And That Makes You Dangerous 7/8
Title: And That Makes You Dangerous
Rating: R overall (NC-17...a little)
Pairing: John/Keith (implied Pete/John throughout)
Era: Lifehouse sessions (late ‘70 - early 1971)
Warnings: alcoholism, bad!drug use, swearing, sex, and soap!angst, level 5...heh heh
Summary: Pete notices a change in John’s behavior when Keith is around. John sees it too. When both begin to question why, soul searching ensues.
Disclaimer: Of course, this didn't occur, but it makes for a good story. Oh, and I don't make money from this. Man, that would rock.
Author's Notes: So, we're almost done now with the first story in this series. I have a short story for the beginning of the series, chronologically, planned out, as well as the next long story...but I haven't gotten to writing yet. But, as long as it's active around here, I'll be much more motivated to write... (*hint hint*).
Previous chapters can be found... One and Two and Three and Four, Five and Six a & Six b.
********************************************
Chapter Seven:
"Too late to change partners, too late you got no chance. Too late to change partners, too late to say I don't dance." - You
Awareness returned, ever so slowly. The first was a smell, a sterile, antiseptic odor of hospital. And something else. Was that...bourbon?
His feeling came next, as he became aware of a shaking, a tremble in his body. He could feel a rumble along his left side.
When his hearing entered the picture, he made out a muffled voice, hitching every so often. Sobbing, he thought, mixed with whispers.
"I'm sorry John. I'm so sorry."
With great effort, he pried his eyes open, immediately squinting from the light, although it was dim enough to allow his sight to adjust quickly. He was laying in a bed, apparently propped up by something, in a bare white room.
Definitely hospital.
An unruly mop of brown hair was on his lap, shaking, and the arms crossed beneath trembled, fingers twisting in the sheet that covered him. John could begin to make out more words as he lay there, concentrating.
"Please John, you can't leave me. I'm sorry. Don't leave."
His heart ached at the sound of Keith's voice, broken and desperate. His mind was still a bit unclear as to what was going on, what had happened, but John knew he had to make him stop crying. Carefully, he tested his fingers, flexing them and finding them satisfactorily cooperative. Slowly he lifted his arm until his hand came to rest in the tousled mass on his chest, his fingers idly stroking the drummer's head.
"Shhh..." he murmured, pleased when the trembling subsided for a moment. Watery brown eyes peeked up from his lap, widening almost comically.
"It's alright," John managed to croak out, disturbed at how weak his own voice sounded.
Suddenly, Keith lunged up and wrapped his arms around the now startled bassist, squeezing him until his lungs ached.
"God, John, you're alive!" he cried, his voice thick with emotion. It was Keith's real voice, John noted, something he'd heard less and less of over the last year.
"Keith," he breathed out weakly, struggling slightly beneath the enthusiastic smaller man. "I won't be...if you...suffocate me," he wheezed.
Keith pulled back hurriedly, fixing John with a stare of mixed elation and terror. His lip quivered, red nose and puffy eyes giving him the appearance of a vulnerable child. John found the look endearing.
Although he felt he should be disturbed by his lack of memory leading up to this current situation, John found himself unconcerned. Judging from the look on his friend's face, he knew he'd be filled in on the entire situation in mere moments; Keith appeared about to explode from containing himself. He remained silent, awaiting the inevitable release.
It wasn't much of a wait.
"I'm sorry, John! I'm sorry I said those things and I didn't mean to hurt you! Please believe me, I didn't mean it!" The words spilled from the drummer's mouth in a rush, voice shaking as tears continued to flow down his flushed cheeks.
There were a few moments of nothing for John before memories started to trickle in; Keith's voice, lewd and obnoxious, mocking him to Pete; an image of Keith laughing at him, ignoring his anger...
Oh yeah, that's right, I remember now...
John slowly closed his eyes again, taking a deep breath and shoring himself from the emotions that accompanied the sudden flow of memories. Long moments passed filled only with his even breaths and Keith's sniffling, until the grey eyes finally reopened.
"P-Pete told me that you..." Keith began, hesitating, unable to get the words out. "I swear to you, John, I didn't know how you felt."
Keith's tone became more anxious the longer John remained silent, and he knew that now he could finally get the truth; it wouldn't take much pressure to make him break in this state.
