back to Catalina?” she offered him.

“We shall!” he replied with a chuckle.

“Alex, you stud,” Eric joked, “going to and fro Santa Catalina Island.” And then he showed Sam the glass of Irish coffee. “Are you done with this?”

“Oh, yeah,” she assured him. “No way I'm drinking any more of that.”

“Keep the glass, though, Eric,” Chuck advised him. Sam put her arms around him as well as Eric, Greg, and Louie, the latter of whom she nudged back a lock of hair from his ear.

“You behave,” she whispered to him.

“With Zelda, absolutely,” he whispered back to her. She let go of him and put her arms around Zelda.

“Happy birthday,” she said.

“Aw, thank you, Sam I am,” Zelda returned the favor.

“Don't stay up too late, okay?” Sam called out to the Cherry Suicides.

“We try not to,” Minerva called from the driver's seat, and Morgan and Rosita laughed at that. Sam then doubled back out of the light right as the sirens reached the corner right up the block, headed their way.

“C'mon, Alex,” she encouraged him as the two of them walked on the street. Even in the dark, she remembered where she was headed for the harbor and that one port in particular. Alex lingered right next to her every step of the way.

“Your car's back at the arena, right?” she asked him.

“Yeah, and by the way, you never told me where you wanna take me tomorrow,” he told her once they reached the heavy aged wooden docks.

“You'll see,” she assured him as they boarded the big blue and white expressway boat. “We're gonna have to leave early, too—you know, if we wanna beat rush hour traffic first thing in the morning.”

“As long as it gets us there,” he told her as they took their spots on the bottom level of the boat and out of the winds.

Soon, they reached the harbor and Avalon once again, where Esmé awaited them for a ride back to the house once again. Given it was getting late, she offered to make them a quick dinner with another slice of that fresh pie once more. He found himself rather sleepy once more and he volunteered to take the couch yet again.

Meanwhile, in what may as well have become her bedroom, Sam hung up the dream catcher that Joey had given her upon the wall over her head board. That large circle of black right over her whilst she would sleep, and she knew she was protected from that point onward. She had her journal and a lot of her art supplies already packed in that red courier bag that the Skolnicks had made for her for Christmas, and she placed it in the seat of the desk chair across the room.

She soon changed out of her bra and into one of those Death Angel shirts: one of these days, she would have a proper set of flannel pajamas for when it got too cold. The rest of the house was dark at that point.

She wished for him to sleep in the same bed as her, but then again at that point, he had already fallen asleep on the comfy couch. As she headed out of her room and towards the bathroom to brush her teeth, she caught the sound of Esmé humming to herself coupled with Alex's heavy breathing.

She crept to the end of the hallway and she peered around the corner: he lay there on the couch, on his side with his shirt ridden up a bit and his hands tucked underneath his head and the pillow. His deep eyes cloaked in shadow and that little tuft of gray as it stayed hidden under the black hair dye. She was about to walk on over to him when a shadow crossed over him.

Her mother lay a blanket over his body and tucked it behind his back, right up against the back of the couch.

Esmé caressed her hand over Alex's hip and Sam had to resist the urge to chuckle at the sight of that.

She doubled back to the bathroom so she could be out of sight and so she could brush her teeth. With Joey, she grew possessive in the face of her mother's advances. But with Alex, she couldn't help but laugh. Her mother's whispered voice floated in from the hallway. She couldn't tell what she was saying, but she did catch a single fragment before Esmé entered her range of hearing.

“—got to write that descriptor down—”

And then, when she caught the sound of a soft chuckle, she realized her mother was an author for erotica. The pieces just fit together perfectly, as she rinsed her mouth and dried off her lips. Even though Sam had very little experience, she felt it in her bones.

If only there was a way in which she could uncover those feelings for herself. She did caress over her own skin a few times before, but they swirled away within her like the tides of the channel waters outside. As far as she knew, it would take place over the course of her entire life, all the uncovering and all the peeling back of the layers like that of the ocean's waters.

She switched off the light and she headed back to her bedroom.

A part of her still wished for him to join there in the bed but she knew that it would prove to be a tight fit for the both of them. She thought about the kind way in which Eric treated her earlier. So much to these boys she still needed to figure out, and with Alex himself in particular.

So much to consider and think about and she wound up falling asleep as a result.

