[JMM] A Fine Balance
[Set in wayward_au. Gloria = alpha_bitch567, Alec = smart_alec494, Ben = mini_dean.]
When you’re driving another man’s car, you generally don’t screw around with their music. That, as a general rule, was what Mickey tried to stick too, but it was a hard balance to maintain. He could appreciate the atmosphere of a car-the way the tastes in music reflect the driver, as well as the car itself. He had to say, it was incredibly appropriate for the driver-Ben, apparently? Yes, he was nosy, he checked the registration-of this kind of car to be playing the kind of classic rock that his collection was supporting. However, there was only so much guitar riffs and bass lines that his ears could put up with.
When it came to music, Mickey’s tastes were-eclectic at best. For the most part, however, he was an old soul. Frank Sinatra, the Rat Pack-if it was smooth and jazzy, there was a pretty good chance he would love it. In raiding Ben’s CDs for something that was more piano than metal he managed to come across a Frank Sinatra Greatest Hits, and some other more bluesy folks that curbed the urge for a while, but by the time they’d hit the halfway point of the trip, Mickey had listened to he CDs enough times that they probably should be skipping, and he was craving something new.
He and Gloria pulled over at a rest stop for lunch, and while she was ordering the sandwiches, he was combing an old tape rack for something new yet not new to listen to. Most of the tapes were just more of the same of what Ben had in his car, but there were, on occasion, a few things worth listening to. Michael Bublé-who really wasn’t Sinatra, but he was close enough-as well as a some more things that seemed a bit more doo-whop related. He had collected a few tapes that would keep his ears happy for hopefully the rest of the trip, when the colors of a case that happened to be sitting on a rack all by itself happened to catch his eye.
“Whatcha got, boo?” Gloria frowned as she came back, looking over his shoulder as he pulled out the case. “Little Shop of Horrors?”
“I think it’s a band,” he said, his eyes studying the picture planted on the front of the case. Gloria watched him watch it for a minute, before pulling the case from his hand and flipping it over.
“I think it’s a movie,” she corrected. “And a weird one at that. People all burstin’ into song and dancin’ around-plus there’s the whole man-eating plant from outer space dealio.”
“Man-eating plants?” Mickey said, pondering this for a moment before nodding and taking the box back from her. “I think I’ll try it.”
Gloria let him take his tape back, before handing him his food and following him on the line to pay. “You have some weird taste in music, Mick.”
“I like trying new things,” he sighed, flashing her a grin. “Besides, I don’t comment on the rap you seem to enjoy so much. So leave my musical tastes out of it.”
“Whatever you say, sugar,” she laughed. “Whatever you say.”
536 words
When you’re driving another man’s car, you generally don’t screw around with their music. That, as a general rule, was what Mickey tried to stick too, but it was a hard balance to maintain. He could appreciate the atmosphere of a car-the way the tastes in music reflect the driver, as well as the car itself. He had to say, it was incredibly appropriate for the driver-Ben, apparently? Yes, he was nosy, he checked the registration-of this kind of car to be playing the kind of classic rock that his collection was supporting. However, there was only so much guitar riffs and bass lines that his ears could put up with.
When it came to music, Mickey’s tastes were-eclectic at best. For the most part, however, he was an old soul. Frank Sinatra, the Rat Pack-if it was smooth and jazzy, there was a pretty good chance he would love it. In raiding Ben’s CDs for something that was more piano than metal he managed to come across a Frank Sinatra Greatest Hits, and some other more bluesy folks that curbed the urge for a while, but by the time they’d hit the halfway point of the trip, Mickey had listened to he CDs enough times that they probably should be skipping, and he was craving something new.
He and Gloria pulled over at a rest stop for lunch, and while she was ordering the sandwiches, he was combing an old tape rack for something new yet not new to listen to. Most of the tapes were just more of the same of what Ben had in his car, but there were, on occasion, a few things worth listening to. Michael Bublé-who really wasn’t Sinatra, but he was close enough-as well as a some more things that seemed a bit more doo-whop related. He had collected a few tapes that would keep his ears happy for hopefully the rest of the trip, when the colors of a case that happened to be sitting on a rack all by itself happened to catch his eye.
“Whatcha got, boo?” Gloria frowned as she came back, looking over his shoulder as he pulled out the case. “Little Shop of Horrors?”
“I think it’s a band,” he said, his eyes studying the picture planted on the front of the case. Gloria watched him watch it for a minute, before pulling the case from his hand and flipping it over.
“I think it’s a movie,” she corrected. “And a weird one at that. People all burstin’ into song and dancin’ around-plus there’s the whole man-eating plant from outer space dealio.”
“Man-eating plants?” Mickey said, pondering this for a moment before nodding and taking the box back from her. “I think I’ll try it.”
Gloria let him take his tape back, before handing him his food and following him on the line to pay. “You have some weird taste in music, Mick.”
“I like trying new things,” he sighed, flashing her a grin. “Besides, I don’t comment on the rap you seem to enjoy so much. So leave my musical tastes out of it.”
“Whatever you say, sugar,” she laughed. “Whatever you say.”
536 words