Turn Your Whole World Around, Chapter 1
Title: Turn Your Whole World Around
Author: Ellie (lyricsandhearts)
Disclaimer: I don't own Big Time Rush, not even this version. Well... Not really.
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: None right now, we'll just have to see how things progress.
Warnings: Language, a distinct lack of Kendall Knight.
Summary: Four skateboarders from Wisconsin have the chance to make it big time with washed-up megaproducer Gustavo Roque. But moving to LA to be a boy band with three guys he hardly even knows isn't exactly what Curt Caffrey has in mind for his life.
Chapter: One
Author's Notes: ... Well, I've finally snapped. I'd blame folkloric_feel for encouraging me, but we all know it's all my fault. *g* This was inspired by these clips from the unaired pilot of Big Time Rush, starring Curt Hansen (Dak Zevon) instead of Kendall Schmidt. If you haven't seen them, definitely watch them before reading this. They're... Weird, but definitely interesting. Anyway, a few days ago, my brain went off on a meta tangent about how different BTR would be without Kendall (inspired by this), and, well, this happened. I'd love to hear what you think about it! ♥
It starts like this:
Curt is running.
From a pack of angry young women, some of whom are wearing wet t-shirts.
And normally that would be awesome, except for the part where they're, you know, angry.
Logan is right beside him, laughing his ass off as they run, and Carlos is making loud war cries and jumping over obstacles like a freaking ninja, and James is screaming, "You guys, this is what it'll be like when I'm famous! Except with less trying to kill me! And more trying to kiss me!" while trying to fix his hair and adjust his scarf and run at the same time, which is working out surprisingly well for him.
And Curt is just running, because hey, running is what he does.
Well, it actually starts like this:
"Come on, Logie, live a little!"
Curt grabs Logan by the shoulders and shakes him, grinning.
"Opportunities like this come once in a lifetime," he cries, "so do you want to waste this one for all of us based on the fact that you're being a wimp?"
Logan sighs and rolls his eyes.
"I'm just sayin' I think it's a bad idea, that's all I'm saying. Somebody could get hurt."
Curt raises an eyebrow.
"It's water," he says, walking over and hitting the thing once with the palm of his hand. "I don't think it's gonna hurt anybody."
"I meant us, man!"
"Curt's right, dude," Carlos says. "You're being a total wimp!" He runs over, flips his helmet back over his face, and tries to turn it. "I--" shove-- "think--" shove-- "it's--" shove-- "stuck--" shove--
"You know," James interrupts, (finally) putting away his comb and mirror, "I had my pop star dream again last night. I was wearing my lucky v-neck and blah blah blah."
Or at least that's what Curt hears, because Logan looks at him and they both shake their heads while James just goes on and on and on about his pop star dream that he has at least once every week. Then he starts singing some Smokey Robinson song but stops in the middle of some ridiculously long note ("Tracks of te-- what are we even doing?"), and Curt laughs.
"They left that in the sprinkler valve," he says, "so do you wanna help us drench the girls' field hockey team or not?"
James shrugs and says, "Sure, I'm in."
He and Curt walk over to help Carlos and Logan scowls.
"You're so gonna regret this," he calls to them from his safe place about ten feet away. "You'll wish you had listened to me."
They aren't paying attention.
He stands there in his rebellious silence for a few more moments.
Then:
"Fine!" he yells. "I'll do it! Losers."
And as he walks over to help, he mutters, "I need new friends."
After a few more moments of pushing and shoving and grunting and overall proof that all four of them need to work out more, they finally manage to turn the T-bar. The sprinkler turns on, there are a few hilarious and slightly blissful seconds of an entire field of girls getting soaked, some indignant screaming, and then--
"Oh, shit."
And now we're back to the running.
They duck into dumpster (in which Carlos finds a sandwich that he thinks is suitable to eat, which almost makes James sick) as the girls pass. None of them seem to notice, so they keep their angry little mob running North as the boys sigh a collective sigh of relief.
One of the girls notices.
"Go!" shouts Curt.
They keep running until they reach a dead end. Like, a literal dead end. And they're trapped. By a bunch of girls with hockey sticks.
Eh, it could be worse.
"Wait!" Carlos yells as the girls approach them, snarling and vicious and good Lord it's like a pack of wolves. "Time out!"
They stop.
Curt, shocked, turns around to ask how on Earth Carlos just did that, and sees Carlos take off his helmet and give it to James. Carlos gulps.
"He needs it more than I do," he tells Logan, who is gawking at him like he just defied every single law of Physics and then some. "He's the Face."
James looks at him with wide, sincere eyes and says, "Thank you, Carlos. I really appreciate it."
That's enough of that, Curt suddenly decides, but it's not that he feels left out. Nah, he's just-- just tired of James getting special treatment because of his stupid, pretty face.
"Time in!" Curt yells, whether the other guys are ready or not.
He wants a fight.
*
He wasn't ready either, apparently.
Because now all four of them are lying on James's couch, groaning in absolute agony.
But hey, at least the Pussycat Dolls are on television.
"The Pussycat Dolls make everything better," Curt sighs, content, shaking his head and throwing the ice pack he was using on his arm onto the coffee table.
"Not everything," James shoots back, and Logan laughs.
"Yup. That's what weed is for."
"Shut up, both of you, would you?" Curt throws a handful of popcorn at each of them, but Carlos intervenes and grabs the handful meant for Logan before it reaches him.
"Dude," he says incredulously, "it's popcorn. It's delicious. Why are you wasting it on Logan's face?"
"Maybe Logan's face is just as delicious as that popcorn and it's retribution."
"What does that even mean?"
"Was that an insult or a compliment?"
"Curt, dude, do you really think my face is delicious?"
"Do you want to be a pop star?"
"Shh!" James says suddenly, because that last one was the television and now James is staring at it like it holds all the answers of the universe.
Curt rolls his eyes and is about a second from telling him, "Whatever, it's probably some scam informercial anyway," when he sees Jenny Tinkler from homeroom on the screen, jumping up and down and squealing, "I'm gonna be a star, I'm gonna be a star!"
He leans forward, shocked.
"Is that Jenny?"
Nobody answers. They're all too wrapped up in the guy on the screen to notice.