The dream catcher did indeed work as she awoke early the next morning and with no memory of the dreams she had had before: she hadn't seen the mysterious man in what felt like forever at that point. She knew that it was early enough and thus she climbed out of bed and got dressed, and scooped up her purse and that courier bag. Alex himself was already up and changed into that little black Gary Moore shirt that he had gotten for his nineteenth birthday. Esmé, who had spent the night awake and tending to her manuscript at her typewriter, drove them down to the marina. Once they got there, she bode them both farewell and safe travels.

“Treat him well, my love,” she told Sam as she put her arms around her, “call me when you get there, too.”

“Of course!”

“Do you have your jackets, too? I think it's gonna snow there.”

Sam nodded her head and she showed her mother her brand new windbreaker which she swiped from the hook next to the front door. The otherwise black sky had already begun to bleed over into a rich violet for the sunrise: pieces of the marine layer lingered all around the island and the Channel before them.

“My jacket's in the car,” he told her as they awaited the boat: all the while, he still had a puzzled look upon his face. Sam wanted it to be a surprise, especially when they got on the road. It was something so near and dear to her, and she wanted nothing more than to show it to him. Show it to him in the way she never got to show Joey at that point.

Soon, the boat arrived and they crossed those twenty two miles over the dark choppy waters of the high tides all around them.

Sam led him back to the arena, and he got the keys ready for the trip she bore in mind for him.

“You want me to drive or should I do it?” he asked her as he handed her the keys.

“I'll drive,” she assured him. “I know the way.” He showed her a little smirk as he handed her the key before they reached his little older royal blue car parked near the center of the lot, as if he picked the single spot that was equal distance from the front doors to the driveway. Once she unlocked the doors and tucked her purse and the courier bag in the back seat, right behind the driver's seat, she climbed in first and Alex followed suit.

She drove them out of that parking lot and then she drove them onto the 110 Freeway, which led them right through the heart of Los Angeles. Given it was so early, they zipped past the skyline as it rose strong and high against the early morning marine layer and the rich pink sky. She never realized how much it reminded her of New York before, but her beloved City of Angels remained more in conjunction with the wilderness.

“I'm glad we left early,” she told him. “Yeah, for real,” he replied.

“Rush hour should be starting up like any second now right behind us.”

At the interchange to the 10 Freeway, Sam peered out the window and she beheld the sight of Beverly Hills as they were nestled back in the hills themselves; right next to that stood the Hollywood sign in all of its faded off white glory: parts of the letters glowed a soft orange color against the sunrise. With Alex right there next to her in the passenger seat, and the fact they were driving a twenty year old car, Sam couldn't help but think of the Golden Age, complete with the wisps of marine layer all around them. Like a couple of bandits as they escaped the heist right in the heart of downtown and were about to make their grand escape.

Within time, and right when Sam started to see more cars on the other four lanes next to them, they merged onto the Interstate 5.

“We could've taken the 170, but the difference is we don't have to go through Griffith Park,” she explained to him.

“I think we could've taken the 405, too,” Alex added. “If I remember correctly, that takes us back to the 5, too.”

“The 405 gets bad, though, especially during rush hour,” she pointed out.

“Like—really bad?”

“Notoriously so. Everyone tells you to not take the 405 if you possibly can. It goes through Torrance and Inglewood and past all the airports and the ways to the beaches.”

“I see.”

They cleared the northern edge of Los Angeles, through Glendale and Burbank, and soon they cleared the San Fernando Valley as it woke up for the morning. Sam watched the signs for the turn off to the desert. More and more fresh sunlight shone through Alex's window, such that he reached into the glove box for his mirrored sunglasses.

“Want yours, too?” he asked her.

“Yeah, they're in my purse,” she told him, “it's in the back seat.”

He reached behind him for her purse and she merged into the right lane for the interchange onto the 14 Freeway.

“I love you, Los Angeles—I'll be back soon enough,” she vowed as she merged one more lane; as he reached back, Alex leaned his head closer to her shoulder and the right side of her chest, but he never got any further than that. Sam merged onto the the 14 Freeway, which she remembered would take them all the way up the spine of the California desert. Alex returned to her with her sunglasses in one hand. With one hand herself, she took them and placed them right upon her nose.

“Thank you, my dear,” she told him in a singsong voice and he chuckled at that. “This road will take us all the way up through the desert and that road in turn will take us all along the spine of California. The Eastern Sierra.” She recalled what Louie had told her about the eastern Sierra Nevada on her road trip with him.

