(Untitled)

[sirjaggernaut]

The middle of a circus ring is a good place to give orders from. Mick supposed he gave a lot of them, but only what had to be given, in his opinion. He had a microphone and a megaphone, and used them both, but neither of them seemed to work out. The megaphone was too square for his taste, like some kind of school days phys-ed control freak. And the

Comments

[oxspider]

December in London had never been pleasant, and tonight was no exception. As John Entwistle waited for the orange glow of his cigarette to die down, staring across the dark street thoughtfully, he hunched his shoulders against the wind and tugged his grey fur coat closer to him, wishing he had thought to wear something a bit warmer beneath it than a thin leather shirt. Then again, he hadn't really planned on being outside, but he was already starting to tire of waiting around for the Stones to get their act together and therefore had stepped outside for a smoke. It wasn't much of a distraction, but it was a change of scenery, he supposed.

Shifting his feet on the rough pavement outside the abandoned stage door, John glanced longingly down the street at the faint neon glow of the nightclub a few blocks away. Although most people didn't see him as much of a social creature, he'd been hoping for a bit of a party knowing the Stones, but they seemed to be all business tonight. At least, Mick was - the rest of them either weren't here yet or weren't in the shape to do much. John's dark eyes narrowed slightly as he thought of Brian Jones, unusually dishevelled and wandering around in a fog. Too bad, what had happened to him. He had been afraid Keith might turn out like that, but so far it seemed his drug use was going in a different direction.

Thinking of Keith and the rest of the band, John took a last drag of his cigarette and flicked it into the gutter, suddenly wanting some company. He went inside quietly, heading backstage unnoticed in the gathering yellowclad crowd. Perhaps he'd find something to do back there now - more people were starting to come in, so maybe he'd see a few familiar faces.

[keithloon]

Keith knew where Kim was, and where John Lennon was; two people who often gave him pleasure. He did not know where John Entwistle was, and it made him a little bit jiggly and frustrated. He headed toward Mick: Mick would know where John was. Mick seemed to be in the know about everything; or at least he looked it, standing in the middle of a circus ring holding a clipboard.

Keith headed toward him, his eager face cold above his poncho, like an otter cutting through the water.

"Mick, old chum. Have you seen John? I need to find John. Where is he? Where's John? Have you written down where he is on this?" A series of rapid-fire questions, none of which gave any space to be answered, and Keith snatched the clipboard with impatient childishness. Began to flip through it in dismay: it yielded nothing.

"Oi!" Mick said angrily, trying to grab it back; they tussled for a moment. "For fuck's sake, can't anything stay organised for two minutes around you?"

Mick looked around and with a quick eye spotted John's furred back in the crowd.

"There he is. Bugger off darling." Trying to regain his charming influence rather than a grumpy reflex. Gave Keith a smack on the tailbone as he hurried off eagerly.

"John!" Keith called, delighted to see his face. "John. JohnJohnJohnJohnJohn." Clamped on to him from behind.

[oxspider]

The lack of the rest of the band was rather worrying, John thought as he stood on tiptoe and looked around. No one looked back or met his gaze for very long - despite his size, the Who’s bassist was fairly quiet and not too well known within this particular crowd, so not many people had noticed him or bothered to nod a greeting just yet, although he knew once he started being more sociable that would change. He had a few friends here outside of The Who - they were all on good terms with all five of the Stones, and Eric Clapton, a particular friend of Pete’s, was someone he saw often, as were the two Beatles who seemed to be avoiding each other, John noted. Although most people couldn’t tell if they didn’t know him, he had a definite knack for reading people, and he could tell just by looking at them that there was a definite rift between the two guitarists of the formerly moptopped band that had led the charge for them all. Not his business, of course, but it was definitely something to notice and keep in mind.

Wondering where the other three could have gotten too with some real irritation now - they had better not have left, goddammit, but knowing Pete and Keith especially they’d probably gone in search of the bar he’d told himself he would pass up out of politeness - John continued to scan the crowd, standing slightly on tiptoe and peering above the heads of those closest to him. His searching reverie was abruptly broken when a pair of arms slipped around his waist and hugged him from behind, the small body they were attached to thudding against his back with the enthusiasm of its arrival. The stolid bassist staggered playfully but did not lose his balance, his immediate surprise fading fast at the familiar voice filled his ears with a happy greeting.

A rare, genuine smile of pleasure lit John’s expression as he turned around in the embrace and looked down into Keith’s grinning face fondly, pushing back the drummer’s long, messy bangs out of habit and resting his hand against his forehead for a moment. “There you are, luv,” he chuckled, looking him up and down to make sure that everything was all right - he found himself doing that quite a bit lately, checking to make sure his drummer hadn’t gotten himself into trouble without really realising he was doing it - and then glancing over his shoulder to see who was around. No one else was too close, so he ruffled Keith’s hair and returned the hug with one arm before bending his head and asking quietly, “Where have you been? I’ve been lookin’ all over for you…they haven’t got a drop of booze in the place, I’m bored out of me fuckin’ mind.” He raised his head slightly, his sharp blue eyes looking out over the crowd again. “Are we going on soon?”

