The Who: Hidden Meanings
Title: Hidden Meanings
Pairing: John/Keith, John/Pete (implied, if you want to see it)
Rating: PG-13, for language and drug references, I guess...
Summary: Pete plays John the demo for `Behind Blue Eyes´ and remembers what was his inspiration for a certain part of the lyrics.
Warnigs: -
Author Notes: First time I've written something from Pete's POV. I kinda stole a "character" from
sittinonthedock , if you read her fic you know what I'm on about, but that thing needs to be featured in more stories, it's that awesome! :)
Disclaimer: Nothing of this did ever happen, I own nothing!
Pete felt his heart beating ferociously when he started the tape.
He always felt a little sick when he played his demos to the band; after all it meant baring his soul in front of them with each song a little more.
Other musicians might be able to write about things that didn’t really mean anything to them, but that was not for Pete Townshend.
Even if it wasn’t apparent right away, there were elements in each of his songs which had mattered to him at some point in his life.
And those guys in his band weren’t just any strangers.
They usually picked up pretty quickly on the meanings that were hidden to others.
It had been difficult for him when he had played them his first songs, he had been frightened to look anyone in the eye before the song hadn’t finished, later he got accustomed to the faint sickness and the nagging fear of humiliation at the back of his mind, but it had never become an easy thing to do.
And this time round it certainly wasn’t.
On the one hand, he was glad that he was alone with John and that he could play him the song first, without anyone else being around, on the other hand it was also what made him feel like a little Keith was playing an endless drum roll inside of his chest.
John was sitting still on his chair, his elbows resting on his knees and his head propped up on one of his hands.
There was no indication whatsoever of what he thought about Pete’s latest composition, not that Pete could remember a time when this had been different.
Still the little drummer inside of him sped up his rhythm when the crucial part of the song came nearer.
If I swallow anything evil
Put your finger down my throat
If I shiver, please give me a blanket
Keep me warm, let me wear your coat
John tore his gaze away from his shoes the moment that he understood and directed it at Pete, who squirmed a bit, because the blue eyes seemed to look deep into his soul, uncovering all the rotten waste at the bottom of it.
He stopped the tape.
“You okay with this?” he asked hesitatingly, only encouraged by the knowledge that the stolid bass player wasn’t inclined to sudden outbursts of temper.
John straightened and sat back against the back of the chair, just looking at Pete for a while.
His eyes still didn’t give away what he was thinking.
The silence was too much for Pete to take.
He had to break eye contact and let his eyes wander nervously over the surroundings, trying to swallow the big lump that had built up in his throat all of a sudden.
He wasn’t so sure anymore if he hadn’t preferred John just hitting him, like Roger would have done, at least it would have given him an easy way out of this confrontation.
He jumped with shock, when John finally cleared his throat.
“Guess I am…” his tone was calm and serene, which reassured Pete enough to look at him again. “You’ll have to play it to Keith too though.”
Pete was quick to react. “Of course! I was a little afraid though, that you two wouldn’t like it…”
“… and you figured, since we’ve known each other for such a long time, it would be easier to play it to me first.” John finished his sentence. “Oh, and of course the chances of me jumping at you to beat the crap out of you are much slimmer.”
Pete chuckled, relief washing over him, when John joined in.
“Yeah, that pretty much tipped the scales.”
When he had sat in his room, pondering about the meaning of the lyrics he had scribbled down on the piece of paper in front of him, and about the things he wanted to convey, one episode in his life had pushed itself to the fore again and again.
Even considering all the things that had happened thereafter and all the things that had happened before, it was still that one episode that sprang to his mind when he thought about love.
Real love - not something out of fairy tales or cheesy films, a love that one could grasp, that fitted into this world which was so unlike every fable he knew.
It had happened some years ago on one of their tours.
Pete was just walking down the hotel corridor, trying to find his way to the bar, when he passed John’s and Keith’s room and suddenly heard John calling Keith’s name.