The road wound through the low barren foothills, several of which appeared to rise up from the pallid yellow grass in opposite direction.

“Is this the San Andreas?” he asked her.

“It is!” He peered out the window at the risen striated rocks that dotted the hillsides on either side of the freeway. She took a glimpse over at him and his side profile, the way in which his nose formed that full point at the very end: perfectly imperfect, against the orange sunrise.

The hills and rocky canyons were as barren and dry as ever as she led them through there and all the way into the Antelope Valley. All the nooks and crannies made her think of the most barren place she knew all too well, the place where she needed her fingers to be once again. Another layer peeled, and another hillside that they scoured together.

If Joey could play the field and experiment, then no one said she couldn't, either.

Soon they cleared the mountain pass and they were beheld with the tail end of the desert and the very beginning of the vast Walker Lane. The sunrise caressed over the barren badlands all the way through the low dips and soft turns throughout the heart of Palmdale and Lancaster. Big fluffy white clouds loomed over the Tehachapi Mountains to the northwest: Sam spotted a fine fresh dusting of white snow on their peaks.

“Glad we brought our jackets,” he confessed.

“Absolutely!”

They rolled on to the northern end of town, past the fair grounds and the vast stretch of flat desert off to the right. All the sage brush. The occasional rise in the earth. All of the unknowns beyond the horizon. All desolate. All lonely. All strangely special when under the golden light of the sunrise.

They rounded a gentle curve in the freeway, followed by another and they were in Rosamond, a small town sprawled over the sage brush and across some low hills and a ridge.

“You really do need a car when in California,” she remarked.

“Right?” he chuckled.

The road wound its way over the windswept ridge, through even more sage brush and past a railroad and a parallel two lane road, both of which bent around the den and extended off in the distance. Low barren hills adorned the sunset side of the flat land until they reached Mojave: the southern end of the Sierra Nevadas, in all of their arid glory with their eroded grooves and ridges, loomed off to the right as they cleared that small desert town. Wind turbines pumped away on the hill's leeward side: every so often, against the bright sunlight, they flickered with a soft red signal light.

“This kind of reminds me of Georgia O'Keeffe,” Alex said at one point as they motored along the freeway. Miles upon miles of desert, all the way out to California City and beyond.

“How so?”

“Just kind of the way the hills look—it's giving me an O'Keeffe vibe to a degree.” He turned his head in her direction; she took a glimpse over at him and her reflection in his mirrored lenses. He had sank down in the seat a bit and put his knee close to the dashboard and extended his leg out a bit. He looked as though he had been riding a bicycle. “Have you seen her paintings?”

“I have, yes,” she replied with a nod, “when I took art history, I happened to see one or two of them. Not a lot because Bill being such a cheap ass and what not.”

He chuckled at that.

“They're interesting, aren't they?” she continued.

“They have this—very feminine look to them.”

“Especially her flowers.”

“Ah, yes—and how.”

She couldn't help but chuckle at that herself.

“So how long is this gonna be?” he asked her

“It's about seven hours from Mojave,” she replied and he whistled at that. “Hey, I wanted to show you this place. Seven hours, it's gonna be totally worth it.”

“You took art history,” he echoed her.

“Yeah.”

“And you mentioned going to school, too.”

“Yeah.” She took another glimpse over at him and the thoughtful look on his face. “Do you remember those ink drawings that I made for Charlie on their last tour?”

He paused for a moment.

“Oh yeah! Oh yeah, I do.”

He paused again.

“Wait a minute. Did you make those?”

And she nodded.

“Get outta here, there's no way you made those.” He shuffled into an upright position.

“I did!”

“What the hell.” He shook his head and those jet black curls caressed over his shoulders. He paused again, albeit with a smirk on his face. He then turned his attention to her again. “It's been right under my nose this whole entire time.”

“Whole entire time,” she declared. “Been meaning to show you, too. I just never could. In fact, I tell you what. The next opportunity we get—and there are many on this road here. I'll do a demo for you.”

“Just for me?”

“All for you, big boy.”

He lowered his sunglasses a bit so as to flash her a wink at that. The landscape gave way to even more distant hills.

