Chapter Text
The dirt and broken bottles on the asphalt cracked loudly under your feet as you crossed the old pitiful road towards the back entrance of the Kaiserkeller to meet your bandmates for a night of senseless fun.
They had raved on and on for forever about the two new bands that had started to play there earlier that month and insisted that you just had to see them perform. You knew not much else than their apparent capabilities to play as your friends had neither disclosed their names or anything else, for some unknown reason.
It was early October and the few trees that proudly stood in the nearby patches of grass had turned various colours of yellows and oranges. It was all a pretty sight, really. Probably would be even more so during the day when it wasn’t highlighted by sharp neon and blinking lights from the nearby shops, nightclubs and what else.
You went around the building to the front entrance and looked around. The line wasn’t terribly long, it being late in the night on a typical workday. On the other side of the street stood men promoting their business, trying to lure tourists and locals equally inside. Few pairs of sex workers stood scattered around, scantily clothed as they waited for customers.
You went straight to the bouncer and in, alright, German explained that your friends were already inside. It was a tough sell but eventually, with your grace and charm (and a few marks), he let up and stepped aside so you could pass. Good thing your German was more than adequate, otherwise, it would have been completely impossible. Few locals had the patience for English speakers.
The inside of the club was warm and you immediately shredded your vintage long coat, bought cheaply in a flea market once upon a noon, exposing your navy blue t-shirt that fitted tightly around you and one you thought made you look very attractive, if you could be so bold to say.
You headed straight to the bar as you decided to grab a beer before you went looking for your friends, or before they found you. Either way, beer was the main priority.
You shoved yourself through the crowd of dancing and talking people, careful in pushing them aside as you neither were in the mood for getting drinks spilt on you or getting hit by some pissed German; pissed in both senses of the word, mind.
The bar wasn’t all too busy as most people were far too focused on the performing band. You quickly ordered your drink in German and glanced to the stage.
The lead singer looked tall from where you stood. Blonde and in a bright blue suit, matching the technicolour pink suits of the rest of the band. He was attractive and while you had heard better singing; it wasn’t all too bad.
Though what grasped your attention more so was the drumming. A good beat and great timing, something you could imagine would at least have had your own drummers attention. Nevermind that, the man behind the set was interesting as well. Hair in a messy quiff that curled at its edges; presumably from sweat, with a prominent white streak going down one side of his hair. Genetic or dyed, you couldn’t tell from this distance. His drooping eyes and large nose made him look rather intimidating, though admittedly; it gave you a different effect than fear and thoughts of what those hands could do arose in your mind.
Man, not even halfway through your beer and your thoughts were getting frisky… This could turn into an interesting night.
You bottomed your drink. The warm and stinging sensation as it went through your throat was just what you needed. You turned away from the stage and leaned your back against the bar, nodding along to the beat, and looked around the large room and over the crowds.
You easily found them. Booker, your bassist, had his arm slung over the shoulder of your eternally sulking drummer, Wolfgang. The local to the area of the band and a man who had been an enormous help in communicating with managers and finding food and board. Not only because of his fluency in German but also because he was simply more logically minded than other two of the band. And even if you were the official leader of the band; you just never had patience with men in suits.
You sneaked your way over to them; slowly, in hopes of taking them by surprise. The last member of your band, Charlie, spotted you but as you showed him the universal sigh of ‘keep quiet’ and silently shushed him. He rolled his eyes with a small smirk and went back to his conversation with a young brunette at his side.
And, well, it was pretty easy. Booker and Wolfgang both had their backs to you. Booker too distracted by his own loud voice. Wolfgang probably trying his best not to kill the guy and doing his best to just watch the performing band.
And, so it was incredibly hilarious when you finally got up behind them and yelled in their ears.
The music stilled for a short second before picking up again at the commotion you had created by taking Booker by a big enough surprise that he fell off his chair with a yelp, dragging Wolfgang down with him as his arm was still around the poor man.
You stared down at them while laughing loudly.
“Guten Abend,” you managed to push through your laughter as Booker blinked dumbfounded up at you with a Wolfgang pinned underneath his arm. Wolfgang threw off the renegade arm with a groan and quickly got to his feet with a scowl.
“I am getting a drink,” he growled and shoved past you. You weren’t worried about his anger. Pour a few beers in him and it’s all forgotten about. So you shrugged and dumped yourself down in his now abandoned seat while ignoring Booker’s struggles in getting back up.
“Not cool,” Booker muttered as he finally found his way back to his seat.
“So!” You energetically clasped your hands, getting Charlie’s attention back away from the girl, and looked to the stage. “This one of the bands you talked about?”
Charlie nodded, “yes. This is…,” there was a pause as he was trying to remember, ”Rory Storm and The Hurricanes-“ you snorted into your drink at the name, “-the other band we talked about will be on afterwards.”