"Didn't you?" John responded calmly, raising an eyebrow.
Keith's expression changed again, looking suddenly trapped, and he averted his eyes.
"I know you haven't been telling me everything," he continued, gauging even the slightest reaction. He hoped Keith wouldn't pretend they didn't both know what he was talking about.
"John," the drummer fidgeted for a few moments before peering up to meet John's unreadable stare, cowering a bit as he did so. He took a deep breath before plunging in, unable to keep his secret any longer. "I'm sorry I took advantage of you. I-I thought maybe that was my one chance, you know? But I was afraid...I didn't want you t-to hate me. I couldn't bear it." He wrung the bed sheet in his hands anxiously.
John's eyebrows came together as he tried to understand what it was Keith was trying to tell him. At first, he'd hoped to get at least a bit of satisfaction out of Keith's anguish; a little revenge always eased the pain and anger somewhat. But taking in the younger man's expression now, the fear in his eyes, even as he had managed to keep himself together while he spoke, John found that seeing him this upset only hurt him as well.
He wasn't all that surprised; it was always that way with Keith. The fact was infuriating.
"Keith, why would I hate you?" he asked, finding he too was afraid; from this moment, everything would change, no matter what the answer.
"I-I didn't know it then, h-how you felt...about me," Keith continued, though now again looking away, his voice wavering dangerously. "I just knew th-that I felt something for you. And, I guess I just wanted to...try it out." He shrugged, still not looking up.
John felt his heart beginning to pound in his chest. He reached out, placing a hand on one of his friend's, stopping the worrying fingers and forcing Keith to meet his eyes once more.
"No more games, Keith," he warned in a low tone, face deadly serious. "Why did you lie to me?"
Keith swallowed. "I-I think that I'm in love with you, John. And I thought you might feel the same, but...I-I couldn't..." Tears welled in his eyes again, and he turned away for a moment, but he felt a reassuring squeeze from John's hand, and saw acceptance in his eyes. "I couldn't understand h-how someone like you could l-love someone like m-me..." he finally sobbed out.
John closed his eyes and heaved a long sigh before opening his arms, inviting Keith into his embrace. The drummer squirmed his way onto the edge of the bed, laying alongside John and resting his head on the larger man's chest, throwing an arm across his waist.
John pulled him close, rubbing Keith's arm with one hand while caressing his head with the other. They remained there for long moments, and only when the hitching breaths and sniffling subsided did he speak.
"I do love you, Keith," John confirmed quietly, allowing the sincerity to show in his eyes when those watery brown ones gazed up at him.
After another extended silence, Keith pulled himself up a bit and brought his arm up, wiping his eyes and nose on his sleeve. John huffed in annoyance, but chuckled inwardly as he allowed the drummer to resituate himself. He suddenly noticed the fresh bruise on Keith's cheek, and lightly brushed his thumb over the darkened skin.
Keith peeked up, shame in his averted gaze. "You weren't the only one who was mad at me..." he answered softly. At John's raised eyebrow, he continued. "Pete has a nice left hook when he's provoked." A small smirk played at the drummer's lips, and he shrugged. "Guess I deserved it anyway."
John slowly shook his head and chuckled darkly. Well, I guess I know Pete still cares...
There was silence again for a few moments, Keith picking idly at the sheet, not looking at his friend. He eventually broke the quiet again.
"What are you going to do, John?" Keith asked softly, worry evident in his tone.
So he's leaving it up to me, then.
"I don't know," he answered bluntly. Keith's concerned look prompted him to continue. "I want to trust you. I want to believe that we can make this work. But..." John paused, uncertain exactly how much he really wanted to say, "...I just need some time, to think about it."
Keith snuggled up close once again, nodding against his chest. It was in this position several minutes later that he finally fell into a light sleep. John sighed, kissing the top of his head, and closed his eyes. He didn't know what was going to happen yet, but he allowed himself this moment as he drifted to sleep as well, holding his closest friend in his arms.
************
Pete fidgeted anxiously in the driver's seat of his parked Lincoln. He was in John's front driveway, trying to get his mind to stop scrambling around and focus before he went inside. He didn't know what to say, what to ask, where to begin, and the ideas were colliding into a mess inside his head.
It had been a week since John had been released from hospital, and though they had since resumed their usual schedule, and Pete had seen him and spoken to him, he and John hadn't really talked yet.