"Gustavo Roque, '90s mega-producer of bands like BoyQuake, Boys in the Attic, and Boy City--"
"I've heard of all those bands!" says James, voice filled with awe.
"-- more famous for the time he told Rolling Stone magazine that he could turn a dog into a superstar--
"I have that magazine cover!" James cries, and sure enough, he pulls it out of his pocket like it's no big deal.
"Dude," Logan says, staring at James wide-eyed. "Trippy."
"-- has come to Wisconsin to find his next big superstar. Sign-ups are until five, so--"
All four boys glance at the clock, then back at each other.
4:23 PM.
"Do you think we could skate there in time?" Carlos asks; he's already grabbing his helmet, but James shakes his head.
"No, that's not nearly fast enough," he says, starting to pace around the room. "Any other ideas, guys?"
"Everybody, call your mom," Curt says, smiling at James. "We've got a pop star to get famous."
James grins back and takes out his cell phone, along with Logan and Carlos.
"Hey, Mom? When you get this, could you--"
"Call me back when you get this, Mom--"
"Hey, call me back, we need a ride really bad--"
"James and me and Logan and Curt need a ride somewhere real bad, so call me when you get a chance--"
They all hang up simultaneously and sit down on the couch, staring at the phones intently as if staring could make them ring faster.
Nothing.
Finally, after a minute of uncomfortable, anxious silence in which James shakes his leg and taps the table and tosses his hair about a thousand times and Curt is about to throttle him to make him knock it off, Logan says, "I have a learner's permit... If we had a licensed adult and, y'know, a car, I could drive you..."
Curt snaps his fingers and grins.
"That's it!"
*
Mrs. Magikowski is glad to let the boys borrow her car. And... Her.
As long as they shovel her walkway for the entire winter. For free.
Curt says, "What?!" and James says, "Done."
Curt clears his throat, throws an arm around James, and says in his nicest voice, "Can I talk to you for a second?"
When James tries to protest, Curt drags him a few feet away by the arm.
"Dude, I'm not gonna shovel some old lady's walkway just because--"
"Curt," James interrupts, tearing his arm away and looking at him like he could stare straight through his soul. "We have to. I want-- I need this. Don't take this away from me because you're selfish, Curt."
James is completely serious, Curt knows, and he's staring at him with those intense eyes and being all dramatic about it, so Curt sighs and shrugs and says, "Okay, whatever, I'll shovel her walkway if it means that much to you."
James's expression softens; he takes a few steps back.
"It does."
*
When they get there, the first thing James does is run in as fast as he possibly can.
"Hi I'm James Diamond I wanna be famous," he tells the woman at the sign-ups table breathlessly. He starts to sing something, but she cuts him off with a numbered sticker to the chest and an exasperated look.
"Fill out the rest of these forms and wait for you number to be called," she says, shoving a clipboard at him. He sags in relief.
"Didwemakeit?" Carlos asks, also a little breathless, and then he sees the clipboard that James is holding and does a dance that Curt would probably describe as spazzy and flaily.
Curt crosses his arms smugly.
"I knew we would," he says, and James gives him a weird half-smile, half-grimace.
A girl comes out of the auditorium, sobbing.
"Jenny?" Carlos asks, wide-eyed, and she looks up at them through her tears.
"Oh, hi guys," she sniffs, "don't go it there. He's evil. Evil!" she wails, and then runs straight out the doors.
The sign-ups table woman approaches Logan and demands, "You. Name."
He just stares at her.
"Oh, nah," he finally says, flapping a hand and scrunching up his face. "I'm not interested in the whole music scene, and--"
"Well I'm a desperate talent scout, you have a cute smile, and Justin Timberlake made over forty-four million dollars last year."
She raises eyebrow at him, daring him to say no, and he replies, "Oh, what the hell. Hit me."
She thrusts the sticker onto his shirt, evidently rather hard, because he is pushed a few inches back, groaning, "Oww, why you gotta do that?"
She points to Carlos and Curt.
"You two up for this?" she asks, and they both instantly reply, "Hell yes!"
She makes a face as if she's somewhat satisfied by this and gives them both stickers and clipboards.
"Eight ten is next," she warns James as she's walking away.
He gulps.
"Um. I." Switching stickers with Logan quickly, he nods. "Yeah. That's you. You're next!"
Logan glares at him.
"You're an idiot."
"I'm a nervous idiot," he says, running a hand through his hair.
"Don't worry," Curt says, "you'll do fine."
"I know I will, but what if he has horrible taste?"
"Dude," Carlos interrupts, staring at Logan, "you don't even sing. How are you going to pull this off?"
Logan does what Curt likes to refer to as his "nerdy-finger-gun-thing" (last time he'd said that out loud, though, Logan had punched him, so he keeps it mostly to himself now) and pops his collar.
"Don't worry, I got this!"
Apparently he didn't have it, because when he comes back out less than five minutes later, Curt can still hear that Gustavo guy yelling insults through the door.
"... What happened."
"I-- I don't know," says Logan, shellshocked. He shakes his head slowly. "I started beatboxing, and he just-- bit my head off. He's Satan. Satan." He sits down and stares off into the distance, utterly still.
James glances from Logan, to Carlos, to Curt.
He rips Carlos's number from his chest and puts his own in its place.
"Oh look! You're next!"
The woman peeks her head out the door.
"Eight eleven? You're up."
Carlos stands up, brushes off his shirt, and walks right in.
He comes out not two minutes later, grinning.
"Well, I'm not going to Hollywood!"
"I'm not even gonna ask," Curt says, narrowing his eyes at Carlos.
The woman looks out again.
"Eight twelve," she mutters through clenched teeth, obviously agitated.
James glances at Curt.
"No," Curt says in his most finite voice, pushing James's hand away. "Seriously, you'll do fine. This is your thing. Now... Go do your thing."
"Please?" James begs.
One beat of silence, then:
"Fine. Idiot."
"Knock 'em dead, Curt!" says James in return, grinning and giving him a thumbs up. "Thanks, buddy."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever."
And he walks into the audition room.
It's large. And stage-y. And empty, other than Gustavo Roque, his pretty assistant woman, and some security guys by the door.
But he's not nervous.
Not even a little. Psh.
"Show me what you've got, kid," Gustavo sighs, leaning back in his chair.
So Curt does.