“And they are…?”
“The Beatles!” The woman beside Charlie erupted with a bright smile, taking you slightly by surprise as you had completely forgotten she was even there. Clearly a fan. Charlie glanced shortly at her before looking back at you.
“You’ve heard them before?” You asked the stranger.
“Oh, yes! They’re great! And so cute,” she gushed. She was clearly blushing and you assumed it was from the thoughts of these Beatles guys rather than the warmth of the room. Charlie seemed mildly irritated at the prospect of new competition.
You hummed in thought and looked to the stage. Cute, eh? We’ll see about that. So far the selection of cute guys was rather slim to none if the current band and your friends were ignored. Even slimmer when counting the possibilities of them even being interested in other men. You sighed; it was rough but you weren’t going to give up just yet.
The announcement of the band getting to their last number filled the room and was accepted with protests and groans; much to the amusements of the members of the band. The singer reassured the audience with charm that they would be on stage soon again and then continued informing them of when.
Just as they stepped off the stage, a new one entered. They were a sharp contrast to the colourful suits of the Hurricanes. All in this band but the drummer were dressed in attire typical of what was pretty known as Teddy Boys back in England. Leather jackets and drainpipe trousers abound. They also wore boots with what looked like thick heels. Much more rough in appearance than the band before them, so much you could say.
The leader, or so you assumed, stepped to the mic with a guitar in hand and introduced them as The Beatles. Huh.
He introduced himself as John. His eyes were slim and narrowed. And though you couldn’t see the form of his nose from where you sat; it had a prominent presence on his face. He wasn’t… unattractive, with his leather jacket and quiff he actually made a striking picture.
He made a few jokes, none were paid attention to as you were far too busy studying him and the other members.
On both his sides stood two men; one with a guitar and one with a bass. The bassist looked bored. Or unimpressed by something, you couldn’t tell. He wore dark shades that helped to give him a mysterious air around him. But honestly, it made you lose your interest in him.
So you looked to guitarist and found that you had to begrudgingly agree with Charlie’s date.
He was cute. With a baby face, high raised eyebrows and pouting lips; he stood out from the otherwise masculine players of the band. Sure, he tried to fit in with his hairstyle and similar clothes but he still lacked the rough edges and defined jaws that the members had.
Speaking of; the last member for you to look at had some prominent cheekbones and jaw. But what most stood out to you about how was how young he looked. Surely he didn’t belong in a bar? You could be wrong but, man, you felt a protective instinct rush over as you watched him play.
You had studied them for a while now and they were well into their second number as you looked at them in silence. It wasn’t until you felt a tab on your shoulder that you finally looked away from them.
“Seeing something you like?” Booker smirked at you from his seat next to you. He probably knew that you had at your uncharacteristic silence. You huffed in response and took a big sip from his large glass of lager.
“Hey, get your own, you cheap ass,” he pulled the glass away from you as you snickered. The amber liquid almost spilt over the edge of the glass as it was pulled across the table. You glanced to the bar and saw that some of the band members from That Guy and The Hurricanes stood at the bar.
“…Maybe I will,” you muttered and stood up with your eyes back unto the stage. They were deep into a Buddy Holly number and as you went across the room to the bar; your eyes met with the leaders as he sang. A chill shot through, one which you ignored and chalked up to be the drinks getting to you. You broke the staring contest and continued to the bar.
There you found Wolfgang grovelling with a woman hanging on his arm. It seemed his dark and mysterious act was having some success. Now, it was up to you if you wanted to meddle in that or not. You know, for the hell of it.
You decided to get a drink first and see where it went from there.
A bejewelled hand rested around a glass beside you as you leaned across the bar due to the lack of available stools. The hand was large and masculine, adorned with multiple rings. Curious, you looked to your right and saw that it was the drummer from the previous band. He was alone, the rest of the members scattered around the bar, and still wore the brightly coloured suit.
And as you got your drink; you turned to face him and asked, “hey, you’re a Hurricane, right?”
He turned to you, confusion clear on his face, and blinked. It was rather cute and did its work on slowly tearing down the otherwise intimidating look he had about him.
After a few seconds, he chuckled with a slight nod of his head, “I am.”
You smiled and reached your hand out for him to shake. “First time seeing your guys today but I gotta say; already a fan. Of you especially.” Your hand was met with the mixings of warm skin and cool metal of his rings. It was a nice sensation on your heated skin. He thanked you with sweet laughter.
“Now,” you leaned forward, “doesn’t this joint have a backstage room for stars like you to hang around in?” You finished off with a slow sip of your beer.
“Yes, but they don’t serve beer there. Nor do they have the presence of delightful company of men like you,” he leaned forward too and you said with a low hum, “well, that could quickly be arranged.” His brow raised as he smirked but just as he opened his mouth to say something; you felt a tab on your shoulder and you sighed, closing your eyes for just a second before turning around.
