tryskomys

[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.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

[tryskomys]

Wet Sand

Stone Gossard x OC

Chapter 10 - Indifference

Summary: we’ll figure it out.

masterlist

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

notes: phew! here we go with another stone pov - considering the title, y’all probably know what vibe this will be. seems like this man can’t catch a fucking break. i promise i have some fluff cooking up. i know it’s late for halloween, but nonetheless i do have some spooky fall vibe thingy almost ready to go. until then, have this painful hurt/strained comfort odyssey. it’s good to have friends, isn’t it?

tws: mentions of addiction and rehab. a mental breakdown of sorts. this one hurts, it hurt to write and it might hurt to read, so watch out. a lot of deep comfort, though. warm hugs and tears. ‘how can you be so blind to someone being madly in love with you’ type deal.

songs:

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

September, 1988

Stone barely heard the keys in the door when Keeva came back home from work.

“Hey, beanpole! Sorry I’m late,” she called, her voice painfully cheerful. It stabbed his stomach like a white-hot iron stake.

She might’ve been late. He couldn’t tell. He’d been there for hours that felt like days to him.

“I come bearing gifts, though! What would you say to a little Italian pasta date?” she mused again, hardly audible through the ropes of water falling all around Stone. “They had Kraft Mac and Cheese on sale!”

Her childlike giggle sent a shiver down his spine, joining the running cold drops.

She finally started doing a bit better since they signed. She’d been handling everything better and better for the past few weeks.

“And move your bony ass, please! I wanna catch some warm water, too.”

Warm water ran out hours ago. Days.

Stone, in his infinite dissociation, wondered that maybe - just maybe - if he didn’t move or say a word, he’d disappear. He would melt under the shower like a piece of cheap cotton candy and flush down the drain. Then he wouldn’t have to see the lightbulb behind her eyes burst and go out again. He wouldn’t have to be the fucking messenger for once in his life.

“Awooga, that must be one hell of a wank if you don’t even bother to say hi,” Keeva quipped, clearly waiting for his laughter.

Stone wanted to laugh, but nothing but a muffled hiccup resonated through his ribcage.

If I don’t move, I don’t exist.

“Hey, you good there?” she questioned softly.

Fuck. She always knows.

He didn’t even have to say anything and she knew. The crystal clear sound of the running shower meshed into a hypnotizing white noise long ago, but he could hear her footsteps approaching the bathroom.

He looked up from the tiled floor to stare up at the door. He didn’t even realize he didn’t fully close it when he got in. When he could tell Keeva was just close enough to peek through the gap, he fixed his eyes right in front of him, studying the peeling wood on the cupboard under the run-down sink. Not even her soft knock made him move.

“Stoney, are you okay?”

I am. I’m always okay. Am I not?

Stone subconsciously squeezed his crossed arms tighter to his chest, shuddering under the freezing cold fabric of his drenched t-shirt.

Maybe not.

“Stoney, I’m coming in, yeah?”

He wanted to beg her to leave. To get out of this shithole, out of his life, out of everyone’s life and just go. Somewhere where actions matter. Somewhere where promises mean something.

I can’t even give you that, can I…

All she got for an answer was a weak hum. He didn’t see her face when she opened the door, still stubbornly staring in front of him. Although, he could vividly picture her in his head.

Her previously sparkling eyes widened, her brows furrowing in a sudden wave of worry. He wasn’t too surprised.

Because he had hours - days - in that shower to get rid of the shame he felt when he first stepped inside.

Fully clothed, Stone turned on the faucet and let the then-hot water drench him from head to toe as he slid down the wall to sit on the wet tiles. Thanks to the holes in his jeans, his legs soaked through very quickly and his shiny new Mother Love Bone t-shirt went see-through in a matter of seconds.

He still didn’t move his eyes when Keeva briskly walked inside, dropping to her knees in front of the shower and extending her hands to brush away the dripping wet hair that was sticking to his forehead, cheeks and neck. The strands were all over his face as the water ran down - only his elven nose peeked out of them as if they were a curtain.

“Wh- w-what the fuck, Stoney?” she whispered as she frantically brushed Stone’s hair away, stroking his freezing cold cheeks. He moved his gaze to the striped socks on his feet and focused on the water drops that seamlessly sank into the threads of wool.

He was jealous of the water. Clear, fluid, invisible.

The thought of speaking to Keeva directly didn’t even cross his mind.

“Kevin called earlier. Andy shot up some laced shit again. I took 'em to the hospital and then straight to rehab. Three months.”

His voice was scratchy and strained from the frigid wet fabric that clung to his lungs for so long.

He could hear Keeva’s heart skip a beat. He could tell the light in her eyes was snuffed out. She didn’t drop her hands away from his face, but he could feel them getting rigid and heavy as the burden of caring slowly spilt through her muscles.

Sooner or later, you’ll stop touching me like this.

Sooner or later, I’ll become a fucking reflex. Every time I’ll open my mouth, you’ll run like everyone else.

Stoney fucking Gossard - Seattle’s bad omen.

Stone tried. He tried his hardest, but the scent that followed her around was intoxicating. He had to turn his head as her airy perfume moved with her, and he finally looked into her eyes.

There was nothing. They didn’t reflect anything but his own drenched face.

What else did you expect, idiot?

If he didn’t know her, he wouldn’t even be able to tell that she was using all of her bodily strength to push back tears. Then, she climbed into the shower, not even flinching when the freezing ropes of water hit her heated face.

She huddled closer to him and took him around the shoulders, gently pulling him across the squeaking wet floor to let him sit in her lap. She twisted her legs around him and wrapped her arms around his chest as tightly as she could, nuzzling his neck with her cheek.

It was still warm.

The tiny touch of heat made him melt into her embrace and he leaned his head back against her shoulder. When she began to softly caress his wet hair, he curled into a ball and finally let himself go - he started vigorously shaking from the freezing sensation that soaked him all the way to the marrow of his bones. He felt her feather-light lips in his hair as she hummed an unintelligible song.

Keeva's voice invoked the strangest feeling in him - it was like watching a porcelain vase dangle from the rim of a shelf, just about to fall and crack into countless pieces. And Stone, frozen in spot, could do nothing but drown in the unbearable suspense.

They rocked from side to side in a tight embrace, their soaked clothes glued together. Stone could tell she was struggling not to shiver as well. She took a shallow breath.

“So he’ll be out by Christmas?” Keeva said, emotionless. He nodded as his teeth chattered.

“Should be.”

“Well, we’ll figure it out, won’t we?” she squeezed him closer when he twitched. Stone knew it was a purely rhetorical question.

You know we won’t. I know you know.

He nodded again, placing a gentle kiss on Keeva’s wet neck.

“Sure.”

“How long have you been in here?” she softly asked and he couldn’t help but repeat his kiss. Her heartbeat warmed him up.

Good question.

“The sun was up when I came home,” Stone replied, his voice cracking from the cold. Her eyes popped open as if he’d just slapped her awake from a deep sleep and she immediately reached up to turn the water off. She carefully tried to move, but he held her arms in place and leaned in even closer, brushing the dripping curls out of her eyes.

“Can we stay a bit longer?” he said, sounding way more desperate than he’d intended. When she shook her head, Stone had to fight back a childish groan.

“You’re not getting pneumonia on my watch,” Keeva whispered and straightened her back again in an attempt to get up, but he dragged her back down, now hooking his arms under her knees to keep her legs around his waist.

“Please?”

Fucking pathetic. Begging for hugs like a little fucking kid.

To his surprise, she relaxed and rested her chin on his shoulder. After a few moments of deafening silence, she nudged the back of his neck with her forehead, her curls tickling his skin.

“You really wanna sit on the bathroom floor in freezing wet clothes or do you just need this, Stoney?”

Stone suddenly sobered out of his haze, his eyebrows knitting. An uncomfortable shiver ran down his spine when his cold t-shirt stuck to his back as Keeva hugged him closer.

The clothes made him feel fragile - more naked than if he was wearing none.

I - no. No, I want out. I want out and away from you right now.

“Stoney?” she repeated, barely audible over the blood thumping in his ears.

Fuck.

Fuck you, fuck Andy, fuck Jeff, fuck music, fuck Polygram, fuck my pride, fuck my dignity, fuck everything.

His vocal chords betrayed him, speaking on their own even though he put all of his willpower into shutting up for once.

“I need this.”

Stone couldn’t care less after that. He just fully leaned back and listened to Keeva’s heartbeat - it seemed to fasten when he did so.

“This will feel better in dry clothes under a blanket with a cuppa, trust me,” she gave him a sweet smile, but her face fell when he opened his eyes, emotionlessly staring into the ceiling.

“I don’t.”

He could tell that Keeva frowned for a second before pushing off the wall to sit up straight and unwrapping herself from him. She finally began to get up and ignored his annoyed eye-roll - he was thankful for that because it wasn’t meant for her. It was at himself.

Great. Great fucking job.

As soon as she helped him up, Keeva turned around without a single look and stepped out of the shower. She grabbed the towel that hung from one of the hooks on the wall and started drying her hair.

It took Stone until now to realize that he wasn’t the only one completely drenched, watching her through the mirror as she squeezed water out of the transparent linen shirt that stubbornly clung to her skin. His cheeks quickly heated up all of a sudden as if to spite the rest of his skin.

“‘It makes the pain go away.’ Isn’t that what you said?” she coldly stated and looked Stone in the eye in the mirror before darting up and down his sinewy body. It was as if her stare made the fabric heavier and heavier, suffocating him.

His voice gave up when he tried to shoot back at her and he only managed to let out a stunned chuckle - it came out a bit like a choking noise.

Jesus. That wasn’t what I -

Who the fuck am I kidding, that was exactly what I meant.

“I’m not trying to fuck you if that’s what you think,” she raised an eyebrow and by now he was certain that she could hear his thoughts. “Just ‘pure companionship’. Whatever that meant.”

Keeva grabbed the other towel from the small portable heater next to the cupboard and handed it to him.

“I’ll make some tea, okay? You get out of these clothes or you’ll have to breathe through a tube soon.”

With that, she hurried out of the bathroom, leaving behind little wet footprints. Stone heard her quick hops up the stairs and the following rummaging around her room as she searched for dry clothes.

● ● ● ● ● ●

“Can I?”

Keeva’s voice snapped Stone out of deep thought again as she walked up to his bed, two cups in her hands. He hadn’t even noticed that she came down and started rummaging around the kitchen. He was huddled deep in under his blanket, snapping to look at her. The dark circles under her eyes were much more noticeable than before.

It made her look haunting. Ethereal.

“Sure,” he mumbled, lifted the blanket and motioned her to join him. Keeva gave him a little smile and put the cups on his bedside table next to his pipe. A wave of warmth ran through his body when she sat down next to him, putting her arms around his shoulders with a hiss.

“Christ. You’re freezing.”

Stone pushed his cautiousness aside as he leaned his back against her, similar to the way they were in the shower. He should’ve trusted her - it did feel better now they were out.

Hmm, hmm, hmm, hmm, hm hm hm hmm…

“I thought of a song today,” he mumbled, breaking the silence. Keeva rested her chin on top of his head.

“Yeah?”

“But I don’t know…I don’t think it’s ready yet. Something’s missing.”

“Other instruments, perhaps?” she chuckled, twirling a strand of his hair around her finger. Stone scoffed and shook his head.

“Some feeling,” he said after a long pause. She hummed and reached out to his temple as if she were trying to read his mind and hear the melody. Keeva broke into an earnest smile when he closed his eyes upon her touch.

“Well, let it ripen a little. It’ll come to you.”

That’s what I’m afraid of.

Suddenly, Stone was devoured by the heavy blanket of today’s events and started feeling cold again - a Pavlov’s reflex that was clearly brought upon him by the shower.

“Why the fuck do they always call me?”

His lament hung in the air, disturbing the sombre silence. He weakly fought back a wave of painful frustration that swirled through his insides and crawled up his throat, but it’s been building up for way too long to be pushed down.

“The last time this happened, like, two years ago, they called me to get him and drive him there. The same exact fucking situation.”

Keeva didn’t respond. She just kept on caressing his temple and he felt as if she were dragging all the pent-up feelings out of him by some spell.

“Always the same thing,” he spat out, slightly raising his voice. “Mark passes out in someone’s shower high as a fucking kite - they call me. Andy and Regan get arrested for running around Pike Market naked and wasted - they call me. I’m sick of it.”

Stone couldn’t get a read on her. She was succeeding at hiding any emotion she might’ve been feeling and it drove him even more mad.

Tell me I’m a fucking asshole. I know you’re thinking it, say it to my face.

“I don’t get it, why? I’m a snarky prick.”

“‘Cause they trust you.”

Keeva’s honest tone caught him off-guard. It seemed like she was genuinely giving his caustic slur of words a pass.

Stone scoffed.

“Bullshit. I just don’t ask questions,” he said, slightly calmer after letting it all out. It was painful, but it was the truth, he thought.

This isn’t about trust, it’s about convenience. ‘Oh yeah, call Stoney, he won’t mind, he doesn’t attach himself. Oh yeah, Stoney won’t be lecturing. Sure, Stoney is the practical voice we need.’

How could they trust me when they see me as an asshole with zero feelings.

That’s what I am, anyway.

“That’s the point of trust, Stoney,” she mumbled, tearing him out of his thoughts. “They know you’re a snarky asshole who’s dependable. You’re able to distance yourself from the situation and that’s really admirable. You don’t lecture people about bad decisions without first getting them someplace safe. You’re a good friend and we feel secure when we’re with you - snarky prick is the way to go when you’re in trouble.”

A surge of hot blood rushed to his face.

‘We feel secure.’

“I should be a bit nicer, then,” he sneered, trying to put as much bitterness as he could into his words, but his giddy tone still came through. “Maybe I’ll get a fucking break for once.”

Keeva broke into a wide smile and slipped from under him to roll over and lay next to him. She put her arm under her head and held out her hand to caress Stone’s hair when he lied down too, turning to face her. They were so close to each other that he could feel the heat of her face on his cheeks.

“Nah. You wouldn’t do that to me, would you?” she pouted and laced her fingers under her chin after dragging his blanket over her.

“A break for you, too, possibly. From me,” Stone chuckled with a shrug, brushing away a few curls that fell into her eyes. The smile she gave him was much more sombre than he’d expected.

“I’m, uh,” she started, but had to take a pause. She was looking straightforward, but somehow he felt like she was staring right through him, clearly having a hard time formulating her words. “I’m pretty certain that I’d fall in love with you.”

Stone’s heart sank down to his stomach as if he’d just chugged a jug of lead.

“And that would kinda hurt, you know,” she smiled again and focused on his face. He was the one to look away this time. “So I’d prefer to keep the illusion that you’re just a snarky prick. Self-preservation.”

Good idea. Bad idea.

Don’t do it. Please do it. I’ll be nice, I promise. Or not. I don’t care. I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll kiss the soles of your boots. Or you can kiss the soles of my boots, I don’t care. Whatever you ask for, I’ll do it. Just let me.

“Fair,” was all he managed to say.

Silence.

“And you’d also leave me to be Seattle’s lonely runt of the mythical litter of sarcastic dickheads living in Mr. Gossard’s tool shed,” she said after a moment, pouting again.

Stone couldn’t help but snicker.

“That wouldn’t be too nice of me.”

“Or, hear me out, I should be nicer so they’d come to me instead of you and then you’ll get a break,” Keeva enthusiastically nodded, clearly ready to move on from her jarring sincerity.

Now he knew exactly what to say. He was just hoping that she’d get the message.

“No. You wouldn’t do that to me.”

“Guess not, hm?” she chuckled and turned away from him to lay on her back - Stone could’ve sworn he saw a blush spreading through her cheeks. “Maybe we’re both nicer than we think.”

“Watch out, your self-preservation thing is malfunctioning,” he raised his eyebrows and reached out to poke her side, making Keeva squirm. She giggled.

“Yeah, my brain is about to short-circuit. So is yours, actually. I think you should get some sleep.”

She started to get up, but Stone hurried to grab her arm and keep her in place - perhaps a bit too eagerly for his taste. He panicked, thoughts racing through his head as he tried to figure out an excuse to keep her soft skin at the tips of his fingers.

Fuck, think. Think.

“I mean, I don’t wanna boast, but my bed is better than yours. You know, quality-wise. I think sleeping is generally more comfortable in this one.”

Nailed it. Dumbass.

Keeva’s joyful laugh made his stomach weightless for a moment.

“Do you have enough data for that? Unless you’ve been napping in my bed and that’s -”

“Hearsay,” he cut her off as quickly as he could. Keeva’s bed really was uncomfortable. Stone knew. She’d been working overtime for a few weeks before the summertime and her bed was too inviting not to nap in - he missed her scent and her sheets were the only thing that held it the whole day through. He’d found her in his bed before, too, though. That cemented his idea of some correlation between her train of thought in crisis and his. “I sentence you to the prison of my room - well, my corner of the room.”

The pause before her answer made the cloud in his head burst as she gave him a sad smile and finally looked at him again.

Her eyes sparkled as if she was fighting tears and that took him by surprise - she was so adamant about making him feel better that he’d nearly forgotten how much she must be hurting.

She was nearly whispering.

“That would be really bad for my self-preservation.”

Stone couldn’t stop himself as he reached out and softly caressed her cheekbone.

“Maybe we could turn it off for one night.”

We.

A cold shiver ran down his spine when the words left his lips.

Is this what being a junkie feels like?

Just one little hit, can’t hurt.

“M’kay,” she said, her voice cracking. A warm tear tickled his thumb as it dropped down her pale skin. He sat up a bit and opened his arms, letting her shuffle closer as she slowly broke down in muffled cries.

Stone understood now.

“Shh. We’ll figure it out.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

[tryskomys]

i just finished all of wet sand and. oh. my. god. you have quite the way with words. love to see an update soon!

Aaa tysm, you’re too kind! Update on the way, thanks very much for reading <3

[tryskomys]

the damn tension come onnnnn

heheeee >:)

[tryskomys]

Wet Sand

Stone Gossard x OC

Chapter 9 - Feel Flows

Summary: it makes the pain go away.

masterlist

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

notes: okay, here we go. I usually try to avoid writing anything that resembles smut like a plague (read as: i’m really bad at it and i’m trying to be mindful of my digital footprint), but the plot won’t move itself as they say. if anything feels clunky or alien - it’s because it is. but hey, maybe that’s just the sprinkle of realism we need to make the not-smut soup we shall be feasting on, starting today. enjoy you horny dummies <3

tws: probably a smidge nsfw. recreational drug use, drinking, brief mentions of drug abuse and domestic abuse. ‘getting lost and forced to spend time together’ is a trope, right? should be. naughty touching. lewd words. oh, and news flash - quoting someone face to face is not cool, especially if the quote revolves around voyeuristic pleasures and the word ‘cum’ is present. the more you know! plus - stone can be a pretty harsh asshole when he doesn’t know how to express emotions so watch out.

songs:

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

July, 1988

“Hand me the tent first. No, not the six-pack, the tent. T-E-N-T, the big blue tarp thing you’re staring at,” Keeva said to Regan, who was unloading camping gear out of a small van.

To her annoyance, he was already a bit tipsy and high as a kite, so he had a hard time understanding her commands. He giggled and grabbed a tent kit from the trunk.

“Sorry, mom. Don’t spank me, please. Or do, I don’t know, never tried it before,” he handed it to her with another chortle, watching her carefully put it on the leafy ground.

They - Regan, Shawn, Chris’s girlfriend Susan and Keeva - decided to organize a weekend camping trip to celebrate Stone and Chris’s birthday and, coincidentally, Mother Love Bone’s shiny new major label contract and Soundgarden’s new album being finished.

It kind of fell apart in their hands, though - Bruce, Greg and Hiro had a bad case of food poisoning at a house party and Jeff was off to Montana to visit his grandparents. Chris and his girlfriend Susan, Kim and Matt joined, as well as Mark and Steve from Mudhoney.

Andy cancelled because ‘he wasn’t feeling well’.

Keeva knew that Xana banned him from going, though. Even though the six of them were a real band now, they seemed to see less and less of each other and that was double the truth for Andy - Xana moved in with him and Chris and culprited most of his friends as bad influences.

He’d been having some troubles with sobriety again and she, in her desperation, thought she could help it by locking him up in a golden cage.

Keeva wasn’t too keen on her methods and that started causing a rift between the two women.

Xana controlled what he ate, what he wrote about, who he hung out with and he seemed to be alright with it. But physical fights were where Keeva drew the line.

Bloody scratches, eye bruises, ripped lips…on both of them. It was bizarre how two grown-ups could claw at each other like that and still insist that it’s ‘just how they are’.

There were a few instances of Andy knocking on their door in the middle of the night.

“What the fuck, Andy? It’s three in the -”

“Can I come in please?”

Only once he entered the dimly lit room they could see that Andy had a bloody nose and a few slits near his eye, clearly from long nails.

Stone jumped up from his bed and immediately threw his joint into the glass of water on his bed table to put it out.

He grabbed Andy’s shoulders with a frown and started turning him around, checking for damage.

“Holy shit, did you get mugged?” Keeva gasped, carefully brushing Andy’s wild hair away from the crusty blood so she could take a closer look. His breathing was slow and shallow.

“Xana thought I was strung out and I didn’t know where else to go,” he mumbled, almost as an inaudible blur of words. Stone and Keeva immediately looked at each other as an identical jolt of frigid chills ran down their spines.

“Are you strung out?” she asked calmly, trying to be cool, but when he didn’t answer, her stomach twisted in a nauseating cramp. She bravely pushed down the sickness as Stone firmly took Andy’s face in his palms, dragging him under the lightbulb.

He was adamant about looking anywhere else but at Stone’s judgemental frown.

“Look at me, Andy, and I’m not gonna ask twice,” Stone said in a tone she’d never heard from him before. It was bone-chilling, like a fever dream. She walked up to Andy just as he looked up and that allowed his two friends to put the pieces together.

Flaming red cheeks and bloodshot eyes with tiny pupils.

 

Not an ideal start of an official band life with a record contract.

A record contract.

The idea made Keeva’s insides flip as if she was on a rollercoaster.

Once the band bagged more and more gigs, the old white men in black ties started spawning out of thin air and suddenly, everyone was eager to take them out to the most expensive restaurants in Seattle.

They tried to snoop out every little dirty detail about the band members, their personal histories and where the band was going.

The first few meetings were fun, because they didn’t take them too seriously and just enjoyed the attention, which made Jeff properly cross at her and Stone at times.

But after the third dinner, the anxiety grew worse. It was hard for Keeva to focus on writing when she had a five-to-eight job every day and had to sit down face to face with a new slimy suit at least once a week.

She started smoking more over the past month, too, a sign that always made Stone worried.

 

“Hey, you good?” he hurried to her right after coming home from work one day, not even taking his shoes off. Keeva was sitting on his bed wrapped in his blanket, finishing the last cigarette of the pack she bought just a few hours ago.

She’d hoped that she would calm down quickly enough and get her shit together before he’ll come back from his late shift. The last thing she needed was for Stone to find out that she spent her breakdowns in his bed because his heartwarming scent calmed her down.

Unfortunately, he came home early. However, he didn’t seem to care at all.

Keeva’s eyes were bloodshot and her nose was swolen like a red bobble. It was clear that she was shaking and sobbing not too long ago, her t-shirt was stained with tears. She just waved Stone off when he sat down next to her and took her face in his palms.

“Yeah. Just tired.”

Just tired.

That was Keeva’s go-to answer. But now they were finally signed and could put all her attention to the music again. That’s what she told herself over and over, anyway. To try and mute the reality that this was just the beginning.

This camping trip was a perfect way to unwind, so they took Soundgarden’s broken-down touring van, loaded it with sleeping bags, snacks and weed and found a beautiful spot in the woods on a hiking trail just a few miles outside of Seattle.

She already gave her gift to Stone at home, before they set off on the trip.

“Well, open it!” she excitedly wiggled as they sat down on the floor after Stone blew out his candles - well, one candle stuck in a bowl of dry cereal.

Stone was feeling up the small package with a wide grin on his face, careful not to tear the paper too much. When he unfolded it, he let out a surprised chuckle.

“What’s that?”

“A pan flute!” Keeva exclaimed and laid on her stomach, leaning on her forearms. “I was going past this tiny music store on my way home from the park the other day and they had it on display. The guy said that it’s an antique piece, possibly Art Noveau. It’s technically a variation for children, that’s why it’s pocket-sized. The Romanian ones are usually bigger.”

Stone raised his eyebrows and studied it closer.

It was curved, made from well-kept rosewood and had a cyclamen flower pattern carved all over, along with hand-painted fading red lines woven into the engraving.

“It’s…it’s gorgeous. I don’t know how to play it, though,” he sheepishly shrugged. He was clearly taken aback, turning the instrument in his fingers as if he were looking for instructions. Keeva giggled.

“Just blow.”

Stone squinted at her, smirking.

“I’m not skilled in that point of view,” he said and yelped when Keeva playfully slapped his arm. She took the pan flute from him, licked her lips and put her teeth over her bottom lip.

“It’s just like whistling. You purse your lips like this,” she mumbled and blew into the flute. A rich tone came out, resonating through the concrete walls.

Stone hooted as she handed the instrument back.

“I’m shit at whistling,” he said and then tried to replicate her lip movement, but only a sputtering breath came out. She broke into joyful laughter. He shook his head, but couldn’t help but join her giggles.

“Hey, that wasn’t that bad!”

“I think Zamfir would be rolling in his grave.”

“Zamfir’s not dead yet!”

“I know. But hypothetically, he would be if he’d heard you.”

 

The whole party stomped through the forest, following the trail that was supposed to lead to a campfire spot, huffing and puffing as the setting sun blazed into their eyes.

They were all slowed down by bags and backpacks, so they had a pause earlier to catch their breath and have a drink. The guys already passed around two spliffs on the way. Susan was pretty straight-edge, so Keeva didn’t feel as left out as usual.

After an hour and a half of walking, Mark - the self-proclaimed boy scout that led the way stopped in his tracks and groaned.

“God dammit, we left the grocery bags in the car.”

Various curse words echoed through the silent woods, but Stone just sighed.

“I’ll go get it. I need a walk, anyway. Where the hell did you get that grass, Kim? Feel like my head’s gonna explode.”

Kim just shrugged and raised his arms in defence.

“I told you it was good shit, no one forced you to smoke the whole thing.”

“I’ll go with you,” Keeva popped in and gulped down the rest of her beer. “They say that it’s bad luck to be alone for more than five minutes on your birthday.”

Stone snorted.

“You just made that up, didn’t you?”

“Yup. I’m not letting you wander the woods when you’re baked and dumb.”

“Isn’t he always?” Matt called after them and Stone gave him a middle finger and got ready to holler back, but Keeva just dragged him away down the trail with a grin.

“I won’t confirm or deny that!”

● ● ● ● ● ●

“Ugh, this fucking trail. We’ve been here already,” Keeva whined as they walked onto a familiar patch of soil and leaves surrounded by trees.

She remembered it because it looked like a cute little fairy circle with a big stump.

“No, we weren’t. We’re going in the right direction, I’m sure,” Stone shot back, adjusting one of the grocery bags over his shoulder.

They managed to get back to the car and take everything with them, but they each downed another beer on the way and got so caught up in Keeva’s nerdy lecture about different kinds of flutes that they stopped monitoring the trail signs on the trees.

It took them about an hour to realize they were going around in circles and the sun had already set.

Thankfully, Stone packed a camping lantern but it only helped them see a few feet in front of them and not much else.

Deep down, he was clearly brewing a meltdown - sweating bullets and trying to ignore the bleeding blister on his heel.

“Stoney, come on. We saw this tree half an hour ago,” Keeva pointed at a large oak tree that seemed no different from the others to him.

“Fuck you, you can’t tell,” Stone snapped, huffing as he put the bags down for a second to loosen his arms.

“I can, it has this big branch right there that reminds me of your huge snout,” she pointed at a branch and gave him a little sarcastic smile. Stone loudly groaned, clearly growing irritated.

“Oh yeah, you’re right, we have been here before. See that stump over there? You sat on it and bitched about your little feet hurting. Maybe if we didn’t have to stop, we’d be back before it started getting dark,” he spewed, put the lantern down and fished a can of beer out of the bag.