But right before them was Red Rocks, with its tall columns of pale red and white sandstone: much like the rock formations down by the San Andreas, these all ventured and pointed about in differing directions, much like Alex himself.

“For some reason, I just pictured you becoming the next Georgia O'Keeffe,” he admitted as they cleared a gentle curve in the road: a tall cliff of sandstone cast a cold shadow over them.

“It's all these rocks,” she told him as they returned to the sunshine once again. “They're digging up something inside you, I'd think.”

“Yeah, you'd think that,” he teased her, and she giggled at that.

They cleared Red Rocks and returned to the vast windswept desert on either side of them. The two lane turn off to Lake Isabella.

The entire stretch of vast land off to the right that led off to the communities of China Lake and Ridgecrest: somewhere out there was Garlock and Johannesburg, that was according to the signs on the side of the road.

The slight rises and ridges in the ground told her that they were nearing Coso Junction and the first big stop of the trip. A small reddish brown cone emerged from the ground on his side before them at one point, as did a whole series of cliffs of solid black rock: the sunlight gave them a bit of a reddish hue. Meanwhile, on her side, the hills rose up, higher and higher until they formed snow capped mountains which contained all those ancient sequoia trees.

“All volcanic,” Alex pointed out to the cliffs.

“Every last part of it,” Sam said; she took a glimpse out the windshield to the grasslands on the side of the road and the little stream that poked out every so often. The stream led to Little Lake, cradled by those volcanic cliffs, and they turned a bend in the road. Another reddish cone emerged before them, as did more of those fields of rich black volcanic rock. The highway separated out with two lanes on their side and two lanes on the opposite and Sam sighed through her nose. She was taking him up the only road she knew by heart.

They soon stopped at Coso Junction, a literal oasis against the narrowing desert valley before them: she slowed down a bit for that initial little road and she doubled back to the small lot shrouded with cottonwood trees. Right behind them stood more hillsides and low barren ridges.

“Seven hours of nothin', but I kinda like it out here,” he confessed once he returned from the bathroom.

“It gets better,” she promised him once she fired up the car again.

They returned to the road for another round of vast stretches of near straight road, all the way up to the Owens Valley and the mostly dried up nearly pure white Owens Lake bed.

“You want some beef jerky?” she offered him once handmade signs for Olancha popped into their view.

“Love some beef jerky,” he said, “kinda early, though, don't ya think? I kinda want something hearty like that but without all the salt.”

“Be nice to have, though,” she pointed out. “How 'bout some on the way home?”

“Good plan!” he decreed: at that point, the mountains to the left rose up strong and high against the desert. She slowed down a little bit given they were driving through Grant, followed by Olancha and Cartago: a series of low silvery gray metal buildings emerged from his side of the road.

“Dyin' of thirst right now,” he told her as he realized it was a water bottling plant.

“It's a shame you can't even go in there for a bottle of water,” she said.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah! This is a literal oasis, especially with Owens Lake being all dried up now. Don't worry, though: little more and we'll be in Lone Pine.”

They scoured the rim of the enormous lake bed: right smack in the middle of those cold bone dry white and gray sands stood a small sliver of fresh water, the only water for miles. The northernmost edge of the bed was rounded out by a rusted abandoned salt plant nestled in the hills and the two separated lanes in the highway returned to one road once again. The mountains bowed away as Sam rounded the corner, around a series of low rolling hills. Soon before they reached the last stretch of road before Lone Pine, the mountains rose up once again, even higher and blanketed with even more snow. Somewhere inside of those menacing white clouds was Mount Whitney, those jagged saw blades as they towered high over everything else.

Alex adjusted himself in the seat yet again and he set a hand on his stomach.

“Ooh—that did not feel good,” he told her. “Oh, god, hungry...”

“It's okay, we're almost there.”

She thought about the way in which Joey said the word “Mommy” in that song the night before. Her mother cared for both her as well as Alex, and it was right there in that driver's seat, against the roar of the tires on the road, when she picked up a low famished rumble from Alex's stomach. She had to care for him all the way up the road, such that it brought a smile to her face.

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butididntpourthewhiskeys · 5 years

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50 Things I’m Convinced Tay & Joe Do - Reputation Stadium Tour Edition

1. Joe always preparing everyone beforehand that he might tear up once more during the show.

2. Taylor asking Joe to run his fingers through her curly hair to calm her down when she’s too restless to settle into sleep after her concert.