[keithloon]

"Oh, I don't know," Loony let out a dramatic, upward sigh that blew his fringe upward. He liked the feeling, so he did it again, this time with more spit. "B-bbrrrr! Look at my hair John. -- but I don't know, Mick's doing all that over there -- he looks busy. I'm sure he'll know what's going on. He told me where you were, he was very good with that."

[oxspider]

"You're gettin' spit in your hair, mate." John shook his head with amusement at the drummer's short attention span, glancing over at Mick, who seemed rather preoccupied with his clipboard and a certain few of the other guests, before gazing back down at Keith. It was almost comical, how much shorter he was than either him or Pete for that matter, but it certainly added an endearing quality to his upturned smile.

Suddenly realising that he still had an arm draped fondly around Keith, John self-consciously let go, not without more than a little reluctance. Although Keith was never without eons of boundless affection, he had a habit of making the bassist forget where he was and who he was around, especially considering the rather dramatic turn their relationship had taken of late. Thinking of this, he felt a definite twinge of unease that he had to fight not to show on his face, once again reminded of the rather awkward state of his end of things at the moment. Of course Moonie, shameless as he was, seemed outwardly not to have much of a problem with what they had been doing recently - of course, he could be expected to have a problem with sex, being Moonie - but he also seemed determined not to bring it up in a conversation, something that John both knew was necessary and dreaded. He'd been meaning to work up the courage to get Keith alone, something that had been rather difficult to do in the past few days considering they'd only been together with the rest of the band around for the promotion of 'Happy Jack', but now that the opportunity of the Circus had presented itself, he wasn't sure he wanted to take the initiative.

Still...

Clearly they weren't going on any time soon - John sighed, brushed Keith's hair back into place out of habit, and cleared his throat with unusual nervousness. "Yes, er, let's not bother Mick, then...c'mon, shall we go see if there's anyplace quieter around?" He raised an eyebrow suggestively.

[keithloon]

"Quieter?" Not getting the hint, Keith's features slumped in disappointment and dull confusion; he didn't like to be taken from a crowd, bright lights, or high spirited sounds; nor did he understand, at present, why John would want to do so. John usually liked to go where there was entertainment, like he did.

"What do you mean old boy? Plenty to do around here. Ah, you mean we should get a drink? There's an idea! I saw a drinks table backstage."

[oxspider]

Secretly dismayed, John forced a smile and went along with it as he always did. Like spineless putty in his hands, you are, some disgusted voice in the back of his brain muttered, and although the bassist found himself gloomily agreeing, he wasn't about to argue with Keith particularly when it came to things like booze, which was an alternative he'd been considering anyway.

The idea of a drink was actually cheering him up some, taking away the feeling of dread that the previous idea had given him, although a sense of guilt for backing out was still with him. "Alright, let's go," he declared, grabbing the drummer's shoulders and spinning him around neatly. He couldn't help but keep his hands there as he pushed him forward - pathetic, mate... "Lead on - let's grab Pete on the way, shall we?"

[keithloon]

"Oh, he'll find us," Keith was already beginning to lead the way, and he flapped a small hand over his shoulder in dismissal. Bounced once as he walked, making his way into the green room. A small television was relaying football results; someone's snakeskin jacket lay over the back of the dark velour couch. It was small enough to be Mick's; when Keith picked it up to try it on it wouldn't fit him. He flung it down in a different position and went to pour himself a bourbon.

The room was deserted but for themselves.

"What's the jazz, dear boy?" he laid the plastic cups out. "Or the blues."

[oxspider]

The emptiness of the room hit John hard, filling him up with that same unbearable feeling of unease tempered with a strange pang of relief that this was not being put off any longer. Keith meandered about the room fixing drinks, but the tall bassist scorned the cups and went straight for a half-full bottle of whiskey, figuring he'd need a bit more than a swallow to help him through this.

He plopped himself down on the couch and watched the drummer arrange the cups with a touch of anxiety, uncorking the bottle and taking a long swig as he pondered what to say. This, as he recalled, was fairly difficult even with birds - what did one say to a man, his best friend at that? Completely fucking mad, this...and yet he knew he had to say it.

"Keith...come sit," he sighed, sitting up a bit on the arm of the couch with a grunt and patting the vacant space beside him with a long-fingered hand. "Look, um..." He bit his lip and stared at the bottle clenched in his hand, wishing half-heartedly that perhaps he'd already said it without noticing. Jesus Christ, John, just get this over with, willya? that small voice in the back of his mind demanded again. Abruptly, he raised his shaggy, dark-haired head and fixed Keith with an imploring blue gaze.

"Look, Moonie, I know this is awkward as hell, but I've gotta know. I'm...I'm starting to wonder about...us. What's been happening. Maybe that...well, I think it's...I'm wondering if you think it's more than just sex." He paused, still staring hard at the little drummer. Keith wasn't an idiot, he knew that well, perhaps better than anyone - as much as he loved playing the fool, he knew when to avoid a discussion or not, so surely he could not back out of this one even if he secretly did want to. "If it's...something else now. You know." He knew.