But Pete allowed John to approach him when he was ready, content to use the intervening time to gather his own thoughts and try to settle his emotions. Best not to immediately start a fight if he can avoid it, after all.
And so it was that when John came to him earlier and asked him over for a drink this evening that Pete knew the time had come. Now his stomach felt sick with nervous anticipation of how much John would tell him, and with the fear of how he himself would react to that.
He lit a cigarette and tapped unconsciously at the dashboard, thumping his knee against the steering wheel. He thought he had this figured out now; in his opinion, John had waited a week to allow Pete to cool down.
Although John certainly wasn't one for confrontation, Pete felt he was probably ready to just get it over with days ago. Which means he must have actually wanted his serious opinion, as opposed to an angry rant.
And that meant that John had made a decision about this...thing he had with Keith.
Pete got out of the car, intent on just getting this done. He needed to know as soon as possible, and he'd run out of ways to stall reasonably anyway. As he approached the door, it opened in front of him, John frowning at him in the entry.
"Wondered when you'd finally get up the nerve to come in," he grumbled, stepping back to let his friend inside.
Pete sneered in response as he passed before heading straight for the bar, leaving the bassist to slowly stroll after. When he finally entered the room, Pete had already downed a shot of brandy, but then hesitated. If he got drunk this wouldn't go well for him; he'd likely end up knocked out or with a broken nose.
John had clearly been drinking already, but not enough to let his guard down unintentionally; right now his expression was largely unreadable.
Fuck.
Pete resigned he'd lost any possible advantage there, and thus downed one more shot before sitting down on the stool in front of him. John took a seat as well, taking a sip from a glass he already poured earlier and lighting a smoke. Pete accepted an offered smoke as well and waited in silence for his companion to speak.
"First Pete, I want to apologize, for what happened," John began. He cleared his throat, posture uncomfortable but face determined. "I mean, for what you had to see, how you felt. I'm sorry." He met Pete's gaze. "It won't happen again."
After some moments of silence, Pete knew that was it. John's look was expectant, but ashamed. Pete realized he was remembering his own feelings when Keith gave them a scare and empathizing with him, which made it harder to be angry, despite the situation. He knew he could either cause a problem by rejecting John, or accept, and know they'd likely not speak of it again.
"It had better not," Pete answered in a scolding manner, only half joking as he continued. "Took a decade off my life, you did." It wasn't in his heart to fight today, apparently.
John smirked sadly, turning and shaking his head. He stared off for a time, long enough that Pete was just opening his mouth to say something when John spoke first.
"Keith's told me he feels the same," John revealed, his voice quiet and hesitant. "He's been pushing to..." he paused, clearly thinking of the right term, "...move ahead with some sort of...relationship." He practically winced at the word.
Pete's heart clenched. This was it. He could say something right now, intervene. But to what end? Try to get John back? Sabotage their chances? Spare John the pain he knew Keith would cause him? He didn't even know John's decision yet. And who was he kidding anyway? He knew John had already decided. His mind wouldn't be changed either way.
"Is that what you want?" Pete asked, surprising himself. He had intended to ask what John was going to do, but something inside him had other ideas.
John seemed caught off guard as well, raising an eyebrow. After several seconds of averting his gaze and thinking, he sighed and looked Pete in the eyes, and answered both the spoken and the implied question.
"Yeah," he nodded, "and that's what I'm going to do." John turned, stubbing his cigarette and taking another drink. "But I want to know how you feel about it."
Pete's mouth dried up suddenly. He could make his arguments. It was now or never. When the intense, dark eyes fixed back on his own shining, crystalline ones, the floodgate finally opened.
"John, Keith's not exactly stable, you know. How much more of him can you really take? I mean, you don't seriously believe he'd commit to just you?"
"I'm not an idiot, for god's sake," John scowled. "But I can be what he wants, and I'm willing to accept that to be closer to him." He spoke firmly, the honesty clear in his voice. "I don't want to change him. I just want Keith, as he is."
"But what about what he's becoming?" Pete asked.
John looked away, his expression slightly pained.
"How much of that can you take, John? How much of the 'Loon' is too much? How many times does he have to lie to you, to use you, to treat you like his plaything?" Pete's words were harsh, but he wanted to make his friend see. "What if something happens to him again, John?"