He couldn’t remember if it had been curiosity or the slightly odd tone in the bassist’s voice that made him turn around and open the door to the room, but what he saw had shocked him.
John was kneeling on the floor, holding the limp body of Keith Moon in his arms, trying to shake him.
Pete was at his side in a matter of seconds.
He must’ve asked something along the lines of: “What the bloody hell happened?”, while he knelt down.
Keith wasn’t entirely unconscious it seemed: he was still trying to keep his eyes open, which were glazed over and unable to focus.
“I don’t know! He must’ve swallowed something… Keith!” John roared again.
The agitated tone in John’s voice worried Pete more than anything else.
Keith seemed to wince a little, but there was no real reaction.
“John!” Pete got no reaction there either.
John was focused on the body in his arms, still trying to shake his friend awake.
“John! We’ve got to make him spit out whatever crap he swallowed!” John finally looked at him.
“Bloody now!” Pete emphasised.
“The bathroom,” John said, still sounding very unlike himself. “Help me to get him into the bathroom.”
So Pete and John had carried the frighteningly lifeless figure of Keith over into the bathroom, where they put him down on the tiled floor next to the toilet.
John then lifted him up into his arms again and Pete was happy to see Keith showing some weak signs of resistance at being handled like a puppet.
“What now?” John suddenly asked, startling Pete, who had thought he had had a plan.
“I don’t know… make him drink some saltwater.”
“Where the hell do you suggest we get saltwater now?” John spat, openly displeased with Pete’s suggestion.
Pete opened his mouth again, but John just growled something under his breath and shifted Keith in his arms, and forced his finger down the other man’s throat.
Luckily Keith’s natural reflexes were still functioning and he started retching.
Pete couldn’t bear to watch it, so he turned around, until the sounds slowly subsided.
John had slumped back against the wall, when Pete finally turned back to them again.
He held Keith in his arms, closely pressed to his body, whispering words in his ear that Pete couldn’t make out and rocking him gently like one would do with a child.
Keith seemed to have come back to life at least a little, because he could hear him whimper apologies and one of his hands firmly held on to John’s jumper.
Pete felt like an intruder, like he was trespassing some invisible line into their privacy.
A line of which’s existence he hadn’t known. There was obviously more between these two people than he had been aware of.
He was stunned by his realisation.
It took a while until he was able to shake off the perplexity, but when he saw John plant a kiss on top of Keith’s head, he suddenly heard himself say: “We should still get a Doctor, you know?”
John looked at him, tears shimmering in his eyes, he seemed startled, as if he had forgotten all about Pete’s presence, but then nodded his approval.
“I guess that would be best.”
Pete was glad that he had an excuse to leave.
When Pete came back with the doctor the hotel staff had fetched for him, Keith looked a lot better already.
John had brought him back to the room and was sitting beside him on a sofa, still holding him, like he had to assure himself that Keith wouldn’t go away.
Pete felt a faint stinging feeling in his chest.
He tried to shake it off: there were more important things to deal with now.
It looked like Keith had recovered enough to make a fuss about being examined by the doctor, even if it was feeble.
“Couldn’t find a nice lady doctor, Pete? Huh? Could ya?”
Laughing might unravel the knot of fear for his friend that had sat in Pete’s stomach, but there was still something else on his mind.
And he was reminded of it, when John gestured to him to leave the room with him.
“I think he’ll be okay”, Pete said, when John closed the door behind them.
John just grumbled in acknowledgement, he was staring down at the carpet, nervously moving from one leg to another.
“Gave us a nasty shock that little bastard, didn’t he?” Pete knew he was just trying to cover the awkwardness with words, but he couldn’t help himself. “But he’s a hardy little fella, whatever he took… I think he’ll be okay.”
“Pete,” John suddenly interrupted. “I love him.”
He had no words to describe the feeling that came over him, when he heard those words and saw the earnest expression on John’s face.