He ends up singing the first thing that comes to mind (The National Anthem) and he thinks it sounds pretty sucky.
Gustavo doesn't seem to think so.
He leans back up, propping his head up on his hands and staring at Curt like he's their God and Savior.
"Kelly," he says when Curt stops, grinning in a maniacal way that Curt finds a bit frightening, "I think we've found our new talent."
The first thing out of Curt's mouth is, "Really? Sweet!"
The second is: "Wait. What about James?"
"Who?"
"Uh, we've got another kid out there," Kelly whispers to Gustavo. "Not bad-looking. Pretty good. Real pop star material. You--" She glances up at Curt once-- "you might want to give him a shot."
Gustavo rolls his eyes.
"Yeah, whatever you need to help yourself sleep at night. Get this James guy in here. But make it snappy? I've got places to be!" he bellows, and Curt is more than a little frightened this time.
Kelly nods and hurries out the door, bringing James and the guys with her when she comes back in.
Curt waves to them from the stage and hands James the microphone.
"How did it go?" James whispers, and Curt shrugs.
"Tell you later," he mouths.
James takes the mic and hops up on the stage; Gustavo looks at him appraisingly.
"Well, he isn't hideous."
And James sings.
The thing is, Curt has heard James sing. He sings all the time. But Curt has never heard James sing like this. Like-- he's actually trying.
And he's really, really good.
Curt is sort of frozen in awe when he hears Gustavo yell, "Nope! Sorry pal, we pick Curt."
"What?!"
It's an instant reaction from James, Carlos, and Logan.
"Curt. You know, Curt Caffrey? The guy over there in the leather jacket who's more talented than all of you combined?!"
James looks like he might be near tears, and Curt kind of can't stand anyone to cry, unless he hates them, which, honestly, he doesn't hate James, so he stands up and clears his throat.
"Whoa whoa whoa," he says slowly, putting his hands up as if in surrender. "Mr. Roque, are you sure we don't want to maybe talk this out first, maybe over coffee, or--"
Gustavo snorts obnoxiously.
"Yeah, right. Like I would ever have coffee with a pretty, fiery block of wood like you."
Curt has no idea what that even means, but it sounds like an insult and it irritates him, so he decides that physical violence is a good solution.
He charges at Gustavo and attempts to hit him, but Kelly calls security on him and they're trying to pull him away so he elbows one of them in the face, and Carlos is punching one of them too, and James is in his ear, yelling, "Stop punching people from Hollywood in the face!" but he's totally a hypocrite because he gets a couple good shots in himself, and Logan is off to the side, chewing his nails and sighing, "I have got to get new friends!" before he runs in and tries to pull everyone off each other.
And then the cops show up and everything is shot to hell.
*
"I am so disappointed in you right now, Curt," cries his mother after the cops leave and she's left red-faced at the door with four thoroughly beat-up teenage boys and a confused ten-year-old girl to care for.
Again.
"What were you thinking?" she demands, and Curt just shrugs and rolls his eyes and says, "I dunno," and good Lord she hopes Catie doesn't go through this phase as a teenager.
"Uh, Ms. Caffrey..." Carlos pipes up quietly, and she turns to him. She adores Carlos, really: Curt has only known him about a year but he's already been a fabulous influence.
"Yes, Carlos?" she says as patiently as she can.
"Well-- it wasn't really Curt's fault. See, they said he has more talent than all of us combined, which would totally be true if James wasn't here--"
"I attest to this," Logan says solemnly, raising his hand.
"Me too!" James nods vigorously, which earns him glares from both Logan and Carlos, but Logan says, "Yeah, I mean, he didn't have to phrase it that way."
"And then he called me a flaming, pretty block of wood," Curt puts in. "Or something."
"It was weird and insulting," Carlos concludes. "So it's not his fault. It's not our fault. Right?"
"Right?" the other boys chorus, and then there are four thoroughly beat-up, adorable teenage boys pouting at her and she tries to stand her ground, but honestly. Four of them is too many to stand.
"Oh, all right," she sighs. "Anybody want a sandwich?"
"Wait, whoa, what?" Catie says, outraged, from across the room. "You're not even gonna ground him? Teach him a lesson? Call their moms, something?"
Ms. Caffrey thinks for a moment, then shrugs.
"Nah. I think they've learned their lesson."
Catie scowls.
"Well... Can you at least tell me how bad you beat him?"
Grinning, Curt says, "Sure, baby sis. He's a big guy, right? Huge. And then there were these two security guards there who were--"
The doorbells rings as Curt continues to tell his fantastically exaggerated version of events, and Logan calls, "I'll get it, Ms. C!"
He's just reached the part where Gustavo supposedly tried to kill him with a letter opener (Catie obviously doesn't believe him, but she's entertained anyway, and it's fun to come up with, so he keeps going) when Logan screams from the doorway.
Curt jumps about ten feet into the air.
"Logan?" he calls, walking slowly into the hallway and grabbing the stapler in case he needs a weapon. "What's up?"
He sprints up to the door, expecting some sort of serial killer, but instead he sees Logan cowering in the corner and--
Gustavo Roque.
James and Carlos come rushing in from the kitchen, and James face lights up about ten thousand watts.
"I knew you'd come back for me!" he says brightly, but his expression falls when he gets no response but a glare from Gustavo and a facepalm from Kelly.
"We came back for Curt, Diamond. Get it through your thick skull. I. Don't. Like. You."
James pouts and sulks back to the kitchen, but ends up coming back when Ms. Caffrey comes out a few seconds later.
"Uh, Curt?" she says slowly, glancing from Gustavo back to her son and back to Gustavo again. "Who is this?"
"I'm Gustavo Roque, megaproducer," he shouts, not even bothering to shake the hand she holds out for him. "And I'm here to make your son famous."
Her eyes nearly bulge out of her head.
"I-- Curt?" She turns to face him. "I thought you said this audition was for James."
"Yeah, well, it started that way, but then they made us all try out." He makes the most indifferent face he can possibly muster. "I wasn't gonna tell you, 'cause I don't want to do it anyway."
Gustavo laughs boisterously for a few seconds, then stops abruptly, glaring at Curt.
"Yes you do," he says. He turns towards Ms. Caffrey. "Ma'am--" polite is not a good look for him, Curt notes-- "we'd like to take your family to Los Angeles to produce some demo tracks."