John sighed shakily, lowering his head and closing his eyes.
"What other choice do I have?" he asked hoarsely.
Pete was unable to come back to that; he knew John was right. At this point, it was either act on his feelings or leave. Leave Keith, leave the band, leave his career behind. And Pete knew for certain John couldn't do that. Not anymore. His heart was here now.
"I'm sorry John," Pete sighed, the rest of his anger leaving him. He felt as though all he'd done in the past few months was apologize to his oldest friend. It made him feel completely helpless.
The bassist shook his head.
"I just want to know if you're...alright with it?" John asked.
Pete blinked a few times. John would never ask permission from him for anything, especially something like this. It seemed that John wanted his acceptance, his approval. The question frightened him, as Pete suddenly wondered how much John knew about Pete's own feelings for him.
He always thought he'd come off as not really caring, as just wanting to have a little fun, and he assumed John had known that and felt likewise. Even as he brooded over the decision to end it between them many times through the years that followed, he attempted to keep it hidden. It appeared to have been successful.
Until Keith became a new threat...
Pete gasped, now realizing the truth; he was falling for John all over again. It was when those feelings arose in him the first time that he ended the relationship - if that's what you could call it - with John and backed off. He thought he'd made the right choice when their new drummer swept John away and occupied his time. He had enough to deal with handling Roger, and band politics had caused them to drift apart anyway.
Pete knew he had to snuff out these emotions as soon as possible, before they forced him along down a path he had been reluctantly, but diligently, avoiding for years. He shook his head, and brought his mind back to the present.
John was still sitting there, looking at him; he'd watched the play of emotions on Pete's face passively, not revealing if he saw anything there. He was patient in demeanor, but the anxiety was showing in his tense posture. His friend was expecting an answer. Now.
What else could he say?
"Yeah, I'm okay with it," Pete finally answered, voice rough with emotion. He locked eyes with his friend. "I hope it works out John. Truly."
John gave a small smile in return that shone for a moment through the sadness in his gaze. Pete turned and poured them both another drink, and they downed them together in silence.
"Me too," was the quiet response.
**************************************
I'll probably post the ending on Friday or Saturday. Thanks for all the comments so far, I'd love to hear more! 8)
Rating: R overall (NC-17...a little)
Pairing: John/Keith (implied Pete/John throughout)
Era: Lifehouse sessions (late ‘70 - early 1971)
Warnings: alcoholism, bad!drug use, swearing, sex, and soap!angst, level 5...heh heh
Summary: Pete notices a change in John’s behavior when Keith is around. John sees it too. When both begin to question why, soul searching ensues.
Disclaimer: Of course, this didn't occur, but it makes for a good story. Oh, and I don't make money from this. Man, that would rock.
Author's Notes: So, we're almost done now with the first story in this series. I have a short story for the beginning of the series, chronologically, planned out, as well as the next long story...but I haven't gotten to writing yet. But, as long as it's active around here, I'll be much more motivated to write... (*hint hint*).
Previous chapters can be found... One and Two and Three and Four, Five and Six a & Six b.
********************************************
Chapter Seven:
"Too late to change partners, too late you got no chance. Too late to change partners, too late to say I don't dance." - You
Awareness returned, ever so slowly. The first was a smell, a sterile, antiseptic odor of hospital. And something else. Was that...bourbon?
His feeling came next, as he became aware of a shaking, a tremble in his body. He could feel a rumble along his left side.
When his hearing entered the picture, he made out a muffled voice, hitching every so often. Sobbing, he thought, mixed with whispers.
"I'm sorry John. I'm so sorry."
With great effort, he pried his eyes open, immediately squinting from the light, although it was dim enough to allow his sight to adjust quickly. He was laying in a bed, apparently propped up by something, in a bare white room.
Definitely hospital.
An unruly mop of brown hair was on his lap, shaking, and the arms crossed beneath trembled, fingers twisting in the sheet that covered him. John could begin to make out more words as he lay there, concentrating.
"Please John, you can't leave me. I'm sorry. Don't leave."
His heart ached at the sound of Keith's voice, broken and desperate. His mind was still a bit unclear as to what was going on, what had happened, but John knew he had to make him stop crying. Carefully, he tested his fingers, flexing them and finding them satisfactorily cooperative. Slowly he lifted his arm until his hand came to rest in the tousled mass on his chest, his fingers idly stroking the drummer's head.