He knew he should react in some way, be happy for them, start shouting about how this could endanger their career, he should just say something, but he couldn’t.
“Mm”, was all he managed, but it seemed to be enough to encourage John to continue.
“I know this must be weird for you, it still is for me… for us”, he spoke haltingly, as if he was trying to find the right words. “But… it is as it is. Please keep it to yourself, would you?” The blue eyes looked pleadingly now.
“Listen, I know it’s a lot to ask, and probably a lot to take in, but… We’ve known each other for so long now… Please, Pete…”
“It’s okay”, Pete was unable to leave him hanging like that. “I mean…” He rubbed his hand over his face, trying to think of the right thing to say.
“Yeah…it’s a hell of a lot to take in, for God’s sake!” His laugh sounded constrained even to him. “But yeah, I’ll keep quiet about what happened.”
He tried to smile an encouraging smile at John.
“Cross my heart and hope to die”, he added solemnly, which earned him a smile from his friend’s lips that made his heart lighter. “We’ll have to talk about this again, but now let’s go and see how that little twat is doing.”
The doctor was already packing his instruments back into his large brown bag, when they re-entered the room.
“I don’t think it will be necessary to take him to a hospital”, he greeted them. “The amount of the substance he swallowed wasn’t lethal, and you prevented any serious consequences by making him throw up.”
“So, he’s gonna be okay?” John asked, still worried.
“He will be. Although, someone should stay with him to monitor him.”
“I’ll stay with him”, was the quick assurance by the bass player.
“Very good. Should he get worse, please don’t hesitate to call me!” With these words he handed his card to Pete and grabbed his coat.
“So… no medication or anything?” John still wasn’t calmed entirely.
“I think he had enough of them for one evening!”
“Oi!” Keith's voice suddenly piped up, a lot weaker than usual. “Will you please stop talking about me like I can’t hear you?”
Everyone in the room chuckled, gladdened at the returning vivacity of the drummer, even the doctor.
Pete showed the doctor out and then returned to find John sitting beside Keith again, who was wrapped up in a blanket and seemed delighted to be the centre of attention once more.
“Don’t you dare frighten me like that ever again, Moonie!” Pete found it hard to hold his anger back at first, but the look from Keith’s big brown puppy dog eyes that met his, made it impossible to get truly angry at him despite what he had done. “Don’t you try to use that trick on me, it won’t work!”
He knew this was a lie and Keith knew as well. It was frustrating, but it was indeed impossible to be genuinely cross with him for more than a few minutes.
“Sorry, Pete.” Keith’s apologies never quite sounded like he meant them, and neither did this one, but Pete decided that it was enough for now.
“It’s okay”, John answered in Pete's stead. “Rest now.”
Keith just looked at John silently for a moment with watery eyes.
It was astonishing to see how much emotion could lie in one look.
It was almost palpable, Pete thought.
While his words didn’t ring quite true, the apology Keith offered John with this look was honest.
John seemed to understand and pulled Keith close to him, just holding him.
“Are you cold?” he whispered with a kind of tenderness in his voice that Pete had never heard before from him.
Keith just nodded against John’s chest.
John looked around him and then found his grey furry coat lying on the armrest, so he wrapped it around Keith, who almost disappeared in it.
“Better?” The answer was another nod.
Pete could see tears running down Keith’s cheeks, before he buried his face in John’s shoulder.
Pete had just watched, fascinated.
And although it all happened in a matter of seconds it had stuck in his head throughout the years.
It had been a display of all the things he wished for: friendship, forgiveness, tenderness - love.
He had kept his word and not revealed to anyone what he had witnessed that day, until the day he wrote that song.
A song about his dreams, about himself, about what he searched for, about love.
Only two persons would really understand what he referred to, but not even they would get the whole story behind it.
He looked at John, who took up his bass and played a few lines along to his demo, and then he thought back to that day and the look with which John had answered Keith’s silent apology.
For the umpteenth time since that moment he wished that such a gaze had been directed at him.