She just stares at him for a few seconds, silent, then says faintly, "I'll go make some tea. You two make yourself at home."
*
"Now, it would be for three months, all expenses covered."
Kelly looks at Curt hopefully. Curt looks at James incredulously. James looks everywhere but Curt.
"Curt. Curt Curt Curt. You, my boy, have a gift." Gustavo is glaring a hole through him now. "You have the fire." He twitches his fingers around. "You also have anger management problems." He clears his throat and says, "I have also been told that I may have anger management problems. But you know what else I have?"
Curt shakes his head.
"FIVE HOUSES!"
Curt says, "Oh, well then," and James sinks down in his seat, arms crossed, muttering, "I want five houses..."
"But I like you, kid," Gustavo continues, loud as ever. "You're fiesty. And that's just what I need."
"Yeah, but I don't want to."
Gustavo's face turns a nice, beet-like shade of red, and Kelly intervenes before he can start screaming.
"We've auditioned over twenty thousand people all over the country, Curt," she says quickly, putting a calming hand on Gustavo's shoulder, "and Mr. Roque has chosen you."
"Seriously," Curt says, slowly this time as if to make them understand better. "I don't want to."
In all honesty, he does. In fact, he really, really does. And if James didn't deserve it more than him (and this Gustavo guy wasn't so batshit) he would give them a big old, "Hell yes!" and roll right out to Hollywood.
"I'm not a singer," he shrugs.
"Actually, you are," Catie interrupts. "You sing all the time. In the car, in the shower..."
"It's true," his mom points out. "And you're good."
"But it's not something I would ever do." He sits up and looks around at all of them. They're crazy. The lot of them. "Guys, guys, come on," he pleads, "I don't even have a real job! And I like it here in Wisconsin. It's home. I'm not made out for California, I wanna stay here."
Well, at least it's half-true. The other half is just him trying to convince himself.
Gustavo stands up and inhales deeply.
"I'm gonna need a moment," he whispers as he walks out the door and slams it behind him.
Everyone in the room flinches as they hear him screaming and cursing and smashing things out on the porch.
"Not my flower pot," Ms. Caffrey mumbles, shutting her eyes tightly.
Kelly winces as she sets a pile of money down on the coffee table.
"This is to pay for the, um. Everything."
And she hurries out the door, calling, "Gustavo? Stop breaking things!"
A brief awkward silence, and then:
"Idiot."
Catie hits Curt upside the head, then scurries off, snatching up some of the money Kelly left and calling, "I'm taking a twenty!"
*
The next day, they go skating in the parking lot outside the old grocery store.
None of them are really talking to each other.
So, Logan, always a flawless example of tact, interrupts the awkward silence with, "Wow. You might be, like... A giant idiot."
Curt stops, flips his board up, and sighs, turning toward Logan.
"Guys," he snorts disdainfully, "I don't wanna go to LA for three months with that creep." He laughs and adds, "I wanna hang out with you creeps, and skate and stuff!"
"But you could be on your way right now to sunny LA, living James's dream!"
This earns Logan a punch in the arm from James.
"Ow!" he cries, clearly ready to punch back because hey, he's holding a drink and James could have spilled it, dammit, but Carlos interrupts with, "Dude, think about it. The beach? The girls? Sunset Strip? The smog?"
Curt gives him a weird look-- Carlos has always been a little, er, eccentric-- before continuing.
"Yeah, well, none of that's fun if I'm alone," he says, because really, it's true. The guys are his friends because he skates with them and stuff, but what happens if he goes to Los Angeles alone? If he doesn't have the guys and he doesn't have skating--
He doesn't really have anything.
James rolls his eyes.
"Dude, part of me hates you right now. But-- call that guy back."
"Okay, just-- maybe apologize, and tell him how stupid you are," Logan says.
"You said that guy was Satan."
"But he wants to make you famous!"
Curt shakes his head. They can't be serious.
"Okay," he says in his most let me get this straight before I punch you voice, "so you're saying that if you had the chance to go to LA with a mega-jerk producer to become pop stars... You'd do it."
It's a unanimous yes, and Curt can't argue with that logic, so he smirks and holds out his hand.
"Gimme your phone."
*
When the white limo pulls into the grocery store parking lot and Gustavo Roque steps out, wearing a million layers, all sorts of bling, and an angry expression on his face, the first thing that comes out of Logan's mouth is an extremely concerned, "What happened to him as a child?"
He pushes Curt forward.
They meet Gustavo and Kelly smack in the middle of the lot.
"Well?" Gustavo yells.
Curt shrugs, still smirking.
"Okay," he says. "I'll go to LA with you to make a demo."
Kelly smiles in victory.
"If..."
Her face falls.
"... you take my buds and make us a pop group."
The reaction from behind him is two shocked "What?"s and a sputtered, "Liquid up my nose!" from Logan.
"Are-- are you trying to make a deal with me?" Gustavo asks, as if the very idea is ludicrous. "Is that what you're trying to do right now? I make the deals!"
"If you want me," Curt says, "you have to take all of us. I'm not a solo act." He shrugs in defiance.
Gustavo begins to laugh.
It's still pretty terrifying.
"Have you heard your friends sing?" he shouts. "Oh, that's right. They can't."
"Well, I'm no megaproducer like you," Curt says with the air of admitting something slightly shameful, "but, I know that they sing better than dogs, and--" he pulls out a crinkled piece of paper from his pocket: the cover of the Rolling Stone on which Gustavo Roque had made a name for himself by being ridiculously pompous-- "you can turn them into pop stars, right?"
Gustavo yanks the paper from Curt's hands.
"Is this supposed to sway me? Is that what this is supposed to do?" He throws it to the ground. Since it's a piece of paper, that doesn't work out as well for him as he had probably hoped.
Curt raises his eyebrows, presses his lips together, and waits for Gustavo to be done.
"I'm Gustavo Roque!" he yells. "I am amazing! I'm amazing. And there is NO. WAY! Gustavo Roque is taking the four dogs from Wisconsin to Los Angeles to make them stars. It's never gonna happen. NEVER!"
Curt pauses for a moment, then asks, "So do we have a deal?"
Gustavo looks at Curt like he's just asked if it's 1975.