He cracked it open and chugged it in one go. Keeva looked away to hide her blush, even though she knew it wouldn’t be visible in this light.

Is everything you do hot? That’s unfair to mankind.

She checked her watch. 9 PM.

Fucking hell, I’m gonna get eaten by bears before even having a single legal beer in this shithole country.

And they’ll bury me in a joint grave with this bug-eyed smartass.

“So what do you propose, little Miss Girl Scout?” she asked, immediately gasping and shaking her head when he took off his backpack and sat down on the ground next to the lantern and the stump.

Stone grabbed another beer - probably the sixth one of the day.

“I’ll stay here and wait until they find us,” he simply said.

After a long pause of staring at him in disbelief, Keeva cackled.

“You’re mentally unwell,” she said and started walking away. When he didn’t follow her, she looked at him and raised her eyebrows.

He was stubbornly sitting there, drinking his beer, looking up at the sky. Keeva darted between Stone and the spot was staring at. She could see the stars popping out of the darkness right in front of her eyes.

He fished out the pan flute from his backpack and crossed his legs, softly blowing into it.

He’d been trying to get a proper sound out of it the whole day - much to everyone’s annoyance - but now, he finally nailed it.

Suddenly, he changed in front of her. Gone was the annoying smartass. Stone’s elven features were softly enlightened by the moon that just peeked out from a cloud. The humid summer breeze made some of his hair twist in waves. They cascaded around his pale face, flowing around him every time a whiff of wind tickled his aquiline nose.

Keeva had an unbearable urge to come closer, sit down next to him and touch his flushed cheek to make sure he was real. Study him up close and count every freckle on his face. Trace her fingers along the dimple in the middle of his bottom lip.

Place a kiss on his ear and whisper every thought that ran through her head.

Stone had a small smile dancing on his lips as he closed his eyes and breathed in the crisp earthy air, clearly proud that he finally tamed the flute.

Like a forest spirit unbothered by the hardships of life, he ran his bony fingers through his hair and tucked a lock behind his pointy ear with a heavy exhale.

Then, he nonchalantly rolled the sleeves of his checkered shirt up and rested his arm on the stump, allowing Keeva to study his sinewy forearms that glistened with summer sweat.

His eyes eerily sparkled in the dark as he looked at her for a few seconds before taking another swig of his beer with a shrug.

The smartass was back.

“I don’t wanna get even more lost and I’ve got all the things I need for a celebration right here - snacks, chicks, alcohol. If you sing to me, I’ll blow the flute and we’ll even have music. Dream birthday,” he mused. “And sooner or later, when they run out of their alcohol, they’ll remember that they sent us out here and they’ll come looking for us. Bulletproof plan.”

“Oh, I’m not the chick for you. Too bland,” Keeva scoffed and finally convinced herself to walk over to Stone. The closer she got, the hotter her cheeks burned at the sight of him.

She took one can of beer, too, but she was still determined to go.

“You have no idea what kind of a chick I’d like to have at my birthday party, so don’t put words into my mouth,” he pushed back while offering his can for a toast.

Stone obviously had a lingering grudge against her for stopping to sit down - his tone was cold and condescending. That was like a big red blanket in front of Keeva’s eyes.

We got lost because of you, you baked asshole. You’re gonna get it and I’ll savour every second of your dumb red face.

She clinked her can with his and grinned, taking her backpack off and throwing it next to Stone.

“Oh, I have my sources. Wanna know everything I heard coming out of that chamber of sin?” she teased as she stood above him and took a sip of her beer. Stone immediately knew what she was referring to.

The OK Hotel incident she taunted him with a couple of months ago.

“I was there, I don’t need a refresher,” he scoffed and downed his beer in one long sip. She quickly finished hers, too, to hype herself up.

Do it, pussy. Do it, he’ll be pissed.

Keeva put her hands on her knees and bent down to him, levelling her head with his at an irritatingly close distance. She deepened her voice into an imitation of Stone’s breathy, vulgar tone.

“‘Oh, yeah, sweetheart, you’re doing so good -’”

Stone’s annoyed eyes shot up and he painfully bumped her nose with his head. His cheeks were rapidly growing more flushed as he spoke.

“Keeks, is this necess-”

“‘- oh, sorry, you want me to continue? How can I tell that you like it if you don’t scream for it?’”

The irritated frown started turning into a frigid grimace as he tried to hold it together.

“Shut up, I’m serious -”

You couldn’t shut me up if you tried, bastard.

“‘- that’s it, let me hear you -’”

“I said stop!” Stone raised his voice this time, his eyes flashing with an emotion that was unintelligible to her. That wouldn’t stop her from getting the job done.

Keeva wanted to go back to the others. She couldn’t handle the looming tension for much longer and she definitely didn’t want to go wander the woods at night by herself and leave Stone alone on his birthday.

Just snap already.

“‘- oh, good girl, cum on my fi-’ Ow!”

She couldn’t finish her sentence because Stone suddenly sprung up and accidentally hit her chin with his head, knocking her off balance. As soon as Keeva stabilized - thanks to him grabbing her shoulders before she could fall - he just kept pushing her until her back hit a wide tree.

The pointy bark pinched her skin so she let out a little yelp, but he apparently didn’t care.

Stone didn’t even seem angry. His face was as blank as a sheet of paper and he spoke in a chillingly calm tone, the one he used for his harshest brand of sarcasm.

“You think you’re funny, right? Think you’re clever and above all this earthly bullshit. Looking down at us mortals from the top of the I’m-better-than-you mountain,” he sneered. “If you’re so divine, why won’t you explain to me what were you doing in front of that bathroom, oh Holy Virgin?”

Oh. Oh, fuck. No. No, no, no.

There’s no fucking way.

“The fuck do you mean?” Keeva asked, failing at keeping her voice from cracking. He broke his blank facade with a tiny condescending smirk.

“I thought you were supposed to be clever.”

She just raised her eyebrows and tried to swallow the lump in her throat - she felt like she was going to choke.

“What’s the matter? You have an answer for everything, don’t you?” Stone tipped his head and shrugged. “What were you doing out there?”

“I was waiting for you to fucking leave,” she snapped, but he just rolled his eyes and stepped a bit closer to her.

“So you’re telling me that you were just standing there for an hour and staring into a wall?” he asked, tipping his head to the other side.

There’s no way he knows. He’s baiting. No.

“I -” was all Keeva managed to push out of her lungs. She tried to keep an annoyed straight face as if she was bothered by his stupid untrue questioning.

“I - I - I what?” Stone mocked her stuttering. “You can do better than that. Go on, amuse me with some brash bitching. You’re pretty great at it.”

Keeva couldn’t speak. She tried, but no noise came out. She just stared at Stone, letting the glowing green eyes pin her to the tree as he neared even closer.

He must’ve felt the heat of her cheeks by now.

Another wave of tepid breeze ruffled the leaves and ran through Stone’s hair, making a few stray strands tickle her cheekbone.

He smelled of fresh soil and sweet sweat and alcohol. Intoxicating.

“Disappointing.”

He stopped right where the tips of their noses didn’t yet touch.

“Next time you plan to laugh at me for fucking strangers in bathroom stalls, think back to your pretty little hand in your jeans in front of said bathroom stall while listening to me telling a stranger to cum on my fingers. It might give you some perspective.”

Keeva took a breath to say something, but the way Stone condescendingly tipped his head again made her mouth snap shut.

He then gave her a mocking smile as if he was rewarding her for shutting up and then took the last tiny step to make their noses touch.

His surprisingly cold skin sent a wave of boiling hot blood through her whole body.

“One day, I’ll be the one waiting at the other side of that door. And if I only hear as much as a whimper, I’ll laugh in your fucking face.”

And with that, Stone turned around and walked back to the stump and the lantern. Keeva’s frozen stare didn’t bother him much.

He sat down and started digging around the bag for some snacks, humming a new Paula Abdul song he’d heard on the radio earlier. When he found a bag of spicy Doritos, he whistled and took a swig of his newly opened beer.

“Happy Birthday to me.”

● ● ● ● ● ●

Two hours of awkward silence dragged on as they sat around the stump, wordlessly feasting on the snacks they had two full bags of. Drinks, too, the two six-packs were gone and they cracked open a bottle of tequila, each taking two shots from the lid.

After gulping down the second one, Stone finally spoke. Well, slurred.

“Hey, you can see a big big star there!” he gasped and took Keeva around the shoulders to squeeze her closer and point at the sky.

His body was like a portable heater, all sticky and flushed. Stone dragged her over himself and sat her in his lap. Keeva felt like a rag doll from all the drinking and junk food, so she gladly let him, snuggling up closer.

The humidity was sky-high and suffocating, but somehow, in his company, in the dark forest meadow enlightened only by the lantern and the moon, it felt like a dream.

A really hot, heavy, head-spinning dream.

“You’re so smart it makes my tits tingle.”

“Can I ask, like, a really serious question?” he mumbled after a moment of pondering, resting his chin on the top of her head. Keeva chuckled.

“I don’t know, can you? You can hardly talk,” she giggled as her own tongue tripped over itself.

“I’ll manage,” Stone said and sat up a bit more straight.

“M’kay, go for it.”

Silence.

“Do you like me?”

His voice seemed strangely sober as he fiddled with a loose thread on her jeans. Her eyes popped open, but she managed to keep composure.

“What?”

“You deaf?” Stone mumbled. They were both slightly swaying from side to side and every time the wind blew, it seemed to move them like waves on water.

“I mean, of course,” Keeva stuttered after clearing her throat. “Of course I do, you’re my best friend. Like, the best one I’ve ever had.”

Nailed it. God, I hope I nailed it.

“Why won’t you let me in?” he said and let his head slide down her sweaty curls to rest on her shoulder. She frowned.

“In where?”

“Dunno. Just…in,” Stone replied with a shrug.

“You’re more ‘in’ than anyone ever has been, trust me,” she chuckled and leaned her head back. Stone’s hair tickled her cheek as she looked up at the swirling sky, his bony shoulder digging into the back of her head.

“Doesn’t feel like it. Sometimes,” he muttered and paused with a sigh. “There’s just…some days when you look at me, there’s something in there that I can’t put my finger on. I can’t figure out what it is and you won’t tell me, like it’s out of limits or something. Like a ‘stop snooping around’ zone.”

When she didn’t say anything, Stone scoffed.

“Exactly like this. Just wish you’d feel more comfortable, I guess.”

Keeva didn’t know what to say. It was painful to hear his doubts, but at the same time, she perfectly understood the feeling.

“Don’t know if you like me, either,” she muttered after a long moment of silence.

“I’m confused about that, too, believe it or not.”

“You also don’t know if you like me or not? That’s encouraging,” she chuckled, but Stone clearly didn’t mean it as a joke, considering his frustrated groan.

“I do. You’re -” he paused and harshly tugged on the thread. She could hear the wheels turning in Stone’s head as his wasted brain tried to find the right words. “I want you to be my friend, I want it to stay the way it is, but I just…fuck, you’re right, I can hardly talk.”

Keeva stared up at the glowing moon, emotionless. She could tell where this was going and she tried her best to brace for it.

You don’t want this. You don’t want this and you can’t handle it. You’ll go crazy.

“I guess I’m just shit at sweet-talking,” Stone added and finally tore off the thread on her pants. He rolled it between his fingers into a ball and threw it away, then snaked his hand around Keeva’s waist.

“I mean -” she started without thinking. Her imtoxicated mind couldn’t stop itself. “I’ve heard your praises before. We’ve already dissected that earlier, though, and I don’t think either of us enjoyed that, so let’s not -”

Fuck, why the hell are you bringing that up right now, idiot?!

“But that’s what I’m saying,” Stone mumbled and started caressing her stomach with his thumb. “I’m shit at talking but I’m pretty well versed at actions.”

Keeva knew it was coming, but Stone’s irritatingly brash tone still hit her like a freight train and made a painfully hot blush spread across her face.

She set her eyes in front of her and tried to discipline herself by staring deep into the void between the trees.

Stone’s voice was as airy as the July breeze around them.

“I’d make you feel good, you know. I’d make you feel real good. Here,” he hummed and carefully observed Keeva’s reaction as he slowly snuck his hand under her cropped t-shirt and placed it on her wildly beating heart. She felt like it was soon going to jump out of her ribcage.

She cursed herself for not wearing a bra, even though that clearly wasn’t something he minded.

She couldn’t keep in a hiccuped breath and that gave Stone a sign that it was okay to move his feather-light fingers to the left and softly draw a circle around her nipple before taking his hand out again.

“And here -” he ran his finger down her stomach and stopped right above the rim of her jeans, tracing small loops along her naked abdomen.

Then, Stone reached up and caressed her along the jaw, up her cheek and stopped at her temple, gently tapping it.

“- maybe even here.”

She had to take a couple of deep breaths before being able to talk.

“Why?”

Proud that she managed not to turn around at him, Keeva arched her back under his embrace to stretch some of the tension out, but it only worsened, because it allowed Stone to cage her between his legs even tighter.

It dawned on her that he was undoubtedly enjoying himself, and that took away any of her remaining common sense.

“It makes the pain go away,” Stone whispered into her ear while putting a bit of pressure on her temple, circling it with his thumb.

Keeva felt a stab in her heart - a different one than when he cupped her naked skin. Even though he had her melted in the palm of his hand, he gave her nothing but raw practicality.

“Nothing makes the pain go away,” she sighed, shivering.

“You wouldn’t know, would you, Baby?” Stone nudged her cheek with his. His warm sticky skin made goosebumps rise up along her arms as he bent his head and placed a soft kiss on the nape of her neck.

The nickname was emphasized and it never felt so personal. Mocking.

“You’re naive,” Keeva tried to fight back, but couldn’t hold back another sigh when Stone rewarded her jab with another kiss, this time much less gentle.

“Maybe,” he mumbled. “You’re bitter.”

“Takes one to know one,” she shrugged, squirming when he softly bit her. She felt like she was having a fever. Stone scoffed.

“You’re stuck-up,” he slurred and brushed some of Keeva’s curls away, gently tugging on them so she’d bend her head back. She softly hissed.

“You’re a prick.”

Stone grinned against her skin as he placed another wet kiss under her ear.

“Bad news, I like it when you insult me,” he jabbed and grinned even wider when Keeva momentarily snapped out of her brain fog and frowned.

He somehow seemed more annoying than ever and it was driving her insane.

“So you’re a freak, too,” she scoffed over her shoulder, but Stone tugged on her hair again to move her back in place so he’d have easier access to her skin.

“Yup. Takes one to know one,” he muttered before giving her a long, sloppy kiss right above her clavicle. A buzzing sharp pain ran down her spine when Stone sucked on the thin skin.

“Fuck, stop - you’re gonna leave a -”

“I don’t care,” he interrupted and sealed it with a soft bite. “Let them see.”

Keeva took a deep, deep breath.

“You think the whole world revolves around you,” she shot back, but he just shrugged and lifted her t-shirt over her breasts. The tepid air suddenly turned freezing cold.

“Good try. You’re never gonna win this, sorry,” Stone scoffed and expertly twisted her around in one brisk move so they’d be face to face.

Keeva wasn’t prepared for that possibility. She didn’t have a plan on how to avoid his scrutinizing stare. She didn’t want her will to break that fast. But alas, once he locked eyes with her, she was gone.

Stone’s pupils were wildly dilated and his eyes were half-lidded, he was obviously floating in a haze of his own. Somehow, the green seemed to be the most vivid Keeva had ever seen it. As if he sucked it out of the trees around them.

How could I possibly survive this when I live with the fucking Medusa?

She took a shaky breath.

“Insufferable.”

Stone chuckled, tipping his head as he always did when he taunted her.

“And you are a pussy,” he shot back and squeezed Keeva closer to him when she finally gave up and twisted her legs around his waist. Stone rested his forehead on hers, but he didn’t move an inch closer. All parts of their bodies were touching, except for the lips.

Keeva sighed.

*Oh yeah, nearly forgot. No kissing. That’s a good policy.*

“Jokes on you, ‘cause I love it when you insult me,” she mumbled and made him giggle. Stone’s laughter was always so contagious, she couldn’t help but laugh back.

“Fine, you’re a bitch, then,” he said with a shrug and moved back to her neck, kissing his way down to her chest, painfully slow.

“You’re too hot for your own good,” Keeva breathed out and buried her hands in his damp hair. She could feel Stone’s smug smirk against her skin.

“Am I?”

Keeva gave his hair a little tug and he reacted with a sound that almost resembled a moan.

“You’re also vain,” she whispered and tugged again when Stone kissed her breast, her confidence boosted. He let out another noise.

“And you like it,” he mumbled just as he was about to move further down. He stopped, though, hovering in front of her chest as his hot breath tickled her tender skin.

After a few moments, Keeva tried to push him closer again, but Stone didn’t budge. He just straightened his back and put her t-shirt back down. She had no control over herself as she writhed in frustration with a whine.

“Told you you wouldn’t win,” he smirked and rested his forehead on hers again. Keeva decided to test Stone’s resilience by shuffling in his lap, but he sternly grabbed her waist and held her in place, tutting.

Her annoyed frown made him laugh again.

The loud buzzing in her ears when they fell silent made her head hurt - and that began to slowly sober her up from the thick haze in her brain.

What exactly are we doing here? Friends don’t do this.

This is not friendly behaviour.

“We could do it any time we’d need to unwind,” Stone finally spoke. His voice was soft and fragile, as if he was whispering along with the rustling leaves. “Pure companionship. Nothing but a friendly help out.”

Keeva bitterly scoffed as the fog slowly melted and her senses came back.

“You have a lot of friends that would gladly help out, Stoney,” she whispered and nudged his pointy nose with hers. He closed his eyes to collect his thoughts.

For a split second, she wondered if Stone, too, felt like he was living with the Medusa.

“No,” he breathed out. “No one like you.”

Before Keeva could answer, a branch cracked somewhere in the distance.

They both jumped further away from each other before Stone grabbed her, turned her around in his lap again and squeezed her closer, shielding her with his arm.

“Don’t move, it will leave if it doesn’t hear us,” he barely whispered and wrapped himself around her even more in defence. Keeva frowned but shuffled as close to him as she could.

“The fuck do you mean, ‘it’?” she said but Stone harshly shushed her. After a few seconds of horror, they both relaxed once Steve’s voice echoed through the trees.

“Hey guys! Where are you?”

The other voice was Shawn.

“Stoney? Keeks? Hello?”

She could almost feel Stone’s eye roll.

“We’re here, you lazy fucks!”

“Hey! Where the hell were you?” Shawn questioned with a worried frown as the two figures emerged from the darkness, holding their own camping lanterns.

“Clearly having a fucking ball, where were you?! How did it take you four hours to start looking for us?” Keeva spat at them and quickly hopped up, brushing dry leaves off of her ass.

She turned back at Stone, whose unreadable expression made her head spin.

He looked at her, his eyes slightly less feverish, and his curt but disappointed nod was a clear sign that he agreed that this conversation was meant to be had sober and at home.

“I mean, we thought you had a better sense of orientation,” Steve barged in with a shrug. “Plus, there was the sentiment that perhaps you needed some alone time and believe me, nobody around that campfire wants to walk in on that, so…”

“You’re a funny bloke, Stevie,” Keeva gave him a sarcastic smile when he drunkenly giggled. “Not right now, mind you, but sometimes, I’m sure.”

“Oh, we might need your medical assistance, Stoney,” he said as he helped Stone get up.

“Mark and Chris took some shrooms, you gotta see that,” Shawn shook his head. “I’ve never seen anyone trip their balls off that hard. Chris started making out with a tree because he mistook it for Susan who was right next to it, so Mark tried to drag him away. But they started wrestling and now he has a bloody scratch on his nose and probably gave Mark a stye. And Kim laughed so hard his stomach started cramping and he got sick. Matt had to hold his hair back, didn’t know he was such a gentleman. Wait, where’s all the stuff?”

He rummaged through the bags as Keeva curiously loomed over his shoulder and watched him dig around the empty cans and chips packages, patting his back.

“It’s gone to my head, love. Big time.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

[tryskomys]

Wet Sand

Stone Gossard x OC

Chapter 8 - Over My Head

Summary: that would be a shame.

masterlist

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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.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

[tryskomys]

Wet Sand

Stone Gossard x OC

Chapter 7 - Bloodshot Ruby

Summary: i am her. it’s her fault.

masterlist

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notes: working title: Stone and His *Day* of Wonders.

it has come to my attention that the haters said i will have seven OR more chapters without a proper and thorough Stone POV. pft, excuse me?! not in this household, haters, not on my watch. i max out at six.

minors - naughty, watch out. bet you’ve read much much worse (maybe even on yours truly, tryskomys blog) and will definitely laugh at my disclaimer.

(a tiny note for those reading from the start - i proof-read the past chapters again and changed up a few words, such as kiki’s nickname now only appearing in the dialogue bc keeva is a rly pretty name and i want it to be seen ok?? <3 to any keevas out there ily and i gotta put some respect to your name lol)

jesus, these chapter notes of mine will soon reach the word count of an average tryskomys chapter. and that’s saying something.

tws: news flash - the actions described in this text are not a healthy way to deal with emotions. nothing too explicit but alluding to the word that ends with the same five letters as ‘situation’ and the bad word that sounds suspiciously close to…‘snacks’? whatever !!!SAFE SEX RULES EVERYONE!!!

ok bye enjoy

songs:

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

“Stoney? Stone. Stone, tell me you’re joking.”

“I forgot to call him.”

“You forgot?”

“Yes, I did. I’ll call him as soon as we leave, I’ll take care of it.”

“But -”

“Let’s move on, we gotta end in half an hour. Take it from the top - Stardog. Everyone ready?”

As winter faded, February and March seamlessly blended together. Not that it was any less cold or damp - it was still Seattle.

But - much to Stone’s annoyance - the afternoon sun was already growing way too bold. It was ruthlessly tickling his eyes as he stomped through the streets, alone.

His boots splashed against the melting snow along the way home from rehearsal.

It was fruitful, until both guys from Malfunkshun - meaning Andy’s brother Kevin and Regan - walked in on them practising with both Andy and Greg, the drumming legend of the Seattle underground.

Stone had already played a couple of house parties with Jeff, Keeva, Bruce, Andy and Regan. They just went in, got drunk for free, covered a bunch of songs and had a grand fucking time doing it, too.

To him, it felt amazing. Besides Andy’s larger-than-life voice, the booming sound of the triad of guitars was just magical - Keeva’s psychedelic and experimental tinkering and Bruce’s soulful-yet-edgy solos fit so well with Stone’s dirty funk riffs.

And he wanted to have a band with Regan ever since they were pimply preteens.

But Jeff, apparently unable to skip an opportunity to be a thorn in Stone’s side, just didn’t click with him. And that was always an immovable problem when it came to a bassist-drummer relationship.

So Stone was, as always, tasked to give the hard and stern announcement.

Yeah, sure, leave it to Stone.

The calculating Stone. The level-headed Stone. The pragmatic Stone. The emotionless Stone. The ‘nomen est omen’ Stone.

He was sick of it.

Frowning, he harshly chewed on his bottom lip and huddled himself deeper into his scarf.

How could you forget something that important, you -

No. No, no, it’s her fault. It’s her fault.

Stone rubbed off a damp drop at the tip of his freezing nose and adjusted the guitar case that hung on his shoulder.

He knew precisely what was wrong with him.

That night, he had a nightmare. He was trapped in a maze of tapestries - they surrounded him from all sides, each one of a different shape and size. At first, it seemed like they were vignettes of some strangely shaped landscapes and woods.

Only after Stone took a closer look at the biggest one, the blood in his veins curdled as he realized that all of the embroidery depicted his friends - many of his friends, all lying dead in grotesque positions like battered rag dolls.

Surrounded by heaps of dirty drug paraphernalia, taking their own lives...so many.

Mountains upon mountains of bodies - and at the very top sat a lone crying figure, delicate like a porcelain doll about to break. She was the only one moving.

Pale, naked, shivering. She was extending her shaky hands as if she was begging him to free her. He reached out, but she was stuck in the tapestry, crying louder and louder as he desperately clawed on the fabric in an attempt to rip her out of the horror.

That’s when he woke up - deep into the night and drenched in cold sweat. Her fading screams were still ringing in his ears.

After a few moments, he realized that something dragged him out of the terror. His hazy mind caught the faint sound of a muffled tune coming from upstairs.

Suddenly, Stone was convinced that he’d just woken up in a different, prettier dream - everything seemed so cloudy and unclear. He got up and walked over to the stairs. He felt like he was floating through the room, light-headed and weightless.

Her curtain was nearly closed, but he caught a peek of her through the small gap between the fabric and the frame.

Her silhouette was enlightened by the faint warm light above her bed - it made her rosy curls glow like a halo.

The way her fingers danced around the fretboard was hypnotic, producing sounds that he didn’t even know a guitar could make. The melody was entrancing, like something you would only hear in - well, a dream. That only solidified Stone’s deluded belief.

Closing her eyes, her lips parted as she quietly started humming a harmonic second line to her strings.

She moved in a way he’d never seen her do before - as if she was floating on waves, her body flowing from side to side like in a trance. And, knowing her, it occurred to him that she definitely did not want to be seen.

There was something incredibly erotic about the scene.

Somehow, Stone knew that she was imagining him there with her, obediently playing the part she was humming. Like a puppet with its maker. It drove him mad.

His ears burned so harshly it caused him pain. Her voice was as soft as pure silk to his ears. Always breathy and wonderfully deep - truly a contrast to her small figure. And when she sang, it transformed into an irresistible siren call.

For a split second, he was determined to invite himself in and listen from up close. Let her sing him to sleep, fade away into blissful oblivion while resting his head in her warm lap. Feel her fingers running through his hair.

Maybe even let her place a head-spinning kiss on his lips. Just this once. Why not - it was just a dream, after all.

But then, just as the wooden stairs faintly creaked under Stone’s feet, she abruptly stopped with a frustrated headshake.

She was always like this. Forever dissatisfied with her musical abilities. Come to think of it, generally anything that had to do with her skills.

She put her battered guitar away, rubbing her eyes. She stretched. Her baggy t-shirt was cut off just short enough to lift above her ribcage and -

Stone shook his head with an annoyed huff, now seriously pissed at himself.

She’s fucking with your head. It’s her fault.

He wasn’t used to being this careless. This project was incredibly important to him and Regan was one of the best friends he’s ever had. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not like this. And the blame was on him.

It’s her fault.

Keeva angered him. The whole concept of her pissed him off. A tiny flickering will-o’-the-wisp floating around his safe space. She always just appeared wherever he happened to look.

That’s how often she occupied his brain - sometimes it felt like she could be in two places at once.

Stomping around in fuzzy socks. Faded pink curls that bounced when she hopped up on the kitchen counter. All the needless jabs and how she had an answer for everything.

Her tired eyes were bordered with dark purple circles, always twinkling with tears and slightly out of focus. Brown irises speckled with blue that seemed to glow from within while scanning the indecent thoughts in his head like an X-ray.

As if she realized the effect she had on him and smugly rubbed it in his face with that stupid little smirk.

Whenever she forgot to act like she hated his joke and broke into joyful laughter, little dimples appeared on her blushing cheeks - her canines were protruding and sharp, like they would draw blood if she kissed his neck. Worst of all - he’d risk that, given the chance.

Stone had vowed to never feel like this again. But somehow, Keeva managed to drag it out of him and make it more excruciating than it had ever been.

Bullshit. It wouldn’t hurt like this. The ‘in love’ thing, surely it wouldn’t. Fuck. I don’t even remember.

No, definitely not.

You’re just a horny asshole.

He’d hoped that if he stomped through the snowy mud hard enough, he might let some of the steam out. To no avail, as he just got the rims of his jeans even more wet and annoyed himself further.

Keeva was caustic, cynical and bitter.

I am her.

It’s her fault.

When Stone arrived home, she wasn’t there. After the argument they had while locking up the rehearsal space, it wasn’t too surprising to him. They were supposed to see Soundgarden play The OK Hotel, but it was still early for that.

He was pretty sure that she was either at Andy and Chris’s place or roaming around Discovery Park to calm down like she always did.

