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Title: You Had to Sneak into my Room
Author: Me...E*A
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: The Smiths/Good Charlotte
Pairing: Morrissey/Joel Madden
Summary: Joel meets his idol.
WARNING: Graphic.
Disclaimer: This is completely fake...completely. Face it: it's just too good to be true. But anyway...it's fake like Santa...sorry to burst your proverbial bubble.
Joel’s face lit up. “Morrissey, like, the Morrissey?”
Vern laughed a little and said, “Yeah, the Morrissey. He’s not in the studio yet, if he was I’d take you in to meet him.”
“God, he is, like, one of the best singers of, I don’t know, all time.” Joel thought back on all those times he would sit alone in his room when he was growing up and feeling like a normal angst ridden teenager and just listen to the Smiths or Morrissey. Joel remembered hearing that melancholy voice that was laced with such hope and honestly the voice on the other end of his headphones really gave him something to look forward to.
“Well, we’re getting ready to work on some of the old songs and we could really use a voice while Morrissey isn’t here.”
Joel’s eyes went wide and he felt like every little thing that had ever gone wrong in his life was corrected in those few words. “What? Like, stand in for Morrissey?”
He nodded and his thin brown hair swayed back and forth with the motion. “You know, it’s just easier if we had someone singing. That way, we could get the beat and everything down much more smoothly.” Vern looked at Joel with concern. He looked like he was going to collapse at any given moment. “Are you feeling alright, son?”
Joel shook himself out of his little trance. “I’m, wow, I’m feeling very much alright and I would love more than anything to help you guys out.” The very though of standing in for Morrissey made Joel shake down to his very core. He couldn’t believe it, he just couldn’t believe it.
Vern placed a firm hand on the younger man’s shoulders and walked him over to the practice studio across the hall. The moment Joel stepped into that room, he felt as though he had just walked into some sacred shrine to a man he only hoped he could someday become.
“Boys,” Vern yelled, quieting down the talking musicians. “This is Joel. He’s going to sing for a while.”
“I can’t believe this, I can’t believe this is happening,” Joel whispered aloud, not realizing Vern could hear him.
A hardy southern laugh came from Vern’s mouth. “You’ve just died and gone to heaven, haven’t you, boy?”
Joel smiled and looked up at him. “Must have.”
“Okay, okay. Can we do ‘Suedehead’?” A man with a bass guitar asked. Joel nodded vigorously. “Lyrics are on that stand over there if you want.”
“I think I know this one by heart.” Joel walked over to the stand and let his hands brush over the lyrics.
“Sing into the mic, we’ll all need to hear you.” Vern walked over to his seat where a shiny black guitar was propped up next to.
The guitar started in, kicked off by the drums. Joel felt the lyrics coming into his mind like a freight train. He started off the song right on queue. “Suedehead” was his favorite Morrissey song.
“Why do you come here…” Joel started off. He was amazed at how much he felt like Morrissey. He couldn’t believe he was standing there, singing Morrissey’s song in front of Morrissey’s band and breathing the same air that Morrissey had the day before. “It was a good lay, a good lay…”
The song faded out quickly. A clapping sound from the corner of the room started. “That was great,” an Irish voice said above the clapping.
Joel felt an odd rush of panic sweep over his body. He felt like he had just been caught snooping around his older brother’s room or something. It was Morrissey. He wasn’t the lead singer of the Smiths and he wasn’t the man who had graced the cover of Viva Hate. He was an older Morrissey, a slightly graying man who still had the same hair style as always, the same hair style Joel had painfully tried to imitate time and time before.
Piercing blue eyes, sharp chin, tall. It was definitely Morrissey. Joel was star struck to say the least. “Very nice, young man.”
“This is Joel,” Vern announced, standing up from his seat. “We figured we’d get a head start. He was a fan and, well, it’s better to have a singer than to have not.”
Morrissey walked closer to Joel and extended his arm. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Joel’s mouth opened and closed several times. “It’s…it’s really, really great to, um, meet you, too,” he sputtered as he shook the older man’s hand. He couldn’t believe that he was standing before the man whose music may have single handedly saved his life while he was growing up. It was a dream, it was heaven, and it was absolutely unrealistic.
Morrissey laughed a bit and flashed a toothy grin. “Your name is Joel, right?” Joel nodded. “Well, you have quite a voice. I hope someone has your name on a record deal.”
“Oh, well, yes sir. I’m signed…” Joel started, but was quickly interrupted.
“Sir? I am no sir, let’s get that straight.”
His eyes widened and he felt a pang of panic rush through his veins. “I’m so sorry, I just…”
Morrissey laughed and bit and put his arm around the younger man’s shoulders. “No need to worry, no harm done.” His arm dropped from Joel’s shoulders and he walked towards his band. “Go take a break, we can get back to this later,” he told the band.
All of the men slowly stood up from their seats and arranged instruments carefully in cases and on stands. Chatter broke out amongst the musicians as they walked out of the spacious room, leaving the two singers to themselves.
Don't forget a comment...it's only polite.