"Yep!" he bellows.
And just like that, everything changes.
Author: Ellie (lyricsandhearts)
Disclaimer: I don't own Big Time Rush, not even this version. Well... Not really.
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: None right now, we'll just have to see how things progress.
Warnings: Language, a distinct lack of Kendall Knight.
Summary: Four skateboarders from Wisconsin have the chance to make it big time with washed-up megaproducer Gustavo Roque. But moving to LA to be a boy band with three guys he hardly even knows isn't exactly what Curt Caffrey has in mind for his life.
Chapter: One
Author's Notes: ... Well, I've finally snapped. I'd blame folkloric_feel for encouraging me, but we all know it's all my fault. *g* This was inspired by these clips from the unaired pilot of Big Time Rush, starring Curt Hansen (Dak Zevon) instead of Kendall Schmidt. If you haven't seen them, definitely watch them before reading this. They're... Weird, but definitely interesting. Anyway, a few days ago, my brain went off on a meta tangent about how different BTR would be without Kendall (inspired by this), and, well, this happened. I'd love to hear what you think about it! ♥
It starts like this:
Curt is running.
From a pack of angry young women, some of whom are wearing wet t-shirts.
And normally that would be awesome, except for the part where they're, you know, angry.
Logan is right beside him, laughing his ass off as they run, and Carlos is making loud war cries and jumping over obstacles like a freaking ninja, and James is screaming, "You guys, this is what it'll be like when I'm famous! Except with less trying to kill me! And more trying to kiss me!" while trying to fix his hair and adjust his scarf and run at the same time, which is working out surprisingly well for him.
And Curt is just running, because hey, running is what he does.
Well, it actually starts like this:
"Come on, Logie, live a little!"
Curt grabs Logan by the shoulders and shakes him, grinning.
"Opportunities like this come once in a lifetime," he cries, "so do you want to waste this one for all of us based on the fact that you're being a wimp?"
Logan sighs and rolls his eyes.
"I'm just sayin' I think it's a bad idea, that's all I'm saying. Somebody could get hurt."
Curt raises an eyebrow.
"It's water," he says, walking over and hitting the thing once with the palm of his hand. "I don't think it's gonna hurt anybody."
"I meant us, man!"
"Curt's right, dude," Carlos says. "You're being a total wimp!" He runs over, flips his helmet back over his face, and tries to turn it. "I--" shove-- "think--" shove-- "it's--" shove-- "stuck--" shove--
"You know," James interrupts, (finally) putting away his comb and mirror, "I had my pop star dream again last night. I was wearing my lucky v-neck and blah blah blah."
Or at least that's what Curt hears, because Logan looks at him and they both shake their heads while James just goes on and on and on about his pop star dream that he has at least once every week. Then he starts singing some Smokey Robinson song but stops in the middle of some ridiculously long note ("Tracks of te-- what are we even doing?"), and Curt laughs.
"They left that in the sprinkler valve," he says, "so do you wanna help us drench the girls' field hockey team or not?"
James shrugs and says, "Sure, I'm in."
He and Curt walk over to help Carlos and Logan scowls.
"You're so gonna regret this," he calls to them from his safe place about ten feet away. "You'll wish you had listened to me."
They aren't paying attention.
He stands there in his rebellious silence for a few more moments.
Then:
"Fine!" he yells. "I'll do it! Losers."
And as he walks over to help, he mutters, "I need new friends."
After a few more moments of pushing and shoving and grunting and overall proof that all four of them need to work out more, they finally manage to turn the T-bar. The sprinkler turns on, there are a few hilarious and slightly blissful seconds of an entire field of girls getting soaked, some indignant screaming, and then--
"Oh, shit."
And now we're back to the running.
They duck into dumpster (in which Carlos finds a sandwich that he thinks is suitable to eat, which almost makes James sick) as the girls pass. None of them seem to notice, so they keep their angry little mob running North as the boys sigh a collective sigh of relief.
One of the girls notices.
"Go!" shouts Curt.
They keep running until they reach a dead end. Like, a literal dead end. And they're trapped. By a bunch of girls with hockey sticks.
Eh, it could be worse.
"Wait!" Carlos yells as the girls approach them, snarling and vicious and good Lord it's like a pack of wolves. "Time out!"
They stop.
Curt, shocked, turns around to ask how on Earth Carlos just did that, and sees Carlos take off his helmet and give it to James. Carlos gulps.
"He needs it more than I do," he tells Logan, who is gawking at him like he just defied every single law of Physics and then some. "He's the Face."
James looks at him with wide, sincere eyes and says, "Thank you, Carlos. I really appreciate it."
That's enough of that, Curt suddenly decides, but it's not that he feels left out. Nah, he's just-- just tired of James getting special treatment because of his stupid, pretty face.
"Time in!" Curt yells, whether the other guys are ready or not.
He wants a fight.
*
He wasn't ready either, apparently.
Because now all four of them are lying on James's couch, groaning in absolute agony.
But hey, at least the Pussycat Dolls are on television.
"The Pussycat Dolls make everything better," Curt sighs, content, shaking his head and throwing the ice pack he was using on his arm onto the coffee table.
"Not everything," James shoots back, and Logan laughs.
"Yup. That's what weed is for."
"Shut up, both of you, would you?" Curt throws a handful of popcorn at each of them, but Carlos intervenes and grabs the handful meant for Logan before it reaches him.
"Dude," he says incredulously, "it's popcorn. It's delicious. Why are you wasting it on Logan's face?"
"Maybe Logan's face is just as delicious as that popcorn and it's retribution."
"What does that even mean?"
"Was that an insult or a compliment?"
"Curt, dude, do you really think my face is delicious?"
"Do you want to be a pop star?"
"Shh!" James says suddenly, because that last one was the television and now James is staring at it like it holds all the answers of the universe.
Curt rolls his eyes and is about a second from telling him, "Whatever, it's probably some scam informercial anyway," when he sees Jenny Tinkler from homeroom on the screen, jumping up and down and squealing, "I'm gonna be a star, I'm gonna be a star!"
He leans forward, shocked.
"Is that Jenny?"
Nobody answers. They're all too wrapped up in the guy on the screen to notice.
"Gustavo Roque, '90s mega-producer of bands like BoyQuake, Boys in the Attic, and Boy City--"
"I've heard of all those bands!" says James, voice filled with awe.