“I can’t believe you forgot to tell him. Stoney, it’s okay to divide the responsibilities a bit, you don’t have to do everything alone. You insisted even when I offered to do it, but -”

“As far as I know, I didn’t ask for your help.”

“Oh. And where did that get us, exactly?”

“He’ll live, Baby, don’t worry.”

“What the - did you see the look on his face? He was devastated.”

”Might be a surprise to you, but I am, in fact, not blind. I’ll call him as soon as I get home.”

“Is that tone of yours really necessary?”

“I don’t know, is it?”

“You’re fucking insufferable.”

“Good thing you live with me, then. Birds of a feather or something.”

“Watch your fucking mouth, Stone.”

“Or what, you’ll bite my ankle?”

“Go fuck yourself.”

Stone’s throat tightened as he rummaged through his clothes drawer. He didn’t even know what he was looking for, it just felt good to mess up all the folded laundry.

After a few minutes of mindless ransacking, he decided that his nerves needed a hot shower before calling Regan with the apologetic news.

What if she doesn’t come back?

He banged his head against the bathroom tiles in an attempt to shut down the childish thought and turned the faucet on.

Idiot, of course she’ll come back. She lives here.

You brought this upon her. She’s stuck with you.

It’s your fault.

Boiling water harshly splashed against Stone’s naked skin, leaving angry red marks on his back.

And as a thick mist spread through the tiny room, he didn’t even try to battle the image of Keeva’s stretching body that crept back to the very front of his consciousness.

It spilt into every corner of his brain and pulsed through his veins like a fever - until the only things he could see, feel or touch were her nude pale breasts, illuminated by the dim glow of her lamp.

● ● ● ● ● ●

The phone beeped while Stone impatiently waited for his friends to pick up at the other side. He was supposed to leave in a few minutes and she still hadn’t come home.

“Hello?” a female voice answered the phone, making Stone jump out of his dissociation. It wasn’t Keeva, though.

“Heeey, it’s Xana, right? Stone here.”

“Hi, Stone!” Xana, Andy’s new girlfriend, called back. She was really nice, although slightly overwhelming - sometimes a bit too opinionated for Stone’s taste. He, too, was opinionated.

In fact, they had different opinions on a lot of things, something he faced every time she hung out with them for the past month. Andy seemed to be on cloud nine, though, so who was he to judge?

She took care of his friend and that was what mattered.

“Hey, uh, any chance Keeks is around? We’re supposed to be at The OK in, like, fifteen minutes. Could you put her on the phone for a second?”

“Oh, Kiki isn’t here. Chris already left for a soundcheck about two hours ago and Andy is staying in tonight,” she said. In his head, he scoffed.

Does Andy know that he’s staying in tonight?

“You mean she wasn’t over at all?”

“Nope, not that I know of. She’s your girlfriend, shouldn’t you know where she is?” she teased.

Stone rolled his eyes.

When Andy and the others joked about the two of them, it was still annoying, but he was used to it by now.

With Xana, he had a nagging feeling that she hadn’t earned the right to do it yet - she just parroted it after Andy, who was allowed to poke fun only because he had to put up with their antics.

“Very witty,” he snapped and then took a deep breath to calm down. “Ugh, okay, thanks. She’s probably already there.”

“I’m sure Kiki’s fine, she’s a big girl,” Xana giggled and Stone couldn’t wait to put the phone down.

“Only about five foot one. Anyway, say hi to Andy. See ya,” he said and waited for her to stop giggling.

“Sure, he says hi right back. Bye, Stoney!” Xana replied when she stopped laughing and ended the call.

He loudly sighed.

God dammit.

Fine. She’s a grown woman, she can do as she pleases. If she wants to play divorce, I’ll play divorce.

What the fuck do I care.

Stone ran his hand through his matted mop of hair. By now, it had washed out to pinky orange and the brown roots were growing more extensive every day.

He grunted in frustration as he stomped through the room - when he walked past the wooden stairs, he gave the bottom step a thorough, childish kick.

After checking his watch for the final time, he grabbed his keys and denim jacket and stormed out of the door.

I don’t care.

● ● ● ● ● ●

The set was electric, as always. Stone decided to stay in the pit this time, instead of looming behind the speakers at the side of the stage. He had to get it out of his system, fast. Whatever it was.

He tried not to wonder if Keeva was around as he screamed incoherent lyrics back at Chris.

Because she wasn’t around when he came in. She still wasn’t around when he searched for her during the third song and by the eighth song, he gave up and decided to focus solely on the feeling of sweat beads running down his temples.

It was so uncomfortably hot in there.

The OK always had a problem with the heating system, but this time it didn’t bother Stone. Even though he felt like he was going to faint by the end of the encore, it did not bother him.

He was certain that if he kept himself feeling as uncomfortable as possible for long enough, it would truly not bother him.

He happily kicked back a tequila shot that Chris bought him.

“You looked like you needed it. Where’s my little greenie? I know she doesn’t like the pit but I haven’t seen her at all.”

“Probably at the playground playing hide and seek with the other children or something.”

It was nearly midnight and she still hadn’t shown up.

“Yeah, so I had a lot to handle there, but you know, survival of the fittest!”

A girl around their age stopped by him. Stone had seen her around before, a tall brunette who was a part of Mel’s friend group. They were at almost every show he’d attended and he was pretty good at remembering…let’s say faces. This one was Betty, a psychology major at U-Dub.

“Yeah. I didn’t even get through the first exams, so there’s a scoop for ya,” he replied, not sure how to keep the conversation going.

I dropped out. That’s it. Can we move on?

“Oh, what a shame. They say smart is the new sexy,” Betty shrugged with a sultry smile while re-applying her lipstick.

“Do they?” he asked and let himself break into a condescending grin. She seemed to like that.

There we go. See, Baby would tell you to get fucked, Gossard.

“You don’t agree?” Betty pouted and leaned against the wall. Stone followed her movement like a shadow, resting his palm next to her head.

“I think sexy is what it’s always been,” he said, slowly took her beer bottle from her hands and wrapped his lips around it, brashly taking a drink. Betty nodded, humming.

“Hm. Enlighten me.”

Stone nonchalantly reached out and brushed a stray strand of her silky brown hair out of her eyes, gently tucking it behind her ear.

“You’re smart, aren’t you?” he mumbled, letting Betty lean closer to him. Her eyes fluttered closed and she sheepishly nodded. He was so close he spoke against the skin of her neck.

“You can figure it out on your own, then. You’re a big girl, no need for me to hold your hand through it.”

When he pressed a fleeting kiss under her ear, she let out a tiny gasp.

“I need to go powder my nose,” he said when he pushed himself away from the wall, smirking. Betty knew what to do when he turned his back on her and disappeared into the crowd, somewhere in the direction of the restrooms.

“You gonna take me back to your place?” she softly sighed when he dragged her into one of the stalls and locked it behind them.

“Can’t,” Stone muttered, secretly plotting. He’d hoped it would put her off sooner or later. “Uh, my roommate’s home.”

Rejection, that’s what you need, Gossard. Uncomfortable. Keep yourself uncomfortable and it will be fine.

“Oh, Miss Bitchy Mary Poppins? The little one?” Betty raised her eyebrows, clearly aware of their ‘hip-attached’ reputation.

“There’s more than one kind? Good grief,” he huffed and firmly grabbed her waist. He brushed away her hair and briskly started kissing her neck, leaving wet red spots behind as he moved along.

Through soft gasps, she giggled without realizing that it wasn’t a jab at his friend, but a real sentiment.

“She’s a bit stuck-up, isn’t she?” Betty chirped and shivered under Stone’s hands when he accidentally bit down.

“Fuck, sorry.”

“No, no, do it again,” she shook her head and pulled him closer, but he was very focused on keeping himself in line. “I’ll be much more fun than her, I promise.”

Stone smirked, satisfied with his plan.

That’s it. Stay uncomfortable.

“I wouldn’t know.”

“No way you didn’t sleep with her,” Betty chortled again and pulled on his hair when he unbuttoned the top of her blouse.

Okay, that’s a bit too uncomfortable.

“Can we change the subject, please?” he mumbled as he snaked his clammy hand under her lace bra.

She hummed and returned the favour by reaching under his t-shirt. She ran her finger down his abdomen.

“I mean - oh - I know she’s not the sweetest and that her eyes are a bit too far apart -”

Fuck. Why am I not enjoying this?

“Still the same subject, Betty.”

“- and her front teeth are pretty big and her nose is a bit flat at the top -”

Why am I not having fun? This was a shitty plan.

“Betty,” he said a bit more sternly.

“- fuck - and she kinda looks like she’s never had a good night’s sleep in her life -”

“Betty.”

“- and if you see her from afar, she kinda looks like a funny little gnome - oh, Stoney - but if you squint really hard, she’s kinda cute, I gu-”

Betty gasped when Stone suddenly dropped his hands and stepped away from her with an annoyed frown.

“Do you want me to fuck you or not?”

Short awkward silence filled the stall as she stared at him, a bit startled at his tone.

Yeah, this isn’t working. Good riddance, asshole.

“Uh, yes. Yessir,” Betty nodded - which was not the answer he wanted to hear - and a wild blush filled her tanned cheeks.

Stone tried to force a smile, but it must’ve come out quite insincere. Because it was.

“Good. Then let me, please. Sorry. Thank you,” he muttered and inched closer to her again, but she took a tiny step back, the blush burning even brighter.

“Wh- you wanna do it r-right here?” her voice cracked a few octaves higher. Stone had to bite his lip to contain the joyous smirk.

Eureka! Here we go!

“Something wrong with that?” he asked with a raised eyebrow, but his cocky attitude withered as soon as Betty shook her head with a loud giggle and took his face in her palms.

“Oh my god. The girls told me you were a good time,” she breathed out and tried to go in for a kiss.

“Charming,” Stone deadpanned and - thanks to years of training - swiftly dodged her and played it off as bending down to kiss her nipple.

A vignette of Keeva’s room from the night before flashed in front of his eyes. The way she swayed side to side, perky breasts moving against the fabric of her baggy cut-off pyjamas.

Isn’t this what you wanted, dumbass? Is this uncomfortable enough for you?

He frantically searched his pockets - all empty - and suddenly thought of a way out.

Sorry, Betty, you’re a nice gal. But this is my Golden Ticket.

“Shit. I forgot a wrapper,” Stone slapped his forehead and rose up, trying to sound bothered. Betty just took his shoulders and tried to push him down again.

“I don’t care,” was her breathy answer. Stone’s eyes popped open and suddenly, his resolution to stay uncomfortable flew out of the window.

“Oh, okay then. Skirt up,” he stepped back and folded his arms, motioning her to lift her flowery dress. Betty eagerly did so right away, making him sigh as he hurried to put her hands back down along with the skirt.

Baby would’ve told you to go fuck yourself, Gossard.

“That was a joke, Betty. I don’t do it raw,” he said matter-of-factly and stepped away again.

“But I’m on the pill,” Betty said, nearly moaning.

“I don’t care,” Stone mimicked her cool girl attitude from earlier. By now, his tone was bordering on rude, but she apparently didn’t mind and had a clear goal for tonight.

“Well, there’s a CVS down the street. I can go get some, what do you think?”

“No, it’s -” he started, but then he realized something.

If I go now, I can act like they were out of stock and tada!

You wanted uncomfortable, now you can drown in it, dumbass.

“Fine. You stay here, it’s cold outside. Go have a drink or something, I’ll be back in fifteen.”

“So Stoney Gossard is not only a good time - he’s gentleman, too? That is not something you hear every day,” she giggled, twirling her finger around a strand of Stone’s hair as he put his jacket back on.

“Some say I’m generous as well,” he said bluntly and wrapped the scarf around his neck. Betty’s excited giggle pinched his ears.

“Do they?”

“No. See ya.”

● ● ● ● ● ●

Stone was walking down the street as slowly as he could, kicking rubble out of his way with way too much strength.

He was slightly shivering, one gloved hand buried deep in his pockets and the other one squeezing a half-smoked cigarette.

Christ, the jacket wasn’t the brightest idea.

If Baby was there, she would’ve told you to wear something warmer, Gossard.

He cursed under his foggy breath, staring at the three packs of condoms tucked inside the pocket on his chest. He was planning to hide them somewhere before coming back.

At least they were on sale.

Passing a record store, Stone had to walk back and double-check the window. He caught a flash of his woollen beanie in one of the listening booths.

No way.

When he glued his face to the glass, he let out a relieved sigh. His eyes didn’t fool him.

You little shithead.

It was Keeva, sitting on a small stool and nodding her head along to whatever was playing in her headphones. He couldn’t tell what was spinning on the record table in front of her, but he didn’t really care.

Oh, you’re getting it.

The bell hanging above the door shrilled as Stone walked into the empty store.

“‘Sup, Mick,” he called on the way past the disinterested teenager that sat behind the counter, reading a comic book.

“Hey, Stoney.”

Stone had no patience for small talk, though, so he beelined straight to the two improvised listening booths. Only one was occupied, and the listener didn’t notice right away that he stepped in front of her, arms crossed.

I’ll carry you out in my teeth, lady.

Keeva’s eyes were closed and she was softly wiggling to the rhythm. The curls that stuck out of the beanie obscured her eyes. Stone had to knock on the chipboard table to get her attention.

As soon as she looked up, all his hopes of being stern and upset faded.

Her eyes were a bit red, like she’d just recently stopped crying. Her freckled cheeks were still flushed from the cool breeze outside, so she must’ve arrived not too long ago. In a split second, she recognized him. There seemed to be a little light that switched behind her irises.

He was - once again - powerless.

“Oh. Hey,” she said as she took off the headphones, her voice slightly raspy.

She must’ve been in the cold for some time.

Stone had to restrain himself really hard so he wouldn’t jump over the table and give her a bone-crushing hug.

“Whatcha spinning?” was all that came out of him, arms still stubbornly crossed at his chest. It was like Keeva knew that he wanted to say something else, so she smirked before putting on a nonchalant expression.

She always knows.

“Just some local band I rummaged out of the gutter,” she lifted the album sleeve that was lying on the floor. She showed it to him with a sarcastic smile. “They’re fucking wank.”

It was Green River’s first EP.

Stone couldn’t help but snort.

“Heard the guitar player was a hack,” he said, basking in the feeling that always came to him when the two of them got into bickering.

“Big time. The riffs are so sloppy I feel violated,” Keeva said and theatrically shivered. “Filthy.”

Stone took a moment to think about his next words.

I can’t just say sorry. I’m not sorry. I’m not. Why should I be? I didn’t do anything.

“Funny thing, he called me up earlier and asked when you were coming home. Said he was worried or something. So I thought I would help out and go looking.”

Keeva nodded, biting her bottom lip to stop herself from smiling.

“What a Good Samaritan without any ulterior motives,” she said and scratched her forehead. “I planned to roam the downtown and drown my sorrows in cheap alcohol - but now I’m tempted to come with you, not gonna lie.”

Silence.

“Kim was asking about you.”

Stone just couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t help but feel a twisted sense of justice when her face dropped, red with embarrassment.

“Oh. Oh, shit. The gig,” she whispered and dragged the rim of his stolen beanie over her eyes.

“Yup,” he added. The good feeling didn’t last long, though. When Keeva lifted the blue wool again, she looked crushed.

“Fucking hell. I promised him, too. He got some new humbuckers and wanted to show me,” she whined.

Okay, I’m done grilling.

“I think they’re all hanging around, we’ll still catch them if we hurry,” he said and looked at his watch.

What Stone hadn’t realized was that the chest pocket of his denim jacket wasn’t sown in mind with three boxes of Trojans stuffed inside. One of the boxes peeked out just where the logo was.

Keeva darted between it and his face and slowly broke into a smirk. It took him a few moments to realize what was going on.

“Hm. Bet we will,” she hummed and let him simmer in the moment before pointing at his pocket. “Saw the two plus one ad on the way. Good deal.”

Now it was his turn to look at her as if she dropped boiling water on the top of his head.

“What’s that face for, pretty boy?” she mused as she got up from the stool and started packing up the record. “I’m glad you’re responsible, Stoney. The world has way too many fathers.”

Then, she patted his chest and snaked around him to get to the counter. She handed the album to the teen, along with a few cents for the listening booth.

“Ta, Mickey. Have a good one,” she mumbled and looked back at Stone, waving at him to come with her. He had to take a deep breath before following her outside.

Do you feel uncomfortable enough, you idiot?

When they stepped out, Keeva hooked her arm in his and huddled closer to Stone before setting off.

The silence was overwhelming for him.

“You hungry? I’ll make pancakes when we get home,” he chimed in. If his tone came out awkward, Keeva knew better than to comment on it. She just gasped.

“Oh, no.”

“Oh, no?” he repeated with a chuckle.

“That will erase any progress you’ve made in charming me so far,” she explained, shaking her head. Stone gasped as well.

“Oh, no.”

“They tasted like a trampled chunk of a tyre last time,” she muttered and scrunched her nose.

“They might be delicious today, you’ll never know unless you try ‘em,” he giggled. Keeva poked his side.

“You think your skills have evolved?”

“Only one way to find out,” he shrugged.

“Alright. I will trust you but only because you have that fancy first-aid course certificate on the shelf,” she said with a barely straight face before breaking into a cackle. “Christ, you’re such a nerd.”

Stone huffed.

“At least I don’t have a replica of that stone from Dark Crystal next to my bed. You know, like someone,” he softly pushed her and she staggered.

“It’s a crystal, not a stone. Not everything is about you, stoner.”

Keeva didn’t plan to cause another wave of silence. He shrugged.

Yeah. It’s not.

“You slept well?” she said after a few minutes of walking, carefully tugging at his arm. “I heard you tossing and turning all night.”

Stone shuddered and closed his eyes for a second, hoping that she wouldn’t notice.

Fuck, how do you even word that?

‘Yep, had a nightmare where all my friends were dead junkies. Your playing woke me up so I climbed up to stare at you through the gap in your curtains like a creep. Yeah, and I saw your nipples. Cranked off to it later, too. Oh, and the song was beautiful, by the way.’

“Yeah. I guess I had a bad dream or something,” he replied, content that he managed to keep his voice from shaking.

Keeva nudged him again and her eyebrows knitted into a worried frown.

“Hey, stranger,” she said sweetly. “You know that you can tell me anything, right?”

Stone couldn’t help but scoff.

I can’t even tell that shit to myself.

“Okay, tone the therapist act way down, sweetheart,” he nudged her back. He immediately felt bad for being crass, because Keeva just shook her head and mumbled a barely audible apology.

“Thanks,” he added into the deafening silence. “I’m fine. Really, I’m fine. Fine.”

“One more time and I’ll believe you,” she squinted at him. Stone snorted.

“I’m fine.”

“Sounds like you’re fine,” she shrugged and squeezed his arm. He sharply exhaled.

Do it, coward. Stay uncomfortable.

“I heard you play last night, it was really pretty.”

She hiccuped and he could see her cheeks flooded with red again, even in the dim night.

“Oh shit, did I wake you up? Stoney, I’m so sorry. Fuck, I’m such an idiot -” she rambled, but he interrupted her.

“No, no. I woke up on my own.”

Bullshitting your way through life - revolutionary.

“I’ll try to be more quiet next time, sorry,” she lamented.

“No, it’s okay, Baby. I barely heard you. In fact, you better turn that shit up or I’ll have to crawl up there,” he raised his index finger and poked her cheek.

Keeva’s embarrassment was quickly put on hold as she spotted a moment to take a jab at him.

“What, to peep at me through the keyhole, you perv?” she snickered.

Shit.

“You don’t have a keyhole,” Stone deadpanned.

“Irrelevant. Any hole of mine is a pay-per-view affair, pal.”

He tried to swallow, but his throat was too dry.

“You can put a little piggy bank on the stairs. I’ll make sure to throw in a few coins before I come up next time.”

Oh, fuck. Oh, no. Oh fuck, oh no.

Keeva looked at him with a triumphant grin.

“I knew it.”

No the fuck you didn’t.

“I knew you were an A-grade freak under that careless punky coat of yours,” she added, tugging at his denim jacket. Stone couldn’t hold back a shaky exhale.

Oof.

When they walked a couple of feet without a word, she cleared her throat.

“This is usually the point where you’re expected to laugh at the punchline.”

“Have you ever considered that you just might not be funny enough?” Stone shot back, rubbing his nose.

Nailed it.

“Not funny enough to you? No,” Keeva shrugged and leaned her head on his shoulder.

“Ugh, I can’t believe I forgot,” she grunted after a while. “Looks like you’re not the only one with a sieve for a brain, so that’s a good thing for you.”

“You really never fail to be a ray of sunshine,” he scoffed, jumping when she let out a loud gasp and squeezed him even closer.

“Oh! Hot and annoying?”

“Exactly,” he said with a wide smile and enjoyed the view as she closed her mouth and started blushing again.

“He was really good about it. Regan, you know,” Stone said as another few moments passed. “Understanding. He wished us luck and said that he hopes we’ll still get to play together sometime. He wanted to let you know that he’s alright so you wouldn’t worry, but you weren’t home.”

Keeva nodded. Her shoulders relaxed ever so slightly, but he knew that she wouldn’t let it go until she talked to Regan face to face.

Stone hesitated to continue. His throat burned as he tried to push down the tequila shots he’d had. This day was making him sick.

Leave it to Stone. Perfect.

“And, uh, he asked if he can stop by tomorrow night, wanted to talk about Andy. Something’s up with him again.”

“Oh.”

The cold facade that suddenly hardened her features was somewhat familiar to him.

Oh, don’t you learn this from me. Don’t learn anything from me, actually.

“I’m sure it’s just something silly. Might be about that new girl of his, don’t worry,” he tried to save the situation, but she just scoffed.

“Yeah - girl problems or smack problems? Pick your poison.”

Keeva’s frigid tone sent chills down Stone’s spine as he opened the door of The OK Hotel for her. Before he could say anything to soothe her, she put on a brave face and gave him an unassuming smirk.

He hadn’t noticed that a few feet behind him, Betty was waiting at the bar, having a beer.

She wildly waved at them.

“Well, lookit here,” Keeva mused and waved back. “It’s Mel’s friend. The one you didn’t fuck yet, too, how convenient.”

When Stone turned around and didn’t say anything, she knowingly chuckled.

“That’s my cue. Have fun, Stoney. And make it quick, I beg you. I’m not gonna wait in front of the bathrooms for an hour like last time.”

You’re not gonna what?

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he questioned with raised eyebrows.

“I needed to wash my hands but you were too busy fucking someone’s brains out in there,” she nonchalantly shrugged as Stone froze.

He recovered pretty quickly, though. At least that’s what he thought.

“They didn’t teach you how to knock?” he shot back, harshly knocking on Keeva’s forehead.

“They did,” she shrugged again and then broke into a sly grin. “You were audibly enjoying yourself, though. What kind of a friend would I be to spoil a good time for you?”

Oh, don’t do this to me.

“Or I could’ve been having a terrible time and you failed to save me,” he tried to wiggle out of it with his best silver-tongued tone, but Keeva didn’t budge.

In fact, she laughed in his face.

“I’m not a stupid child, Stoney. Just a mentally ill virgin,” she said and gave him a moment to laugh. When he didn’t and continued to blankly stare at her, she delivered another blow.

“Plus, it’s encouraging to know you’re not always being a sarcastic prick. Never expected to hear such nice words leave your mouth.”

Stone wanted to speak. He wanted to shoot her down with some stupid acidic remark, give her a disarming smirk and drown in the deliciously victorious feeling of seeing her flustered, but his mind was blank.

Numb.

He just allowed her to pat the condom-stuffed pocket and snicker as she was leaving.

“And I kinda liked all those sighs of yours - you know, from afar. Makes you more human.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

[tryskomys]

Wet Sand

Stone Gossard x OC

Chapter 6 - Maybe

Summary: close. open.

masterlist

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

notes: next chapter, yay! this has, like, kinda a lot of words. hope you’re okay with that lol

tws: mentions of drugs and awful parenting. loneliness. touch-starved trope if you squint very very hard. weed, but that’s kinda given by now.

songs:

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

“Actually, you wouldn’t believe the coincidence,” Stone mumbled after breathing out smoke that mixed with the frigid fog coming out of his mouth. They stood at a balcony, a Christmas Day house party in full swing behind them. “I’m your secret Santa.”

He reached into the inner pocket of his jacket to fish out a scrappy bundle. It nearly looked like an empty crumpled ball of red polka-dot wrapping paper. It was clumsily taped all around, which made Keeva chuckle.

“You’re not supposed to tell me, that’s where the word ‘secret’ comes in,” she raised her eyebrows, reluctantly taking the gift he was offering her.

Stone huffed, awkwardly sticking his hand back into the pockets of his jeans.

“Couldn’t resist,” he shrugged, carefully watching her pick apart the wrapping. She was cherishing every second of opening it, careful not to tear any of the wrapping.

He was growing a bit impatient, taking a puff of his joint.

“Take your time,” he muttered and smirked when Keeva mocked a smile.

“I will, thank you.”

When she finally unwrapped the bundle, Regan’s voice echoed from the inside.

“Stoney, come here! Someone’s looking for you.”

Stone seemed to be a bit too eager to bail out of the situation, not sparing Keeva a single look as he disappeared into the crowd inside.

She frowned, puzzled by his sudden coldness, and finally looked inside the crumple of paper she was holding.

There was a little necklace, thin and short, with a battered heart pendant. The gold colour was scratched and opaque, clearly worn out.

And under it, a folded note written in very neat cursive.

I was discovered in an antique shop behind Mama’s. If you ever need a friend to help out, open me.

— your dearest heart-shaped locket

She pushed the flimsy little button at the side of the heart and when it clicked open, a tiny roll of parchment fell out. She unfolded it and broke into unbelieving giggles when she saw a number written on it, punctuated with two little x’s. It was their phone line.

Keeva peeked inside the house. She met eyes with Stone, who was already observing her reaction from afar.

Mel was standing next to him and waved her hands around, explaining something. He seemed to ease when he saw Keeva’s grin as she tucked the note back inside, closed the locket and hung it on her neck. He wiggled his eyebrows and turned his attention back to Mel, a sly smirk still plastered on his face.

February, 1988

Keeva was fiddling with her necklace, lying with her legs up against the wall. Her faded pink curls were sprawled across the washed-out plaid bedsheets of her creaky bed. She was staring into a copy of Steppenwolf - Stone’s - full of highlighted notes and dog ears. Her concentration wasn’t fully in it, though, no matter how hard she tried.

She threw another frown in the direction of the stairs down from the attic room - the heavy fleece fabric that served as an improvised curtain was open and tucked behind the entrance frame.

The shrilling sound of strings rang from downstairs through an amp that was turned up way too loud for a place this small.

Living with Stone was more symbiotic than she would've imagined three months ago, but man - whoever created him was heavy-handed with annoying mannerisms.

Leaving water on the floor in front of the shower, putting milk back in the fridge even though he just finished the bottle, slurping while drinking tea…

And above all, tuning his guitar as if he was working with the acoustics of Madison Square Garden.

“Again a bit louder?” Keeva called after him, closing her book with a slap. He stopped and hummed, his voice still scratchy from the morning instant coffee.

“Hm? Oh, I didn’t say anything.”

“No, I meant the D string. You’re not tuning loud enough,” she said, waving her arm to mimic strumming even though Stone couldn't see her. “I wanna make sure my grandma hears it. You’re almost there, she’s buried under the ground in a cemetery in east Belfast.”

He laughed and then abruptly stopped to try to pass it off as sarcasm.

“You're so funny I forget to laugh sometimes,” he called back and started strumming again, this time softer after he turned his volume down.

She stifled a giggle. A strange tradition came out of often being each other's only source of humour, especially in bigger companies - both always tried their best not to laugh at the other one's joke to make the silence even more awkward. They both knew it was an act, but it somehow made the jokes funnier.

Keeva put her book away and dragged herself to the stairs. She lied down on the wooden floor and peeked out, her head hanging as she looked at him upside down.

Sitting on his bed and frowning at the fretboard in concentration, Stone was wearing striped boxers and a scruffy Green River t-shirt full of holes.

His bare knees were really bony and scabbed and she had no clue why they, specifically, made a few beads of sweat appear above her eyebrows.

