Fanfiction: Higher than the Empire State, Brighter than the Sun (Carry Me Home Tonight) 4/4
Higher than the Empire State, Brighter than the Sun (Carry Me Home Tonight) 4/4
Fandom: Big Time Rush, for the palmwoods Harvestfest Fic Fest
Disclaimer: I don't own BTR, Nick + Norah or anything else of value.
Pairings: Kendall/James, side Camille/Carlos (No idea. I have no idea.) Past Kendall/Jo, James/Logan
Warnings: Bad words, References to sex and masturbation, underage drinking, strippers
Word Count: Part 4 1,595 Total 16,151
Prompt: Nick and Norah’s infinite playlist. But with boykissing.
Author’s Note: So this happened. Title/Chapter titles from "We Are Young" By Fun.
Summary: Two messed up kids in New York City. Also, they fall in love.
Four
James gets the text at 3.48, and pushes through the angry mob that is advancing on Gustavo.
WUNY were a no show he replies to Kendall.
I know. Lucy texted me. Come outside.
Apparently this plan has already been run by Camille and Carlos, who are now selecting the perfect girl for Camille to make out with. They eagerly wave James off, and soon he’s in the front seat of Kendall’s car, with no idea where he’s going.
“Here” Says Kendall, handing James his iPod. “I only have so many CDs with which you can mock me. Also, Jo says hi.”
“Of course,” says James, “So does Logan.”
Kendall raises an eyebrow.
“Everything cool?”
“Yeah. No. I’m not sure. He said he wanted to be friends but I’m not sure I’m ready for that.”
“He was good guy once, really.” Says Kendall. “He just needs to remember how to be one again.”
“Sure,” muses James quietly.
“Hey,” Kendall says gently, “We all fuck up at one point or another.”
They sit quietly for a few minutes, the music washing over them.
“Oh, how bad is that awful goatee?” Kendall asks, laughing when James nods solemnly.
“It really is the worst crime against fashion I’ve ever seen. It’s actually even worse than your shirt!”
“Hey!”
“Seriously though dude, that thing is-Oh my God I’m on your iPod.”
“What?”
“I am totally on your iPod?”
“Shit. I forgot that was… Just, just shut up, ok?”
“That’s awesome!”
“Ugh. Look, you don’t totally suck, ok? Once you get past all that glittery crap you hide behind, you’re really good.”
James smiles, and Kendall rolls his eyes,
“Come on, we’re here.”
Armor Records is the greatest thing James has ever seen.
Actually it’s a pretty basic looking building really, but it’s still amazing to just be there.
“Do you know how much history has been made here?!”
“Um, yes? My Dad owns it?”
“Real, awesome, real bands have recorded here and…” James could list the names of every famous person who has ever stepped foot in these halls, but suddenly Kendall has him pinned against the wall, and is kissing him again.
That makes it a little difficult to concentrate on the history of Armor Records.
“I’m sorry for being a dick.” Kendall mumbles into James’ collarbone.
James laughs.
“Everyone fucks up sometime right? Besides, I was a dick too.”
Then he shuts Kendall up. With his tongue.
Well, he tries to at least. Kendall pulls away a little, so that their faces are just inches apart.
“Seriously though, my Dad is a jerk. I used to think he was Superman. Literally, I thought he was coming home late at night because he was fighting crime. He doesn’t care about music, or his artists, or anything but money and fame and everything that it can give to him. You’re nothing like him, James, and I’m sorry for ever thinking you were. You care, about the music, I can tell.
My Dad is an idiot, but you?
You’re better than that. You could be so much better than that.”
Kendall kisses him again, hard and fast, just like the karaoke bar, but soon pulls away again.
He opens his mouth to speak, but James covers it with a hand.
“Do you make a lot of big speeches?”
“Kinda,” mumbles Kendall through James’ fingers. James grins,
“Just checking!”
--
“You wear a lot of this stuff.” Kendall says from his place on the old grey couch in studio 1, wiping foundation from his lips.
“Why?”
James flops down next to him, having been touching random objects in the studio for the last five minutes, mumbling to himself about who might have touched them before him.
“It’s eye-catching,” James shrugs. “My Mom has a big product range back home. She’s been trying to bring it to New York since we moved here, but it hasn’t really caught on.
“You’re already eye-catching,” says Kendall absent-mindedly, gently brushing his fingers over the lines on James’ hand.
“That’s not what my Mom would say.”
“What would your Mom say?”
“That only Diamonds are forever. They’re strong and resilient, and they will always shine, no matter what. But she was also pretty certain that even Diamonds need polishing. She said that a lot after her and my Dad split.”
“You don’t need it.” Says Kendall firmly.
James kisses him then, but it’s not the angry kisses from earlier, carried by adrenaline and lust. It’s more intimate, gentler.
