#stone gossard x oc
Text
Wet Sand
Stone Gossard x OC
Chapter 2 - I’m On Fire
Summary: Let’s meet in our dreams.
masterlist
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notes: chapter two has arrived! i hope it's not too eccentric and confusing to read, it's the only way i know how. hope you enjoy <3
tw: weed, swearing, psychedelic-headache-inducing imagination. you know those dreams that feel like you've taken a hit of acid and fuck up your day before you can say “these edibles ain't shit”? yeah, there's that.
songs:
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫
A flash of ruddy hair appeared in her peripheral as she felt his warm breath tickle the back of her neck.
“This is my room,” he mumbled in her ear and led her inside a strange place with four walls, a ceiling and a floor. It didn’t look like a room at all.
She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but it seemed to be made of something similar to cotton clouds, corporeal and see-through at the same time.
In the furthest corner, there was a single bed with bright pink sheets and a small tea table. It had a cup of coffee on top, along with a pocket weed pipe.
Her body twitched when he put his hand between her shoulder blades and extended his other lanky arm to point an extraordinarily long finger at the wall in front of them, landing right on a shiny sunburst Les Paul.
“This is my guitar,” he whispered again, his cold aquiline nose nudging her cheek. She wanted to turn around to take a peek at him, but she felt like she was frozen in time, gliding through the room as he gracefully pushed her further inside.
The walls expanded and shrunk over and over again, swirling like the smoke that was eerily sizzling out of the glass pipe.
“This is my bed,” he snapped her out of her dissociation again, his fingers wrapping around her waist. He led her towards the comfortable-looking mattress.
She didn’t protest when he spun her around and lifted her off the floor as if she were made of feathers.
She was looking right through him, unable to focus on his features, yet she knew exactly where to touch to caress his cheek. She could feel a few small freckles under her fingertips.
He hummed as he laid her down on the bed and straightened up again, reaching for the small transparent pipe crammed with green clumps.
His cheeks hollowed as he took a long, deep drag and then leaned on his knees, puffing the smoke right into her face. There was something inexplicably vulgar about the scent.
And as his hair fluttered under his exhale, it was as if she was simultaneously standing in a field full of wild strawberry bushes.
“This is my handy little grass pipe,” he breathed out the remnants of smoke, his voice low and stoic. Just when his features finally started to take shape and colour, he moved again and blurred into an unrecognizable tall figure climbing on top of her, knees at the sides of her hips.
He hovered above her as he swept her tangled hair out of her face, his Adam's apple moving up and down while he hummed an unidentifiable tune.
The melody was surprisingly delicate and gentle, contrasting his shameless indecency. When she subconsciously tried to look away from his scrutinizing stare, he swiftly caught her jaw in his hand, tutting.
"Nuh-uh. This is my dream, too. Don’t be a killjoy,” he mumbled, somewhat crass. He softly tugged on her chin to turn her head back to face him and when she did, his features finally took shape.
His eyes were impossibly big. Half-lidded with wildly dilated pupils, irises an unidentifiable, harsh shade of green. Encircled with smudges of messy black eyeliner, swirling through her brain like a head-spinning drug.
His lips curled into a cocky grin when a breath hitched in her throat. She reached up to run her hand through his red-tinted hair, but she grabbed nothing but air. He tutted again and slowly shook his head as if he was deeply disappointed in her naivité.
Suddenly, a shrilling high-pitched beep echoed through the floating room and wormed into her ear, pounding her brain like a sledgehammer. Her heart burst into rapid beats when he bent down to her face, a smug smirk still dancing on his angled features.
His phantom lips shivered over hers like a weightless quill, bony ribcage brushing against her chest as he let out an airy chuckle. His words were laced with condescending amusement.
“Oh, right. This is my alarm clock. It always seems to ring by the time we get here. What a shame…oh well. Tommorow, same time, same place. Don't you forget...”
His voice melted and got lost in the loud beeps as the room around her dissolved. Kiki let out a pathetic whine and she waved her hands in the air, trying to grasp onto his shoulders so he wouldn’t disappear with it.
It didn’t work, so she swiftly sat up in her bed, still grabbing the air around her.
When she realized the source of the noise was a blue alarm clock that sat on the coffee table next to her, she grabbed it and threw it against the wall with a childish grunt.
It stopped beeping, but its plastic container broke open and the battery fell out, rolling along the floor and stopping right at her feet as if to mock her.
She huffed, feeling a rush of blood pool in her cheeks as the fresh memory of her dream erased the ugly noise from her mind.