3. Joe always grinning at her when she sings “you’re so cool it makes me hate you so much” cause it’s one of their inside jokes.

4. Tay always making sure she can see him properly in the crowd as soon as she walks on stage.

5. Joe always kissing her head and her forehead one time and mumbling “I love you, no matter what babe.” before leaving her alone to prepare for the show.

6. Tay constantly telling him that he doesn’t need to go on hour long flights just to see her perform for an hour.

7. Joe always shushing her with a smirk and a kiss.

8. Andrea yelling into Taylor’s dressing room “there’s a fan waiting for you, Taylor” and already laughing while looking at Joe before Taylor approaches her with an eye roll and Joe with a tight hug.

9. Joe attending her last rehearsal in Glendale with his mum and her family and getting up in the middle of the rehearsal to look for tissues cause he couldn’t help tearing up.

10. Joe always distracting Taylor from being nervous by inventing weird names for inanimate objects. A big, fuzzy dustmop the cleaning lady of the hotel uses is a “Poofin’ poodle” and the remote control is a “clicky-wicket boy” and the large antennae on semitrucks are called “big wobblies.”

11. Taylor whispering “and this is the part I’m always looking forward to the most” the minute her make up free self crawls to bed with him and she can hide herself in his arms under the blanket late at night.

12. Joe always making her giggle by subconsciously mumbling “biiiig reputation, biiig reputation” while sitting in her dressing room waiting and scrolling though his phone.

13. Joe hating the fact that all the attention is on him as soon as he enters the stadium yet he’d never let that keep him from supporting her during that time.

14. Joe rubbing his hands up and down Taylor’s back while standing in the dressing room hugging and cuddling face-to-face, then stopping his fingers at the underside of Tay’s bum and wiggling his eyebrows to make her laugh.

15. Taylor always approaching him with an exhausted “I’m sweaty, don’t..” and being shushed by his kiss right after seeing him again after the show.

16. Joe welcoming her with open arms after her first show and mumbling a low “I came for banjos and square dancing.. I’m disappointed Ms. Nashville!”

17. Joe counting down from three before he turns the lights on, whispering, “Sorry, pet,” when Taylor hides her face in the pillow the morning after the show.

18. Elizabeth hugging Taylor tightly after the concert and mumbling a shaky “I am so incredibly proud of you, love. This was overwhelming.”

19. Joe listening to her speech about the hard times she has had in the last years and smiling quietly because he knows that her “worst version” was the version he, in fact, fell in love with.

20. Taylor always sitting nervously on his lap before the show.

21. Joe always placing one hand on her thigh and holding her sweaty hand with his other while smiling at this nervous version of his girlfriend on his lap before the show.

22. Joe pulling the blankets over the both of them when he’s feeling a bit cheeky. “’t’s m’ fort. Want’ a kiss you in it.”

23. Scott always calling Joe “the Brit”.

24. Joe internally cringing as soon as the dancers lift Taylor up because he can’t help but worry that she falls down and hurts herself.

25. Taylor enjoying the concert even more because knowing that he’s close and supporting her is all the reassurance in the world that she would ever need to be calm and enjoy the show.

26. Taylor always being the last one to come to bed, make up free, with creamy hands and a shirt that’s way too big on her and Joe mumbling “I don’t need the make up or the fancy dresses but.. next time you come to bed, the over- knee boots are very much appreciated” and making her roll her eyes with a smile.

27. Andrea sometimes catching a glimpse of Joe during Taylor’s concerts and getting emotional cause she knows that this, in fact, is all her daughter has ever wanted.

28. Joe starting Instagram live streams to show off his girlfriend in front of his mates back home.

29. Taylor sometimes looking at him in the middle of the concert and starting to smile even bigger cause he knows that she knows and that is that nobody of these thousands of people knows anything except for the two of them.

30. Scott and Joe having Segway races in the empty arena before soundcheck.

31. Taylor always being so full of adrenaline after each show that she kisses his cheek exactly thirteen times and leaves a mess of red lipstick on his face.

32. Joe always closing his eyes even before kissing her after each show and Taylor noticing and loving it.

33. Taylor loving to post for photos with little kids backstage and clearly noticing Joe’s gaze on her that is even more intense than usual.

34. Joe asking if Taylor thinks that London is a better place to raise children than Nashville and responding with, “Dunno, just wondered,” when she asks him why he’s asking her after Rep Room with two pregnant fans.