"-- more famous for the time he told Rolling Stone magazine that he could turn a dog into a superstar--
"I have that magazine cover!" James cries, and sure enough, he pulls it out of his pocket like it's no big deal.
"Dude," Logan says, staring at James wide-eyed. "Trippy."
"-- has come to Wisconsin to find his next big superstar. Sign-ups are until five, so--"
All four boys glance at the clock, then back at each other.
4:23 PM.
"Do you think we could skate there in time?" Carlos asks; he's already grabbing his helmet, but James shakes his head.
"No, that's not nearly fast enough," he says, starting to pace around the room. "Any other ideas, guys?"
"Everybody, call your mom," Curt says, smiling at James. "We've got a pop star to get famous."
James grins back and takes out his cell phone, along with Logan and Carlos.
"Hey, Mom? When you get this, could you--"
"Call me back when you get this, Mom--"
"Hey, call me back, we need a ride really bad--"
"James and me and Logan and Curt need a ride somewhere real bad, so call me when you get a chance--"
They all hang up simultaneously and sit down on the couch, staring at the phones intently as if staring could make them ring faster.
Nothing.
Finally, after a minute of uncomfortable, anxious silence in which James shakes his leg and taps the table and tosses his hair about a thousand times and Curt is about to throttle him to make him knock it off, Logan says, "I have a learner's permit... If we had a licensed adult and, y'know, a car, I could drive you..."
Curt snaps his fingers and grins.
"That's it!"
*
Mrs. Magikowski is glad to let the boys borrow her car. And... Her.
As long as they shovel her walkway for the entire winter. For free.
Curt says, "What?!" and James says, "Done."
Curt clears his throat, throws an arm around James, and says in his nicest voice, "Can I talk to you for a second?"
When James tries to protest, Curt drags him a few feet away by the arm.
"Dude, I'm not gonna shovel some old lady's walkway just because--"
"Curt," James interrupts, tearing his arm away and looking at him like he could stare straight through his soul. "We have to. I want-- I need this. Don't take this away from me because you're selfish, Curt."
James is completely serious, Curt knows, and he's staring at him with those intense eyes and being all dramatic about it, so Curt sighs and shrugs and says, "Okay, whatever, I'll shovel her walkway if it means that much to you."
James's expression softens; he takes a few steps back.
"It does."
*
When they get there, the first thing James does is run in as fast as he possibly can.
"Hi I'm James Diamond I wanna be famous," he tells the woman at the sign-ups table breathlessly. He starts to sing something, but she cuts him off with a numbered sticker to the chest and an exasperated look.
"Fill out the rest of these forms and wait for you number to be called," she says, shoving a clipboard at him. He sags in relief.
"Didwemakeit?" Carlos asks, also a little breathless, and then he sees the clipboard that James is holding and does a dance that Curt would probably describe as spazzy and flaily.
Curt crosses his arms smugly.
"I knew we would," he says, and James gives him a weird half-smile, half-grimace.
A girl comes out of the auditorium, sobbing.
"Jenny?" Carlos asks, wide-eyed, and she looks up at them through her tears.
"Oh, hi guys," she sniffs, "don't go it there. He's evil. Evil!" she wails, and then runs straight out the doors.
The sign-ups table woman approaches Logan and demands, "You. Name."
He just stares at her.
"Oh, nah," he finally says, flapping a hand and scrunching up his face. "I'm not interested in the whole music scene, and--"
"Well I'm a desperate talent scout, you have a cute smile, and Justin Timberlake made over forty-four million dollars last year."
She raises eyebrow at him, daring him to say no, and he replies, "Oh, what the hell. Hit me."
She thrusts the sticker onto his shirt, evidently rather hard, because he is pushed a few inches back, groaning, "Oww, why you gotta do that?"
She points to Carlos and Curt.
"You two up for this?" she asks, and they both instantly reply, "Hell yes!"
She makes a face as if she's somewhat satisfied by this and gives them both stickers and clipboards.
"Eight ten is next," she warns James as she's walking away.
He gulps.
"Um. I." Switching stickers with Logan quickly, he nods. "Yeah. That's you. You're next!"
Logan glares at him.
"You're an idiot."
"I'm a nervous idiot," he says, running a hand through his hair.
"Don't worry," Curt says, "you'll do fine."
"I know I will, but what if he has horrible taste?"
"Dude," Carlos interrupts, staring at Logan, "you don't even sing. How are you going to pull this off?"
Logan does what Curt likes to refer to as his "nerdy-finger-gun-thing" (last time he'd said that out loud, though, Logan had punched him, so he keeps it mostly to himself now) and pops his collar.
"Don't worry, I got this!"
Apparently he didn't have it, because when he comes back out less than five minutes later, Curt can still hear that Gustavo guy yelling insults through the door.
"... What happened."
"I-- I don't know," says Logan, shellshocked. He shakes his head slowly. "I started beatboxing, and he just-- bit my head off. He's Satan. Satan." He sits down and stares off into the distance, utterly still.
James glances from Logan, to Carlos, to Curt.
He rips Carlos's number from his chest and puts his own in its place.
"Oh look! You're next!"
The woman peeks her head out the door.
"Eight eleven? You're up."
Carlos stands up, brushes off his shirt, and walks right in.
He comes out not two minutes later, grinning.
"Well, I'm not going to Hollywood!"
"I'm not even gonna ask," Curt says, narrowing his eyes at Carlos.
The woman looks out again.
"Eight twelve," she mutters through clenched teeth, obviously agitated.
James glances at Curt.
"No," Curt says in his most finite voice, pushing James's hand away. "Seriously, you'll do fine. This is your thing. Now... Go do your thing."
"Please?" James begs.
One beat of silence, then:
"Fine. Idiot."
"Knock 'em dead, Curt!" says James in return, grinning and giving him a thumbs up. "Thanks, buddy."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever."
And he walks into the audition room.
It's large. And stage-y. And empty, other than Gustavo Roque, his pretty assistant woman, and some security guys by the door.
But he's not nervous.
Not even a little. Psh.
"Show me what you've got, kid," Gustavo sighs, leaning back in his chair.
So Curt does.
He ends up singing the first thing that comes to mind (The National Anthem) and he thinks it sounds pretty sucky.
