Chapter Text
Prologue
2001
"Hey, remember my buddy Matt?" Jimmy's eyes were a shimmering fog over deep water in the dark as he looked at Brian, the bleach tips of his hair falling around his long face. They were stretched out over the hood of Brian's ancient Chevy and Brian's knuckles ached where they pressed against the hood of the car between his knuckles and where his head rested on his hand.
"Yeah, that dude with the dimples that beat the shit out of Jesse last year?"
Jimmy laughed and swatted at Brian ineffectually, "The fucker had it coming, man, if Matt hadn't done it I would have."
Brian just shrugged; he hadn't been there, and Jimmy's stories were always colorful, especially about Matt. He had met the other guy a couple of times and, while he didn't like to call himself impressed, he had to admit at least to himself that the dimples had been as striking as the sparkling hazel eyes and flashing temper. Jimmy and Matt had been fast friends and while Jimmy was always friends with a lot of people, Matt was the only one that he ever seemed to care what Brian thought of him.
"So what about him?" Brian prompted as he pulled his eyes away from Jimmy's face and stared back up at the sky. It was a perfect summer night, the air just a few degrees cooler than the skin of Jimmy's arm where it was pressed against his own.
"We got this band, right?" Brian knew about the band, had mocked Jimmy relentlessly about the band even though he'd shown up for one of their shows because Jimmy had told him about it. If Jimmy was playing at least there was something there worth hearing, even if Matt sang through his nose too much and their bassist sucked ass. He had no idea how they put an album together, but Jimmy hadn't shut up about it for months.
"Yeah, so?" Brian bit at his bottom lip, pushed one bare foot flat against the cooling metal of the car.
"We need a guitarist."
"You got a guitarist. Zack, isn't it? He doesn't totally suck."
"We need a guitarist, Bri, Zack's amazing but he's a rhythm and riff guy, we need a soloist. We need someone that can, you know," he wiggled his fingers in a passable imitation of Van Halen air guitar.
Brian snorted, "I'm not joining your stupid little punk band, Jimmy."
"Yeah well, who between us has a recorded album and who doesn't, huh?" Jimmy demanded as he rolled over, the metal of the hood creaking alarmingly as their weight centered together.
"Doesn't mean you guys don't suck ass," Brian protested, but it was weak, and Jimmy's mouth was close to his own and when Jimmy's mouth got that close to his own, Brian knew he was about to lose an argument.
"Yeah, but we suck ass in the studio," Jimmy's grin was blinding, and as he leaned over Brian he bent his head just enough to brush his lips over Brian's chin. "C'mon, just one song."
"I thought the album was done?" Brian tried not to think about those lips hovering next to his own, soft as flower petals and hot as the afternoon sun that had been beating down hours ago. Brian could feel the lassitude it had brought still lingering in his muscles despite the sun setting well over an hour ago. That heat might have been a remnant of Jimmy's earlier kisses, though, and just the thought of the other young man's tongue in his mouth again sent heat racing back through his veins and made his cock stir in his jeans.
"It is," Jimmy grinned toothily, "but I wanna try something, c'mon. Just one song, man, I wanna hear what you can do."
"Look, you refused to join them," Brian pointed out but it was a weak argument and they both knew it.
"Matt's... persuasive, " Jimmy chuckled huskily, and Brian's hackles rose a little, though he wasn't quite sure why.
"Must be more persuasive than you because-" Brian began, but Jimmy's mouth was on his and he was sliding his big hand down over Brian's shorts, gripping the curve of his hardening length through the fabric. Brian felt himself making an inarticulate sound into that sweet mouth, felt Jimmy's tongue sweep against his own, and then Jimmy's hand was inside his shorts and damn any parking lot cameras for the park anyways, Brian was hitching up into his fist and grabbing that thick hair, desperate and unthinking.
"I'll tell you what," Jimmy's voice was husky, deeper than it had any right to be, "I get you off in under two minutes and you show up at practice tomorrow with your guitar to hear us out and show us what you got."
"No fair, " Brian mumbled, feeling his cock flex in Jimmy's hand and felt the callouses of his grip rubbing against his sensitive skin. "You already got a head start."
"You want me to stop?" Jimmy's lips felt very soft against his throat, and Brian shook his head, wordless.
It definitely took less than two minutes even though Brian hadn't checked his watch for the start time, and they both knew it. Jimmy was unfairly good with his hands and Brian had been worked up since he'd kissed Jimmy after lunch time. By the time the taller man's thumb had rubbed eagerly over the tip of Brian's dick as he fucked Beians mouth with his tongue, Brian was arching and shivering, coming in thick spurts up Jimmy's wrist to make a mess inside his own shorts. Jimmy sucked on his tongue and stroked him until Brian was slapping his hand away and biting at his mouth, and the drummer laughed as he pulled his fingers free.
"Fuck," Brian panted, feeling a hot blush of embarrassment as he glanced around, hoping nobody had driven by, that nobody had seen. "Fuck, fine. Fine, gods, what time tomorrow?"
"Three should work. Matt's parents' garage, we got an amp you can use."
Brian had a few opinions about the likely quality of their gear, but he wasn't about to haul his own stuff over if they had something he could use. "Fine," he mumbled, and reached for Jimmy's chin to pull him down into another kiss. "You owe me one."
"Bitch you lost," Jimmy snorted, but he didn't protest the kisses. "You're having to pay up, bitch."
"If you guys suck, you owe me," Brian repeated, grinning, and Jimmy's laughter rang through the parking lot.