She already saw him in his underwear a few times, he seemed to be pretty comfortable with walking around barely clothed. She was flattered and glad that he felt free to do whatever around her. But it also cemented her opinion - he did, in fact, not view her as anything but his annoying short friend.

People are not this comfortable around someone they wanna court.

Pft. Court.

No wonder he doesn’t wanna court you, you fucking Victorian hermit.

Keeva shook her head to ground herself and silently cleared her throat. When Stone didn’t acknowledge her and kept playing, she got up and carefully hopped down the stairs.

“What's for lunch?” she asked, heading straight to the kitchen corner to crunch on a handful of Rice Krispies straight from the box.

He raised his head, his features still hardened. He looked up at the old cuckoo clock above the door - 11 AM.

“Uh, I don't know. Hunger?” he said, putting his guitar aside. She wasn't even sure if he’d properly heard her question.

Stone always got lost in his head when he was playing - and he made sure they were playing together for at least a few hours every single day. Even after a full workday. Sometimes it drove her mad, but he was her better half in that sense - always responsible about practising.

“We had hunger yesterday, not interested,” Keeva talked back, a piece of cereal falling out of her mouth. He scrunched his nose in disgust.

“Don't choke, Baby,” he shook his head and got up, picking up a towel from the carpet.

“Don't ever use that line in my proximity again, I beg you,” Keeva said and stepped in front of him.

She opened her mouth to show him the chewed food like a petty child. Stone was clearly pushing back laughter, but he hid it behind a scowl.

He tried to walk past and when she mirrored him like a shadow, he whipped her leg with the towel. Keeva squealed and jumped out of the way, letting him enter the bathroom. Stone stuck his tongue out at her before closing the door.

“I'll shower up and go get some groceries,” he called from the shower as the water turned on.

“What a good housewife you are!” she giggled and sat down on the floor at the tea table they used for eating.

His guitar was still plugged in, so Keeva shuffled to his bed, grabbed it and switched the amp on. Sudden feedback screeched through it, so she quickly turned the volume down and cringed.

“Careful!” Stone shouted, the ropes of water muting his voice. Keeva gave him a silent apology and moved further away from the amp to prevent any more shrills.

She softly traced the neck, studying the scratched frets under the strings he plucked the most.

Christ, this guy couldn't wind his strings right if they put a gun to his head.

He made it look so easy, yet so complicated - he hardly used his middle finger and made the most basic chords seem unplayable just because his hand was positioned all weirdly.

Probably because he was trying not to get twisted in his own alien fingers.

The wood was still warm from Stone’s grip.

She wrapped her hand around it and tried to strum a slow riff he'd played for her the night before, but she got lost in her thoughts and failed to recall it.

It sounded better from you, anyway.

She sighed and dropped her hand from the neck, staring at the burgundy carpet under her feet.

Keeva had never been as comfortable with existence as now - living inside this tiny little piece of wood and bricks - but she wasn’t sure if she’d ever felt lonelier.

She and Stone were spending basically all of their free time together and she loved it, yet she always craved more. He felt so far away, even though he was more affectionate with her than anyone ever was.

Stone was special to her in that way - he clicked with her from the very beginning without judgement. In fact, she felt like he was her first actual friend.

That's what hurt the most, she thought. He was used to this, it was normal for him.

He, on the other hand, had many, many friends. Good friends, bad friends, old friends, annoying friends, shallow friends, loyal friends.

Lady friends, too.

It's not like he brought those home, but she was certain she'd seen him leave a party with a girl at least three separate times, even though he later came back.

Stone knew everyone and she felt awful. Angry.

At herself, that is.

She had no right to be thinking that way and she knew it. No claim to him - no one did and he was pretty adamant about that.

Free bird.

Lost in thought, Keeva hunched and hugged Stone's guitar like a teddy bear, wrapping her arms around the sturdy wooden frame as if it were made of plush.

She always had the fairytale idea that instruments had their own souls. A piece of their owners inside, an extension of them - a guitar might feel just right for one person, but be untamable for someone else.

Pretty concentrated on the specks of dust on the floor, Keeva didn't notice that the shower stopped. A soft cough tore her out of her thoughts and she jumped, raising her head.

Stone was out of the shower, wearing nothing but a towel and an amused grin.

“Am I interrupting something or...” he mused, holding the tucked fabric down to make sure it didn't fall from his bony hips.

Keeva was still holding the Sunburst in her arms, staring at Stone like he just dropped a bucket of hot water down the collar of her pyjamas. She looked him up and down as quickly as her eyes allowed her.

Droplets of water were slowly falling from the tips of Stone’s red hair, dripping down the pale skin of his chest. It was scarcely peppered with hair, along with a happy trail that ran down from his navel and disappeared behind the rim of the towel.

“Are you cuddling my guitar?”

Keeva's eyes snapped back up and she cleared her throat.

“Bleh, do you mind?!” she pointed at Stone and waved up and down, finally letting go of the instrument. He scoffed.

“It's my house too, you know, especially the bottom floor. I can do what I want,” he said and confidently strode from the bathroom door to his clothes drawer.

Stone didn't spare Keeva a single look when she raised her eyebrows as he passed by the tea table. She was still staring at him, now questioning his audacity, but Stone didn't look too bothered. He just took a couple of fresh clothes out and looked over his shoulder.

“Do you mind?” he mocked her insulted expression and pointed at the towel.

Keeva snapped away so sharply she felt her neck cramp. She got up and headed for the kitchen while theatrically shielding her eyes. Stone just chuckled.

Cocky bastard.

“Christ, Stoney, you're fucking shameless,” she shook her head.

“Oh, my sweet patron saint, can you forgive me? Forgot you’ve never seen a bare chest before.”

She shut off Stone’s snarky answer by loudly crunching on cereal.

“The riff sounded really good from the shower, maybe we should add a bit of chorus to it,” Stone added while ruffling his hair with the towel and walked up to Keeva to get some cereal, too. “I’ve seen an old Electro-Harmonix pedal in -”

“The antique shop behind Mama’s. Same.”

He wore another clean Green River t-shirt and striped underwear - he must’ve had a whole pack of identical boxers in that drawer.

Yeah. Sounds fitting.

He smelled nice.

She would never admit to Stone that she’d borrowed his shampoo a few times and tried to fool her brain into thinking he was falling asleep next to her.

“Good point, I’ll check if they still have it tommorow after my shift,” Keeva continued. “You play it better, though. I should've looked at that bloody chart,” she grinned, handing him the carton box.

Stone took a breath to tease her, but the doorbell interrupted him. He jumped a bit and frowned as he made his way to the door. When he opened it, he was greeted by a 'phew' puffing out of Andy's chubby frostbitten cheeks.

“Thank god you're home,” he lamented, unceremoniously pushing past Stone.

“‘Sup - oh yeah, come in I guess...” Stone shook his head and closed the door behind his friend.

“Guys, I need you,” Andy wheezed, clearly out of breath from biking.

“Hello to you too, Andrew,” Keeva raised her eyebrows and hopped up on the tiny counter. “Doing great, thanks for asking.”

“Last night I did a thing,” Andy explained, dropping on the bean bag under the stairs.

Stone straightened his back. His face changed from annoyance to judgement and Keeva could tell the switch in his brain flipped to the setting ‘Drugs’.

“Sounds promising,” he muttered.

“I was out and about and I kinda scored a gig at Tug’s tomorrow?” Andy announced with a guilty expression. Stone visibly relaxed while Keeva looked confused, so she shrugged.

"Tug's?”

“Little downtown gay bar,” Stone explained, folding his arms.

“Oh,” she shrugged again. "Well, good for you?”

“Not good,” Andy rubbed his face, got up and started pacing around the room. “I sorta kinda promised that I’ll be bringing a spectacular new never-seen-before act. And that’s where Tom and Jerry come in.”

Stone and Keeva exchanged a confused look, darting between Andy and each other.

“You two, dummies! Pretty please?” he exclaimed, but his plea was drowned in complaints.

“What?! Just like that? We don't know any -”

“- any songs! No fucking way, buddy. Not happening.”

“I have a twelve-hour shift tomorrow!”

“I'm on kitchen duty at the bakery, my hands will be like soggy sponges!”

“Yeah, it will be rad!” Andy sat down again and crossed his legs. “Come on, I’ll beg if I have to. We’ll raid some closets and do a little acoustic set, I have it all planned out. Look, puppy eyes!”

Keeva frowned.

Yeah, good try. Solid puppy eyes, seen better. Eight out of ten.

“I can’t tomorrow, sorry,” she said matter-of-factly, crossing her arms at her chest. Stone nodded.

“Yeah, me neither.”

“Yeah, right,” Andy squinted at them. “Whatcha got planned, a canasta tournament?”

“Sharp tongue for someone who’s asking us to play an unrehearsed gig a single night ahead,” Keeva hissed at him. Andy raised his hands.

“Sooorry, I just - I’m desperate, okay?”

“So you’re saying that you only come to us when you’re desperate?” Stone challenged, raising his eyebrows when Andy rolled his eyes.

“Jesus Christ, stop grilling me. That synchronized assholery routine you do is annoying, not cute,” he said and put his head in his hands. “God is testing me today, I swear.”

“Chill out, princess, or you’ll get wrinkles. Do a proper sales pitch and we’ll think about it,” Keeva grinned, jumping at the opportunity to hear Andy's undoubtedly crazy story.

“So there’s a chance?!” he excitedly hopped up from the bean bag again. “Okay, so, I was out at Tug’s yesterday and I got into a, uh, conversation with the owner.”

“Right,” Stone squinted at him.

“And he said that he needed an act for Monday night, the band that was supposed to play cancelled because the singer has a bad case of acute urinary infection from -”

“Spare the details, love,” Keeva interrupted, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Yeah, sorry,” he shook his head. “So to speak, I was in a bit of a compromised mental state at that moment, so I proposed that I can jump in with some last-minute freaky shit and that Stoney and the greenie will accompany me. And he was so happy he -”

“I said spare, Andy.”

“Sorry. Well, and that’s it. I figured out a whole act for us!”

“Andy, that’s not -” Stone started, but Andy quickly stopped him.

“We’ll gather all instruments we can get our hands on, borrow a drum machine and come in and have a jukebox shtick, right? People will ask for songs and pay us in drinks and we’ll be a little circus act.”

“Pay us in what?” Keeva choked out and blinked a few times.

“Yeah. You see, Jack said he can give us three to five bucks max,” Andy's face cramped with a tight smile. Keeva choked on her saliva and then turned to Stone, slapping her forehead.

“Why do I have a feeling that was meant as in total?” she loudly whispered and Stone just shook his head.

“Great catch, sibyl.”

“Anyway,” Andy jumped in before they could start bickering. “You only have to think about the music, okay? I’ll get everything else, trumpets, violins…large buckets of glitter.”

“Have you ever even held a violin?” Stone asked, leaning back against Keeva’s legs.

“No. Bet Keeks did, though. Didn't you say you were in the school orchestra, Pooky?” Andy questioned, adjusting the Cowboys cap on his head. She choked again.

“As a guitarist, Andy. Fucking hell, I-”

“Stoney said that you have perfect pitch, that means you can work anything, no?” he stubbornly pushed back, redirecting her attention to Stone - he shrugged when she softly kicked his back.

“Oh my god. First of all, I don’t. Second of all, Stoney doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about and third of all - that’s not how it works! It’s not the fucking Force,” she exclaimed and waved her arms around.

“Chill out, princess, or you’ll get wrinkles,” Stone mused over his shoulder, receiving another knee to the backbone.

“Shut up, beanpole. Don’t tell me you’re thinking about it,” Keeva questioned, surprised when he didn't answer right away.

“Dunno, could be fun,” Stone mumbled when she nudged him again.

“Will be fun,” Andy corrected, clearly hyped that he was swaying Stone to his side. Keeva sighed.

“I don’t know, I just hadn’t played a gig, like, in front of people for...fuck, some time and -”

“You will not be playing, Jerry will!” Andy patted her cheek and set off to the door. She frowned.

“Wh-”

“Your alter ego, baby girl!” he called over his shoulder. She looked at Stone with wide eyes. He just turned around and squeezed her nose.

“That annoying little cartoon mouse, look in the mirror.”

“Did they drop you on the head as a baby or -” Keeva hissed and slapped his hand away while he stifled a laugh.

“Yay!” Andy exclaimed and opened the door.

“Wait, we didn’t say yes!” Keeva said, but he was already out of there.

“You didn’t say no! Love you, eternal thanks! I’ll come tomorrow after work with the good stuff. You take care of makeup beforehand, Pooks. I need the whiskers ready!”

● ● ● ● ● ●

“So I asked him if they dropped him on his head and he just stopped objecting, like in general. I swear he does it on purpose. He just gets off on making me pissed off,” Keeva spat out, angrily wiping a table next to the entrance to the café.

“Knowing him, he probably does,” Jeff chuckled as he arranged a bundle of napkins in a box on the counter. “To be honest, I’m not even sure if I wanna be in a band with him anymore.”

Keeva frowned.

Shit. I wasn’t planning this.

“Jesus, is it that bad?” she calmed down a bit, leaning against the table. She left a handprint on the shiny surface. “Did you have another lovers’ quarrel? He wasn’t worthy of you anyway, babes.”

Jeff grunted, stubbornly forcing the napkins in.

“And he’s not even that hot!” she added, shrugging. When he didn't answer, Keeva cleared her throat and walked up to him with folded arms.

“What’s up?” she asked, softly.

“He’s an asshole,” Jeff shot back way too quickly, as if he was holding it back for a long time.

“I feel like that’s the whole point of his existence, no?” Keeva shrugged again, trying to loosen the mood. He scoffed but still didn't relax.

“Yeah. And my patience has overflown long ago, it’s just not my jam.”

She wasn't sure what to say to soothe him.

Jeff was clearly made of a different material than Stone. He was a very direct, no beating around the bush kind of guy. He seemed to be a headstrong working-class country boy, while Stone was a wealthy city kid filled to the brim with passive-aggression.

She got Stone in a way that he didn't - in some ways Stone’s attitude was very English. Dry and cold to everything that threatened his peace.

But he didn't understand what Jeff was going through, either. Jeff was from a tiny town and had to grow up fast to survive, trying to fight his way out of the gutter and make something of himself. And she knew exactly how that felt.

“I’m just not totally set on doing music at all, let alone with him,” he finally turned to her.

Keeva nodded and watched Jeff tear tiny pieces out of one of the napkins as he tried to formulate his thoughts.

“I don’t know, Keeks. I just feel like this was the thing, you know? Now that River broke up I can’t even decide if I wanna continue. There are just so many good bands, too many. And I just - I don’t know if we’re…I’m not sure if I’m cut out for this. Working my ass off here and desperately trying to make it at the same time,” he shrugged, looking up from the napkin. “I don’t know, maybe - maybe it’s like some stupid sign or something. That I should pack my shit and go back to school…sign up to U-Dub and forget this silly fairytale crap.”

“Hey, don’t wreck your brain over it, ok? No rush, just take it steady and think it through. Nobody’s gonna bite your head off if you decide to quit this freakshow,” Keeva said, rubbing his back. “Whatever you decide to do should feel good to you and no one else. You can always reboot and try it differently, anyway. You got your whole life ahead and only you are in charge of it.”

Jeff softly chuckled, giving her a toothy smile.

“How old are you again?”

“What, do I sound like a grandma?” she giggled. He just smiled even wider.

“Yeah, just like my nana,” he said, hugging Keeva around the shoulders. “I loved my nana.”

"So you'll come and see us tonight?”

"Sure thing, Keeks. I'd never leave my nana hanging like that.”

● ● ● ● ● ●

“Okay, this is all I have,” Keeva said while adding a handful of pots and pencils to Stone’s single black eyeliner that rolled around the carpet. He was sat on the bean bag, cracking his knuckles.

There was one small pot of silver eyeshadow, another black eyeliner and a green one, a half-dried mascara and two lipsticks - one very dark red and one in a brick-like shade.

“Yeah, that will do.”

“Hey, a little more excitement wouldn’t hurt you. That’s my treasured collection, okay? Show some respect, it had survived many gigs over the years,” Keevs said and lightly tugged on his shirt so he’d lean closer. Stone raised his eyebrows.

“Okay, maybe not many. But a good few,” she backed out, making him grin.

“I don’t doubt your expertise, no worries,” Stone shrugged and watched her pick up the eyeshadow.

It was the first time she got that thorough of a close look at him.

Stone’s eyes were almost perfectly round and deep-set, which made his eyelids just right for makeup. He was staring at her, not sure what to do with himself as she hovered above him with the silver pot of colour.

She noticed that he had a small fleck of dark brown right next to his left pupil, which made it look strangely uneven. He also had a few freckles under his bottom eyelashes, that only deepened the subtle dark circles around his eyes. The more she looked into them, the sadder they seemed.

It was overwhelming.

Maybe it was the half-closed eyelids. Or the unusual shade of peridot in the moody lighting of a single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. But there was something more - a certain wisdom, unfit for a twenty-one-year-old man.

He’d probably call it bitterness.

“Close,” Keeva said, letting out a relieved sigh when he did so.

She took a bit of the eyeshadow on her index finger and brought it to Stone’s eye. When she touched him, he lightly jumped.

“Don’t move or I’ll poke your pretty peepers out,” Keeva mumbled as she gently smudged the silver powder over Stone’s skin.

She suspected he’d take it as a jab instead of a compliment, so she was a bit surprised when she felt the skin of Stone’s cheeks heat up under her palm. He somehow seemed nervous - picking on his nails.

Stone didn’t respond, just took in a shallow breath.

They sat in tense silence while neither of them realized it.

When Keeva moved on from Stone’s eyes, she softly put her hand on his cheek to hold him in place and lightly patted the remnants of shimmer on his cheekbones as a highlighter. Stone let out a sigh he was seemingly holding in. She’d noticed that he tore a hangnail at the same moment.

Andy’s voice echoed in her mind.

‘Doesn’t like it when girls touch him.’

“You good?” Keeva silently asked, holding her hand in the air. “Did I -”

“N- yeah. I’m fine,” Stone said, maybe a bit too eagerly. She tried to think of some snarky remark to loosen the mood, but her mind was blank.

His cheeks felt like they were burning.

“I just haven’t been touched like that in some time,” he mumbled, barely audible. Keeva was taken aback by the sudden openness.

“You - wh-what did you say about the patron saint earlier? I’m just patting your cheek, Romeo,” she chuckled but immediately regretted it when Stone didn’t reciprocate her amusement.

“Probably the beer talking,” he said and she could swear she felt his cheek cool down in a matter of seconds.

They did raid the fridge and drink everything that was in there, courtesy of stage fright - although neither of them would admit that.

Good job, you snide asshole. No wonder he doesn’t care about walking around you naked.

Keeva attempted to save the situation by softly running her fingertips over Stone’s cheekbone, passing it off as smoothing out the glitter. And it seemed to work as his muscles tensed again.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to be a bitch,” she whispered as if she thought she’d scare him by talking too loud. Stone shrugged.

“Makes you you, doesn’t it?”

Is that supposed to be some backhanded compliment?

“Yeah,” was all Keeva replied, mentally punching herself in the gut. “Open.”

When Stone looked at her again, his stare felt even more scorching than before. He looked unbelievably beautiful - elven. And the eyeshadow was doing something to her - she couldn’t even properly put it to words.

“Looks great,” Keeva nodded as she chewed on her lip before giving him a small smile. Stone, on the other hand, didn’t smile.

He wordlessly got up from the bean bag and walked around her. He carefully wrapped his hands around her waist and slightly lifted her up, turned her around and sat her in his place.

Ignoring her sheepish expression, he took the eyeshadow pot from her and smudged some on his finger.

“Close,” he said and Keeva gladly did.

Stone’s touch was feather-light. Almost like a tickling breeze - just like in her dreams, where she wasn’t even sure if he was corporeal.

Her eyelashes fluttered when he tilted her chin up to see better.

Why does this feel like revenge?

“I used to be quite glammy, you know?” Keeva said, trying to make her voice as steady as possible. She had to break the silence somehow, or she would’ve gone mad.

“What do you mean, used to?” Stone chuckled, picking up the green eyeliner. Keeva huffed.

“You’ll make me blush.”

“You’re already blushing.”

“I was in a wannabe prog rock band in high school,” she said, interrupting his obvious attempt to make her even more flustered. “I wore that shit like warpaint.”

Stone hummed, smoothing out the edges of the liner with his thumb.

“We covered a lot of Genesis and stuff, the early things,” she continued after clearing her throat. “I got kicked out.”

“You got kicked out?” he snickered, tapping her cheek to signal he was done with the eyes. “Why?”

Keeva looked at him and quickly moved her gaze away when Stone reached for the lipstick. He drew a little heart on both of her cheeks before smudging it into a rouge.

“I’m sure they had their reasons. Or not. You know fifteen-year-olds. They supposedly wanted to move in a ‘different direction’,” she said, waving air quotes around. Stone blew a raspberry.

“What, from pencils to crayons?”

“Yeah,” Keeva scoffed. “They wanted to be more punky.”

“You were not punky enough?” he questioned, genuinely surprised. Keeva just shrugged.

“Guess not. Around that time, I resented punk.”

A short silence followed before Stone took her face in his palms and turned her to face him.

“You’re just going to drop that on me out of nowhere?” he raised his eyebrows and shook her head a little, grinning. Keeva nodded.

“Yup.”

“Context, please?” he said as she looked away again with an amused exhale.

“My parents were hardcore teenage punks who definitely should not have spawned a child at that age. Or any age, really,” Keeva explained. “And you know, growing up, it was the mid-seventies and it was the dumps of London - the mecca. It was everywhere I looked, all I heard day and night. I was sick of it. I swear, if any studded leather flashed in my proximity I immediately dry-heaved.”

Stone chuckled, but she could tell he was a bit more rigid than before. Mentions of Keeva’s childhood were clearly added to one of the topics that made the switch flip.

“I thought seventies punk was supposed to be a vehicle of rebellion for the working-class youth,” Stone mumbled, brushing the remnants of lipstick on his thumb against Keeva’s lips.

Her eyes fluttered closed again, but she managed to keep composure.

“Yeah, but what if your parents are the youth actively riding it? How do you rebel against punk?”

Stone pondered for a while and then shrugged.

“Obviously by embodying everything the counterculture hated at that time - you know, long guitar solos, overly complicated arrangements, God forbid theatrics or any kind of concept,” Keeva said and shook her head, clearly frustrated. “It’s all puritanic bullshit, everything’s influenced by everything and it’s infantile to pretend that it’s not.”

“Is that why you use big words like ‘infantile’?” Stone chuckled. “Look at me.”

She did. In what she assumed to be his weird idea of powerplay, Stone nonchalantly licked his thumb to wipe off a smudge of eyeliner under her eye.

Keeva shuddered.

“Not my fault you didn’t pay attention in English class.”

“I never really got around to listening to this kind of music as a kid,” Stone said, casually pointing at her modest collection of about five records. “I don’t know, I think it felt embarrassing. Like I’d be breaking the code or something. I guess that proves your point.”

“You’re open to discover and that’s what matters,” Keeva shrugged. “That’s the real punk ethos - embrace chaos. Meaning listen to any fucking thing you like without remorse.”

“No such thing as guilty pleasures?” he raised his eyebrows as Keeva scoffed.

“Exactly.”

The next few moments were filled with heavy silence as Stone took the dark red lipstick, opened it with a pop and ran it across her lips.

“You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d say your parents raised you well,” he said after a while.

“Thank god you do know better,” Keeva mumbled, her lips parted as he smudged the lipstick around. “I was eight when mom offered me coke for the first time.”

Stone stopped for a second, holding in a sigh. He couldn’t comprehend her nonchalance.

“Ran away and slept in the school library. I‘ve read some solid books there over the years, good times. Maybe that’s why I use big words.”

“Sounds like a blast,” Stone bitterly grinned and continued smudging.

“Yeah. Humans have more capability to adapt than you’d think,” she said with a shrug, crossing her arms.

“I never felt like I had to. My parents were always good to me. Sisters, too. Lately, I feel like it might’ve been to a fault.”

Keeva couldn’t help but chuckle uncomfortably at Stone’s sincerity once again, but she - again - regretted it.

“What, you think you’re spoiled?”

“Honestly, yeah,” he simply replied. “I never really had conflicts or obstacles at home so I had to create some for myself, you know. Had to put the hormones to use. Rebelling against the nice quiet life like an idiot.”

“No, no, that’s still a valid reason, Stoney,” Keeva shook her head and gently patted his arm.

A friendly gesture. Just a little friendly gesture so he knows.

“Being able to complain is not something you have to earn. It’s okay to not want that life for yourself,” she added.

“Maybe I want it and I’m just in denial,” Stone sighed. “I don’t know, no idea what the hell I want.”

“Man after my own heart,” she softly shoved his shoulder, finally getting an earnest toothy smile out of him.

Keeva continued with a dreamy sigh.

“I for one reserve the option to have that. What do you guys call it - a white picket fence life? Could be fun. Sitting on the porch, judging the local youth…”

“…crosswords, eating dubious amounts of broiled potatoes…” Stone added with a giggle.

“Exactly.”

The doorbell rang and Andy’s cheerful voice sing-songed from behind the door.

“Guys, I’m here! Regan drove me, come help us!”

Stone still stared at Keeva as if he thought he had to say something before letting them in.

Instead, after a few more knocks, he inched closer to her and placed a hesitant kiss in her hair before setting off to the door without a word.

She couldn’t decide if she was glad or disappointed to be put out of the misery of being under Stone’s fingertips - it was too quick, even if it had been hours.

Stone sat on the floor under the plucked pine in the middle of the room. He searched for his name in the pile of small gifts under it. His heart skipped a beat when he noticed a tiny, neatly wrapped packet with a polka-dot print. He recognized the oblique handwriting.

Stoney xx

Inside was a rolled-up note and, to his confusion, a simple silver ring, all matte and scratched from wear. The note was in the same font as his name.

Found in an antique shop behind Mama’s. To help you lose your slut ways and finally get your very own heart-shaped locket.

— yours truly, Virgin Mary

He looked a bit closer at the ring. When he finally deciphered the fading engraving on the inside, he broke into a wide grin.

Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.

He searched for Keeva in the crowd and found her talking to Bruce next to the punch bowl. She did a quick double-take between him and the ring he was just putting on his finger, shrugging when he raised his eyebrows in question.

“Seriously?” Stone mouthed and Keeva simply responded by tapping her heart locket and wiggling her finger at him.

Bruce turned around to see who she was gesturing at and gasped when Stone theatrically put his hand on his heart and collapsed on his back with a muted thud.

No one really noticed as they were preoccupied with digging for their own gifts, but the two of them giggled as Stone lied on the floor with spread arms, taking a drag of his joint.

“What’s that about?”

“Santa got him a purity ring.”

[tryskomys]

Wet Sand

Stone Gossard x OC

Chapter 5 - Pulled Up

Summary: solitude only makes us stronger.

masterlist

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

notes: took some time, but here’s the next chapter! hope you’ll like all the fluff ♡ maybe we’ll be getting steamy soon, who knows? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

no tws this time (except for drunk behaviour i guess lol). yay!

songs:

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

“Tell you what. You and I are gonna get royally fucked up tonight and leave all the sappy stuff to tomorrow, m’kay?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“You hungry?”

“You joking?”

“Alright, we’re gonna get fucked up tonight and stop by Doghouse on the way home. I’ll walk you.”

Morning sunbeams were unusually bright, because Keeva’s head was pounding. As she aimlessly paced around her flat, massaging her temples, she tried to recall the last time she drank as much as yesterday night. If ever.

Stone promised to get fucked up - and that was an understatement. Oh, he knew how to party sorrows away.

“You know, I could’ve been a lawyer or something. Some respectable suit,” Stone slurred, talking through a mouthful of greasy fries. Keeva let out a loud cackle that echoed through the ghost town that was 4 AM Seattle.

“Stoney the lawyer? You’d have a more successful career as a fucking cheese grater,” she mumbled, stumbling on a lone piece of cinderblock just as she dipped her fry in ketchup.

She would’ve fallen if he didn’t catch her, but because he could barely walk straight, he almost trampled her.

They stumbled a couple of steps forward in an awkward embrace, nearly landing on the snowy concrete. When they both caught their balance, they broke into wild giggles.

“Fucking lightweight!”