35. Joe always giving her a long foot massage in bed after the concert.

36. Taylor standing in her dark and sparkly bodysuit in front of him during fittings and asking him if she looks alright. Joe answering her with “I think it needs to be tighter there” and pointing to her side while getting closer to her “and there”, slowly pressing a kiss against her cheek, “and there” another kiss “and there” another kiss and Taylor as well as her stylist just laugh quietly.

37. Joe always insisting on FaceTiming with her right before the show to give her a good luck kiss through the camera.

38. Joe always turning on the tv before they go to bed cause he knows that Taylor is rattled up and then he laughs at the same commercial he always laughs at every damn time he sees it because, “Wot? ‘ts funny!”

39. Joe always folding his underwear and Taylor silently smiling at him while doing so.

40. Taylor starting to say things like “have you seen the girl with the snakeskin make up? She was absolutely lovely. She fancied the guy standing next to her“ and Joe proudly smiling at her.

41. Joe bringing her a Diet Coke as soon as he enters her dressing room again cause “Nobody can be nervous whilst drinking a Diet Coke- it’s a proven fact.”

42. Joe nuzzling into Tay’s neck when he’s tired and sitting next to her in bed at 2am, not wanting to ask her to go to sleep with him because he knows how rattled up she still is and that she always needs at least one episode of Friends to get sleepy, so he just smells her until her eyes get smaller and smaller and he can call it a night as well.

43. Taylor telling everyone of her catering team that she’s allergic to onions even though it’s not true - she just doesn’t like them and Joe knows.

44. Joe watching Taylor get ready while he rests his head against the cushion of he couch in her dressing room, a soft smile on his face when she pats his cheek as she walks by.

45. Joe whispering, “I love you so much,” in the middle of the night when the two of them switch positions.

46. Joe secretly taking a video during her show of the most random fans and then showing her later on in bed while both of them laugh their asses off and Taylor telling him every time that he needs to stop doing that.

47. Taylor insisting that Snakeskin is a neutral.

48. Joe stretching all four of his lengthy limbs across the bed while Taylor is taking her elaborate makeup off in the bathroom. When she’s done, she just shakes her head and lays on top of him until he’s forced to move.

49. Joe waking up with Taylor peppering kisses all over his face on a daily basis.

50. Taylor and Joe hugging in bed at night, forehead against forehead, and arms around each other’s torsos before falling asleep and Joe’s lips forming a low “I still see that girl with the bleached hair whenever you’re up there on stage, you know” and Taylor replying with a sleepy smile.

#taylor swift #taylor swift fanfiction #joe alwyn #joe and taylor #joe and taylor fanfiction #50 things #fanfiction #fanfic

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kiera-writes · 7 years

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Connor Murphy x Reader - Freak (FLUFF)