Gustavo doesn't seem to think so.
He leans back up, propping his head up on his hands and staring at Curt like he's their God and Savior.
"Kelly," he says when Curt stops, grinning in a maniacal way that Curt finds a bit frightening, "I think we've found our new talent."
The first thing out of Curt's mouth is, "Really? Sweet!"
The second is: "Wait. What about James?"
"Who?"
"Uh, we've got another kid out there," Kelly whispers to Gustavo. "Not bad-looking. Pretty good. Real pop star material. You--" She glances up at Curt once-- "you might want to give him a shot."
Gustavo rolls his eyes.
"Yeah, whatever you need to help yourself sleep at night. Get this James guy in here. But make it snappy? I've got places to be!" he bellows, and Curt is more than a little frightened this time.
Kelly nods and hurries out the door, bringing James and the guys with her when she comes back in.
Curt waves to them from the stage and hands James the microphone.
"How did it go?" James whispers, and Curt shrugs.
"Tell you later," he mouths.
James takes the mic and hops up on the stage; Gustavo looks at him appraisingly.
"Well, he isn't hideous."
And James sings.
The thing is, Curt has heard James sing. He sings all the time. But Curt has never heard James sing like this. Like-- he's actually trying.
And he's really, really good.
Curt is sort of frozen in awe when he hears Gustavo yell, "Nope! Sorry pal, we pick Curt."
"What?!"
It's an instant reaction from James, Carlos, and Logan.
"Curt. You know, Curt Caffrey? The guy over there in the leather jacket who's more talented than all of you combined?!"
James looks like he might be near tears, and Curt kind of can't stand anyone to cry, unless he hates them, which, honestly, he doesn't hate James, so he stands up and clears his throat.
"Whoa whoa whoa," he says slowly, putting his hands up as if in surrender. "Mr. Roque, are you sure we don't want to maybe talk this out first, maybe over coffee, or--"
Gustavo snorts obnoxiously.
"Yeah, right. Like I would ever have coffee with a pretty, fiery block of wood like you."
Curt has no idea what that even means, but it sounds like an insult and it irritates him, so he decides that physical violence is a good solution.
He charges at Gustavo and attempts to hit him, but Kelly calls security on him and they're trying to pull him away so he elbows one of them in the face, and Carlos is punching one of them too, and James is in his ear, yelling, "Stop punching people from Hollywood in the face!" but he's totally a hypocrite because he gets a couple good shots in himself, and Logan is off to the side, chewing his nails and sighing, "I have got to get new friends!" before he runs in and tries to pull everyone off each other.
And then the cops show up and everything is shot to hell.
*
"I am so disappointed in you right now, Curt," cries his mother after the cops leave and she's left red-faced at the door with four thoroughly beat-up teenage boys and a confused ten-year-old girl to care for.
Again.
"What were you thinking?" she demands, and Curt just shrugs and rolls his eyes and says, "I dunno," and good Lord she hopes Catie doesn't go through this phase as a teenager.
"Uh, Ms. Caffrey..." Carlos pipes up quietly, and she turns to him. She adores Carlos, really: Curt has only known him about a year but he's already been a fabulous influence.
"Yes, Carlos?" she says as patiently as she can.
"Well-- it wasn't really Curt's fault. See, they said he has more talent than all of us combined, which would totally be true if James wasn't here--"
"I attest to this," Logan says solemnly, raising his hand.
"Me too!" James nods vigorously, which earns him glares from both Logan and Carlos, but Logan says, "Yeah, I mean, he didn't have to phrase it that way."
"And then he called me a flaming, pretty block of wood," Curt puts in. "Or something."
"It was weird and insulting," Carlos concludes. "So it's not his fault. It's not our fault. Right?"
"Right?" the other boys chorus, and then there are four thoroughly beat-up, adorable teenage boys pouting at her and she tries to stand her ground, but honestly. Four of them is too many to stand.
"Oh, all right," she sighs. "Anybody want a sandwich?"
"Wait, whoa, what?" Catie says, outraged, from across the room. "You're not even gonna ground him? Teach him a lesson? Call their moms, something?"
Ms. Caffrey thinks for a moment, then shrugs.
"Nah. I think they've learned their lesson."
Catie scowls.
"Well... Can you at least tell me how bad you beat him?"
Grinning, Curt says, "Sure, baby sis. He's a big guy, right? Huge. And then there were these two security guards there who were--"
The doorbells rings as Curt continues to tell his fantastically exaggerated version of events, and Logan calls, "I'll get it, Ms. C!"
He's just reached the part where Gustavo supposedly tried to kill him with a letter opener (Catie obviously doesn't believe him, but she's entertained anyway, and it's fun to come up with, so he keeps going) when Logan screams from the doorway.
Curt jumps about ten feet into the air.
"Logan?" he calls, walking slowly into the hallway and grabbing the stapler in case he needs a weapon. "What's up?"
He sprints up to the door, expecting some sort of serial killer, but instead he sees Logan cowering in the corner and--
Gustavo Roque.
James and Carlos come rushing in from the kitchen, and James face lights up about ten thousand watts.
"I knew you'd come back for me!" he says brightly, but his expression falls when he gets no response but a glare from Gustavo and a facepalm from Kelly.
"We came back for Curt, Diamond. Get it through your thick skull. I. Don't. Like. You."
James pouts and sulks back to the kitchen, but ends up coming back when Ms. Caffrey comes out a few seconds later.
"Uh, Curt?" she says slowly, glancing from Gustavo back to her son and back to Gustavo again. "Who is this?"
"I'm Gustavo Roque, megaproducer," he shouts, not even bothering to shake the hand she holds out for him. "And I'm here to make your son famous."
Her eyes nearly bulge out of her head.
"I-- Curt?" She turns to face him. "I thought you said this audition was for James."
"Yeah, well, it started that way, but then they made us all try out." He makes the most indifferent face he can possibly muster. "I wasn't gonna tell you, 'cause I don't want to do it anyway."
Gustavo laughs boisterously for a few seconds, then stops abruptly, glaring at Curt.
"Yes you do," he says. He turns towards Ms. Caffrey. "Ma'am--" polite is not a good look for him, Curt notes-- "we'd like to take your family to Los Angeles to produce some demo tracks."