Huh. What the fuck…
She was extremely puzzled as she looked around her flat, finally grounding in reality. One room, that’s all she had, with a tiny kitchen counter and an even smaller bathroom.
Her window led to the street, though, so whenever she crawled out of her bed, she could open it right away and breathe in the frigid winter air.
She rubbed her eyes and looked out, watching as lone cars passed through the mist that settled above the dim streets of Seattle. She smiled to herself.
Could be a worse view.
Getting up, Kiki stretched and grabbed the alarm clock off the floor. She put it back together, finally looking at the time.
5:30. Fuck. That’s late.
She sped up her routine, clumsily slapping on mascara in the bathroom before quickly digging through her suitcase to fish out a clean shirt.
A month in and I still haven’t unpacked, what a well-mannered lady.
She couldn’t find anything, so she frantically looked around the room, kicking a rag and a bra out of her way. Her eyes fell on a white t-shirt that was thrown over the single chair next to her table.
She walked up to it and folded it open, revealing a round-shaped photo of an Indian man with a huge beard, long hair and sunglasses, circled with big words that spelled SOUNDGARDEN.
Oh. Oh, right.
The picture of the unruly guy from her dream finally fully materialized and her already heated blush grew even brighter when she realized that she did, in fact, not make him up.
Fuck. Beanpole.
“So you haven’t been to a gig here yet? God, that’s grim. Soundgarden is a great place to start, though. It’s a bit of everything, but mostly kinda metal-based. The U-Men are playing next week, if you’re into more punky stuff, ” Stone rambled and waved his hands around, which was clearly something he did a lot.
His strides were long and brisk, so she was a bit out of breath as she tried to catch up with him.
He had a big suede jacket on and a fuzzy knitted beanie with a big puffy ball on top.
Kiki had to giggle at his unusual visage, she couldn't put into words what made him so damn endearing, but he had an irresistibly charming skip to his step.
Now that he was in motion, he reminded her of a cub that hadn’t fully grown into its paws yet, his huge feet slapping against the crunching fresh snow, bony fingers wiggling through the air as he enumerated the upcoming week’s concerts.
Kiki threw the t-shirt on and quickly wiggled into her ragged denim overalls, cursing when the fuzzy brown sweater she stuck her head through made her hair stand up and crackle with static.
She promptly looked over at her clock again and tied her boots, grabbed her wristwatch off the table and put it in the pocket of her leather jacket.
As she skipped down the long stairs of the apartment building, she wrapped a long woollen scarf around her neck, scratching her forehead when a piece of cotton lint stuck to her eyebrow.
She hurried to the bike rack in front of the building, clumsily throwing her backpack on while trying to untangle the leather strap that tied her bike to the metal pipes. When she finally loosened it, she quickly grabbed the lock that hung on it, moved the three number buttons in the correct order and took it off.
She stuffed all of it in her pockets, too and hopped on her bike. And then she could finally set off to work, letting memories flow through her head.
“Stoney! Hey, Stoney! Stoked that you made it! Matt shed a few tears when he didn’t see you in the pit,” the seemingly intimidating guitar player called after the two of them, finally hopping off of the stage and excitedly waving to get their attention. He had a bushy black beard and hair messier than a bird’s nest.
Kiki tried to gather some courage by straightening her back and nudging Stone. He seemed to sense the tension in her muscles, so he delicately placed his hand on her back, putting in just enough weight to assure her that he was there.
“Oh, so it is your real name! Tough shit,” she mumbled as they moved through the crowd, earning a hearty chuckle while he answered various calls of 'Hi, Stoney', 'What’s up, Stoney', 'Hi ya, Stoney', 'Stop by for a shot, Stoney' and a bunch of other greetings. “Seems like I’m hanging with the popular kid, that’s an unexplored territory for me.”
“Chill out, you’ll fit in just right. The starving artists of Seattle generally respond well to greenies and you're undoubtedly irresistible.”
Irresistible.
That’s the word that occupied Kiki's head as he locked her bike to the rack in front of a parking lot with the leather strap and lock she fished out of her pockets, but then she noticed there was another, bigger bike next to hers, similarly battered and covered in stickers.
Mötorhead, Butthole Surfers, Nets…
She frowned, took out her watch and checked it before finally tying it around her wrist.
Where did this thing come from? I’m supposed to be starting the shift. Weird.
She sank her ears into the fluffy scarf and headed towards the Raison D’Être. When she turned the corner and reached the door of the artsy café, she took a bundle of keys out of her backpack to open up.