“I’m not a lightweight, you’re a fucking lightweight!”

“Who the fuck are you calling a lightweight, you fucking lightweight?”

Keeva rummaged through her suitcase looking for spare contact lenses, only to find the package box empty. She cursed under her breath, reaching for the ragged glasses case under the pile of yesterday’s clothes.

“What, you think I couldn’t do a smart-people job?” Stone said, his tongue twisted as he went through the sentence.

“I think you can do better. You’re like…” she passionately started but had to pause to find the right words.

She waved her arms as if it would help her concentrate.

“…like the wind! You wouldn’t last a second in a place where they tell people what to do.”

Stone silently stared at her for a few moments, trying to focus on her face before snorting out a laugh.

“I’m like the wind?” he questioned with a condescending smirk. He suddenly seemed way too sober for her liking.

Keeva panicked, but her intoxicated brain couldn’t stop itself from spewing nonsense.

“Yeah, like a bird. A cocky little sparrow or something. If they put you in a cage, you’d snuff it,” she explained, stuffing some fries into her mouth.

Her cheeks were red and tender the whole morning and the blush just wouldn’t go away, even when she tried to press a cold wet towel on her face.

She couldn’t sleep again, so she had plenty of time to cringe at every vignette from the night that came to her as she sobered up.

“That’s profound of you. You’re like the wind,” he repeated in air quotes, breaking into joyful laughter. Keeva punched his arm with a frown.

“Well, are you not? Mister No-attachment?” she said with her mouth full of potatoes. She was a bit startled when Stone put his arm around her shoulders and leaned closer. He slightly stumbled.

“It feels better when there are no strings involved, trust me,” he loudly whispered into her ear and pressed a quick kiss on her temple.

She could still feel his lips there, burning as she rubbed it with the cold towel. Trying to rub it away.

“Doubt that,” she choked out, trying to pass the shock from his kiss as coughing out a fry.

“Well, you wouldn’t know, would you?” Stone mused and swayed a bit when they turned the corner to her apartment complex.

She didn’t want to look at him, but she could hear the arrogant smile in his voice.

“Down, Casanova, I’d rather eat a rusty nail,” she said, throwing the empty polystyrene box into the trashcan they walked by. “I’m a free bird, too, just in a different way.”

Stone hummed.

“You are, that’s what’s so exciting,” he mumbled into her hair again, this time giving a soft kiss to the shell of her ear.

Keeva still had an hour left, so she dropped on her bed and harshly rubbed her eyes before putting on the round glasses she picked out of the case.

She still had the image of his expression burned behind her eyelids.

His eyes were clearly out of focus, which somehow made them even bigger than usual. The hazy orange shine of the streetlamps made it seem like they were glowing from the inside.

She was gone.

“Seems to me like you’re way too easy to excite.”

“Two free birds always chasing each other around, kinda thrilling, no?” Stone shrugged, still staring at her.

She felt like the eyes dragged her closer to him, like magnets. Or was he moving? Her foggy brain couldn’t tell.

“What happens if you catch me?” she said, lowering her voice so it wouldn’t crack.

Stone gave her another smug smirk and this time undoubtedly leaned in.

“Whatever you ask for,” he whispered and pressed a goodbye kiss on Keeva’s cheek, dangerously close to the corner of her lips. “Pick you up at ten, birdie. And bring the guitar.”

She grabbed her battered shell pink Jaguar with a sigh and knocked on a peeling sticker of a cartoon white kitten right next to the whammy bar.

“You better behave, Marie. Make a good first impression. And don’t choke if he whips out a Gold Top, you look great.”

After putting on her boots and jacket, Keeva neatly stuck her guitar into its case and threw it over her shoulder, grabbed her small amp and wiggled through the door.

When she kicked the main entrance open, Stone was already waiting there, even though it wasn’t ten yet. He didn’t look like the punctual type by a long shot, but he was always right on time.

He was leaning on his car, parked in front of the building. The station wagon probably used to be white, but one couldn’t tell because of all the mud, dirty smears and scratches.

Damn, it is ugly, Andy wasn’t exaggerating.

She grinned when he hopped up, unceremoniously put his cigarette out on the hood and rushed to help with her stuff.

He didn’t even say hi and when he gave her a quick hug and a fleeting kiss on the forehead, all her hopes of forgetting yesterday’s shenanigans evaporated.

Is this going to be a thing now?

“What’s that whole look about?” Stone mused, pointing at her glasses with a wide smile when he shut the loaded trunk.

“No comments, please. I ran out of contact lenses and can’t afford new ones because we drank away all the money last night,” Keeva waved him off. She gave up on trying to hide her blush, the cold breeze was quite pleasant.

Stone raised a finger to shush her and walked around to the front of the car. He stuck his head into the open door, rummaging through the drawer next to the shift lever.

Under a bunch of magazines and empty Coke cans, he found what he was looking for and hooted. After a second, he twirled around, arms spread wide.

He had a pair of run-down glasses on, oblong with a thin tortoiseshell rim that had the colour scratched off at some places. He had a big smile on his face.

“I come in peace, fellow four-eyes,” he said with a chuckle, watching her slowly break into a joyful grin.

His hair looked even more messy than usual, the brown-red-bleach amalgamate was tied in a loose ponytail. Baby hairs and strands were sticking out all over the place, which made him look like a downy duckling with very strange colouring.

It took her a few moments to remember that they were standing in the middle of the street.

When she finally registered his questioning eyebrows, Keeva shook her head in disbelief and spoke before she could stop herself.

“You’re probably the most bizarre type of cute I have ever seen, beanpole,” she blurted out, trying to hide her immediate embarrassment with giggles.

She was suddenly so adamant about looking anywhere but Stone’s face that she missed the patchy blush forming on his cheeks.

He chuckled too and scratched the back of his neck.

“Aren’t you a little sweet talker? Learning fast, I’m proud,” he teased and took her around the shoulders, leading her to the passenger seat. “Try it a little less back-handed next time and you’re in my pants.”

“Well, I won’t learn subtlety from you, that’s for sure. Ta,” she said with a grin when he theatrically opened the door for her with a bow.

The smell of old leather and smoke inside the car was strangely comforting, so she wiggled deeper into the seat and took in the strange sight.

The coating of the seats was peeling at some spots and multiple beaded strings and trinkets hung from the rear-view mirror - most of them were cows for some reason, all different materials and sizes.

What in the crazy ancient wizard hoard is this design choice?

She studied the beaten-up dashboard - it was covered in stickers.

Judas Priest, Dallas Cowboys, RIDE THE FUCKING SIXPACK, Northwest Chess Club, 333…some fresh, some so faded she couldn’t even tell what was on them.

“Sorry, it’s not exactly a Ferrari,” Stone said as he sat down behind the wheel, slotted in the car keys and tried to start the engine. It took him four times before he finally got it going.

Keeva noticed a faint blush when he looked at her and gave her a stressed giggle.

“No, no, it’s beautiful! Really. And your fumbling really enhances the experience,” she said with a smirk and put her seatbelt on.

● ● ● ● ● ●

“You’re a good driver, didn’t expect that,” she pointed out after a few blocks, breaking the slightly awkward silence.

She could sense the tension, Stone clearly didn’t have a blackout last night either. He adjusted his glasses and loudly cleared his throat, raising his eyebrows.

“First of all, pardon? Second of all, remember to say that to Mark once you two meet. He was always bitching about not being able to sleep when we were on the road,” he scoffed and shook his head. “Said I was driving through holes on purpose.”

“I’d be honoured to stand up for you. I barely wanna throw up and that’s saying something,” Keeva said with a chuckle. He pouted.

“Baby gets car sick?”

“The back of the car, the front of the car, van, bus, streetcars, train, the Tube, plane, ferry -” she counted on her fingers.

“Well, uh -”

“- boat, rowboat, wheelbarrow and walking through a narrow or crowded street. Oh, and headbanging too hard.”

“Have you tried a carriage?” he asked with a thoughtful frown. She blew a raspberry at him.

“Not yet, but I’ll pass, thanks. I think the universe is trying to tell me something,” she shrugged, sinking into her seat with a sigh. “Probably to decrease my environmental footprint.”

Stone raised his eyebrows with a laugh.

“Honestly, the question should’ve been what don’t you get sick in,” he added.

“On the bike. I love my bike. It’s healthy for me and the planet,” Keeva said, a bit taken aback when his expression suddenly turned serious as he nodded.

There’s the switch.

“Fucking A. We have a great cycling infrastructure around Seattle and it’s been improving, which is bizarre considering Reganism is doing everything in its power to fuck the whole country in the ass,” he raised a middle finger and fiercely stabbed the air before continuing.

“Planting more trees, too, more parks. Like Volunteer, they’re always working on big dahlia gardens once the mountain’s out. New hiking trails, even the old ones are beautifully maintained. Oh, wait ‘til you see my hideout spot at Mount Si!” he excitedly turned to her with a childlike smile.

Keeva couldn’t help but reciprocate.

Talk dirty to me, tree hugger.

“I feel like we’re on the right path to reconstruct the system into a more ecologically conscious one, but it’s hard work when, like I said, you’re getting fucked in the ass by the government,” Stone rambled on after a moment of silence and his face turned cold again.

Christ. Who are you and what have you done to the stoned reckless beanpole?

“But, uh, someone has to start, right? And this city might feel like a rainy shithole at the edge of the world sometimes, but I generally think that solitude only makes us stronger. ‘Cause then we still have enough freedom left to be the contrarians.”

That solitude only makes us stronger.

“Wholeheartedly agree,” she fiercely nodded.

“I know,” he popped in with a soft smile before letting her continue.

“You’re right, this place has something I can’t really put my finger on. A personality, like a revolt. I mean, I’ve only been in America for a short time so I can’t really complain yet, but you know,” Keeva waved her hand and he nodded. “Been living as a partially homeless East Ender under ol’ Maggie Thatcher for nineteen years. And that hag just. Won’t. Go. Away.”

“Yeah, that’s not too different, complain all you want. This place is a dump,” Stone muttered with a bitter chuckle.

“I must sound like a fucking hypocrite when I’m saying all that Greenpeace crap while driving this rusty piece of shit,” he said, slapping the steering wheel. “But we’ve been using it to move equipment and when we were on tour, you can hardly do that on a bike.”

“That would be metal as hell, though,” Keeva gasped, making him giggle.

“True. We can try it sometime.”

“Phew, we haven’t even played together yet and you already have a tour in mind? Talk about a careerist…” she grinned and poked his side. He shrugged.

“Let’s just say that I have a feeling.”

Keeva shook her head with a giggle, curiously looking out of the window when they pulled into Stone’s neighbourhood.

It was very pretty, a lot cleaner than whatever she was used to. He parked the car with a screech in front of a really nice house with a big porch and a large rose bush next to the postbox.

It looked like a proper American postcard.

Oh god, parent meeting. At least take me out to dinner first, loverboy.

Stone must’ve registered her shaky sigh when they got out of the car.

“Chill out. Old folks and sisters are gone for the holidays, no worries,” he said and snickered when Keeva gave him a death glare.

“Could’ve told me sooner, I was practising a posh accent in my head the whole time,” she said, grabbing her guitar case when he opened the trunk. He chuckled.

“Aw, sweet. You could whip it out for me. I can’t understand you half of the time, either.”

After taking a kick in the shin, Stone took her battered Orange amp out, locked the car and led the way behind the fence.

The house was big and clearly very well taken care of, but the garden was what caught her attention - huge and beautiful under all the snow.

“Am I in a Dickins novel or what?” Keeva whistled, choking a bit when she laid her eyes on what was behind the pretty house.

A shed - brick shed, painted dark red all over along with the door. It even had its own postbox with ‘S. Gossard’ written on it in surprisingly nice handwriting.

“Jesus, that’s a big fuck shed,” she blurted out. Stone laughed.

“Didn’t know Christmas Carol had fuck sheds in it, must’ve skipped that Lit 201 class.”

When he slotted the keys in and opened the door, she really fell off the Winter Wonderland vibe.

It turned into an Alice in Wonderland thing.

“Yeah, uh…welcome to my fuck shed,” he said with a dramatic bow, thankful that she was too preoccupied to notice his nervous tone.

It was tiny, made of one room that had a small kitchen counter in one corner, the door to the bathroom in the other and in the furthest corner what seemed like a smaller room in a room.

A bed with messy pink sheets and a bedside table, a half-opened clothes drawer with a small record player on top and a big tower of vinyls stacked next to it. Numerous posters were plastered all over the dark red wallpaper.

Along with the burgundy carpet, it made the place seem even smaller.

Keeva had never felt so comfortable in what was definitely a claustrophobic’s nightmare.

There were a bunch of messy shelves all along the walls, full of Polaroids, books, plants, even a few trophies - first place in the Northwest Chess Club tournament, ‘78 Kick the Can Champion, Capitol Hill’s Annual Spelling Bee 1980: third place…

And cows. A lot of cows. Countless plushies, clay charms, plastic dolls, even a crochet one that looked like it was crudely handmade.

In the middle of the room, under the sturdy wooden ladder to the attic, was a large beanbag with a few papers and pens scattered around.

Next to it stood a majestic Marshall stack and propped up against the wall - two shiny Les Pauls.

“Now, this is a fuck shed,” Keeva stuttered out while looking at the wooden ceiling, her eyes twinkling with excitement.

The whole place was so him she felt like she was in Stone’s head.

It had such a distinct scent, too. The uncanny strawberry shampoo that followed him around was everywhere, along with his powdery cologne. Some fresh weed, old wood and coffee.

Not exactly quality coffee at that…

“Christ, you weren’t kidding,” she scowled when she noticed the shabby mug on Stone’s bedside table, squinting at the settled coffee debris inside.

Eerie, how similar it was to her dream. The whole scene, along with that exact pocket weed pipe.

Keeva snorted when she noticed an empty condom wrap peeking out from under the bed. She picked it up and looked at him with a questioning eyebrow.

Stone lunged forward with wide eyes and snatched both the mug and the wrap from her hands, hurrying to the kitchen corner.

“Fuck, I didn’t - sorry, I should’ve cleaned up a bit before taking you here,” he fumbled around as he poured water into the mug and clumsily dropped it into the sink.

“I was so wasted last night that I went straight to bed and then I almost slept in, so I sprinted out of here so I wouldn’t be late and I’m always rushing and I’m so fucking hungover right now and I’m really sorry that I dragged you to this hovel and - I just broke my favourite mug.”

Stone was just as irresistibly charming when he was embarrassed as when he was being a smartass.

She hadn’t seen him this jittery yet. She couldn’t help but giggle when he turned around and gave her a heart-melting grin, wiping his wet hands on his jeans.

“It’s okay, you just wanna sell it to me as fast as you can because you wanna spend Christmas Eve with me so bad. I get it,” Keeva pouted, glad that he eased a bit when he saw her enamoured smile.

Then her attention turned to the guitars.

“Holy shit. That’s gorgeous,” she breathed out, crouching in front of the Sunburst one. “What year is it?”

Stone scratched the back of his neck, a bit startled by her excitement for specifics.

“Uh, ‘59 I think.”

Her eyes popped open.

“‘59?! Christ almighty, what a beauty,” she whispered, carefully running her fingers along the fretboard. “Oh, and of course, the elusive 3 sticker. That thing haunts my dreams, I swear.”

“Yep,” he snickered. “Regan has a huge roll of them lying around, I’m sure he’ll gladly give you some.”

“Noted, gotta jump on the bandwagon. Woah, and a Gold Top?” she gasped again, secretly proud that she had his gear figured out the whole time. “They’re in such good shape, do you wax them?”

Stone hesitated with the answer. He wasn’t really used to talking instrument care with people.

Keeva had mentioned that she worked in a music store as her main job back in London, so her line of questioning made sense.

But he always felt a bit embarrassed about paying so much attention to his gear - it undermined his punk cred. Seeing the stars in Keeva’s eyes, though, he gave in.

“Uh, yeah…every week.”

“Phew, not just a pretty face. Responsible, too,” she grinned at him and got up.

It seemed to her that mock flirting worked with Stone, because he finally eased with a smirk.

“I mean, there’s plenty more where that came from, Baby,” he shot back, making her blush in return. “For example - let’s check out that loft.”

He led her up the ladder to the surprisingly spacey attic. It only had a few dusty boxes in the corner, otherwise it was empty.

“I think we could put a bed right here,” Stone pointed at the wall opposing the staircase. He had to slightly hunch to fit his head under the ceiling. “Hang a heavy curtain in the entrance for some privacy.”

It was so cosy, with dark wooden floorboards and the same dark wallpaper as downstairs all around, even on the ceiling.

“Yeah! A little clothes drawer right there. Shit, I think it could even fit a small bookshelf,” Keeva excitedly nodded and walked into the room with ease.

Unlike Stone, she had plenty of space - it fit her perfectly, both literally and figuratively.

“Put my amp here so I don’t have to get up from bed to play, perfect. Maybe a little fluffy rug on the floor to isolate it a bit. Oi, even a bit of sun!” she giggled and pointed at the tiny skylight above her.

“You wouldn’t get much of that here even if you stepped out on the porch,” Stone grinned and stood next to her, folding his arms. She didn’t really notice the nervousness in his voice as he chewed his lips. “So, what do you think?”

“Love it! This is exactly like this little alcove under the roof of the school I used to go to. I’d always climb up there and hide so the janitor wouldn’t throw me out after the building closed.”

Stone raised his eyebrows and bit down even harder. He didn’t really take that as a positive review.

This time Keeva noticed, so she squeezed his arm with a smile.

“It’s amazing. This whole place is just…it’s just…”

“A shack?”

“A hideout,” she interrupted and found the courage to lean on him. “You know, like a little treehouse you run to when you wanna get away from the world.”

“I mean, that sounds great when you’re a kid,” Stone shrugged. “But you’d hardly wanna live in a treehouse in your twenties.”

“I wouldn’t know. I never had a treehouse like that so I can’t tell,” Keeva said and couldn’t help but blush once again when he looked down at her with a grin, darting across her face.

“There’s plenty of space in mine if you wanna share,” he said.

“I’d love to,” she assured him and his smile grew even wider as he let out a relieved sigh. “Just keep those condoms far away from me, used or not.”

Stone shook his head and flicked her nose.

“Aye aye, Mary,” he scoffed. “Well, we got plenty of time, so we can get moving and go back for your stuff, how about that?”

“W-what?” Keeva coughed out. “I didn’t - like, right now?!”

“Yeah! Why not?” he shrugged, completely unbothered. “Is there some trouble with your flat or -“

“No, I just didn’t realize you’d wanna do it so soon,” she said and he shrugged.

“Why wouldn’t I? As you said, I wanna spend Christmas with you real bad. So let’s get this shit on the road and reward ourselves with a little jam afterwards,” he rambled as he skipped down the steps. Keeva chuckled in disbelief.

“Wait! What about your parents? Shouldn’t you phone them first or something?” she called after him. Stone’s answer was brisk.

“Already did.”

● ● ● ● ● ●

“Oof! I should really work on upper body strength,” Keeva wheezed when they finally dragged a mattress up the stairs.

They found his sister’s old bed in the garage, along with a small shabby clothes drawer.

“Ask Jeff, he’s the resident jock here,” Stone coughed out and dropped the mattress on the metal construction, wiping his sweaty forehead.

They managed to pack all her belongings in his car in one go.

He felt terrible when she admitted that she was going to get kicked out of her apartment at the end of December.

“Apparently, a nineteen-year-old immigrant is not a reliable source of income for them. And a musician on top of that, I mean, fair.”

Sometimes he forgot how luxurious it was to have a home - and a loving family like his. He would’ve done without her as a reality check, though.

“Any beer in the freezer? I’ll do a Bud if I have to,” she folded her arms and followed him out of the room. Stone laughed.

“It’s the cheapest one, what can I do.”

He threw her a cold can that he took out of the freezer and cracked one open for himself.

“Well…chin-chin, beanpole,” Keeva raised her can in a toast. He grinned and mirrored her action.

“To sharing a cage?”

She hid her embarrassment with a chuckle.

Okay, so no blackout.

“To sharing a cage.”

“You know what?” Stone booped her pointy nose with the dewy can. “Show me that guitar of yours.”

She nodded and sat down on the carpet next to the beanbag.

“It’s my most prized possession, so watch your tongue,” she reluctantly took her guitar out of the case.

Her throat was getting dry when she realized that she would have to play in front of him.

Stop it. You’ve played with people before. What’s that saying? Just imagine him naked?

Fuck. Bad decision.

“Aristocats?” Stone tore her out of her thoughts, grinning widely while he studied the kitten sticker up close. Keeva rolled her eyes and giggled.

“Yes! I was twelve, come on.”

“Love it,” he laughed. He was clearly hyped. “Can I…”

“Sure!” she nodded and handed him the instrument. He strummed a few chords, letting out an excited squeal.

His fingers could hardly fit into one fret, though.

“Never played a Jag before! Tiny,” he mused.

When he had to go over a G-chord multiple times, he cursed under his breath before he properly positioned the tips of his fingers and stopped muting the free strings.

“Yeah, that’s the best thing about it,” she shrugged with a grin. Stone groaned in frustration and handed it back.

“I can’t play this,” he waved his hand and grabbed his guitar. Once he did, he triumphantly strummed the same chord on the first try and hummed.

“Of course you can’t, spider fingers,” Keeva chuckled, red in the face when he stared at her with a cocky smirk for a few moments and then wiggled his fingers right in front of her face.

She slapped his hands away as he giggled.

“I worked on a little chart last night, so we can go through that,” Stone said after calming down and rummaged through the papers on the floor.

He picked up a big paper and unfolded it to reveal a bunch of scribbles, numbers and random words, arrows and coloured graphs.

Strangely enough, the handwriting was very elegant and neat, but incomprehensible nonetheless.

“You worked on a what now?” Keeva choked on her beer, raising her eyebrows as far as they could go. Stone threw her a scolding stare.

“I just organize my thoughts better when I write it down, don’t be an ass.”

She raised her arms in defence.

There’s the switch again. Yeah, add songwriting to the list.

“Can I check it out?” she asked with an unassuming smile.

“Sure,” he said and nodded, handing her the chart.

Keeva’s eyes darted across the paper, skimming through the supposed timeline of the song.

It was kind of like sheet music but stripped down to the crudest details. It had all the information she needed, though.

“Looks beautiful,” she sighed and gave him an excited nod. Stone scoffed.

“You haven’t heard it yet.”

“Don’t have to,” she theatrically flicked her curls and puffed her chest out.

“Uh-oh, we got a perfect pitch, ladies and gentlemen,” he laughed and awarded her with sarcastic applause. Keeva bowed.

“Yeah, right,” she huffed and shook her head. “Just far too many years spent reading sheets and winding strings. Natural talent is for losers.”

“I mean, it’s not like I would know. Can barely tell a C from an F,” Stone chuckled and took a sip of his beer.

Keeva squinted and waved him off.

“Fine, fine, Stoney. You win The Modesty Olympics,” she giggled. “Start and I’ll figure out when to join in, yeah?”

“Sure, be my guest,” he smiled and sharply exhaled before turning his volume up.

As soon as Stone touched the strings, she was mesmerised. The melody felt like a tide, rising and calming down again under his baton.

He was right, she could definitely not hear that from the chart.

He pursed his lips as he plugged the strings, softly playing the riff over and over again with calm precision.

Keeva let him go over it a few times and then meekly joined in, filling the gaps with small bits and pieces.

When Stone looked up from his fretboard, he gave her the sweetest smile she’d ever seen. His eyes sparkled like two peridot gems and that gave her a boost of confidence, so she turned her volume up a bit.

She always went in the opposite direction than him without even thinking about it - he slid down the frets, she went up. Their beats were opposing, fitting into each other like puzzle pieces to create a whole picture.

As they moved on to the louder chorus with a single nod, he mouthed along the sounds, just like she’d imagined.

And for the first time in her life, everything felt right.

[tryskomys]

Wet Sand

Stone Gossard x OC

Chapter 4 - Watermelon In Easter Hay

Summary: you get me. that’s why.

masterlist

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

notes: chapter foooour! disclaimer: this one is quite tough, so be careful about the tw’s and look out for each other, guys <3 tough times always end and we come out the other way stronger than ever before.

tw: a lot of hurt. mentions of the thing that rhymes with kegs, brief mentions of drug abuse, addiction, brief hint at s*1c1de, description of panic attacks/trauma dissociation. comfort.

i promise that the next one will be so agressively fluffy you’ll drown in it.

songs:

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

Somehow, time suddenly started to pass quicker than usual, especially in the context of prolonged winter nights.

The number of oat milk lattes pressed was slowly rising into the low hundreds over the next three weeks, the lunch feasts weren’t as flashy as the first time - it was more of a lunch snack split between three people.

But Keeva didn’t mind.

I could get used to this.

The mantra played on a loop in her head when she got up each morning, the entire bike ride to the parking lot, the whole walk from there to the café.

She was so excited about getting used to this that despite her crippling insomnia, she began to arrive to work about half an hour before Jeff, who was a self-proclaimed morning bird.

She just couldn’t wait.

To get there and wipe the tables. To scribble the dailies on the menu blackboard. To hear Jeff’s adorable righteous fury when he started yapping about yesterday’s ball game - in fact, she was looking forward to learning all the details.

Most of all, though, to catch a flash of wild ruddy hair through the window and hear a knock on the door. See Stone shaking a paper bag in the air with a wide smile as she let him in, receiving a delightfully warm croissant and an even warmer hug.

“That, sir, is illegal. Do the higher-ups know that you’re nicking under their noses every day?”

“You said I’m a punk, I gotta protect my reputation.”

Still, the Christmas holidays couldn’t come fast enough. So, right after her last shift of the year, Keeva beelined to the laundromat to pick up her clothes as quickly as she could.

She stuffed the few pieces she had into her backpack and headed straight home. She was already running late to a meet-up with Stone back at Pioneer Square. It was the day of a long awaited holiday night-out.

When she got back to her apartment, she grinned as she rummaged a t-shirt out of the bag. It had a big Nets logo on the front. Jeff brought it to her yesterday, it still had a pleasant soapy scent.

“Don’t worry, it’s fresh from the laundry basket. It’s a bit big but it’ll do. Now that you’re starting to warm up to it, I have to sway you to the right team.”

“Jesus, Ames, you’re tasteless. Always with the propaganda. Let her form her own opinion.”

“You’re just mad that you didn’t get one.”

Keeva was giddy when she caught herself calling the unlikely duo ‘friends’ in her head.

I could get used to this.

She was whistling an Aerosmith song - another consequence of daily hanging out with Jeff - while she cuffed the baggy sleeves of her newly acquired NBA apparel.

Tightening the shoelaces of her combat boots, she softly cursed when she bent down - she felt a stab in her stomach. No lunch today.

It was the beginning of a holiday break, meaning all money goes to cheap beer and 3 AM Doghouse fries to-go.

And the rent was due.

No, asking him for another help-out isn’t an option. Not again. You won’t die if you only eat once a day for a week.

And besides, she was planning to return everyone’s hospitality by buying at least one round tonight.

The two of them had a rendezvous at the Off Ramp with Chris, Jeff and a couple of guys. A cherub-looking jester called Andy, who occasionally washed the dishes at the café, and Stone and Jeff’s sweet gangly bandmate, Bruce.

One thing she’d learned over her multiple visits to the Off Ramp - it was probably the worst excuse for a bar she’d ever seen.

The upside was that the music was impeccable and the alcohol was ID-free.

That was about it.

First of all, it was Stone’s money laundering headquarters. He lured in unassuming patrons to make bizarre bets with him while knowing the payoff like the back of his hand.

His favourite was guessing how many dead cockroaches there were next to the vodka shelf - it was usually between five and eight.

One of the most successful schemes so far was when he got a group of French girls to each bet a shot that Matt from Soundgarden would break a stick within the first song.

He broke two in the first thirty seconds.

Stone won four shots and Keeva mocked him for missing out on an ‘authentic French kiss’ when he turned his cheek as one of the girls went in for a passionate bonus prize.

Plus, only she knew that he’d sneaked backstage before the show to file a weak spot in four of Matt’s flimsy drumsticks - she was the one guarding the back room so no one would walk in on him.