Pairing: John/Keith, John/Pete (implied, if you want to see it)
Rating: PG-13, for language and drug references, I guess...
Summary: Pete plays John the demo for `Behind Blue Eyes´ and remembers what was his inspiration for a certain part of the lyrics.
Warnigs: -
Author Notes: First time I've written something from Pete's POV. I kinda stole a "character" from
sittinonthedock , if you read her fic you know what I'm on about, but that thing needs to be featured in more stories, it's that awesome! :)
Disclaimer: Nothing of this did ever happen, I own nothing!
Pete felt his heart beating ferociously when he started the tape.
He always felt a little sick when he played his demos to the band; after all it meant baring his soul in front of them with each song a little more.
Other musicians might be able to write about things that didn’t really mean anything to them, but that was not for Pete Townshend.
Even if it wasn’t apparent right away, there were elements in each of his songs which had mattered to him at some point in his life.
And those guys in his band weren’t just any strangers.
They usually picked up pretty quickly on the meanings that were hidden to others.
It had been difficult for him when he had played them his first songs, he had been frightened to look anyone in the eye before the song hadn’t finished, later he got accustomed to the faint sickness and the nagging fear of humiliation at the back of his mind, but it had never become an easy thing to do.
And this time round it certainly wasn’t.
On the one hand, he was glad that he was alone with John and that he could play him the song first, without anyone else being around, on the other hand it was also what made him feel like a little Keith was playing an endless drum roll inside of his chest.
John was sitting still on his chair, his elbows resting on his knees and his head propped up on one of his hands.
There was no indication whatsoever of what he thought about Pete’s latest composition, not that Pete could remember a time when this had been different.
Still the little drummer inside of him sped up his rhythm when the crucial part of the song came nearer.
If I swallow anything evil
Put your finger down my throat
If I shiver, please give me a blanket
Keep me warm, let me wear your coat
John tore his gaze away from his shoes the moment that he understood and directed it at Pete, who squirmed a bit, because the blue eyes seemed to look deep into his soul, uncovering all the rotten waste at the bottom of it.
He stopped the tape.
“You okay with this?” he asked hesitatingly, only encouraged by the knowledge that the stolid bass player wasn’t inclined to sudden outbursts of temper.
John straightened and sat back against the back of the chair, just looking at Pete for a while.
His eyes still didn’t give away what he was thinking.
The silence was too much for Pete to take.
He had to break eye contact and let his eyes wander nervously over the surroundings, trying to swallow the big lump that had built up in his throat all of a sudden.
He wasn’t so sure anymore if he hadn’t preferred John just hitting him, like Roger would have done, at least it would have given him an easy way out of this confrontation.
He jumped with shock, when John finally cleared his throat.
“Guess I am…” his tone was calm and serene, which reassured Pete enough to look at him again. “You’ll have to play it to Keith too though.”
Pete was quick to react. “Of course! I was a little afraid though, that you two wouldn’t like it…”
“… and you figured, since we’ve known each other for such a long time, it would be easier to play it to me first.” John finished his sentence. “Oh, and of course the chances of me jumping at you to beat the crap out of you are much slimmer.”
Pete chuckled, relief washing over him, when John joined in.
“Yeah, that pretty much tipped the scales.”
When he had sat in his room, pondering about the meaning of the lyrics he had scribbled down on the piece of paper in front of him, and about the things he wanted to convey, one episode in his life had pushed itself to the fore again and again.
Even considering all the things that had happened thereafter and all the things that had happened before, it was still that one episode that sprang to his mind when he thought about love.
Real love - not something out of fairy tales or cheesy films, a love that one could grasp, that fitted into this world which was so unlike every fable he knew.
It had happened some years ago on one of their tours.
Pete was just walking down the hotel corridor, trying to find his way to the bar, when he passed John’s and Keith’s room and suddenly heard John calling Keith’s name.