"Shhh..." he murmured, pleased when the trembling subsided for a moment. Watery brown eyes peeked up from his lap, widening almost comically.
"It's alright," John managed to croak out, disturbed at how weak his own voice sounded.
Suddenly, Keith lunged up and wrapped his arms around the now startled bassist, squeezing him until his lungs ached.
"God, John, you're alive!" he cried, his voice thick with emotion. It was Keith's real voice, John noted, something he'd heard less and less of over the last year.
"Keith," he breathed out weakly, struggling slightly beneath the enthusiastic smaller man. "I won't be...if you...suffocate me," he wheezed.
Keith pulled back hurriedly, fixing John with a stare of mixed elation and terror. His lip quivered, red nose and puffy eyes giving him the appearance of a vulnerable child. John found the look endearing.
Although he felt he should be disturbed by his lack of memory leading up to this current situation, John found himself unconcerned. Judging from the look on his friend's face, he knew he'd be filled in on the entire situation in mere moments; Keith appeared about to explode from containing himself. He remained silent, awaiting the inevitable release.
It wasn't much of a wait.
"I'm sorry, John! I'm sorry I said those things and I didn't mean to hurt you! Please believe me, I didn't mean it!" The words spilled from the drummer's mouth in a rush, voice shaking as tears continued to flow down his flushed cheeks.
There were a few moments of nothing for John before memories started to trickle in; Keith's voice, lewd and obnoxious, mocking him to Pete; an image of Keith laughing at him, ignoring his anger...
Oh yeah, that's right, I remember now...
John slowly closed his eyes again, taking a deep breath and shoring himself from the emotions that accompanied the sudden flow of memories. Long moments passed filled only with his even breaths and Keith's sniffling, until the grey eyes finally reopened.
"P-Pete told me that you..." Keith began, hesitating, unable to get the words out. "I swear to you, John, I didn't know how you felt."
Keith's tone became more anxious the longer John remained silent, and he knew that now he could finally get the truth; it wouldn't take much pressure to make him break in this state.
"Didn't you?" John responded calmly, raising an eyebrow.
Keith's expression changed again, looking suddenly trapped, and he averted his eyes.
"I know you haven't been telling me everything," he continued, gauging even the slightest reaction. He hoped Keith wouldn't pretend they didn't both know what he was talking about.
"John," the drummer fidgeted for a few moments before peering up to meet John's unreadable stare, cowering a bit as he did so. He took a deep breath before plunging in, unable to keep his secret any longer. "I'm sorry I took advantage of you. I-I thought maybe that was my one chance, you know? But I was afraid...I didn't want you t-to hate me. I couldn't bear it." He wrung the bed sheet in his hands anxiously.
John's eyebrows came together as he tried to understand what it was Keith was trying to tell him. At first, he'd hoped to get at least a bit of satisfaction out of Keith's anguish; a little revenge always eased the pain and anger somewhat. But taking in the younger man's expression now, the fear in his eyes, even as he had managed to keep himself together while he spoke, John found that seeing him this upset only hurt him as well.
He wasn't all that surprised; it was always that way with Keith. The fact was infuriating.
"Keith, why would I hate you?" he asked, finding he too was afraid; from this moment, everything would change, no matter what the answer.
"I-I didn't know it then, h-how you felt...about me," Keith continued, though now again looking away, his voice wavering dangerously. "I just knew th-that I felt something for you. And, I guess I just wanted to...try it out." He shrugged, still not looking up.
John felt his heart beginning to pound in his chest. He reached out, placing a hand on one of his friend's, stopping the worrying fingers and forcing Keith to meet his eyes once more.
"No more games, Keith," he warned in a low tone, face deadly serious. "Why did you lie to me?"
Keith swallowed. "I-I think that I'm in love with you, John. And I thought you might feel the same, but...I-I couldn't..." Tears welled in his eyes again, and he turned away for a moment, but he felt a reassuring squeeze from John's hand, and saw acceptance in his eyes. "I couldn't understand h-how someone like you could l-love someone like m-me..." he finally sobbed out.
John closed his eyes and heaved a long sigh before opening his arms, inviting Keith into his embrace. The drummer squirmed his way onto the edge of the bed, laying alongside John and resting his head on the larger man's chest, throwing an arm across his waist.