She just stares at him for a few seconds, silent, then says faintly, "I'll go make some tea. You two make yourself at home."
*
"Now, it would be for three months, all expenses covered."
Kelly looks at Curt hopefully. Curt looks at James incredulously. James looks everywhere but Curt.
"Curt. Curt Curt Curt. You, my boy, have a gift." Gustavo is glaring a hole through him now. "You have the fire." He twitches his fingers around. "You also have anger management problems." He clears his throat and says, "I have also been told that I may have anger management problems. But you know what else I have?"
Curt shakes his head.
"FIVE HOUSES!"
Curt says, "Oh, well then," and James sinks down in his seat, arms crossed, muttering, "I want five houses..."
"But I like you, kid," Gustavo continues, loud as ever. "You're fiesty. And that's just what I need."
"Yeah, but I don't want to."
Gustavo's face turns a nice, beet-like shade of red, and Kelly intervenes before he can start screaming.
"We've auditioned over twenty thousand people all over the country, Curt," she says quickly, putting a calming hand on Gustavo's shoulder, "and Mr. Roque has chosen you."
"Seriously," Curt says, slowly this time as if to make them understand better. "I don't want to."
In all honesty, he does. In fact, he really, really does. And if James didn't deserve it more than him (and this Gustavo guy wasn't so batshit) he would give them a big old, "Hell yes!" and roll right out to Hollywood.
"I'm not a singer," he shrugs.
"Actually, you are," Catie interrupts. "You sing all the time. In the car, in the shower..."
"It's true," his mom points out. "And you're good."
"But it's not something I would ever do." He sits up and looks around at all of them. They're crazy. The lot of them. "Guys, guys, come on," he pleads, "I don't even have a real job! And I like it here in Wisconsin. It's home. I'm not made out for California, I wanna stay here."
Well, at least it's half-true. The other half is just him trying to convince himself.
Gustavo stands up and inhales deeply.
"I'm gonna need a moment," he whispers as he walks out the door and slams it behind him.
Everyone in the room flinches as they hear him screaming and cursing and smashing things out on the porch.
"Not my flower pot," Ms. Caffrey mumbles, shutting her eyes tightly.
Kelly winces as she sets a pile of money down on the coffee table.
"This is to pay for the, um. Everything."
And she hurries out the door, calling, "Gustavo? Stop breaking things!"
A brief awkward silence, and then:
"Idiot."
Catie hits Curt upside the head, then scurries off, snatching up some of the money Kelly left and calling, "I'm taking a twenty!"
*
The next day, they go skating in the parking lot outside the old grocery store.
None of them are really talking to each other.
So, Logan, always a flawless example of tact, interrupts the awkward silence with, "Wow. You might be, like... A giant idiot."
Curt stops, flips his board up, and sighs, turning toward Logan.
"Guys," he snorts disdainfully, "I don't wanna go to LA for three months with that creep." He laughs and adds, "I wanna hang out with you creeps, and skate and stuff!"
"But you could be on your way right now to sunny LA, living James's dream!"
This earns Logan a punch in the arm from James.
"Ow!" he cries, clearly ready to punch back because hey, he's holding a drink and James could have spilled it, dammit, but Carlos interrupts with, "Dude, think about it. The beach? The girls? Sunset Strip? The smog?"
Curt gives him a weird look-- Carlos has always been a little, er, eccentric-- before continuing.
"Yeah, well, none of that's fun if I'm alone," he says, because really, it's true. The guys are his friends because he skates with them and stuff, but what happens if he goes to Los Angeles alone? If he doesn't have the guys and he doesn't have skating--
He doesn't really have anything.
James rolls his eyes.
"Dude, part of me hates you right now. But-- call that guy back."
"Okay, just-- maybe apologize, and tell him how stupid you are," Logan says.
"You said that guy was Satan."
"But he wants to make you famous!"
Curt shakes his head. They can't be serious.
"Okay," he says in his most let me get this straight before I punch you voice, "so you're saying that if you had the chance to go to LA with a mega-jerk producer to become pop stars... You'd do it."
It's a unanimous yes, and Curt can't argue with that logic, so he smirks and holds out his hand.
"Gimme your phone."
*
When the white limo pulls into the grocery store parking lot and Gustavo Roque steps out, wearing a million layers, all sorts of bling, and an angry expression on his face, the first thing that comes out of Logan's mouth is an extremely concerned, "What happened to him as a child?"
He pushes Curt forward.
They meet Gustavo and Kelly smack in the middle of the lot.
"Well?" Gustavo yells.
Curt shrugs, still smirking.
"Okay," he says. "I'll go to LA with you to make a demo."
Kelly smiles in victory.
"If..."
Her face falls.
"... you take my buds and make us a pop group."
The reaction from behind him is two shocked "What?"s and a sputtered, "Liquid up my nose!" from Logan.
"Are-- are you trying to make a deal with me?" Gustavo asks, as if the very idea is ludicrous. "Is that what you're trying to do right now? I make the deals!"
"If you want me," Curt says, "you have to take all of us. I'm not a solo act." He shrugs in defiance.
Gustavo begins to laugh.
It's still pretty terrifying.
"Have you heard your friends sing?" he shouts. "Oh, that's right. They can't."
"Well, I'm no megaproducer like you," Curt says with the air of admitting something slightly shameful, "but, I know that they sing better than dogs, and--" he pulls out a crinkled piece of paper from his pocket: the cover of the Rolling Stone on which Gustavo Roque had made a name for himself by being ridiculously pompous-- "you can turn them into pop stars, right?"
Gustavo yanks the paper from Curt's hands.
"Is this supposed to sway me? Is that what this is supposed to do?" He throws it to the ground. Since it's a piece of paper, that doesn't work out as well for him as he had probably hoped.
Curt raises his eyebrows, presses his lips together, and waits for Gustavo to be done.
"I'm Gustavo Roque!" he yells. "I am amazing! I'm amazing. And there is NO. WAY! Gustavo Roque is taking the four dogs from Wisconsin to Los Angeles to make them stars. It's never gonna happen. NEVER!"
Curt pauses for a moment, then asks, "So do we have a deal?"
Gustavo looks at Curt like he's just asked if it's 1975.
"Yep!" he bellows.
And just like that, everything changes.