Title: You Had to Sneak into my Room
Author: Me...E*A
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: The Smiths/Good Charlotte
Pairing: Morrissey/Joel Madden
Summary: Joel meets his idol.
WARNING: Graphic.
Disclaimer: This is completely fake...completely. Face it: it's just too good to be true. But anyway...it's fake like Santa...sorry to burst your proverbial bubble.
Joel’s face lit up. “Morrissey, like, the Morrissey?”
Vern laughed a little and said, “Yeah, the Morrissey. He’s not in the studio yet, if he was I’d take you in to meet him.”
“God, he is, like, one of the best singers of, I don’t know, all time.” Joel thought back on all those times he would sit alone in his room when he was growing up and feeling like a normal angst ridden teenager and just listen to the Smiths or Morrissey. Joel remembered hearing that melancholy voice that was laced with such hope and honestly the voice on the other end of his headphones really gave him something to look forward to.
“Well, we’re getting ready to work on some of the old songs and we could really use a voice while Morrissey isn’t here.”
Joel’s eyes went wide and he felt like every little thing that had ever gone wrong in his life was corrected in those few words. “What? Like, stand in for Morrissey?”
He nodded and his thin brown hair swayed back and forth with the motion. “You know, it’s just easier if we had someone singing. That way, we could get the beat and everything down much more smoothly.” Vern looked at Joel with concern. He looked like he was going to collapse at any given moment. “Are you feeling alright, son?”
Joel shook himself out of his little trance. “I’m, wow, I’m feeling very much alright and I would love more than anything to help you guys out.” The very though of standing in for Morrissey made Joel shake down to his very core. He couldn’t believe it, he just couldn’t believe it.
Vern placed a firm hand on the younger man’s shoulders and walked him over to the practice studio across the hall. The moment Joel stepped into that room, he felt as though he had just walked into some sacred shrine to a man he only hoped he could someday become.
“Boys,” Vern yelled, quieting down the talking musicians. “This is Joel. He’s going to sing for a while.”
“I can’t believe this, I can’t believe this is happening,” Joel whispered aloud, not realizing Vern could hear him.
A hardy southern laugh came from Vern’s mouth. “You’ve just died and gone to heaven, haven’t you, boy?”
Joel smiled and looked up at him. “Must have.”
“Okay, okay. Can we do ‘Suedehead’?” A man with a bass guitar asked. Joel nodded vigorously. “Lyrics are on that stand over there if you want.”
“I think I know this one by heart.” Joel walked over to the stand and let his hands brush over the lyrics.
“Sing into the mic, we’ll all need to hear you.” Vern walked over to his seat where a shiny black guitar was propped up next to.
The guitar started in, kicked off by the drums. Joel felt the lyrics coming into his mind like a freight train. He started off the song right on queue. “Suedehead” was his favorite Morrissey song.
“Why do you come here…” Joel started off. He was amazed at how much he felt like Morrissey. He couldn’t believe he was standing there, singing Morrissey’s song in front of Morrissey’s band and breathing the same air that Morrissey had the day before. “It was a good lay, a good lay…”
The song faded out quickly. A clapping sound from the corner of the room started. “That was great,” an Irish voice said above the clapping.
Joel felt an odd rush of panic sweep over his body. He felt like he had just been caught snooping around his older brother’s room or something. It was Morrissey. He wasn’t the lead singer of the Smiths and he wasn’t the man who had graced the cover of Viva Hate. He was an older Morrissey, a slightly graying man who still had the same hair style as always, the same hair style Joel had painfully tried to imitate time and time before.
Piercing blue eyes, sharp chin, tall. It was definitely Morrissey. Joel was star struck to say the least. “Very nice, young man.”
“This is Joel,” Vern announced, standing up from his seat. “We figured we’d get a head start. He was a fan and, well, it’s better to have a singer than to have not.”
Morrissey walked closer to Joel and extended his arm. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Joel’s mouth opened and closed several times. “It’s…it’s really, really great to, um, meet you, too,” he sputtered as he shook the older man’s hand. He couldn’t believe that he was standing before the man whose music may have single handedly saved his life while he was growing up. It was a dream, it was heaven, and it was absolutely unrealistic.
Morrissey laughed a bit and flashed a toothy grin. “Your name is Joel, right?” Joel nodded. “Well, you have quite a voice. I hope someone has your name on a record deal.”
“Oh, well, yes sir. I’m signed…” Joel started, but was quickly interrupted.
“Sir? I am no sir, let’s get that straight.”
His eyes widened and he felt a pang of panic rush through his veins. “I’m so sorry, I just…”
Morrissey laughed and bit and put his arm around the younger man’s shoulders. “No need to worry, no harm done.” His arm dropped from Joel’s shoulders and he walked towards his band. “Go take a break, we can get back to this later,” he told the band.
All of the men slowly stood up from their seats and arranged instruments carefully in cases and on stands. Chatter broke out amongst the musicians as they walked out of the spacious room, leaving the two singers to themselves.
Don't forget a comment...it's only polite.