WC: ??? Warnings: lots of swearing (it's Connor, come on now) Summary: (y/n) and Connor work together on a school project about a romance novel... Requested?: on Wattpad ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ First day at a new school and all (y/n) could think of was how huge the place is! From the outside there were three visible floors that stretched across for miles either way. Lost in thought, you fail to notice your childhood friend walk up behind you. "'Sup, (y/n/n)!" The one and only Jared Kleinman says, swinging his arm around your shoulder. You shrug him off, masking a smile. You hadn't seen Jared in years and, though he's clearly still an idiot, you'd kinda missed him. "You got the first day jitters yet?" He jokes at you. "As if. I've moved around since I was 6! I've got this, man." You remark, heading towards the doors as the sharp shrill of the bell chimes. Your first class was English, a subject that always had you caught between love and hate. Stepping into the full room, you scan about to find the one empty seat left. Sat in the chair next to it is a rather tall boy with long brown hair and a huge black jacket on. With a deep breath, you stride towards him, feigning confidence. I hope he doesn't mind... You pull out the chair and sit down with a plonk. Your (f/c) skirt splaying out around you. "Hey," you whisper to him. "I hope you don't mind but there aren't any other seats left in the class." Your attempt to strike up a conversation falls flat as the somewhat moody kid scoffs at you and turns away. "I'm sorry. My name's (y/n)." "Good for you." You hear him mutter under his breath. Now visibly irritated, you turn away and pull out your notebook. Laying it in the middle of your actual work page to disguise the fact you really didn't want to take notes, you begin to scribble rapidly, ideas and images flowing out of your pen like magic. From the corner of your eye, you see the boy turn to you slightly. Page after page fills up, black ink tattooing the clean canvas. "Connor." A rough voice says from beside you. Turning with surprise, you cock your head. "My name. It's, uh, Connor." Slowly, a smile creeps onto your face. "Well, it's a pleasure to meet you!" You exclaim, happy to have drawn some conversation from him. She's new, he had thought to himself, she doesn't know you. She doesn't know that you're a freak, yet. As the class was about to finish, the room filled with idle chatter. Over the top, the teacher was demanding silence and being profusely ignored. "Stop it now, all of you! I have a project to set and if you don't listen, I have half a mind to fail you all now!" That shut everyone up. "Thank you. Now, as I was saying, to help get your creative juices flowing, I will be assigning everyone a classic book for you to review by Monday!" He was met by a collective groan, to which he abhorrently ignored. "I want all of you to pair up now before I start choosing books." Shit... nobody's gonna want to pair with the new kid... Shit... nobody's gonna want to pair with the freak... Gingerly, you turn to Connor and hope he understands what's going through your head. He grants you a small nod, barely noticeable, and with that you have a partner. Standing to leave the room, the teacher turns to the pair of you. "(Y/n) and Connor! Oh you're so lucky! You shall be reviewing the wonderful Pride And Prejudice!" "A love story?" Connor shoots back with disgust. "Yeah. We're sooooo lucky". The sarcasm oozes from his words as he storms off. Behind him, the teacher begins to babble. Something about it being 'so much more than love' or something? "Hey, um, Connor?" You call after him, jogging to keep up with his strides. The boy ignores you, stomping onwards with force. "Connor!" You demand, taken somewhat aback by the power in your voice. "What?!" He snaps back, furiously. You step back nervously before clearing your throat and breathing in. "Doyouwannamaybehavemynumbersowecantalkabouttheprojectandstuff?" You sputter out, praying he understood. Connor looms over you, standing a good foot taller than yourself and cocks his eyebrow. You couldn't tell if it was humour, mockery or plain confusion. "Sorry..." You hang your head. "Do you want my number? So we can talk about the project and stuff?" You try again, retracing your words with caution. You hold your breath, ready for him to shout again but instead, you feel him reach for your arm and roll up the sleeve of your (other f/c) jumper. "W what are you d doing?" You ask, cursing yourself for the stammer. "What does it look like? I don't have any paper so here!" He replies, bluntly. You look down and there, in shimmery numbers, was what could only be his phone number. You turn to smile to him but he's already gone, leaving you alone in the long hallway. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Sat at home on your bed, you put the shining numbers into your phone and type out a message. To: Connor From: (unknown number) Hey, it's (y/n). When do you wanna meet up about the project? X Hoping to god that he actually gave you the right number, you hit send and place your phone behind you. About 10 minutes later, whilst you were sat reading the assigned book, a chirp came from your phone. To: (y/n) From: Connor Idk. Tomorrow, mine? To: Connor From: (y/n) Sounds good. What's ur address? Ping! Connor sent his location We're all set. The following day at school went rather dully. Jared had taken it upon himself to give you a... not so PG tour of the school. He seemed to know just about everything about who hooked up with who and where. He also mentioned Connor briefly, calling him 'freak'. Though not sure why, you found yourself defended him against your childhood friend which earned you a day of teasing. Despite you ensuring him it was no more than a project, he now calls you Mrs Freak. Finally, the last bell rang and you rushed home to get ready. Though not sure