He couldn’t remember if it had been curiosity or the slightly odd tone in the bassist’s voice that made him turn around and open the door to the room, but what he saw had shocked him.
John was kneeling on the floor, holding the limp body of Keith Moon in his arms, trying to shake him.
Pete was at his side in a matter of seconds.
He must’ve asked something along the lines of: “What the bloody hell happened?”, while he knelt down.
Keith wasn’t entirely unconscious it seemed: he was still trying to keep his eyes open, which were glazed over and unable to focus.
“I don’t know! He must’ve swallowed something… Keith!” John roared again.
The agitated tone in John’s voice worried Pete more than anything else.
Keith seemed to wince a little, but there was no real reaction.
“John!” Pete got no reaction there either.
John was focused on the body in his arms, still trying to shake his friend awake.
“John! We’ve got to make him spit out whatever crap he swallowed!” John finally looked at him.
“Bloody now!” Pete emphasised.
“The bathroom,” John said, still sounding very unlike himself. “Help me to get him into the bathroom.”
So Pete and John had carried the frighteningly lifeless figure of Keith over into the bathroom, where they put him down on the tiled floor next to the toilet.
John then lifted him up into his arms again and Pete was happy to see Keith showing some weak signs of resistance at being handled like a puppet.
“What now?” John suddenly asked, startling Pete, who had thought he had had a plan.
“I don’t know… make him drink some saltwater.”
“Where the hell do you suggest we get saltwater now?” John spat, openly displeased with Pete’s suggestion.
Pete opened his mouth again, but John just growled something under his breath and shifted Keith in his arms, and forced his finger down the other man’s throat.
Luckily Keith’s natural reflexes were still functioning and he started retching.
Pete couldn’t bear to watch it, so he turned around, until the sounds slowly subsided.
John had slumped back against the wall, when Pete finally turned back to them again.
He held Keith in his arms, closely pressed to his body, whispering words in his ear that Pete couldn’t make out and rocking him gently like one would do with a child.
Keith seemed to have come back to life at least a little, because he could hear him whimper apologies and one of his hands firmly held on to John’s jumper.
Pete felt like an intruder, like he was trespassing some invisible line into their privacy.
A line of which’s existence he hadn’t known. There was obviously more between these two people than he had been aware of.
He was stunned by his realisation.
It took a while until he was able to shake off the perplexity, but when he saw John plant a kiss on top of Keith’s head, he suddenly heard himself say: “We should still get a Doctor, you know?”
John looked at him, tears shimmering in his eyes, he seemed startled, as if he had forgotten all about Pete’s presence, but then nodded his approval.
“I guess that would be best.”
Pete was glad that he had an excuse to leave.
When Pete came back with the doctor the hotel staff had fetched for him, Keith looked a lot better already.
John had brought him back to the room and was sitting beside him on a sofa, still holding him, like he had to assure himself that Keith wouldn’t go away.
Pete felt a faint stinging feeling in his chest.
He tried to shake it off: there were more important things to deal with now.
It looked like Keith had recovered enough to make a fuss about being examined by the doctor, even if it was feeble.
“Couldn’t find a nice lady doctor, Pete? Huh? Could ya?”
Laughing might unravel the knot of fear for his friend that had sat in Pete’s stomach, but there was still something else on his mind.
And he was reminded of it, when John gestured to him to leave the room with him.
“I think he’ll be okay”, Pete said, when John closed the door behind them.
John just grumbled in acknowledgement, he was staring down at the carpet, nervously moving from one leg to another.
“Gave us a nasty shock that little bastard, didn’t he?” Pete knew he was just trying to cover the awkwardness with words, but he couldn’t help himself. “But he’s a hardy little fella, whatever he took… I think he’ll be okay.”
“Pete,” John suddenly interrupted. “I love him.”
He had no words to describe the feeling that came over him, when he heard those words and saw the earnest expression on John’s face.
He knew he should react in some way, be happy for them, start shouting about how this could endanger their career, he should just say something, but he couldn’t.