But the key didn't go in, as there was one already slotted in from the other side.
“The hell…” she sighed and pressed her nose against the frosted glass, trying to decipher any signs of life. She knocked and heard an unintelligible answer before a figure rose from behind the counter and walked up to the front.
When the door opened, Kiki found herself in front of a tall guy wearing a bizarre furry hat and a sleeveless basketball jersey, an interesting choice for this kind of weather.
Pearl earrings were hanging out of his ears and his face lit up with a wide cat-like grin. He towered over her, just like…
Dammit, get out of my head, beanpole.
“Can I help you?” the guy mused, leaning against the doorframe. He wore a ring on every finger and multiple beaded necklaces of different sizes and colours dangled from his muscular neck.
What a character.
Kiki chuckled and rattled her key bundle in the air.
“Can I help you? You seem awfully suspicious,” she shrugged and mirrored his stance. He giggled.
“You must be Kiki. I’m Jeff, really a pleasure to finally meet you,” he stuck out his hand and waited for her to shake it. Just as she reached out, he gently took her fingers and kissed the cold knuckles, old-fashion style.
She huffed, but couldn’t help a little blush.
“Uh, that’s me. Great to meet you…Jeff? Oh, yeah! Rod told me about a Jeff on sick leave,” she said and silently thanked him as he motioned her to come inside. “Glad to see you on two feet! Word has it that you got injured in a freaky water polo accident or something.”
Jeff laughed and the youthful energy around him only intensified. He locked the door again and jogged to catch up with her, helping her out of the leather jacket like a proper gentleman.
He had a pleasantly light cologne, mixed with the scent of coffee beans as he was just in the middle of grinding them. And a faint hint of weed that was nowhere near as arousing as her dream made it out to be.
“Yeah, I busted my knee. Playing basketball, just to clarify.”
“I mean, there’s a ball and there’s a net, right? The only basics that matter,” Kiki wiggled her index finger at him and grabbed the barista apron he offered her. It had a bright psychedelic print on it, almost hypnotizing. Jeff snorted.
“Jeez, thank god my friend Stoney isn’t here, he’d fall in love with you on the spot,” he mused and her smile fell a bit, eyes wide.
Oh.
Her cheeks grew red, she tried to play it off by nonchalantly scratching her forehead.
“Would he now?” she smirked and Jeff nodded, leaning against the counter as he lousily wiped it with a damp rag that he took out of his back pocket.
“With that smart-ass-will-o’-the-wisp-punk thing you got going on? Madly,” he looked Kiki up and down and gave her another disarming grin. “Fortunately he’s at work, little baker boy at Grand Central.”
“Let me guess…”
She folded her arms and put on a thoughtful frown. She hoped that Jeff’s comment was supposed to compliment her.
“About yay high,” she raised her hand as far as she could, “…bad dye job, ridiculous scrunchie…” she counted on her fingers and Jeff’s jaw dropped, laughing as she continued.
“...bug-eyed, punchable face…”
Stone smirked as the bearded man patted his shoulder a few times after greeting him and before he could ask about his female company, another man joined them, a mane of curls flowing around his face like a sea of black seaweeds. He had a linen shirt on, opened all the way to his navel. The singer.
“‘Sup, Stoney? The guys went for a blunt but they’ll be right back. Who’s your little friend?” he mused and then stopped in his tracks for a second before slapping the bushy guitarist's stomach with the back of his hand.
“Kim, that’s Keeva. As in Kiki. No way,” he whistled and the guitarist, Kim, raised his eyebrows with a surprised nod.
“Oh! Oh, right! Jesus, hi, we were wondering when you’ll show up! I’m Kim, pleasure,” he extended his hand and Kiki bashfully shook it, her cheeks full of a crooked smile.
The singer chimed in with an introduction, almost cutting off his well-spoken friend.
“I’m Chris, so nice to meet you! We’ve heard about you shredding your way through this shithole, but you never showed up! We were starting to think you’re just an urban legend!” Chris ruffled her hair and giggled as if he was a genuinely happy child receiving a new toy for Christmas.
Stone chuckled, flicking her nose for the sixth time that evening.
“See, I told you you were a fucking cryptid.”
“Sylphs are known to migrate to America during this time of year, Stone. No wonder you dropped out,” Kim added, theatrically widening his eyes as Kiki rolled her eyes and scratched the back of her neck, grinning.