A private kiss, just for Kendall.
“Eye-catching,” Says Kendall.
“Everyone already looks at you,” says James, resting his head on Kendall’s chest.
“They don’t see me.” Kendall says quietly after a while. “I thought maybe you didn’t either.”
--
They stay like that for some time, quietly breathing in each other’s presence.
It’s peaceful.
At some point, the kissing comes back, hunger and passion the driving force once more.
But Kendall pulls away.
“I really like you.” He says.
‘That’s obvious,” grins James.
Kendall hits him.
“Ow. Ok, I like you too.”
“We’ve known each other for what, 8 and a half hours?”
“Something like that.”
“You have to take me on a date.” Kendall smiles triumphantly, but James wriggles out from beneath him, and sits up on the couch once more.
“Why?” Kendall crosses his arms,
“Cause I paid for you to eat enough for eleven people at The Palmwoods.” James winces,
‘Valid point.”
“So, a date?”
“Yes, Kendall, I will take you on a date.”
“Good.”
They settle back down beside each other comfortably.
James turns to face Kendall, grinning once more, “So did you and Camille ever…”
“No! What? No!”
“What? She’s cute!”
“You are incorrigible!”
“Thank you!” chirps James cheerfully, Kendall glares,
“Do you even know what that means?”
“Uh, that I’m unable to be corriged?”
--
“If you wanted a shortcut,” says Kendall, “I could give your CD to Kelly. She technically runs The Rocque for Gustavo, but I know they want to break into the production side of things. She’d do the right thing by you.” James nestles his head into Kendall’s neck.
“Thank you.”
--
“You thought your Dad was Superman?”
“Yup. Then I found him doing coke with an underage popstar in my Mom’s bathroom. On the same night of my under 15s championship game. He missed it, and I discovered his secret identity.
Kind of killed the illusion.”
--
When James wakes up, it takes a moment to realize where he is. He’s only been asleep for about twenty minutes, and his head is resting on Kendall’s chest as it rises and falls slowly, the calming rhythm of sleep having must have taken him too.
“They don’t see me either.” James whispers into Kendall’s neck.
“They look at me differently to the way they look at you, but it’s kind of the same. People look at you and see your Dad, and his fame, and what they can get from that. They see him in you, but they don’t really see you.”
James breathes deeply, waits for Kendall to say something, but nothing comes but slow measured breaths.
“And it’s not fair,” James continues, “I know because it’s kind of like that with me too. When I’m on stage, or around show time, when everyone’s waiting for the big bands to come out, they look at me like I’m the most interesting thing in the room.
I think it’s the music. It draws them in, and they live for it, you know? They look at me, but it’s empty, because they’re not looking for me, they’re just living in the song, happy to let everything else slip away until all that’s left is them and the music. They don’t really care for what lies beneath it.”
He struggles to find the words sometimes, he always has.
“But I always thought,” He says finally, “They don’t see me, but at least they’re looking.”
Still no sound comes.
Then Kendall’s hand finds James’, and holds on tight.
--
Bob’s is dark.
The lights are out, the street outside is deserted, and everything is quiet.
A pink sign hangs on the bottom corner of the door.
“All it says is Back Door”
James huddles close to Kendall, reading over his shoulder, one finger looped in the belt of Kendall’s jeans.
“Lucy’s handwriting?”
“Yup.”
“You know,” says Kendall slowly, turning to face James, “These guys are great and all, but I could really go a turkey sandwich right now.” James smiles.
“Sounds good to me,” says Carlos, from behind them, Camille under his arm.
“Where have you guys been?” Asks Kendall, eyebrows raised,
Camille smiles, eyes shining,
“Oh, everywhere, nowhere. I’m a rebel now, don’t you know. I don’t have to explain myself to anybody.”
But James is looking at Carlos in confusion.
“But this is Wake up New York. With Lucy Stone.”
“Yeah,” says Kendall, smirking, “I could introduce you guys.”
“You know,” says Carlos, looking over at Camille, and taking her hand, “I think we’re good.”
“So,” says Kendall, laughing at James’ gaping jaw. “Palmwoods Diner then?”
“I’ll race you,” says James, voice low and serious.
“You recovered quickly,” laughs Camille.
“Seriously, I will beat you Kendall.” Says James, game-face in place.
“Fine.” Says Kendall, “Last one there has to pay!”
“Ready!” Shouts Camille as Kendall looks at James glitter free and gorgeous in the early dawn.
“Set!” Grins Carlos, as James looks back at Kendall, golden in the fading darkness.
“Go!”
Four voices ring out in chorus, and laughter and shouts echo through the empty streets as they run into the sunrise, a tangle of limbs, and squeals and youth and love.
Epilogue