“Mm”, was all he managed, but it seemed to be enough to encourage John to continue.
“I know this must be weird for you, it still is for me… for us”, he spoke haltingly, as if he was trying to find the right words. “But… it is as it is. Please keep it to yourself, would you?” The blue eyes looked pleadingly now.
“Listen, I know it’s a lot to ask, and probably a lot to take in, but… We’ve known each other for so long now… Please, Pete…”
“It’s okay”, Pete was unable to leave him hanging like that. “I mean…” He rubbed his hand over his face, trying to think of the right thing to say.
“Yeah…it’s a hell of a lot to take in, for God’s sake!” His laugh sounded constrained even to him. “But yeah, I’ll keep quiet about what happened.”
He tried to smile an encouraging smile at John.
“Cross my heart and hope to die”, he added solemnly, which earned him a smile from his friend’s lips that made his heart lighter. “We’ll have to talk about this again, but now let’s go and see how that little twat is doing.”
The doctor was already packing his instruments back into his large brown bag, when they re-entered the room.
“I don’t think it will be necessary to take him to a hospital”, he greeted them. “The amount of the substance he swallowed wasn’t lethal, and you prevented any serious consequences by making him throw up.”
“So, he’s gonna be okay?” John asked, still worried.
“He will be. Although, someone should stay with him to monitor him.”
“I’ll stay with him”, was the quick assurance by the bass player.
“Very good. Should he get worse, please don’t hesitate to call me!” With these words he handed his card to Pete and grabbed his coat.
“So… no medication or anything?” John still wasn’t calmed entirely.
“I think he had enough of them for one evening!”
“Oi!” Keith's voice suddenly piped up, a lot weaker than usual. “Will you please stop talking about me like I can’t hear you?”
Everyone in the room chuckled, gladdened at the returning vivacity of the drummer, even the doctor.
Pete showed the doctor out and then returned to find John sitting beside Keith again, who was wrapped up in a blanket and seemed delighted to be the centre of attention once more.
“Don’t you dare frighten me like that ever again, Moonie!” Pete found it hard to hold his anger back at first, but the look from Keith’s big brown puppy dog eyes that met his, made it impossible to get truly angry at him despite what he had done. “Don’t you try to use that trick on me, it won’t work!”
He knew this was a lie and Keith knew as well. It was frustrating, but it was indeed impossible to be genuinely cross with him for more than a few minutes.
“Sorry, Pete.” Keith’s apologies never quite sounded like he meant them, and neither did this one, but Pete decided that it was enough for now.
“It’s okay”, John answered in Pete's stead. “Rest now.”
Keith just looked at John silently for a moment with watery eyes.
It was astonishing to see how much emotion could lie in one look.
It was almost palpable, Pete thought.
While his words didn’t ring quite true, the apology Keith offered John with this look was honest.
John seemed to understand and pulled Keith close to him, just holding him.
“Are you cold?” he whispered with a kind of tenderness in his voice that Pete had never heard before from him.
Keith just nodded against John’s chest.
John looked around him and then found his grey furry coat lying on the armrest, so he wrapped it around Keith, who almost disappeared in it.
“Better?” The answer was another nod.
Pete could see tears running down Keith’s cheeks, before he buried his face in John’s shoulder.
Pete had just watched, fascinated.
And although it all happened in a matter of seconds it had stuck in his head throughout the years.
It had been a display of all the things he wished for: friendship, forgiveness, tenderness - love.
He had kept his word and not revealed to anyone what he had witnessed that day, until the day he wrote that song.
A song about his dreams, about himself, about what he searched for, about love.
Only two persons would really understand what he referred to, but not even they would get the whole story behind it.
He looked at John, who took up his bass and played a few lines along to his demo, and then he thought back to that day and the look with which John had answered Keith’s silent apology.
For the umpteenth time since that moment he wished that such a gaze had been directed at him.