Jeff, meanwhile, was an angel. Carefully watching everyone’s drinks so they wouldn’t get spiked, something that was sadly a common occurrence in the sweaty dim hell hole. Always ready to light anyone’s stick of choice. Rocking out to every song with identical enthusiasm, even if he’d heard it thirty times over.

But even the most joyous of companies couldn’t deny the fact that a certain degree of thick skin was needed to snake through the narrow corridors.

All the vomit stains and broken bottles on the carpeted floors sometimes called for nearly athletic skills.

There seemed to be a different kind of bodily fluid for every inch of the dancefloor. On top of that, it was all lousily enlightened by a disco ball that was threatening to fall apart at any moment.

If you wandered too close to the supposed kitchen, the stench was so pungent it must’ve caused at least one nosebleed over the years in service.

The women’s restrooms were desolate. There was more piss on the floor than in the actual toilet bowls, powder sprinkles of questionable origin were scattered around the sinks and the mirrors were broken, barely functional and always covered in lipstick stains and sweaty handprints.

And the guys that had - for obvious reasons - visited both, swore that the men’s room was far, far worse.

In other bars around Seattle, it wouldn’t be shocking to accidentally stumble upon some couple enjoying their date in a bathroom stall. Here, it was less common.

You were more likely to bump into them right in front of the restrooms, blocking the way in.

To spend a night out at the Ramp was a truly authentic pagan experience.

I could get used to this.

Keeva opted for leaving her bike at home and took in a deep breath of the frosty air as she strolled through the busy streets of Chinatown.

The sun was long gone and a fog settled over the roads, so she clutched her crochet bag closer and tried to warm up by folding her arms.

Andy, who was fronting another domestic band, had an enchanting voice and Bruce was already a solid third cog in a well-synergized string faction of Green River.

So the five of them were planning to jam as soon as possible.

But something always came up. Christmas was around the corner and everybody took more shifts at work to afford the luxuries of holidays.

That was twice as true for musicians - none of them simply had time to focus on music, hence her lack of session gigs. Her excitement was immeasurable, though.

To play with like-minded people, finally able to express herself however she wanted.

Unable to sustain a minute of peace, though, her brain always came up with pointless arguments.

Can I express myself, though? ‘Myself’ is not nearly good enough to keep up with them.

With him.

I wonder how he feels music. Does he hunch? Bop his head? Jump around or just sway?

Are his eyes closed? He seems like someone who would mouth along with his riffs. Nerd.

Can't really imagine how he touches the strings, though. Maybe he does a lot of slides.

Heavy and slow. Teasing.

That sounds like him.

“Look what the cat dragged in. Baby, do you own a watch? I’ve been waiting here for like fifteen minutes,” Stone muttered through chattering teeth when she finally arrived at their meeting spot, startling her out of her thoughts. “I’m pretty sure this is frozen solid, along with my balls.”

Keeva already recognized the paper bag he was clutching.

Her eyebrows knitted in confusion when he waved his wrist in front of her face to show her the time and then gave her a bone-crushing hug.

“God dammit, I forgot to wind it. Sorry,” she mumbled into his chest, a flaming blush prickling her icy ears.

The scent of fresh pastries and cinnamon still lingered on his sweatshirt.

“What’s the ruckus?” she let him go and immediately checked her watch to twist the little winding wheel.

“Huh? Oh, I was running late in the morning so I couldn’t stop by. I grabbed it on my way home at least, don’t wanna lose my stealing streak,” he shrugged as she took the bag from him and they both set off.

“Ah, you’re a saint, Stoney. I’m so hungry I could eat a fucking horse,” she breathed out puffs of fog.

“Ames and I were wondering where you got lost. Thought you had slipped on ice and fallen into a ditch,” she huffed. She struggled to keep up with his brisk tempo and munch on her cold cinnamon roll at the same time. “I had a cake in mind, you know, to bring to the hospital.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmpf. All pink with big chocolate letters on top,” she mumbled through a mouthful of food, waving her hand in the air to mime handwriting. “'Good riddance.'”

He scoffed, reluctantly chomping down when she offered him a bite.

“Slow down or you’ll choke. I don’t wanna spend the night with my hand down your throat,” he chuckled, slightly concerned by the sheer speed of her eating.

“You said you had a first-aid course, no? Time to put your money where your mouth is,” she muttered again and gulped down the last bite.

The Ramp was packed to the brim, but it wasn’t hard to find the colourful cast of friends, even in the dim orange light.

Chris and Bruce towered over the sea of people like long-haired maypoles, passing a joint to Jeff. He was wearing a bright purple hat with an orange bow - an extravagant wizard. And as they got closer, Andy, who was a lot shorter than the three of them, surprisingly stood out even more. Unmistakable with his furry white coat and bright red lipstick.

Stone, in his kaleidoscope vest, was holding her hand so he wouldn’t lose her in the crowd. Her fingers were still cold as ice, but somehow they warmed him down to the marrow of his bones.

Unbeknownst to her, his mind worked in similar patterns to hers.

I could get used to this.

● ● ● ● ● ●

“…they’ve been away for a month, so, obviously, I was salivating for all the details, shivering like a fucking Chihuahua. And then he just stepped out of his ugly station wagon, stinking like rotten eggs and with a bloody scratch on his cheek, like, this big,” Andy colourfully explained, raised his little finger to illustrate and continued.

“Gave me that fucking blank stare of his and asked me if I knew that Crüe dumped Nikki Sixx in a dumpster last week.”

Keeva rolled her eyes and puffed out a laugh. Somehow, her conversation with Andy derailed to the story of Green River’s disasterous DIY tour.

“Jeez…what a sweet talker,” she scoffed, her grin growing wider when Andy’s baby blue eyes popped open as he vehemently nodded.

“And I was like…no?” he raised his knitted eyebrows and shook his head. “And he shrugged and went: ‘Well, Crüe dumped Nikki Sixx in a dumpster last week.’ And didn’t say a word for the rest of the day.”

“Pfft, he just wanted to be mysterious,” Keeva snorted, taking a swig of her beer.

There seemed to be a pattern, though.

Observing him for the past month, she’d noticed that Stone sometimes switched into a completely different person. Especially when getting into specific topics.

Usually hard drugs, relationships and politics.

The sarcasm suddenly became borderline cruel, not playful. And his cool punky attitude felt stoic and alien.

“Had to question Ames afterwards, because Stoney just. wouldn’t. talk. about it. He just does that sometimes. Nomen est omen, I guess,” Andy chuckled, confirming her suspicion.

“Unresolved childhood trauma, maybe?” she shrugged and took a swig of her beer.

I recognize that one from a mile away.

“Nah, the Gossards are the sweetest sweethearts of all the sweethearts ever,” Andy shook his head. His chubby cheeks were flushed from the shots of tequila Stone had been supplying all night.

A bunch of tourists were in the house, which meant a fruitful playground.

“I think he was just born that way.”

“Heartless?” Keeva scoffed, her smile widening when she caught Stone giving her subtle thumbs up from the bar.

The bartender was already pouring another round. Stone grinned when she returned the gesture and then started wiping off a lipstick stain on his cheek with a slightly disgusted expression. Andy smirked.

“Composed,” he shrugged.

“Weeeell, a little detached.”

“…practical,” he added, biting his cheek to contain laughter. Keeva squinted at him and shook her head.

“Yeah, bullshit. I still smell trauma,” she mumbled, gulping down another sip.

A question was playing around her head for some time. And now seemed to be the perfect moment to ask.

Because if Stone was the resourceful little shit of the group, Andy was the all-knowing chatterbox.

“Did that guy ever manage to keep a girlfriend?”

“Yeah, once,” Andy replied, playing around with the squeezed slice of lime in his empty shot glass.

“There we fucking go! The enigma of Stone Gossard solved! Good job, my dear Watson,” Keeva slapped her thighs, raising her bottle to clink Andy’s empty glass. He giggled like a child. Different people had different reactions to her dry English attitude.

Jeff seemed to have an open mind despite clearly not getting it.

Chris usually gave her disarming smiles, probably taking it for a cute younger-sister quirk.

Stone was…well, Stone about it. Never missing a beat to shoot back at her like he had been deprived of an arguing partner for his whole life.

And Andy always rewarded her with the most angelic giggles she’d ever heard.

“…well? Spill the beans!” Keeva nudged him, leaning a bit closer on the bar table. Andy dismissively waved her off.

“Oh, I don’t like to gossip…” he nonchalantly shook his head.

They stared at each other with wide eyes before bursting into wild cackles, getting a few confused looks from people around them.

When Andy was done with his adorable snorts, he cleared his throat.

“Okay, so, way back in…’84 methinks. Her name was Tara, she was from Utah or Alabama or…whatever, who gives a shit. Anyway, very religious family, Mormons I think, you know how they do it down there,” he theatrically shivered with disgust and continued.

“However. Stoney’s brash mouth could seduce a fucking saint. I’ve heard it rumoured that she screamed for Jesus the first time he -“

“Woah, okay, okay, no, thanks. I get it, please spare me,” she scowled and plugged her ears.

She hoped that Andy wouldn’t notice the raging blush that rapidly filled her entire face, but he was very hard to fool.

“I know you wanna hear all of it -” he smirked, “- but very well. Anyway, he was completely smitten. Treated her so right, didn’t give her any of that shithead attitude.”

That sounds terrifying.

“All of a sudden like a lamb. It was terrifying.”

“Bet,” Keeva snorted and bit into the rim of her bottle to tame the growing smirk on her face. “And how was she?”

“Apparently, not bad,” he mused, giggling again when her eyes widened and she threateningly lunged forward.

“Sorry, sorry,” he raised his arm in defence and took a few seconds to compose himself. “Well, once he helped her out of her redneck shell, she was, uh, how do I put it…”

“A cool girl?” Keeva shrugged and took a swig.

“An insufferable bitch,” he deadpanned and the beer flew out of her nose. He gave her some time to wipe her mouth and continued in a slightly sombre tone.

“She cheated a whole lot, probably wanted to try out as much as she could, now that she’d realized that God can’t make her cum,” he explained, making her snort again.

Fucking hell. This clown. I love him.

The way the story was going, though, her enjoyment slowly faded.

“You know that he’s a tease. And sometimes girls mistake his sarcasm for flirting.”

Yeah, tell me about it.

"So she used to make out with people right in front of him just to make him jealous,” Andy scowled and she mirrored his expression.

“Oof. How long did that go on?” Keeva asked, not even sure if she wanted to hear the rest of the story.

Her gaze trailed off to Stone’s grin as he was handing a shot to Bruce a few feet away from them. Now, there was something behind his smile that she hadn’t noticed before.

“About a year and a half or something, on and off,” Andy’s voice snapped her back to the conversation. “Then she broke up with him and went back home. I bet she married her cousin or something.”

Keeva scoffed and shook her head. She wasn’t sure how to comment on it, so she let Andy finish his story, even though she regretted even asking for it.

“He was devastated after all that, barely talked for weeks. I think he secretly used to be a romantic, but she kinda sobered him up from that whole ‘soulmate’ thing. I don’t think he’s dated anyone else since,” he ended with a shrug, mindlessly biting into the lime he fished out of the shot glass.

It seemed like he was trying to lighten the mood, his face twisting into a scrunched grimace.

“A Greek tragedy, really,” she followed his suit, letting out a bleak chuckle.

Andy waved his hand and swallowed a few times to push the sourness down before continuing in a slightly slurry voice.

“No, seriously. It kinda makes me sad. Actually, I think I haven’t seen him kiss a girl since then, you know?”

And you dare to laugh at me, beanpole?

“Yeah, he flirts and sleeps around, but he never kisses anyone on the lips,” Andy added, shrugging. “Maybe it’s some kind of a self-defence mechanism, I don’t know. I have no idea what’s going on behind that huge forehead of his.”

Oh.

“Like, he enjoys the one-night-stand-thrill or whatever but also doesn’t like it when girls touch him. And I mean touch as in this -” he reached out, patted Keeva’s shoulder and then rubbed her back. “-right?”

…yeah. But…

“Cringes at hugs and stuff, but once he’s enough inches away and certain that they're into it, he doesn’t have a problem with straight up telling them he wants to fuck their brains out,” Andy shook his head. “And somehow, it works. Sometimes I wonder if he’s even from the same planet.”

“I mean, that makes two of us, the hugging thing. But he does it whenever we meet anyway, so there’s a scoop for you,” Keeva tried to sound as careless as possible, kicking back the rest of her beer in one swell swoop.

“It’s different with you, you’re like his little Pooky bear,” Andy smirked, lacing his fingers under his chin. She snorted and raised her eyebrows.

“A what?”

“Pooky. You know Garfield, right? The comics?”

When Keeva shook her head with a curious smile, Andy gasped.

“What?! Sarcastic little shit of a cat who hates everyone but his teddy bear Pooky? And Pooky always pretends that he’s just a toy and then suddenly moves and rearranges stuff just to fuck with Garfield’s head?” he babbled, wildly gesturing.

“That sounds deranged. I love it,” she giggled, still unconvinced about the metaphor.

“Oh man, I grew up on that. I still have a stack of ‘em at home, I’ll borrow you some!” he enthusiastically grabbed her hand. “Then you’ll see why you’re Pooky.”

“I’d love that. And I truly admire that you make everything sound like a compliment,” Keeva grinned.

“It is,” Andy shot back, raising his eyebrows with a smirk. She scoffed.

“Pretty sure that just means he doesn’t view me as a potential fuck.”

He squinted and tipped his head to the side like a puppy.

“Yeeeeah, I wouldn’t exactly say that.”

“Just between us,” she interrupted him, “I’d admit that it hurts my ego, but I’m too vain. Guess I’m not his type.”

“Does he have a type? I haven’t noticed, maybe I’ve been around him for too long,” he chuckled, taking another pointless bite of the lime as if he was trying to suck out the last drops of tequila.

“Well, from what I’ve seen, they’re usually tall, sporty and sweet,” she counted on her fingers and then shrugged. “Then again, who’s type isn’t tall, sporty and sweet?”

Andy's toothy grin widened.

“Seems like your type is lanky, malnourished and sardonic.”

No.

“Yeah, no. I don’t - nope. Let’s cut this conversation before it starts, please,” she wiggled her finger at him, eyebrows knitted. His smile got even brighter.

“Why not, Pooky?” he pressed, grabbing her hand again. “You’re the only person I know who clicked with him without wanting to knock his teeth out first. And he’s into it.”

It sounds so easy when you say it.

“Because I don’t want to. And neither does he. I’m certain that we both like it just the way it is, trust me.”

Shit, he doesn’t trust me.

“You think I don’t know that you’re fucking on the side?” he exclaimed so loud Keeva had to bang her forehead against the bar table to hide her face from the people turning their heads.

“Jesus Christ, Andy! You’re disgusting,” she hissed when looked up, scowling.

His smile was omnipresent, though.

If Stone was the Roman statue, Andy was the Harlequin.

“Well, are you?”

“NO!”

“Not yet, you mean,” he raised his eyebrows, trying to contain another brewing giggle.

“Not yet, not tomorrow, not ever. Okay? I’m done with this topic, you clown, let’s move on,” Keeva reached out and softly pushed him.

Andy didn’t seem too keen on moving on, though, as his shoulders shook with a cackle.

“Have you ever stopped to think why he stares at your lips when you’re babbling? ‘Cause I have, Pooky,” he raised his index finger and tapped on her forehead to make the wrinkles between her eyebrows disappear.

All the other guys were on their way back to them, their laughs nearing Keeva’s ears as Andy whispered with a sly grin.

“It’s because you’re not his type.”

● ● ● ● ● ●

“I think I need a shot of bleach,” Keeva’s raspy voice appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

She left the group to get a beer, but before she could push her way back through the crowd, everyone except Stone had already scattered around the bar again.

He was startled when she walked straight up to him and slammed her forehead against his chest.

Unprovoked touching? This is new. I could get used to this.

“What’s up?” Stone chuckled, hoping that the sound of his heartbeat would get drowned in the loud buzz around them.

Keeva just slammed her head into his ribcage again and took a moment to shiver off some sort of disgust.

She raised her hand without a word and stuck a jumbo shot of vodka in his face. Snickering, he reluctantly took it and she finally looked up.

Her fae-like features were twisted in a comical grimace, mixing both amusement and repulsion.

“I just walked past Mike from Alice. Nailing a chick, that blonde exchange student -“

“Shocking! Your first time seeing a cock?” he interrupted with a brash grin, but his expression froze when she finished her sentence.

“- against the kitchen door.”

“Wh-what?! The kitchen?” he stuttered out, slowly breaking into a scowl identical to hers. Keeva vehemently nodded.

“Fuck. That’s rancid,” Stone choked out and fiercely kicked back the vodka. His nose wrinkled in a signature scrunch.

“I was trying to run past it as fast as I could, but I was so perplexed by them that I stopped by and kinda gave him a -“

She took a step back from Stone and demonstrated her best judgemental glare, raising her eyebrows as far as they could go.

“And I shit you not, he stared me dead in the eye for like ten seconds and then just turned around -” she mimed holding someone’s ass in her arms and spun around, “- and continued like I wasn’t there.”

Stone’s cheeks puffed with a laugh and he nonchalantly shook his head, but his ears started to burn red because of her vivid description. And he couldn’t stop his intoxicated mind from wandering.

Get it together, asshole. Not her. She made that very clear.

“I mean, maybe he wanted to give her a proper Ramp experience...” he shrugged, trying to focus on anything else than the glistening sweat on her flushed cheeks.

Keeva scoffed and took a swig of her beer before folding her arms.

“Yeah, but the kitchen?! I mean, you wouldn’t do that. You’re an A-grade slut, but at least you’re a gentleman, too.”

Just let her have the last word. It’s so easy. For once in your life, just shut the fu-

“Depends on the company. You, I’d even take inside the kitchen if I had to.”

But instead of scolding himself, Stone’s mind filled up with confidence as the vodka spilt through his brain cells and his lips curled into a triumphant smirk.

Stop lying to yourself, Gossard. Don’t act like you don’t get off on this shit.

Keeva raised an eyebrow and seemed to genuinely ponder if he was being serious, but she quickly brushed off her momentary lapse of judgement with a sharp scoff.

“Fine, from now on I officially don’t believe anything that comes out of this filthy cakehole,” she shook her head and reached up to poke his mouth.

Surprised by her own audacity, she tapped her finger on the small dimple in the middle of his bottom lip. “Don’t slip on the cum-stained floor when you go wash it out with soap.”

She held it there, basking in the crackling sensation that pulsed from his soft skin through her calloused fingertip.

When Stone took a tiny step back, darting across her face with an unreadable expression, she froze. Her hand hung in the air as his eyebrows twitched into a minuscule frown.

After a moment far too long for her comfort, she jumped when he lunged forward and bit her finger, cursing under her breath.

He was cackling as he ruffled her hair, Keeva slapped his hand away and rubbed on the bite mark on her knuckle.

Even though Stone’s shoulders were shaking with giggles, there was a clear shift in his demeanour. He firmly folded his arms and took another step back, clearing his throat.

He knew she’d noticed.

Yeah, right, big guy. So much for ‘put my money where my mouth is’. Idiot.

“Fuck, great, now I have rabies,” Keeva muttered, studying her finger in the dim light as she gave him a side-eye, trying to hide a smirk.

Stone chuckled and scratched his forehead.

What the fuck is wrong with you, dude? A girl has touched you before. A lot of them did. She’s just another one. Just a girl. Just…

“What’s wrong? Am I foaming at the mouth already?” Keeva gasped, staring him down with a quizzical brow.

Why does she...strange. So, so strange.

All he managed to do was shake his head and try to put on an unbothered grin.

Snap out of it, you dumb fuck.

“Cat got your tongue?” she quipped, scoffing when he didn’t answer.

“Silent treatment, that’s new. And weird. I already miss your yapping,” Keeva shook her head and watched Stone’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. He took a breath to speak, swiftly easing back into his smart-ass mode.

“Woah, woah, okay. Spoke too soon. Tell you what, I’ll go powder my nose and in the meantime, you can try to think of something funny to say,” she handed him her beer and patted his warm cheek. “You can do it, pretty boy, I believe in you.”

And with that, she disappeared, the crowd swallowing her small stature like an ocean wave. Stone luckily found an empty spot in the hoard of people next to the wall.

He leaned on it and banged his head against the uneven bricks.

You’re in deep shit, friend.

● ● ● ● ● ●

Five minutes passed. Then ten. After twenty, Stone’s impatient foot tapping caused a cramp to shoot through his calf, so he cursed and kicked the air a few times to shake it off.

Jesus, did she get flushed down the drain?

He wasn’t paying any attention to the shaggy-haired surfer dude in front of him. Stone somehow found himself in a conversation with him - he just appeared out of nowhere and started yapping on and on about how the bars are worse around Sunset Boulevard.

Ever the businessman, Stone took the opportunity to bet a shot that they would see at least a trio of cockroaches throughout the night.

Of course, he knew that even three was an outstandingly small number.

I’ll go check on her.

He excused himself and assured the guy that he would be back to collect his prize. He snaked through the entire bar, looking for her in every dark corner of the place.

He even tried knocking on the women’s room and calling after her, peeking in when a chirping group of girls allowed him to do so ‘if he really is Stoney’.

But she was nowhere to be found. The last place he didn’t check was a small patio behind the back door, usually a spot one went to when they wanted to fuck a stranger.

Nah, she just needed a breather alone. Or with the discount Steven Tyler that’s been eyeing her from the barstool all night.

Fuck, what do I care?

He liked to think that he had the talent to stomach anything with a straight face, but an unfamiliar burn settled in his lungs as he made his way through a narrow corridor leading to the door.

This is a bad idea. Turn around and leave. Go count cockroaches or something.

He passed a couple that was shamelessly slamming against the wall with dull thuds, but it didn’t phase him at all.

He was too busy fighting his hazy brain, trying to coax his limbs to beeline back inside.

But he couldn’t stop himself as he took the shabby door handle and pushed the metal door open with a loud creak.

Maybe he’d take the scene of her pinned against the dirty bricks by someone else than him over whatever he just walked into.

Keeva was lying on the filthy concrete, curled up in a fetal position and shaking. She was holding a fading cigarette between her cramped fingers, hot ash falling on her red knuckles with every sob she let out.

Stone didn’t think twice about dropping down to his knees and hovering above her, little rocks and rubble stabbed his skin through the holes in his jeans.

“Jesus fucking Christ. What - what’s wrong, Baby?” he stuttered as he pulled to sit her up and shuffle to the wall to rest her back against it. She immediately hugged her knees, avoiding his eyes like a plague.

She was hyperventilating, tears streamed out of her puffy eyes and fell on the snot-stained Nets t-shirt.

He crouched in front of her and tried to take the cigarette away so it wouldn’t burn her. But her hand twitched and the cramp intensified, so he put his hands on her knees instead, cautiously caressing her.

“It’s f-fine, let m-me be. I’ll c-come inside i-in a sec,” she hiccuped, shuffling away when he moved to sit down next to her.

He carefully hugged her around the shoulders and pressed her to his chest. She was still shaking with rapid breaths, but her body slowly collapsed closer to him.

Stone felt his limbs tingle with an alien sensation, almost as if he’d never touched a woman before. Like an eerie fever dream.

“What’s wrong? What happened?”

“No, I’m…I’m okay, t-this h-happens sometimes…s-sorry,” she mumbled again, resting her forehead on her knees. His heart dropped.

“Did someone hurt you?” he questioned, trying to lift her chin to see if her face was in one piece.

“No, no, it’s nothing, I just…just l-leave me here, okay? I’ll be right back,” she choked out and let him take a look. After sparing him a brief glance, Keeva shook his hand off and hid behind her hair.

She didn’t have any bruises, only cracked lips from all the salty tears.

“What happened? Who hurt you? Tell me, please,” he pressed, reaching up to stroke her hair.

“No one, I’m n-not hurt…it’s fine. Just go,” she repeated like a broken record, but he noticed that she began to melt into his arms and finally dropped the cigarette butt on the ground.

“I’m not leaving you.”

That brought a new wave of shivers and he desperately clutched her closer to make her warm.

Neither of them was wearing a jacket or a sweater, so he didn’t have much to work with. It still seemed to help, though, as her breathing slowly calmed down.

“What’s up, Baby?” Stone whispered after a long moment of silence, disturbed only by her fading sobs.

“I-it’s just…it’s me, I’m sorry. I’m just a sissy.”

She took a long pause to breathe in and cleared her hoarse throat.

“I, uh…I just saw some girls shooting up in the bathroom, that’s all. They offered me some, too, just as a cherry on top.”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Oh. Did…did you -” he carefully started, still whispering. The implication brought a bit of fuel into her exhausted body, so she immediately cut him off.

“Fuck no. Christ, of course not."

Keeva sounded almost offended, so he quickly regretted even thinking about that option.

“I’m sorry. Sorry, I just…it’s not uncommon here…” Stone muttered with a bitter undertone in his voice. She took a big breath again.

“I know, it’s f-fucking everywhere. I don’t know what I was thinking…as if you could run away from drugs,” she lamented under her breath like she was scolding herself. “I guess I p-probably chose the wrong career. It j-just hit me more than it should’ve. Like I said, sissy.”

He wasn’t sure of what to say, so he just stared at the dirty ground in front of them. He realized there were multiple fresh-looking cigarette butts, she must’ve smoked a lot more before he arrived.

Keeva sniffed and wiped her wet nose with the back of her hand.

“It’s, uh…my dad, he…”

She took a moment to inhale a shaky breath.

“He was a smack addict, OD’d this spring. I didn’t know him that well, but, uh…I’ve seen that shit when he crashed at our place, you know…mom and I had this tiny little flat.”

She suddenly sounded clear and lucid, almost detached.

“I ran off as often as I could, slept at whatever place I worked at or in the school gym…I was probably the only kid that enjoyed going to school, ‘cause it meant I wouldn’t have to be at home. They both had a lot of friends over,” she scoffed. “Well, friends - dodgy old men and strung-out buddies with a pocketful of crack.”

She started picking on her cuticles and tore a hangnail, so Stone mindlessly reached out to stop her and started playing with the battered old ring on her middle finger.

“And mom was…she was ill. Real ill. You know, here,” she tapped her temple. “Got some of it from her, I think. Family heirloom.”

A few moments of tense silence and she continued.

“I guess they did love each other, in some ugly twisted way. In the end, she couldn’t bear to live without him,” Keeva mumbled the last part like she was talking to herself.

“So, uh…I kinda found myself alone in a dirty hole in the middle of East End with about fifty quid to my name…mom left me that,” she scoffed again, this time even sharper. “No note or anything, just that one fucking piece of worthless green paper.”

She sighed and watched his bony fingers slowly wiggle the ring left and right, slightly concerned that he didn’t speak yet.

Or move, for that matter.

“Dad’s cousin, Toby, moved here a long time ago. The only family I knew, so when it all happened, he tracked me down and said he’d take care of me. Got me a one-way plane ticket. A guitar case and these stupid dungarees,” she swabbed her nose again and wiped it on her pants to make a point. “That’s all I had on me.”

“What about him?” Stone suddenly asked, his voice eerily monotone.

“He recently moved to Aberdeen, but he still helps me with rent, even when I don’t ask. I try not to, obviously…I gotta look for something cheaper, ‘cause he’s already done enough, you know?“ Keeva waved her hand to try and loosen her shaking fingers. “Too much.”

She took a deep breath and fiercely shook her head.

“Fuck, sorry. I didn’t mean to just…shit, that was like an infodump from a bad movie,” she added and cleared her throat.

“Take it as a roundabout way of saying ‘run while you still can’,” she chuckled and tried to shuffle away, but Stone squeezed her closer.

A warm tear tickled her pale wrist, but it wasn’t one of her own. His breathing didn’t change, neither did his heartbeat or his stance.

Only the dull sound of teardrops falling on her skin as they dropped from the tip of his nose.

A Roman statue, weeping.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

His voice didn’t indicate any sort of emotion, but it soothed her in a way she’d never felt before. She raised her eyebrows.

“Like, ever?” she huffed, trying to loosen the mood, but he stayed still.

“If that’s what you want,” he said and patiently waited for her reaction. When she didn’t give him one, he cleared his throat and finally moved to rest his head on top of hers.

“Didn’t know you smoked.”