why, you felt the need to present nicely today. You slipped on a soft t-shirt with a laced up front in (f/c) and a pair of skinny black jeans. You were just about to leave the door when... Ping! Your phone sang. To: (y/n) From: Connor U don't have 2 come tonight if u don't want. Don't want u getting a bad rep or whatever You blink at the screen, partially confused. Why on earth would you get a bad reputation for hanging with him? To: Connor From: (y/n) Never been one 4 reputation. See u in 5 x You shoot back at him, shaking off the confusion and heading through the door. To you, Connor was an enigma. Something about him seemed so trapped. As though that harsh exterior was masking something. You couldn't help but think about him as you padded down the hot concrete pavement. The way his long hair fell to his shoulders, his sharp bone structure, his perfectly painted nails polished in black. He was kind of cute... Shaking it off with a sigh, you try and divert your mind to the project as you approach the Murphy house. Whatever you do, (y/n), do NOT get a crush on the guy. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Inside of Connor's room was a weird and tense atmosphere. The kid had never had a girl in his room before and so he watched and marvelled as you took in your surroundings. On the walls were rows and rows of book ranging from classic literature to modern comic books. "Wow, Connor!" You gasped, in awe of the arrangements. "This is amazing! I didn't have you pinned as such a reader!" While you spoke, Connor found himself staring into your sparking (e/c) eyes. "Y yeah. I read a lot. It helps with... stuff." He forced out, trailing off at the end before he said too much. "So!" You said suddenly, clapping your hands and swivelling on your heels. "With all of these books, have you ever read Pride And Prejudice?" "I, uh, yeah. I have." He replied, ramming his clammy hands into his jean pockets. Why the fuck are you freaking out?! It's just a dumb project. Not like you'll see her again after this. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Aaaaaand... done!" You sigh, contently. Between you, Connor and you had managed to complete the project in about 2 hours. Though little to your knowledge, Connor had spent a lot more time looking at you than at the screen. In the time it had taken for you to write the review, he had noticed so much about you. The way you'd let your hair fall across your face without noticing from being so distracted. The way you'd bite the inside of your cheek while thinking. Even the way your breathing would pick up as you sped up your typing. He scolded himself for noticing but he found every little detail so... endearing. It felt like the time had gone so fast and, deny it though he might, he didn't want you to leave. "So... you going now or what?" He asked, hating how forceful he sounded. "Oh! Um... I told my parents I'd be back at 8..." You say, embarrassed a little. Glancing at the clock, it read 4:13pm. You had hours left and no way back into your house. "Youcanstay." "I'm sorry, what did you say?" "You can stay here until then. If you'd like... that is?" Connor felt the heat rise in his face, turning away from you in hopes he could mask it. Connor Murphy does NOT blush! Without thinking, you grin wildly and fling your arms around his neck happily. But, like he had burned you, you recoiled quickly, muttering a thousand apologies into your chest. Ah shit... I think I've got a crush! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Moments passed by, feeling like hours, as the pair of you sat in silence. You were certain that the hug had messed things up, unaware of Connor's racing heart. It was him that broke the tension with a quiet fact. "You really seem to get the whole lovey dovey shit in the novel." "Oh! Thank you. It's a better book than I thought it was, actually." You replied, unsure of his point. "Do you... fuck... do you have a boyfriend then?" This takes you by surprise. You open your mouth to tell him but are rapidly cut off by him rambling again. "I mean, it's not like I fucking care! Why should I care? You're probably very happy with him and that's just fucking great, isn't it!!" He erupts, getting louder and harsher with each word. You were baffled by what was happening in front of your eyes. He turns from you, muttering furiously to himself. You catch the odd curse word but nothing more. Slowly, you reach out to touch his arm. Your fingers curl around the black fabric, surprised he hasn't pulled away yet, as you turn him to face you. "Connor..." you begin, nervously. "I don't have a boyfriend. Look, are you oka-" Your words are cut off by his lips pressed to yours. They're oddly soft and you can taste mint and weed in your throat. But as soon as he's there's, he's gone again. "I'm sorry! I didn't know what came over me and I just... maybe it'd be best if-" This time, you're the one to cut him off. You place your lips on his, wrapping your arms around his neck. It takes a moment but soon you feel his arms wrap tightly around your waist. You pull away, putting your forehead against his and smiling. "Thank you..." he breathed so only you could here it. Not wanting to ask what for, you lean your chin on his shoulder as he holds you. Connor wouldn't tell you but he was scared. He clutched onto you like you would just disappear in his arms at any second. He couldn't let that happen. The first person to see him as something other than a freak. He wasn't about to lose you now. Not now, not ever...

#Connor Murphy #Connor Murphy imagine #Connor Murphy one shot #Connor Murphy x reader #Connor Murphy fluff #dear Evan Hansen #dear Evan Hansen imagine #dear Evan Hansen one shot #dear Evan Hansen x reader #dear Evan Hansen fluff #one shot #fluff #fanfiction #reader insert #Evan Hansen #Zoe Murphy #jared kleinman #musical #musical theatre

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