Walking along with Mack at my side, her hand curled in mine -- just one toddler today, I walk past Dean's hut, just to say hello, and find Roger shirtless with a guitar instead. Not a bad alternative, I don't think.
"Hey, boss," I smirk, calling him that just 'cause he doesn't seem to like it, as I sink down into the dirt across from him, Mack wandering closer to get a better look at the guitar. "What's up?"
"Hey, minion," Roger answered. Ever since he moved in with Dean, he'd been seeing more and more of Neil. He kinda suspected the guy had a crush on Dean, but then again, anyone who didn't was kinda crazy. Anyway, Roger liked Neil a lot, and he really, really hoped his cockjobbery with Mamet at the opening of the Winchester hadn't completely made its rounds to people, yet.
"Hey, kid." Roger greeted to his companion. He knew those were one of the twins, he just... couldn't tell which. All kids looked the same anyway, and to dress them the same was just cruel.
Roger looked back up at Neil. "Just warming up my fingers for tonight. How's the station doing today? Taking good care of her?" He knew Neil was, he was a good guy. Cute, too, but taken, from what Roger understood.
"Fine, last I checked. Workin' myself to the fuckin' bone over there," I mutter dryly, holding onto the back of Mack's skirt to keep her from crawling right into Roger's lap, uninvited.
"How's the hand?" Suddenly, Billy pops into my head, the way a light in him sorta dimmed after he hurt his arm bad enough that he couldn't play anymore. Doesn't seem like that big a deal, just a little cut on his hand, putting a stop to the music for a couple weeks, but I know it is.
"Just make Mark do it," Roger said noncommittally. It was his default position, anyway. He moved the guitar out for a second. "You can come sit and play if you want, kid." It wasn't like a kid could break electric guitar strings, and it wasn't like Roger was going to leave the kid alone with Sheri.
"Yeah, it's better. Dean's been hovering over me. Bill too. I'm about to smack their heads together." He chuckled.
Having a mother like Molly Weasley meant Bill knew all too well what it was like to have someone hovering about you with an annoying frequency. Still, he was worried about Roger, and made sure to see his best mate on a regular basis outside of their shifts at the club.
"Oi," he greeted, spotting Roger outside. "How's the hand?"
A cigarette dangling and smoking away between his lips as he played, he looked over the top of his glasses and grinned as best he could.
"Oi!" Roger called back, stopping the music to flex emphatically. "Good. Mobile. That's what matters." He scooted his ass over in the sand to leave room for Bill.
With all the grace of a monster truck was Roger's friend Bill, and Roger laughed as the shockwaves from Bill's plop next to him sent him askance a bit. "Fatass," Roger joked, shoving him back. "You busy tonight? Gotta shift down at the Willows Room. Gonna introduce you as my boyfriend, again." He grinned.
Saffron had been at the waterfall that afternoon, swimming and getting a little sun. She was in her bikini, her damp hair tied up, white sarong knotted around her waist. She didn't often visit Dean and Roger's place, but since she was right there she figured she'd stop by. "Hey there, sugar," she said, coming upon a shirtless Roger and his guitar.
Without looking, when Roger heard 'hey there, sugar,' he always knew who it was that was greeting him. He lifted his head mid-riff and quirked a smile. "Hey there yourself." He raised a brow as he checked her out. "Is it my birthday already?"
She gave him a bright smile before leaning over, careful to avoid his guitar as she kissed him hello. "Why, do I look gift wrapped?" she replied, laying her towel in the sand before taking a seat.
"Aw, honey," said Dean with a grin as he turned the last corner on the path towards home, flicking a speck of dirt from his scrubs. Once it was safe to wear them home, Dean had quickly discovered they were just as comfortable outside the clinic as in it. In fact, if he could get away with sleeping in them, he probably would.
"You didn't have to serenade me just 'cause I'm home early."
Jesus Christ, Dean and those scrubs. If Roger didn't know any better, he'd assume he bathed in them.
"Are you ever gonna wash those things?" Roger asked, playing a quick riff of Black Dog for Dean's sake. And maybe for Black Dog's, who had padded by looking stupid and giant as ever mere moments ago. "Because you're starting to smell." And if he wanted a serenade, that's what he'd get, Roger thought as he played the opening chords to "I Just Wanna Make Love to You."
Roger had to laugh at loud at what Dean called dancing. After being with Brian Kinney, the club queen of the century, straight boy finger dancing seemed lackluster, but endlessly amusing.
"I thought that was how you knew you eat too much pie," Roger quipped.
"Well if it isn't Roger Davis, tuning his guitar with his shirt off," Maureen drawled, walking up without invitation and leaning against the side of his hut. "Suddenly I'm feeling a little homesick."
Maureen smirked and gave her hips a little swing. "How's my favorite rock star slash bartender holding up?" Though she and Roger saw each other at the club all the time, they hadn't really had any significant conversations in a while. Maybe not since Maureen had found out about Prior and Mark and gotten trashed under his steady flow of shots. Hell, she'd almost gotten all weepy and confessed her feelings for Mark. Almost. Not that it mattered now - after her weekend stint as a happy homemaker where she'd proposed to him, that cat was pretty much out of the bag. Not that she and Mark had talked about it. Or mentioned it. Or acknowledged that it had ever happened.
"Better now," Roger admitted, slinging an arm over the guitar to squint up at her from behind his shades. "Now that I'm not mourning or drunk. Dean looks less worries, that's how I know I'm working my way up.
"What about you?" He hadn't heard anything about Maureen's opposite weekend, so he was none the wiser.
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"Hey, boss," I smirk, calling him that just 'cause he doesn't seem to like it, as I sink down into the dirt across from him, Mack wandering closer to get a better look at the guitar. "What's up?"
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"Hey, kid." Roger greeted to his companion. He knew those were one of the twins, he just... couldn't tell which. All kids looked the same anyway, and to dress them the same was just cruel.
Roger looked back up at Neil. "Just warming up my fingers for tonight. How's the station doing today? Taking good care of her?" He knew Neil was, he was a good guy. Cute, too, but taken, from what Roger understood.
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"How's the hand?" Suddenly, Billy pops into my head, the way a light in him sorta dimmed after he hurt his arm bad enough that he couldn't play anymore. Doesn't seem like that big a deal, just a little cut on his hand, putting a stop to the music for a couple weeks, but I know it is.
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"Yeah, it's better. Dean's been hovering over me. Bill too. I'm about to smack their heads together." He chuckled.
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"Oi," he greeted, spotting Roger outside. "How's the hand?"
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"Oi!" Roger called back, stopping the music to flex emphatically. "Good. Mobile. That's what matters." He scooted his ass over in the sand to leave room for Bill.
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His focus returned to his guitar.
"Basically," he said, smirking a bit. "Gotta shift tonight at the club. Trying to bone up."
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"You didn't have to serenade me just 'cause I'm home early."
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"Are you ever gonna wash those things?" Roger asked, playing a quick riff of Black Dog for Dean's sake. And maybe for Black Dog's, who had padded by looking stupid and giant as ever mere moments ago. "Because you're starting to smell." And if he wanted a serenade, that's what he'd get, Roger thought as he played the opening chords to "I Just Wanna Make Love to You."
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"I thought that was how you knew you eat too much pie," Roger quipped.
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"Hey, Mo," Roger greeted, playing a bar or two of Barracuda. Everyone deserved their own entrance music.
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"What about you?" He hadn't heard anything about Maureen's opposite weekend, so he was none the wiser.
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