She scoffed.

“Only when I’m really riled up. News flash, it’s a nasty habit with zero benefits. Makes me even more poor, stinky and unhealthy.”

“A woman after my own heart," Stone nudged her shoulder, savouring the sound of her silent chuckle. "Just realized…I never asked you where you live.”

“At the corner of South Main and 17th Ave, next to Chinatown. A hovel, but there’s a bed and a bathroom and only I have the key. So I can’t complain,” she shrugged and continued. There wasn’t a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

“Still costs an arm and a leg, though, so it’s only temporary. Too small to get a roommate. I mean, I prefer solitude anyway, but you can’t always get what you want.”

“You could live with me, you know. I mean, if you want. At my place,” Stone said after a long minute of silence, still fiddling with her ring. "Be alone together."

A breath hitched in Keeva’s throat and she furiously shook her head.

“No. No, no, thanks…thanks so much, Stoney, but no. That’s - that’s too much to ask for,” she began stuttering again.

Stone moved to look at her, but she was firmly fixated on the trashcan on the other side of the patio.

“You didn’t even ask for that,” he shot back, raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah, but you’re already more hospitable than I deserve,” she replied and shook her head again. “And I doubt your parents would be chuffed about a sudden stray raccoon occupying their house.”

He briskly sat up straight and pushed away from the wall to face her.

"No, I’m serious. There’s a little brick shed behind the house, that’s where I live. I re-made it into a proper living space, isolated the walls and put electricity there. A bathroom with a tiny shower, a kitchen corner and a small electric cooker. Got my own door, my own key, it’s detached from the house,” he spewed out, suddenly more animated than she’d ever seen him.

“I pay my parents some rent, but once we split it, we'll have more money for music. Or you can pay a smaller half and cook dinner from time to time to make up for the rest.”

Stone didn’t even let her take a breath.

“There’s an attic above the room, like a little loft. I already put a permanent ladder there, but it just collects dust ‘cause I don’t have enough stuff to fill it up,” he continued and finally let go of her fingers, waving his hands around as if he were using an invisible broom. “We can clean it up and put up a bed for you, or I can move up there and you can sleep downstairs, whatever you like better.”

Keeva stopped him, more firmly than before.

“Stoney, I can’t accept that.”

“Why not? Like I said, if you want, there’s an unused space and I was looking for someone to take in anyway, to split the rent. It’s a little neighbourhood in Capitol Hill, ten-minute bike ride from Pioneer. Volunteer Park right under your nose,” he continued, like a dedicated salesman.

“I know all the nooks and crannies, there’s tons of cool bars and cheap food spots. When the mountain’s out, you can see the Needle.”

He paused and when she didn’t immediately shoot him down, he started pushing again.

“If you insist on paying rent,” he shrugged and she finally looked up at him, slightly frowning. Red eyes and a patchy blush, smudged eyeliner and parched lips.

And yet, she was the most breathtaking human he’d ever seen.

“…and I wouldn’t dare to try and stop you, we’ll split, fair share. More dough for guitar strings and beer for both.”

“It’s just…I’m not…” she stuttered but Stone didn’t let her finish.

“If you’re concerned about the size, it’s about 175 square feet, I can shrink my stuff as much as you need -“

“No, it’s not that, that’s bigger than my flat. I just…”

“I rarely bring girls there. And if I happened to do that, by any chance, I’d tell you before -"

“You’re too good to me.”

Silence fell between them once again. This time, though, it was different. His strange gaze swallowed Keeva whole as if she was seeing him for the first time again.

Stone darted across her face and stopped at a fresh tear forming in the corner of her eye. He reached up and wiped it away with his thumb, touch as light as a feather.

“It’s about time someone is.”

“Stoney, I want to be alone,” she barely whispered, studying his firm expression.

“So do I.”

She finally ran out of pointless arguments and, after a moment, slowly nodded in agreement. He mirrored her nod, peridot twinkling under the milky moonlit sky.

How could I say no to them?

“I’ll pick you up at your place tomorrow morning, show you around and you can decide if you like the look of it, okay?”

“Why?” she let the all-encompassing question hang in the air.

He sighed and rested his head on top of hers again.

“You get me. That’s why.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

[tryskomys]

I’m a simple person: I hear a groovy bass line, I listen to the song 2359521706437821 times

[tryskomys]

ATTENTION ALL OF TUMBLR!

THIS IS AN URGENT MESSAGE.

IN 2014, IN SCHAUMBURG , ILLINOIS, USA

THERE

WILL

BE

A

TUMBLR CONVENTION!!!

THESE ARE THE WONDERFUL PEOPLE THAT ARE MAKING IT HAPPEN

SIGNAL BOOST THIS GUYS

I WANNA SEE EVERYONE THERE!!

[tryskomys]

Wet Sand

Stone Gossard x OC

Chapter 3 - For Emily, Whenever I May Find Her

Summary: there’s a first time for everything.

masterlist

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

notes: chapter three is go! hope you enjoy the voyage through the start of the weird relationship between these punky dummies - you met a day ago, it’s not that deep. right? right?!

tw: weed, virginity talk, allusions to the word that rhymes with eggs. dreamy pining psychedellia.

songs:

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

“Morning! What can I help you with?”

“I’ll have a latte, please. Do you have something else than milk, though?”

“Jeff? Do we have any oat milk left?”

“Yep, I just opened a fresh carton.”

“There you have it!”

“Great, I’ll take that, thanks.”

“That’ll be a dollar in total, please. One oat milk latte, Jeff!”

“Coming up, Keeks.”

Just as Keeva took a dollar bill from the cute ginger girl in front of her, the front door swung open, sending in a swift of cold air.

It was Stone, excitedly waving a paper bag in the air. Her jaw dropped and she shook her head with a huff. Stone seemed out of breath as he ran up to the counter, fog still puffing out of his mouth.

“Here it is, milady, it’s still warm. My apple turnovers will burn if I don’t come back in ten minutes, so make it quick, please,” he spewed, leaning against the counter as he tried to catch his breath.

“You’re so weird,” was all Keeva stuttered out through giggles. That made a huge smile appear on his face, his eyes twinkling. She took the paper bag from him and peeked inside, sighing with contentment when the scent of freshly baked pastry filled her nose.

“Jeff! One cappuccino with an extra shot of spit, please,” Keeva called over her shoulder and Stone’s Cheshire cat grin grew even wider, chuckling. She scratched her forehead to hide her raging blush with her hair.

Jeff shook his head as if he was already over what he called ‘the Tom and Jerry on crack routine’ earlier. He gave her the ginger’s order and as Keeva handed her the oat milk latte, she noticed that the girl checked Stone up and down. And he gave her a little side-eye, smirking.

“Oh! Oh hey, Stoney! Haven’t seen you in ages, almost didn’t recognize you! Great hair,” the girl blurted out and went in for a hug. Stone seemed to know who she is, but Keeva could notice that he tensed up, clearly not too keen on hugging everyone he bumps into.

She felt some sort of twisted satisfaction when he awkwardly gave her a half-assed hug, but as soon as the girl let him go, it was as if a switch flipped in his brain. He eased again and folded his arms, as cool as ever.

“Mel, Mel, Mel…fancy seeing you here. Thanks, there was a sale on red box dye in CVS. Not like you need that,” he chirped and reached out to flick a strand of her hair, a sly smirk plastered on his lips. "You might find a few of us strolling around town."

Mel’s airy giggle rang through the room and Keeva darted between the two of them. The dynamic seemed to be slightly similar to the one she’d seen with the blondie last night. And once again, she couldn’t help but feel awful.

‘Kay, mate, I get it, you enjoy flirting with everybody else, but do you have to fling it in my face?

“There’s a rumour going around that you’ve dropped out and ran off with a travelling circus show. Disappeared for, like, what…” he continued, scratching his chin.

“I don’t know, five months? I just had tons of work for school so I wasn’t out much,” she shrugged. “I’m back now, though, Christmas break. So we can get the party started right where we left off,” Mel quipped and took a sip of her coffee, leaving a lipstick stain on the lid.

She looked at him through her lashes to emulate a ginger Bambi and he smirked, but his words were seeping with sarcasm.

“Can’t wait.”

Oblivious to his jab, she took another sip and asked Keeva for a napkin. Without leaving Mel out of her sight, she blindly reached under the counter, whipping out a tissue box.

Stone carefully observed the shorter woman in front of him, biting his cheek when Keeva put on a fake smile and theatrically presented the box to Mel.

“Hate to barge in on your planning session but I might need to serve another coffee, so I gotta ask you to move slightly to your left or right, depending on your preference,” she explained, moving her sardonic gaze to Stone.

He was already darting across her face with a cocky grin and he didn’t seem too phased. On the contrary, his scoff indicated that he was amused by her acidity.

“You still have my number, right? So that’s sorted,” Mel said after patting her lips dry as they shifted to the side.

Nobody was behind them, but Stone knew better than to comment on it. He knew Keeva’s frigid response would provoke another war for the last word.

“I keep it in a heart-shaped locket next to my bed, no worries,” he retorted and Mel blushed a little, putting a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

“Always the tease. Let me know then and we’ll figure something out,” she purred and took a look at her wristwatch. “Oh, gotta run. My class starts in half an hour. See ya, Stoney!” she went in for another hug and he lousily put his arm around her shoulders, his smile once again twitching with an uncomfortable cramp.

“Yeah, see ya,” he mumbled, giving her a jittery wave.

“Cheers, have a great day,” Keeva called after Mel as she walked away, narrowing her eyes at Stone when he turned back to her.

She took a big bite of her croissant, humming when Stone raised his eyebrows in question.

“Hm, it’s digestible.”

“Excuse me? We at Grand Central Bakery pride ourselves in the best pastries in town,” he shot back, shaking his head as he leaned on the counter. “I chose the crispiest one I had, don’t be a brat.”

Keeva dusted off a fleck of puff pastry that settled in the corner of her lips, ignoring the rush of blood that crept up her neck. She scoffed.

“You don’t strike me as a locket kinda guy.”

“I had to think of something,” he shrugged, fiddling with little clumps of wool on his left glove. She raised her eyebrows with a dramatic gasp and clutched her invisible pearls.

“So you’re saying you don’t have it?”

“The only things I keep next to my bed are a grass pipe and a mug that’s been collecting coffee debris for two months.”

That’s, uh…not surprising. Somehow. What the -

“I’ve seen her once at the Ramp and didn’t have the heart to turn her number down. She had cute handwriting,” Stone shrugged again, biting his lips to contain a grin when she let out a loud annoyed sigh.

“How chivalrous of you. Your turnovers are burning as we speak, so you should make like a Mel and disappear,” Keeva said as she took the coffee Jeff handed her. “One spit cappuccino to-go, that will be fifty cents.”

“It says a buck on the board,” he squinted at the menu and grabbed his cup. His freezing fingers brushed against Keeva’s knuckles and she stifled a cough before taking another big bite of her croissant.

“You paid the other half in material goods,” she mumbled with her mouth full and stuck out her palm. Stone chuckled and fished a half-dollar coin out of his back pocket, theatrically slapping it on top of her palm.

“Should I make like a Mel and give you my number? As a little tip?” he grinned, taking a sip of his coffee as she raised her eyebrows.

“Tempting…but, no,” she gave him a mocking smile and tossed the coin into the cashier drawer. “I don’t have a locket to store such a valuable thing.”

Stone scoffed and mirrored her sarcastic smile, reaching over the counter to flick her nose. She slapped his hand away and tapped on her watch to remind him to leave.

“Touché. I’ll be waiting ‘til you get one,” he gave her a silly wink and whistled to get Jeff’s attention. “See ya at lunch, Ames.”

Jeff just quickly looked over his shoulder and continued to wash his hands in the sink.

“See ya, now go before they sack you,” he mumbled with a grin. Keeva gasped.

“Jesus, don’t give him ideas or we'll never get rid of him.”

Stone was already half out of the door when he gave her a middle finger, leaving his arm between the doorframe. He held it there until the door squished him and then snaked out, once again disappearing into the icy fog outside.

● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ●

Precise like a Swiss clock, he came back to the café exactly at half past noon, just as Jeff reached the door to lock it for the lunch pause. He let Stone in, eyeing the bag in his hand with a gulp.

“I have arrived, children. Turkey salad sandwiches from Cyclops, fries to share,” Stone sharply exhaled when he walked in, slightly out of breath, and shook the plastic bag in the air. His hair was tied up in a neat ponytail, pointy ears red and tender from the frosty wind.

Keeva’s stomach growled on cue at the whiff of fries and Jeff whistled, reaching into the bag like a starved raccoon.

“Woah, fancy. Got your allowance, buddy?” he mused, chuckling when Stone softly slapped his cheek.

“Fuck off. Took three extra shifts last week to pay you back for the weed, asshole. You’re a spendy date,” he hissed and walked away from Jeff before he could finish taking his food.

He came up to Keeva and reached out to ruffle her hair, throwing his arm around her shoulders. As he led her to the back door, he called after Jeff. “Baby didn’t even want me to buy her a beer yesterday, you should take notes.”

Keeva chuckled and grabbed her leather jacket as they walked past the coathanger. A picture of his awkward wince at Mel's hug flashed through her head when he tugged on her hair as if it was the most natural move in the world, his cold fingers grazing her neck.

“Hungry?”

“Like a wolf,” she quipped back, chuckling when Jeff mocked Stone’s hair tug and yanked the bag out of his hands. He reached inside and chomped down a bundle of fries.

When they walked out, the cold air felt refreshing, in stark contrast to the overheated café. There was a small roof over the short staircase as well as a part of the patio.

It was quite clean and without any snow, so they all sat down in a circle and took their food, plopping the fry basket in the centre.

When Keeva took the first bite, it was a heavenly sensation. After days on crusty bread, the juicy salad and grilled turkey hit just the right spot. She closed her eyes and hummed, dipping a few fries into the signature Cyclops spicy mayo dip.

“My, my, Ames, I think she likes it,” Stone mused and she rolled her eyes, scoffing.

“I shall die and go to heaven, now. Bye,” she mumbled with her mouth full, resting her head against the brick wall.

Jeff laughed and reached into the inner pocket of his windbreaker. He grabbed a cigarette pack with three blunts and a lighter inside and offered it to Stone, who took one out and lit it. After he took a long drag, he handed it to Keeva, who just took a bite of her sandwich.

“I told you, it’s like sticking your head into a fratboy’s gym locker,” she shook her head and pushed his hand away.

Stone exchanged an amused look with Jeff as he passed him the joint and chomped down a bunch of fries.

“Oh, and I can’t jam today, gotta go get the knee checked for the last time,” Jeff shrugged and Stone shook his head. He wiped his hands on his jeans and loosened his scarf to scratch the back of his neck, just where the tips of his ponytail tickled him.

Jeff did a quick double-check between Stone and his food as he passed the joint back and prepared to take the first bite.

“Stoney. My dude. Is that a fucking hickey?” he gasped, breathing in a bit of toast.

Stone's eyes popped open as if someone dumped a bucket of cold water down his jacket and started feeling around his neck in panic.

“Huh? Where?”

“Holy shit, how old did you say you were?” Keeva scoffed, slapping her forehead when she leaned over to take a peek at the small purple bruise under his ear. “Fifteen?”

“Twenty-one?”

They spoke at the same time and Jeff started laughing at Stone’s sudden defensive body language, choking on his sandwich.

“I’ve seen worse, Keeks. One time, he ca-“

“Okay, okay, okay. Chill out or I’ll tell her why the hat stays on when you fuck,” Stone reached over to Jeff and slapped the back of his head, forcing the blunt into his mouth.

Jeff was still trying to cough out the piece of bread stuck in his throat, so he started wheezing even harder.

When Stone guaranteed that Jeff was properly shut down, he finally let him go and slapped his back a few times while taking a puff. His brawny friend finally calmed down after a minute of furious coughing, but he still didn’t lose the wide grin on his face.

“Jesus fuck, I need water. Be good,” Jeff stuttered and hopped up, disappearing behind the staff door.

A moment of slightly awkward silence passed as they exchanged a look, both eagerly trying not to burst out laughing. Stone tried to offer her the blunt once again, but Keeva took a bite of her sandwich instead.

With a little bit of luck, I’ll choke too and won’t have to look at you anymore. That would be cool.

“Pussy,” Stone huffed and broke into a wide grin when she gave him the finger. He sighed and leaned his back against the cold brick wall, crossing his legs as he chomped on a fry.

“So, you came here all alone?” he questioned, his face clouded by remnants of smoke.

“Yup. Free as a bird, I guess. Weehoo,” Keeva chuckled, wiping toast crumbs from her cheeks with the back of her hand.

Not getting into that right now. Not when I have this glorious toastie in my hand.

Stone whistled.

“Left a strapping young lad named Arthur behind, I presume?”

“Do I really seem like a desirable object of attention?” she huffed, softly tugging on her freckled cheeks and pointing at her mismatched irises. He gave her a side-eye and took another fry.

“I mean…”

Stop taunting, asshole.

“Shut it. No, there was no Arthur to leave behind.”

“Tommy?”

“No.”

“Charlie?”

“No, there were no Tommies or Charlies or Henries, so save that.”

Stone shut his mouth and his eyes slowly widened as he sat up straight, taking the half-eaten fry out of his mouth. He stared at her for a few seconds before raising his eyebrows as far as they could go, his hand still hanging in the air.

“Uh, wait, wait, wait. Let me get this straight. You mean…I’m sitting in front of a real, unadulterated Virgin Mary?”

“I’m not -“ Keeva interrupted him way too abruptly and shrugged so hard that a piece of turkey flew out of her sandwich. When his overwhelming stare grew even wider, she lowered her voice. “I’m not a virgin, okay?”

“Sure. And I am,” he snorted out a laugh and slapped his knee as if it was the most amusing information he’d ever learned. “Bet you never even kissed a guy, Mary.”

She kicked his shin as hard as she could, adding a weak punch to his bony shoulder. Stone just giggled again and his freckled nose scrunched.

Irresistibly irritating.

“Leave me alone! I have! I have kissed a guy, okay? Once or twice…or once,” she mumbled, getting more quiet as her excuses ran out. His jaw dropped.

“Holy. Shit.”

“Fuck off! It’s not fair to compare me to you, you’re a little whore!” she shrieked, her voice jumping a few octaves higher than usual. That made him laugh even harder.

“I’d take a whore over a Mother Theresa,” he shrugged and finally ate the cold fry he’d been squishing between his fingers. Keeva shook her mop of curls, trying to curtain her patchy cheeks.

“You know, Stoney, you talk a lot for someone who’s at an arm’s length from my virgin fists. So watch your mouth.”

He raised his hands in defence and bit his lips to contain the laughter. She threw him a scolding stare and took an angry bite of a big bunch of fries.

Stone inhaled to speak and she already raised her finger to shut him up, but he just wouldn’t let it go.

“You know, there’s two things I can’t stand in my proximity. Girls with freckles and virgins. And you’re sitting right in front of me.”

“Yeah? Tough shit, can’t do much about that,” she shot back, her mouth full of potatoes. He raised his eyebrows again, breaking into a poorly contained grin.

“Uh…I have a few ideas.“

Okay, now you’re crossing a line.

“You disgust me,” she coughed out after a few moments of chewing.

Stone just slowly took a big hit and lazily leaned closer to her. He puffed the thick cloud right into her face and a tingle ran through her vertebrae as if he shocked her with a taser.

Fuck. That’s impossible. He knows. He must know.

“Do I? Why are you blushing?” he added, voice hoarse from the smoke.

Keeva took a moment to compose herself, suppressing a sneeze that tickled her nostrils. She gulped down the fries, mindlessly staring at his smirking lips as she recalled her dream.

“Fucking hell. Your hubris is baffling, mate,” she muttered and cleared her throat to get rid of the strain in her vocal cords.

“My hubris is baffling? Golly gee shucks. I shall dub thee ‘granny’ instead of ‘baby’ if you keep talking like it’s the eighteen hundreds,” he calmly retorted, tipping his head to the side. “I’m just saying, if you ever need a friend to help out…”

Keeva scoffed.

“You know, this whole ‘sarcastic lanky stoner punk‘ shtick you got going on might work on girls around here, but I can see right through you,” she sneered, trying to show confidence in her words. “You’re like an annoying old book I’ve read ten times over. I’m in your fucking head, beanpole.”

“Yeah, you are,” he quietly quipped, tipping his head to the other side. Keeva raised her eyebrows.

“Stop staring at me like that.”

“Why?” Stone tipped his head again and put on an innocent pout, his eyes gleaming as if he flipped a light switch.

How the fuck does he do that?

“Because I don’t like it,” she weakly shot back.

“Somehow, I don’t believe you.”

Neither of them moved an inch, though. And after a few moments of tense silence, she finally thought of an answer worthy of the personified mischief in front of her.

Payback, beanpole. Payback.

“Stoney, Stoney. My great-great-grandma used to have this saying. You know, in the eighteen hundreds,” she nonchalantly waved her hand and tipped her head as well, carefully taking the joint from his fingers.

“It went ‘Never trust a guy with a hickey,’” she mumbled and raised it to her lips. “‘…especially when he says he wants to fuck you real bad.’”

She finished by taking a deep hit and without a single blink, she blew the smoke in his face.

“And I’ve lived by that ever since.”

Before he could respond, she stuck the blunt between his lips, backed away and took another unassuming bite of her sandwich.

Stone’s eyes fluttered closed for a split second before he raised his eyebrows and cleared his throat.

Just as he took the joint out to shoot back at her, the metal door swung open and Jeff hopped off the small set of stairs, landing right between them.

“Ah, I could’ve died back there and you didn’t even come to check on me! Bet you were talking shit,” he chuckled and scooted over to his food, chomping on a few fries. “What did I miss?”

Stone stared at Keeva and she just shrugged, challenging him to answer. He blinked and then finally eased back into his immovable cool facade, scoffing.

He took a quick look at his watch and got up, unceremoniously putting the joint out on the door before slipping inside.

“Keeva is a virgin.”

She was carefully scanning the empty street for any signs of human appearance, but it seemed like this ghost town was empty.

What a haunting feeling.

She was evidently waiting for something - someone, anxiously tapping her foot in a steady rhythm.

It was the dead of night, soft snowflakes soundlessly floated around her and muffled all sounds of the darkness like weightless cotton balls. As if she was stuck in a crystal snow globe filled with ink.

Warm lamps stood along the pavement of what was eerily similar to Pioneer Square. They emanated a beautiful amber glow, making the white flecks seem almost like fire sparks.

The entry signs of all surrounding shops were written in unreadable letters that moved and changed time and time again, appearing and going as they pleased.

A clump of snow glided its way to the tip of her nose. She crossed her eyes to look at it and tried to blow it away, but she accidentally breathed it in instead.

She let out a suppressed sneeze and rubbed the melting flake away, her fingertips freezing.

Looking up from the sparkling gravel under her feet, she scanned the starry sky with childlike wonder. She couldn’t exactly tell the stars from the snowflakes. Both twinkled similarly, illuminated by the full moon that hung right above her.

The light mirrored in his peculiar eyes, making them seem like glowing gems from afar when he emerged from the surrounding fog on the opposite end of the street. He made his presence known with a soft whistle.

She already knew he was there, though. The air shifted around her just as he appeared out of nowhere.

She turned her head to look at him, breaking into a wide grin when he took his hand out of his pocket and gave her an endearing wave.

He skipped along the road in long hops, nearing her a lot quicker than the distance seemed to be. As if he was skipping through time as well.

He wasn’t leaving any footsteps behind, he didn’t have a shade. But then again, neither did she.

Sprinkles of snowflakes fell on his messy red hair, tied into a tangled bun on top of his head with an outrageously pink scrunchie. Here, though, the fabric seemed to be muted and warm, surprisingly soft. Just like him.

“Oh, look who’s here! You were waiting for me in this weather? I’m blushing,” he mused, putting his arm around her as soon as he reached her.

He gave her what would normally be a bone-crushing squeeze, but in this place, it felt like catching fog with bare hands.

“You told me not to forget. You’re more intimidating than you think,” she mumbled and folded her arms to warm her hands in the armpits of her leather jacket. He grinned.

“Well, I think pretty highly of myself, so…”

“Yeah, I figured,” she squinted at him, curiously studying the red frostbitten patches on his cheeks with a sly smile.

“Wanna take this? It’s fucking freezing out here,” he mumbled when her teeth started chattering and began to take his suede jacket off. But she shook her head, holding his arms in place.

She ran her hands through thin air.

“Nope, I’m fine, ta. Did you make this weather up, Stoney? Like a weird yawn-to-put-your-arm-around-a-girl type deal?” she nonchalantly chuckled and blood quickly rushed to her cheeks when he unexpectedly took her fingers in his palms, rubbing them together to melt the freezing sensation.

It was eerie, to suddenly feel his skin on hers. Icy and silky, like a soft breeze tickling her pale knuckles. The intensity of her blush was painful, stinging and scratching her cold flesh from the inside.

He lifted her hands to his lips, softly blowing on them. His breath was balmy and caressing, like running one’s hands through a bowl of honey.

“Maybe I did. Twenty-one years alive and I’ve never seen as much snow as this year. It’s like you brought it with you, like a little punky Jack Frost,” he mumbled into their intertwined fingers. “I’m not complaining, though. Feels like we’re in a song or something.”

“Why do I have the feeling that you’ve already used that trick a couple of times?” she playfully lifted her index finger to nudge his aquiline nose, but once again, she only poked air.

Like she was able to touch him only when he permitted it. Manipulating the matter of her body, the sole sovereign of this bizarre world, above the limits of time and space. The look he gave her wasn’t as mischievous as she’d expected.

“Would it hurt you to stop being bitchy for just a couple of seconds?” he raised his eyebrows but continued to softly caress the back of her hands.

Silence hung in the air as she averted her eyes, embarrassed by his sudden crassness.

“I never dream,” he added and waited for her to look at him. His eyes were brutally honest. Older, wiser, burdened with something she wasn’t able to decipher. “But when I see you out there, I can’t tell if I’m awake.”

She opened her mouth to say something, but she wasn’t able to find words that would describe the feelings running through her head like a freight train.

Instead, she opted for carefully loosening her hands out of his grip and then took his fingers in hers, now returning the favour by blowing on his red knuckles.

His expression softened a bit as he watched little puffs of fog leave her lips, eyes dissociating when she gathered the courage to plant a feather-light kiss on his fingertips. Then, she gently pushed the hand back to his face, pressing the fingers against his lips.

They were still warm.

His eyes fluttered closed because somehow, he could still feel the soft skin of her lips on them.

Without thinking, he mirrored her action and returned the roundabout kiss by reaching back down to her, lingering on her lips for a fleeting moment before finally slipping his hands back into his pockets.

After what felt like hours in a maze of his strange gaze, she gathered enough strength to steady her breath and finally spoke.

“Let’s not wake up, then.”

And as if on cue, the shriek of an alarm clock disturbed the ghostly silence. It seemed to be slightly muffled by the glowing fog around them, but it still pierced her heart like a scalloped knife.

His murky voice washed over her like a warm ocean wave, spilling into her veins. Slowly, calmly, somberly.

And as always, crowned by a daring smirk.

“Tomorrow, same time, same place. Don’t you forget…”

[tryskomys]

Wet Sand

Stone Gossard x OC

Chapter 2 - I’m On Fire

Summary: Let’s meet in our dreams.

masterlist

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

notes: chapter two has arrived! i hope it's not too eccentric and confusing to read, it's the only way i know how. hope you enjoy <3

tw: weed, swearing, psychedelic-headache-inducing imagination. you know those dreams that feel like you've taken a hit of acid and fuck up your day before you can say “these edibles ain't shit”? yeah, there's that.

songs:

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

A flash of ruddy hair appeared in her peripheral as she felt his warm breath tickle the back of her neck.

“This is my room,” he mumbled in her ear and led her inside a strange place with four walls, a ceiling and a floor. It didn’t look like a room at all.

She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but it seemed to be made of something similar to cotton clouds, corporeal and see-through at the same time.

In the furthest corner, there was a single bed with bright pink sheets and a small tea table. It had a cup of coffee on top, along with a pocket weed pipe.