John pulled him close, rubbing Keith's arm with one hand while caressing his head with the other. They remained there for long moments, and only when the hitching breaths and sniffling subsided did he speak.
"I do love you, Keith," John confirmed quietly, allowing the sincerity to show in his eyes when those watery brown ones gazed up at him.
After another extended silence, Keith pulled himself up a bit and brought his arm up, wiping his eyes and nose on his sleeve. John huffed in annoyance, but chuckled inwardly as he allowed the drummer to resituate himself. He suddenly noticed the fresh bruise on Keith's cheek, and lightly brushed his thumb over the darkened skin.
Keith peeked up, shame in his averted gaze. "You weren't the only one who was mad at me..." he answered softly. At John's raised eyebrow, he continued. "Pete has a nice left hook when he's provoked." A small smirk played at the drummer's lips, and he shrugged. "Guess I deserved it anyway."
John slowly shook his head and chuckled darkly. Well, I guess I know Pete still cares...
There was silence again for a few moments, Keith picking idly at the sheet, not looking at his friend. He eventually broke the quiet again.
"What are you going to do, John?" Keith asked softly, worry evident in his tone.
So he's leaving it up to me, then.
"I don't know," he answered bluntly. Keith's concerned look prompted him to continue. "I want to trust you. I want to believe that we can make this work. But..." John paused, uncertain exactly how much he really wanted to say, "...I just need some time, to think about it."
Keith snuggled up close once again, nodding against his chest. It was in this position several minutes later that he finally fell into a light sleep. John sighed, kissing the top of his head, and closed his eyes. He didn't know what was going to happen yet, but he allowed himself this moment as he drifted to sleep as well, holding his closest friend in his arms.
************
Pete fidgeted anxiously in the driver's seat of his parked Lincoln. He was in John's front driveway, trying to get his mind to stop scrambling around and focus before he went inside. He didn't know what to say, what to ask, where to begin, and the ideas were colliding into a mess inside his head.
It had been a week since John had been released from hospital, and though they had since resumed their usual schedule, and Pete had seen him and spoken to him, he and John hadn't really talked yet.
But Pete allowed John to approach him when he was ready, content to use the intervening time to gather his own thoughts and try to settle his emotions. Best not to immediately start a fight if he can avoid it, after all.
And so it was that when John came to him earlier and asked him over for a drink this evening that Pete knew the time had come. Now his stomach felt sick with nervous anticipation of how much John would tell him, and with the fear of how he himself would react to that.
He lit a cigarette and tapped unconsciously at the dashboard, thumping his knee against the steering wheel. He thought he had this figured out now; in his opinion, John had waited a week to allow Pete to cool down.
Although John certainly wasn't one for confrontation, Pete felt he was probably ready to just get it over with days ago. Which means he must have actually wanted his serious opinion, as opposed to an angry rant.
And that meant that John had made a decision about this...thing he had with Keith.
Pete got out of the car, intent on just getting this done. He needed to know as soon as possible, and he'd run out of ways to stall reasonably anyway. As he approached the door, it opened in front of him, John frowning at him in the entry.
"Wondered when you'd finally get up the nerve to come in," he grumbled, stepping back to let his friend inside.
Pete sneered in response as he passed before heading straight for the bar, leaving the bassist to slowly stroll after. When he finally entered the room, Pete had already downed a shot of brandy, but then hesitated. If he got drunk this wouldn't go well for him; he'd likely end up knocked out or with a broken nose.
John had clearly been drinking already, but not enough to let his guard down unintentionally; right now his expression was largely unreadable.
Fuck.
Pete resigned he'd lost any possible advantage there, and thus downed one more shot before sitting down on the stool in front of him. John took a seat as well, taking a sip from a glass he already poured earlier and lighting a smoke. Pete accepted an offered smoke as well and waited in silence for his companion to speak.
"First Pete, I want to apologize, for what happened," John began. He cleared his throat, posture uncomfortable but face determined. "I mean, for what you had to see, how you felt. I'm sorry." He met Pete's gaze. "It won't happen again."
After some moments of silence, Pete knew that was it. John's look was expectant, but ashamed. Pete realized he was remembering his own feelings when Keith gave them a scare and empathizing with him, which made it harder to be angry, despite the situation. He knew he could either cause a problem by rejecting John, or accept, and know they'd likely not speak of it again.