It was Booker with a red-headed girl hanging around his arm.
You raised your brow at him; indication for him to speak.
“This is, um, Flora. And we gotta, uh, go. Home. Now,” he nodded. Most likely to himself than anyone else. He was drunk. You hadn’t been at the club for long so either he and the others had been here early, or Booker suddenly had been busy while you weren’t looking.
“…Sure, you go do that.”
You weren’t quite fond of having been interrupted in your chat with the drummer… Who’s name you realised you still didn’t know. But you understood why you had been. The four of you in the band shared an apartment so it was important to know when there were guests.
Booker left and you turned back to face the attractive drummer only to find him missing.
“Damn it,” you whispered to yourself and gave all your attention into your beer as you looked around the room to see if you could spot him.
You had no such luck and you soon resigned yourself to watching the band. The babyface was singing now. And for all his adorable traits, your eyes constantly wandered to the leader who was strumming along with the beat on his guitar.
Why? You weren’t incredibly attracted to him and yet there was something that drew your eyes to him. And how his fingers moved across the strings. Could it be his defined jaw or narrow eyes that drew you? Or simply the way he played?
You had to distract yourself away from… that. And so you looked anywhere else until your eyes landed on your former table where Charlie now sat alone. Your eyes met and you waved him over.
“What happened to the bird?” You asked him after he ordered a beer.
“A hurricane swept her up,” he answered and causing you to snicker. He shortly frowned before joining in on the laughter.
Something was tucking your gut and you asked, “short one with a white streak in his hair?”
He nodded as he drank from his glass.
Damn.
“So,” quickly changing the topic from your defeat, “Booker left. With a girl.”
He nodded.
“And where’s Wolf?” You asked and looked around. You hadn’t seen him in a while and, honestly, you were starting to fear he was mad at you.
“He left. Probably to have a shag on your bed,” he laughed and patted you on the back. Fuck. Definitely still mad then.
You sighed, “so much for a guys night out, eh?”
Charlie just shrugged, “it always goes like this so it’s no big surprise, really.”
You nodded with a sigh as he looked around the bar. “Now let’s find you a handsome lad so you’re not the odd one out when we get back.”
You were lucky with friends like these. Homosexuality was not something that was discussed. It was frowned upon. And more importantly; it was downright illegal. Though the legality of things was constantly ignored in this neighbourhood. And same-sex relationships weren’t exactly uncommon. Your friends were understanding for the most part. While they didn’t pretend to understand it, the certainty tried. And would defend you when the need to arose. And you would forever be grateful about it.
But getting back to the topic, you asked Charlie; “And what about you?”
“I got me trusty hand,” he laughed and you rolled your eyes at him before breaking out in a burst of tipsy wheezing laughter.
Hours passed of fooling around and joking. And drinking. Neither of you had felt a hurry to get anywhere or get with anyone.
You didn’t know how many hours passed but it was enough for an entirely different band to be playing as you glanced up and over to the stage. Didn’t these bands perform for hours on end? Huh.
You looked around and saw that the crowd was significantly less crowded than a few hours ago. Or more than a few. Man, time could fly when you had fun.
Charlie had, with your permission, slinked off with a busty blonde only a few minutes prior which now left you to be all alone in the bar. Aside from the sea of strangers, of course. It was well past midnight and you were about to call it a day and bottom you lager when you felt a light shove on your right.
It was the baby faced guitarist from earlier. Though it weren’t him that had pushed you but rather a man whom he was having a heated discussion with. His back was turned to you but from the smooth leather jacket, you could only assume it was another Beatle. Auburn hair met the collar of the neck of the jacket and you tried to recall the different hair colours of the band. But the lighting of the stage had been to no help.
He backed into you again, almost causing you to spill your drink, and you sighed. You would have to say something to home but drunks could be so damn temperamental with a taste for blood. Eh, well, here goes nothing.
You tapped him on the shoulder and as he turned, you said; “guy, you need to watch your steps or I’m gonna spill my drink.” And turned back to quickly take a sip of said drink.
“And so what if you do?” Was barked right back at you and as you turned with a frown and slowly blinked as you faced the source. It was the frontman of The Beatles. Who was now stepping closer to you in a threatening fashion. Wonderful.
His breath smelled of alcohol and cigarettes and the way he looked down on at you affected you in such a way you felt that you should be ashamed of. But that could come later. Right now you needed to focus on not getting into a fight with a guy you’d rather do much else with. The young man behind him placed a gentle hand on his bicep as he whispered a name, John you thought you heard, but it was quickly pushed away.
“Look, pal,” you started but quickly was interrupted by a swinging fist.
Damnit.