Her body twitched when he put his hand between her shoulder blades and extended his other lanky arm to point an extraordinarily long finger at the wall in front of them, landing right on a shiny sunburst Les Paul.

“This is my guitar,” he whispered again, his cold aquiline nose nudging her cheek. She wanted to turn around to take a peek at him, but she felt like she was frozen in time, gliding through the room as he gracefully pushed her further inside.

The walls expanded and shrunk over and over again, swirling like the smoke that was eerily sizzling out of the glass pipe.

“This is my bed,” he snapped her out of her dissociation again, his fingers wrapping around her waist. He led her towards the comfortable-looking mattress.

She didn’t protest when he spun her around and lifted her off the floor as if she were made of feathers.

She was looking right through him, unable to focus on his features, yet she knew exactly where to touch to caress his cheek. She could feel a few small freckles under her fingertips.

He hummed as he laid her down on the bed and straightened up again, reaching for the small transparent pipe crammed with green clumps.

His cheeks hollowed as he took a long, deep drag and then leaned on his knees, puffing the smoke right into her face. There was something inexplicably vulgar about the scent.

And as his hair fluttered under his exhale, it was as if she was simultaneously standing in a field full of wild strawberry bushes.

“This is my handy little grass pipe,” he breathed out the remnants of smoke, his voice low and stoic. Just when his features finally started to take shape and colour, he moved again and blurred into an unrecognizable tall figure climbing on top of her, knees at the sides of her hips.

He hovered above her as he swept her tangled hair out of her face, his Adam's apple moving up and down while he hummed an unidentifiable tune.

The melody was surprisingly delicate and gentle, contrasting his shameless indecency. When she subconsciously tried to look away from his scrutinizing stare, he swiftly caught her jaw in his hand, tutting.

"Nuh-uh. This is my dream, too. Don’t be a killjoy,” he mumbled, somewhat crass. He softly tugged on her chin to turn her head back to face him and when she did, his features finally took shape.

His eyes were impossibly big. Half-lidded with wildly dilated pupils, irises an unidentifiable, harsh shade of green. Encircled with smudges of messy black eyeliner, swirling through her brain like a head-spinning drug.

His lips curled into a cocky grin when a breath hitched in her throat. She reached up to run her hand through his red-tinted hair, but she grabbed nothing but air. He tutted again and slowly shook his head as if he was deeply disappointed in her naivité.

Suddenly, a shrilling high-pitched beep echoed through the floating room and wormed into her ear, pounding her brain like a sledgehammer. Her heart burst into rapid beats when he bent down to her face, a smug smirk still dancing on his angled features.

His phantom lips shivered over hers like a weightless quill, bony ribcage brushing against her chest as he let out an airy chuckle. His words were laced with condescending amusement.

“Oh, right. This is my alarm clock. It always seems to ring by the time we get here. What a shame…oh well. Tommorow, same time, same place. Don't you forget...”

His voice melted and got lost in the loud beeps as the room around her dissolved. Keeva let out a pathetic whine and she waved her hands in the air, trying to grasp onto his shoulders so he wouldn’t disappear with it.

It didn’t work, so she swiftly sat up in her bed, still grabbing the air around her.

When she realized the source of the noise was a blue alarm clock that sat on the coffee table next to her, she grabbed it and threw it against the wall with a childish grunt.

It stopped beeping, but its plastic container broke open and the battery fell out, rolling along the floor and stopping right at her feet as if to mock her.

She huffed, feeling a rush of blood pool in her cheeks as the fresh memory of her dream erased the ugly noise from her mind.

Huh. What the fuck…

She was extremely puzzled as she looked around her flat, finally grounding in reality. One room, that’s all she had, with a tiny kitchen counter and an even smaller bathroom.

Her window led to the street, though, so whenever she crawled out of her bed, she could open it right away and breathe in the frigid winter air.

She rubbed her eyes and looked out, watching as lone cars passed through the mist that settled above the dim streets of Seattle. She smiled to herself.

Could be a worse view.

Getting up, Keeva stretched and grabbed the alarm clock off the floor. She put it back together, finally looking at the time.

5:30. Fuck. That’s late.

She sped up her routine, clumsily slapping on mascara in the bathroom before quickly digging through her suitcase to fish out a clean shirt.

A month in and I still haven’t unpacked, what a well-mannered lady.

She couldn’t find anything, so she frantically looked around the room, kicking a rag and a bra out of her way. Her eyes fell on a white t-shirt that was thrown over the single chair next to her table.

She walked up to it and folded it open, revealing a round-shaped photo of an Indian man with a huge beard, long hair and sunglasses, circled with big words that spelled SOUNDGARDEN.

Oh. Oh, right.

The picture of the unruly guy from her dream finally fully materialized and her already heated blush grew even brighter when she realized that she did, in fact, not make him up.

Fuck. Beanpole.

“So you haven’t been to a gig here yet? God, that’s grim. Soundgarden is a great place to start, though. It’s a bit of everything, but mostly kinda metal-based. The U-Men are playing next week, if you’re into more punky stuff, ” Stone rambled and waved his hands around, which was clearly something he did a lot.

His strides were long and brisk, so she was a bit out of breath as she tried to catch up with him.

He had a big suede jacket on and a fuzzy knitted beanie with a big puffy ball on top.

Keeva had to giggle at his unusual visage, she couldn't put into words what made him so damn endearing, but he had an irresistibly charming skip to his step.

Now that he was in motion, he reminded her of a cub that hadn’t fully grown into its paws yet, his huge feet slapping against the crunching fresh snow, bony fingers wiggling through the air as he enumerated the upcoming week’s concerts.

Keeva threw the t-shirt on and quickly wiggled into her ragged denim overalls, cursing when the fuzzy brown sweater she stuck her head through made her hair stand up and crackle with static.

She promptly looked over at her clock again and tied her boots, grabbed her wristwatch off the table and put it in the pocket of her leather jacket.

As she skipped down the long stairs of the apartment building, she wrapped a long woollen scarf around her neck, scratching her forehead when a piece of cotton lint stuck to her eyebrow.

She hurried to the bike rack in front of the building, clumsily throwing her backpack on while trying to untangle the leather strap that tied her bike to the metal pipes. When she finally loosened it, she quickly grabbed the lock that hung on it, moved the three number buttons in the correct order and took it off.

She stuffed all of it in her pockets, too and hopped on her bike. And then she could finally set off to work, letting memories flow through her head.

“Stoney! Hey, Stoney! Stoked that you made it! Matt shed a few tears when he didn’t see you in the pit,” the seemingly intimidating guitar player called after the two of them, finally hopping off of the stage and excitedly waving to get their attention. He had a bushy black beard and hair messier than a bird’s nest.

Keeva tried to gather some courage by straightening her back and nudging Stone. He seemed to sense the tension in her muscles, so he delicately placed his hand on her back, putting in just enough weight to assure her that he was there.

“Oh, so it is your real name! Tough shit,” she mumbled as they moved through the crowd, earning a hearty chuckle while he answered various calls of 'Hi, Stoney', 'What’s up, Stoney', 'Hi ya, Stoney', 'Stop by for a shot, Stoney' and a bunch of other greetings. “Seems like I’m hanging with the popular kid, that’s an unexplored territory for me.”

“Chill out, you’ll fit in just right. The starving artists of Seattle generally respond well to greenies and you're undoubtedly irresistible.”

Irresistible.

That’s the word that occupied Keeva’s head as he locked her bike to the rack in front of a parking lot with the leather strap and lock she fished out of her pockets, but then she noticed there was another, bigger bike next to hers, similarly battered and covered in stickers.

Mötorhead, Butthole Surfers, Nets…

She frowned, took out her watch and checked it before finally tying it around her wrist.

Where did this thing come from? I’m supposed to be starting the shift. Weird.

She sank her ears into the fluffy scarf and headed towards the Raison D’Être. When she turned the corner and reached the door of the artsy café, she took a bundle of keys out of her backpack to open up.

But the key didn't go in, as there was one already slotted in from the other side.

“The hell…” she sighed and pressed her nose against the frosted glass, trying to decipher any signs of life. She knocked and heard an unintelligible answer before a figure rose from behind the counter and walked up to the front.

When the door opened, Keeva found herself in front of a tall guy wearing a bizarre furry hat and a sleeveless basketball jersey, an interesting choice for this kind of weather.

Pearl earrings were hanging out of his ears and his face lit up with a wide cat-like grin. He towered over her, just like…

Dammit, get out of my head, beanpole.

“Can I help you?” the guy mused, leaning against the doorframe. He wore a ring on every finger and multiple beaded necklaces of different sizes and colours dangled from his muscular neck.

What a character.

Keeva chuckled and rattled her key bundle in the air.

“Can I help you? You seem awfully suspicious,” she shrugged and mirrored his stance. He giggled.

“You must be Keeva. I’m Jeff, really a pleasure to finally meet you,” he stuck out his hand and waited for her to shake it. Just as she reached out, he gently took her fingers and kissed the cold knuckles, old-fashioned style.

She huffed, but couldn’t help a little blush.

“Uh, that’s me. Great to meet you…Jeff? Oh, yeah! Rod told me about a Jeff on sick leave,” she said and silently thanked him as he motioned her to come inside. “Glad to see you on two feet! Word has it that you got injured in a freaky water polo accident or something.”

Jeff laughed and the youthful energy around him only intensified. He locked the door again and jogged to catch up with her, helping her out of the leather jacket like a proper gentleman.

He had a pleasantly light cologne, mixed with the scent of coffee beans as he was just in the middle of grinding them. And a faint hint of weed that was nowhere near as arousing as her dream made it out to be.

“Yeah, I busted my knee. Playing basketball, just to clarify.”

“I mean, there’s a ball and there’s a net, right? The only basics that matter,” Keeva wiggled her index finger at him and grabbed the barista apron he offered her. It had a bright psychedelic print on it, almost hypnotizing. Jeff snorted.

“Jeez, thank god my friend Stoney isn’t here, he’d fall in love with you on the spot,” he mused and her smile fell a bit, eyes wide.

Oh.

Her cheeks grew red, she tried to play it off by nonchalantly scratching her forehead.

“Would he now?” she smirked and Jeff nodded, leaning against the counter as he lousily wiped it with a damp rag that he took out of his back pocket.

“With that smart-ass-will-o’-the-wisp-punk thing you got going on? Madly,” he looked Keeva up and down and gave her another disarming grin. “Fortunately he’s at work, little baker boy at Grand Central.”

“Let me guess…”

She folded her arms and put on a thoughtful frown. She hoped that Jeff’s comment was supposed to compliment her.

“About yay high,” she raised her hand as far as she could, “…bad dye job, ridiculous scrunchie…” she counted on her fingers and Jeff’s jaw dropped, laughing as she continued.

“...bug-eyed, punchable face…”

Stone smirked as the bearded man patted his shoulder a few times after greeting him and before he could ask about his female company, another man joined them, a mane of curls flowing around his face like a sea of black seaweeds. He had a linen shirt on, opened all the way to his navel. The singer.

“‘Sup, Stoney? The guys went for a blunt but they’ll be right back. Who’s your little friend?” he mused and then stopped in his tracks for a second before slapping the bushy guitarist's stomach with the back of his hand.

“Kim, that’s Keeva. As in Kiki. No way,” he whistled and the guitarist, Kim, raised his eyebrows with a surprised nod.

“Oh! Oh, right! Jesus, hi, we were wondering when you’ll show up! I’m Kim, pleasure,” he extended his hand and Keeva bashfully shook it, her cheeks full of a crooked smile.

The singer chimed in with an introduction, almost cutting off his well-spoken friend.

“I’m Chris, so nice to meet you! We’ve heard about you shredding your way through this shithole, but you never showed up! We were starting to think you’re just an urban legend!” Chris ruffled her hair and giggled as if he was a genuinely happy child receiving a new toy for Christmas.

Stone chuckled, flicking her nose for the sixth time that evening.

“See, I told you you were a fucking cryptid.”

“Sylphs are known to migrate to America during this time of year, Stone. No wonder you dropped out,” Kim added, theatrically widening his eyes as Keeva rolled her eyes and scratched the back of her neck, grinning.

“Cool, so I don’t have to introduce you,” Jeff giggled and adjusted his hat. “When did that happen?”

“Last night. We met on the way to the Off Ramp. We were running late but he took me through a shortcut,” Keeva shrugged, walked behind the counter and hopped up on it.

She grabbed a small blackboard propped up next to the cashier and started writing down the Monday special - Hazelnut espresso.

Chris was a very attractive man, no doubt about it. He was even taller than Stone, but he filled the space around him, whereas Stone seemed to poke out. Even though Chris’s mane of curls had twice the volume hers had, Stone’s hair was somehow messier. Chris’s eyes were a cold shade of blue, but they felt warm and comforting. Stone’s saucer eyes made her want to look away, despite having an inviting golden hue.

He was everywhere, sticking out no matter who he stood next to.

“He, uh…he left an impression, that’s for sure,” she mumbled and cleared her throat, trying to get rid of the choking grip that was his face behind her eyelids.

“Like you wanted to slap him?” Jeff squinted, grinning again when she vehemently nodded.

“He’s good. A smart-ass for sure, plus there’s his whole chess club thing. But he’s kinda a brother by now. Oddly hot, chicks dig him. But don’t tell him I said that,” he wiggled with his finger when she gasped. “Doesn’t play ball, though, so that’s a little dent in his coolness.”

Chicks dig him, huh?

Oh, and of course he plays chess. Perfectly annoying.

“Depends. I mean, I personally never really got the appeal of sports. I’m more of a cheerleader,” Keeva smirked as Jeff’s smile grew even wider.

“Oh man, talk about two peas in a pod,” he muttered under his breath and disappeared into the back room for a moment before emerging with two big mugs.

“Fuck, I almost forgot. I kinda knew you were coming, so I made this when I opened up. Just a little welcome surprise,” he shrugged and handed her a warm cup of tea with milk. “A small piece of home, right? Hope you’re not allergic to milk or something.”

Christ, is everyone here a sweetheart? Talk about culture shock.

“Fucking hell, thanks so much, Jeff,” she pouted, humming when she took a sip. “Oof, it tastes better than my gran’s.”

“Maple syrup, that’s the secret ingredient,” Jeff winked and sipped on his coffee as well. “So, how did ya like Soundgarden?”

“Phew. It was breathtaking, seriously. I’ve never heard anything like that. And everyone was so nice, too. Stone introduced me to the band and stuff. We had a couple of beers, it was great…” she rambled and waved her arms around excitedly.

“How old are you? Can I even buy you a drink?” Chris chirped, squeezing her nose. Keeva grinned at his friendly gesture.

“Relatively fresh nineteen,” she retorted, her voice coming out as quacks as he still held onto her nose. He gasped.

“My god, you’re a baby!”

“Right?! Found her in a corner, too,” Stone chimed in, scoffing when Chris reached up and pulled his nose as well.

“Shut up, Stoney. You’re just jealous that you’re not daddy’s favourite child anymore,” he quipped, let go of them both and put his arm around Keeva’s shoulders. “Don’t listen to him, sweetheart. He may be barely legal but he still doesn’t know proper etiquette.”

She chuckled.

“Well, I don’t have citizenship yet and I’m fully legal in England. Therefore, there's technically nothing to feel bad about as I don’t exist in the federal records,” she shrugged and Chris laughed, the curls bouncing around his face like little black springs.

“Oh, Stoney, she’s a little minx, too. Now you’re in trouble, friend,” he slapped Stone’s scrawny shoulder and ruffled his hair. Stone shooed his hand away and shook his head, hoping his red hair would make the furious blush blend in.

Jeff clapped his hands like an excited kid.

“Wicked! Wait, are you even old enough to drink?” he teased and Keeva rolled her eyes.

“…and then everyone was like ‘Man, thank god Jeff isn’t here, he’s a fucking asshole.’” she added, making him laugh again. “I’m nineteen.”

“Jesus almighty, you’re a baby!” he exclaimed with a gasp and she closed her eyes, shaking her head.

Baby, we’re in the same boat here…

The words echoed through her head as a vicious cue to make her throat tighten once more.

“Here it goes again. Come on, you can’t be that much older!” Keeva crossed her arms and he straightened up proudly.

“I’m twenty-four,” Jeff retorted, but it definitely sounded like a kid trying to sell their age as grown and wise. That made her grin.

“Okay, big guy, I’ll believe that when I see your ID.”

Jeff was about to protest and reach for his wallet, but a firm knock on the front door made them both jump.

Keeva didn’t turn around, instead, she instinctively looked at her wristwatch while Jeff set off to check.

Hm. We open in an hour. Who’s -

“Dammit, Ames, I knocked like four times. If you want a new guitarist, just tell me. Making me freeze to death a bit overkill.”

The nasal voice from her dream created a wave of heat inside her, running through her body like someone dumped a bucket of scorching coffee on her head. She looked over her shoulder and there he was, in the flesh, right in front of her.

He had his big brown jacket on, a puffy checkered scarf bundled around his neck and a neatly tied burgundy bandana. His comically large hands were poking out of woollen fingerless gloves and he rubbed them together, slightly shivering.

When he saw her, he cracked into a wide crooked smile that made tiny little dimples appear on his frostbitten cheeks.

Irresistibly smug.

“Oi, cheerio, Baby! Beautiful morning, innit?” Stone chirped, putting on an atrocious accent again. Keeva narrowed her eyes.

“Well, look who it is. Are you stalking me, beanpole?” she hissed, the corner of her mouth twitching when he chuckled.

“You wish,” he raised an eyebrow and took off his backpack. “I came to welcome my rhythm section buddy Jeff back to the world of dead-end jobs.”

He mindlessly dropped the backpack on the counter and Jeff cursed, pushing it down to the floor.

“Dude, I just wiped it!” he frowned. “Did I miss something? What’s up with the baby?”

“She’s tiny, annoying and says ‘fuck’ like she’d just learned how to swear. Do the math,” Stone shrugged and flicked Keeva’s nose. She slapped his hand away.

“Give him a break, Jeff. It just makes him feel like a big boy,” she retorted and Jeff leaned against the counter, darting between them for a few seconds. Then he let out a huge sigh.

“Oh dear god, there’s two of them now.”

Keeva felt another wave of blood creep up her cheeks as Stone stared her down. He wasn’t wearing eyeliner this time, but his eyes were nonetheless overpowering.

Maybe even more so, strangely glowing in the dim morning light, seemingly lightened by the snow outside.

I don’t have time for this.

She stuck her tongue out at him, hopped off the counter and put the blackboard next to the cashier before turning her back to him. She began rearranging the to-go cups by size to occupy her brain with anything else but him.

He just smirked and loosened the top layers of his scarf.

“Andy’s not here yet?”

“Nope. Haven’t seen him since he brought me lunch three days ago. How was the gig?” Jeff questioned while he wiped off the snowdrops that fell on the counter from Stone’s backpack.

Stone leaned his elbows on it and rested his head in his hands, palms squishing his patchy red cheeks.

“Badass. The EP sounds even more incredible live, now that you have a comparison. There were, like, a ton of new people. Chicks everywhere, like mosquitoes. Hiro got hit in the face with a fucking bra. The whole of Sub Pop was there, too, all four of ‘em.”

“Were the guys there?” Jeff asked after a few moments of silence and the room suddenly filled with strange gravity. Keeva frowned a little and took a sip of her tea, trying not to eavesdrop. Stone sighed.

“Steve was. We kinda waved at each other, but we didn’t speak,” he shrugged and scratched his temple. He coughed to get rid of the strain in his voice.

“I met Baby, though, so that was significantly more stimulating. Intellectually, of course,” he mused and Jeff snorted, looking between the pair.

“Bet.”

Keeva turned around and hummed, still clutching her cup.

“Glad to serve, beanpole. When do I get to see the two of you play, anyway? I’ve heard that you’re hot shit and I’d love to confirm slash deny that,” she nonchalantly crossed her arms but tensed when she saw the sombre look exchanged between them.

Bad move.

“Actually, we just broke up. About a month ago,” Jeff mumbled and tucked the rag into his back pocket again. Stone’s expression turned serious again, hardening like a statue.

“It was for the best of all of us, we weren’t going anywhere.”

He didn’t sound as sure as he probably wanted to. He bit his lip and looked at Keeva as if he was waiting for her reaction. She let out a heavy sigh.

“Christ, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be nosy or anything,” she mumbled and Jeff shook his head, softly patting her back.

“No, no, it’s okay, we sort of initiated it, anyway. Musical differences and all that.”

“They told us to go fuck ourselves because we were careerists,” Stone chimed in and emphasized the word with bitter air quotes, clearly hurt by the sentiment.

Jeff smacked his lips and frowned at Stone, obviously trying to draw a thick line under that conversation. Keeva bit her cheek, thinking of something to say.

“To be honest, you do seem like little gold diggers,” she sighed and they both chuckled, which was a relief. “No, but seriously. Nobody’s punk enough to enjoy cleaning tables and swiping floors and scrapping for food. And if they say they are, they’re lying.”

Jeff and Stone exchanged a small content smile, obviously glad that someone was on the same page with them.

“Yeah. Sounds good if you have three warm meals and a comfy bed secured at home. Like Stoney here. He has a little trust fund, don’t you?” Jeff poked Stone’s chest.

He began to turn red in the face and once again, Keeva caught a rare awkward crack in his facade. She opened her mouth wide and gasped.

“Aw, you have a loving family, Stoney? That’s not very punk rock of you,” she tutted and shook her head, grinning widely when he reached over the counter and squeezed her nose.

“Shut it, Baby. I’m a working struggling artist just like you…fuck!” His eyes widened. “What time is it?”

She promptly checked her watch.

“Quarter to six.”

“Uh, yeah, gotta run. The baguettes won’t bake themselves,” Stone explained, tightened his scarf and grabbed his backpack off the floor. He turned his attention to Jeff. “Be back for lunch, the usual time. My treat today, I’ll bring some grub. Got any grass?”

“Dude, come on. You’ll ruin me. This is the last time, I'm telling you, you’re buying next. I only have enough left for three spliffs, anyway,” Jeff firmly shook his head and shooed Stone away.

Keeva chuckled, trying to shut down her embarrassing thoughts.

She was afraid that Stone could hear them, observing himself puffing a thick cloud of illicit smoke in her face from an obscenely small distance.

He certainly looked at her like he was seeing it as well, a pompous grin plastered on his face as he raised his eyebrows, innocently questioning why she was so flustered.

“Well, you're free to keep my share, weed stinks like a sweaty ballsack. Always, no exceptions,” she added the last part to convince herself. She would’ve succeeded if it wasn’t for Stone’s loud wolf whistle.

“Would you look at that, Ames? We got a good catholic schoolgirl on our hands,” he chirped. Keeva mocked a laugh and gave him a middle finger, using her offensive gesture to obscure the patchy blush on her face.

Jeff giggled, reaching for the coffee mill next to him.

“Leave her alone, dude. I wanna catch a jam with her before she gets a restraining order against you,” he affectionately patted Keeva’s head.

“Don’t care, I’ll corrupt her sooner or later, that’s a cross I have to bear. Are you two free today? Parents are out of town, so we can get that jam off our chests. I get off at five.”

“That’s weirdly specific,” Keeva squinted at him, still red in the face. Jeff’s cheeks puffed with a throaty laugh as Stone tried his best to keep the corners of his mouth down.

“Depends. If you’re good enough, I may cut it down to four, just for you. Now, fetch me a keg of cappuccino to go, fair maiden!”

She gasped and flung her arm to slap his head, but he managed to jump out of her way. Jeff’s chirpy laughter echoed through the room as he raised his arms to keep them apart.

“Okay, Tom and Jerry, knock it off.”

“I’ll fetch you a cappuccino when you fetch me a breakfast croissant, baker boy,” Keeva hissed and Stone broke into a smug grin, skipping away to the door.

“Deal. Be right back,” he waved and walked right into a coathanger. He caught balance pretty quickly, though, and slung the backpack over his shoulder.

“Don’t threaten us,” she called back at him and cackled at his stumble. He blew each of them a theatrical air kiss and backed out of the door, disappearing into the light snow around the corner. Keeva chuckled, staring out of the window for a few more seconds.

The faint cloud of his strawberry shampoo lingered in her head, along with the sweet freezing air that emanated from his clothes.

Keeva had heard some girls swooning over Chris when she and Stone made their way through the crowd after the show. She wondered if girls talked like that about Stone at his band’s gigs.

Considering the amount of chicks that greeted him with the affectionate nickname, the ghastly purring giggles already rang in her ears.

She fixed her dissociated gaze at no particular place in front of her. Chris led her through the small venue to the bar, answering greetings from all sides.

“Hey, you ok?” he questioned and he squeezed her shoulder. She jerked, realizing he was probably speaking to her the whole time. Stone chuckled.

“She does that a lot, just zones out to make contact with the Mothership.”

“Har har, beanpole. Sorry, I’m just…getting a bit tired, I guess. Long day,” she shrugged and gave Chris an apologetic smile.

“It’s past Baby’s bedtime, you see?” Stone patted her head and she frowned, elbowing him in the stomach.

“I’ve spent basically my whole evening talking to you, Stoney. No wonder I’m falling asleep,” she put on a sarcastic smile and emphasized what was apparently the only correct way to address him.

Stone was just about to return the jab when Chris interrupted them with a hearty giggle.

“Shit, didn’t you say you’ve just met? Like, today? Can’t wait to see you twenty years of marriage deep,” he grinned and ignored their heated cheeks as he ordered a round of tequila shots.

After a few seconds of staring through the glass door, Keeva noticed Jeff in the corner of her eye, studiously watching her.

She did a double-take between the street and his smug smirk and frowned.

“'Sup?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he raised his arms in surrender with a small wink and then started grinding coffee again, humming. When she disappeared into the back room with a suspiciously bright grin, he added the lyrics.

“So this is love, mmhm hmhm…”

[tryskomys]

Before anyone starts talking about gun laws in the US and "see, there's mass shootings in Europe too", this was the seventh and the worst mass shooting in this country since the end of the Second World War

[tryskomys]

Doufám, že jste všichni v pořádku a safe, aspoň tak jak to jen v týhle situaci jde…❤️držím palce všem a hlubokou soustrast pozůstalým❤️

Pár odkazů:

Sbírka FF UK na pomoc zasaženým: sbírka

Linka bezpečí: 116 111

Linka první psychické pomoci: 116 123

Pražská linka důvěry: 222 580 967

Modrá linka: 731 197 477

Krizová linka Bohnice: 284 016 666

insta profil studentskahybernska dává updaty se jménama pohřešovaných a nalezených update: hybernska už neposkytuje info, místo toho se obracejte na číslo: 974 823 158 (díky @teplavecernice za opravu)

Kdo má další informace nebo užitečný odkazy tak určitě přidávejte…

Držte se❤️

[tryskomys]

Wet Sand

Stone Gossard x OC

Masterlist

꧁•⊹٭𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚝 𝚜𝚊𝚗𝚍, 𝚒 𝚍𝚘٭⊹•꧂

Act I ~ At the height of the popularity of hair metal, corny MTV videos and spandex, the grounded sound of smalltown gritty guitars starts bubbling to the surface of Seattle underground. Stone Gossard and Keeva Andrews, the four-armed riff beast of Mother Love Bone, find themselves in the eye of the storm as the whirlwind of rising popularity tests their limits.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

notes: this is for all the down-bad 90’s band kids who don’t fit in (and don’t wanna fit in)

first part of a series (hopefully) that will (hopefully) follow a few decades (hopefully)!

once again, the names of chapters reference a song either appearing in the story or just simply fitting the vibe. ♡

you can try to play along and see if you can spot them. it can be a little inside joke between us, reader.

caution: a lot of swearing, pining, possibly mildly lewd content, a whole lot of chirping from sarcastic little assholes that are hopelessly in love, minor injuries (the 90’s were the wild wild west), mentions of drugs and addiction. i will list any tws at the beginning of each chapter ♡

Chapter 1 - River

Chapter 2 - I’m On Fire

Chapter 3 - For Emily, Whenever I May Find Her

Chapter 4 - Watermelon In Easter Hay

Chapter 5 - Pulled Up

Chapter 6 - Maybe

Chapter 7 - Bloodshot Ruby

Chapter 8 - Over My Head

Chapter 9 - Feel Flows

Chapter 10 - Indifference

Chapter 11 - She