"It had better not," Pete answered in a scolding manner, only half joking as he continued. "Took a decade off my life, you did." It wasn't in his heart to fight today, apparently.
John smirked sadly, turning and shaking his head. He stared off for a time, long enough that Pete was just opening his mouth to say something when John spoke first.
"Keith's told me he feels the same," John revealed, his voice quiet and hesitant. "He's been pushing to..." he paused, clearly thinking of the right term, "...move ahead with some sort of...relationship." He practically winced at the word.
Pete's heart clenched. This was it. He could say something right now, intervene. But to what end? Try to get John back? Sabotage their chances? Spare John the pain he knew Keith would cause him? He didn't even know John's decision yet. And who was he kidding anyway? He knew John had already decided. His mind wouldn't be changed either way.
"Is that what you want?" Pete asked, surprising himself. He had intended to ask what John was going to do, but something inside him had other ideas.
John seemed caught off guard as well, raising an eyebrow. After several seconds of averting his gaze and thinking, he sighed and looked Pete in the eyes, and answered both the spoken and the implied question.
"Yeah," he nodded, "and that's what I'm going to do." John turned, stubbing his cigarette and taking another drink. "But I want to know how you feel about it."
Pete's mouth dried up suddenly. He could make his arguments. It was now or never. When the intense, dark eyes fixed back on his own shining, crystalline ones, the floodgate finally opened.
"John, Keith's not exactly stable, you know. How much more of him can you really take? I mean, you don't seriously believe he'd commit to just you?"
"I'm not an idiot, for god's sake," John scowled. "But I can be what he wants, and I'm willing to accept that to be closer to him." He spoke firmly, the honesty clear in his voice. "I don't want to change him. I just want Keith, as he is."
"But what about what he's becoming?" Pete asked.
John looked away, his expression slightly pained.
"How much of that can you take, John? How much of the 'Loon' is too much? How many times does he have to lie to you, to use you, to treat you like his plaything?" Pete's words were harsh, but he wanted to make his friend see. "What if something happens to him again, John?"
John sighed shakily, lowering his head and closing his eyes.
"What other choice do I have?" he asked hoarsely.
Pete was unable to come back to that; he knew John was right. At this point, it was either act on his feelings or leave. Leave Keith, leave the band, leave his career behind. And Pete knew for certain John couldn't do that. Not anymore. His heart was here now.
"I'm sorry John," Pete sighed, the rest of his anger leaving him. He felt as though all he'd done in the past few months was apologize to his oldest friend. It made him feel completely helpless.
The bassist shook his head.
"I just want to know if you're...alright with it?" John asked.
Pete blinked a few times. John would never ask permission from him for anything, especially something like this. It seemed that John wanted his acceptance, his approval. The question frightened him, as Pete suddenly wondered how much John knew about Pete's own feelings for him.
He always thought he'd come off as not really caring, as just wanting to have a little fun, and he assumed John had known that and felt likewise. Even as he brooded over the decision to end it between them many times through the years that followed, he attempted to keep it hidden. It appeared to have been successful.
Until Keith became a new threat...
Pete gasped, now realizing the truth; he was falling for John all over again. It was when those feelings arose in him the first time that he ended the relationship - if that's what you could call it - with John and backed off. He thought he'd made the right choice when their new drummer swept John away and occupied his time. He had enough to deal with handling Roger, and band politics had caused them to drift apart anyway.
Pete knew he had to snuff out these emotions as soon as possible, before they forced him along down a path he had been reluctantly, but diligently, avoiding for years. He shook his head, and brought his mind back to the present.
John was still sitting there, looking at him; he'd watched the play of emotions on Pete's face passively, not revealing if he saw anything there. He was patient in demeanor, but the anxiety was showing in his tense posture. His friend was expecting an answer. Now.
What else could he say?
"Yeah, I'm okay with it," Pete finally answered, voice rough with emotion. He locked eyes with his friend. "I hope it works out John. Truly."
John gave a small smile in return that shone for a moment through the sadness in his gaze. Pete turned and poured them both another drink, and they downed them together in silence.
"Me too," was the quiet response.
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I'll probably post the ending on Friday or Saturday. Thanks for all the comments so far, I'd love to hear more! 8)