At least, John hoped he knew.

[keithloon]

Loony's eyes went very round; the pupils sat widened within them like a startled animal's. For a moment or two - a long time for him - he froze completely. Then he was released; he laughed, extended his arms while not quite knowing what he was doing with them, or why he was laughing, and scratched John behind his ear.

"Silly boy! You're good at that, you know. You can give a chap a scare."

[oxspider]

There he was, playing the game again - John growled low in his throat out of sheer irritation, batting Keith's hand aside and hunching his shoulders slightly in his sitting position. He could tell that at least some part of the drummer knew he was serious, but when had Keith ever been willing to go there even for him?

"Stop it, Moonie," he pleaded, staring imploringly at him and reaching out to grab his still-extended wrist, afraid that he was going somewhere or would be once reality really hit him. "I'm serious - this isn't something either of us can laugh off, you know that. Look at me. I want to know what you think."

[keithloon]

Keith, with his big round eyes, let out the worried whine of a trapped animal expecting the killing blow. He had been trying to turn away and was yanked back by the wrist. He didn't want to upset John, but his reflexes and his instincts, what he usually obeyed, were telling him to look at what he could see out of the corner of his eye, listen to what he could hear distantly. To be willingly distracted.

He whined again, worried, unsure of what to say.

[oxspider]

Keith appeared too terrified to even speak, his eyes wide with shock and drifting away in search of a distraction. Clearly he wanted to get up and away, but the thought made John cringe - he couldn't let him go now, for fear of either screwing up their friendship for good or having to face this stomach-wrenching attempt at a conversation for a second time, and so he held on tightly to Keith's wrist.

He had to calm him down, though, to reassure him...they weren't going to get anywhere like this.

"C'mon, Keith..." He reached out his other hand and turned the drummer's face towards him, stroking his cheek soothingly. Although his heart was fluttering anxiously, the touch was equally calming to the bassist as he hoped it would be for Keith, giving him something secure to ground himself. "It's okay. It's just me - this is just between us. You can tell me what you think, mate. It's okay, shh..." He let out a slow breath, pulling his legs beneath him in a kneel and coaxingly tugging Keith a little closer as he turned to face him, his dark blue eyes meeting the drummer's brown ones reassuringly.

"Listen to me, Moonie. I'm not gonna get mad at you or anything - you just need to tell me if...you mean anything by what we've been doing." John's gaze never faltered. "If you don't, that's fine, but then I think we should just go back to bein' best mates and leave it there. It's only bound to complicate things." He took another deep breath. "But Keith...if you meant something by it...I need to know."

He was afraid to do anything more than repeat himself there, because he was afraid that saying what he actually felt would doom them both if Keith didn't see things the same way. He knew how he felt - he knew he loved Keith, and he knew it had abruptly and irrevocably gone from the brotherly love of a best friend to something very, very different. But if Keith didn't feel the same way, if he really hadn't felt anything...John swallowed and kept his eyes on the drummer, one hand still holding him tightly and the other pressed with almost ironic tenderness to his cheek. He couldn't think.

[keithloon]

Keith enjoyed being petted; as John spoke he inched closer and closer, finding smiling difficult, until he eased John down, looped his legs over John's and sat on his lap. Hugged him close around the neck.

"I love you, John. That's what I mean. That's what I always mean. Of course I love you, dear, silly chap. What else would I mean?" A thin smile that widened as he became more sure of himself. He pulled his legs up to perch more sweetly, a little ball of Loony on John's lap trying to look adorable.

[oxspider]

John blinked - Keith said it so matter-of-factly, the clarification and the touch obviously getting through to him at last, that it took more than a few seconds to process the words. That...was it?

He felt an abrupt rush of euphoric relief spread through his system like a wave of warm whiskey on a cold night, spreading up to his face and tugging at the corners of his lips so he smiled down at the drummer, who was now making himself comfortable in his lap and snuggling up against him. He really was a shameless puppy looking for attention...and yet John loved him all the more for it.

"Oh - good," he managed, chuckling wryly at his own relief and bending his head to plant a firm kiss on the top of Keith's tousled dark hair. "I just...wanted to make sure, like." He slid an arm around the drummer's waist and drew him a little closer, remembering the bottle of whiskey trapped between himself and Keith a moment later and reaching down to extract it. He glanced down at it, then put it safely down on the floor, leaning his head back slightly to look Keith in the eyes.

"That's what I mean too."

[keithloon]

Keith smiled, reassured. How strange! What had gone through his mind? Of course John loved him: he loved John, John loved him, they were the dearest, bestest old chums there ever was. Now that it was over, he couldn't even remember what it was in John's look or John's tone that had made him hesitate. He laughed.

"You really are a silly boy, old thing. What was all that about? Of course I love you."