“Cool, so I don’t have to introduce you,” Jeff giggled and adjusted his hat. “When did that happen?”
“Last night. We met on the way to the Off Ramp. We were running late but he took me through a shortcut,” Kiki shrugged, walked behind the counter and hopped up on it.
She grabbed a small blackboard propped up next to the cashier and started writing down the Monday special - Hazelnut espresso.
Chris was a very attractive man, no doubt about it. He was even taller than Stone, but he filled the space around him, whereas Stone seemed to poke out. Even though Chris’s mane of curls had twice the volume hers had, Stone’s hair was somehow messier. Chris’s eyes were a cold shade of blue, but they felt warm and comforting. Stone’s saucer eyes made her want to look away, despite having an inviting golden hue.
He was everywhere, sticking out no matter who he stood next to.
“He, uh…he left an impression, that’s for sure,” she mumbled and cleared her throat, trying to get rid of the choking grip that was his face behind her eyelids.
“Like you wanted to slap him?” Jeff squinted, grinning again when she vehemently nodded.
“He’s good. A smart-ass for sure, plus there’s his whole chess club thing. But he’s kinda a brother by now. Oddly hot, chicks dig him. But don’t tell him I said that,” he wiggled with his finger when she gasped. “Doesn’t play ball, though, so that’s a little dent in his coolness.”
Chicks dig him, huh?
Oh, and of course he plays chess. Perfectly annoying.
“Depends. I mean, I personally never really got the appeal of sports. I’m more of a cheerleader,” Kiki smirked as Jeff’s smile grew even wider.
“Oh man, talk about two peas in a pod,” he muttered under his breath and disappeared into the back room for a moment before emerging with two big mugs.
“Fuck, I almost forgot. I kinda knew you were coming, so I made this when I opened up. Just a little welcome surprise,” he shrugged and handed her a warm cup of tea with milk. “A small piece of home, right? Hope you’re not allergic to milk or something.”
Christ, is everyone here a sweetheart? Talk about culture shock.
“Fucking hell, thanks so much, Jeff,” she pouted, humming when she took a sip. “Oof, it tastes better than my gran’s.”
“Maple syrup, that’s the secret ingredient,” Jeff winked and sipped on his coffee as well. “So, how did ya like Soundgarden?”
“Phew. It was breathtaking, seriously. I’ve never heard anything like that. And everyone was so nice, too. Stone introduced me to the band and stuff. We had a couple of beers, it was great…” she rambled and waved her arms around excitedly.
“How old are you? Can I even buy you a drink?” Chris chirped, squeezing her nose. Kiki grinned at his friendly gesture.
“Relatively fresh nineteen,” she retorted, her voice coming out as quacks as he still held onto her nose. He gasped.
“My god, you’re a baby!”
“Right?! Found her in a corner, too,” Stone chimed in, scoffing when Chris reached up and pulled his nose as well.
“Shut up, Stoney. You’re just jealous that you’re not daddy’s favourite child anymore,” he quipped, let go of them both and put his arm around Kiki’s shoulders. “Don’t listen to him, sweetheart. He may be barely legal but he still doesn’t know proper etiquette.”
She chuckled.
“Well, I don’t have citizenship yet and I’m fully legal in England. Therefore, there's technically nothing to feel bad about as I don’t exist in the federal records,” she shrugged and Chris laughed, the curls bouncing around his face like little black springs.
“Oh, Stoney, she’s a little minx, too. Now you’re in trouble, friend,” he slapped Stone’s scrawny shoulder and ruffled his hair. Stone shooed his hand away and shook his head, hoping his red hair would make the furious blush blend in.
Jeff clapped his hands like an excited kid.
“Wicked! Wait, are you even old enough to drink?” he teased and Kiki rolled her eyes.
“…and then everyone was like ‘Man, thank god Jeff isn’t here, he’s a fucking asshole.’” she added, making him laugh again. “I’m nineteen.”
“Jesus almighty, you’re a baby!” he exclaimed with a gasp and she closed her eyes, shaking her head.
Baby, we’re in the same boat here…
The words echoed through her head as a vicious queue to make her throat tighten once more.
“Here it goes again. Come on, you can’t be that much older!” Kiki crossed her arms and he straightened up proudly.
“I’m twenty-four,” Jeff retorted, but it definitely sounded like a kid trying to sell their age as grown and wise. That made her grin.
“Okay, big guy, I’ll believe that when I see your ID.”
Jeff was about to protest and reach for his wallet, but a firm knock on the front door made them both jump.
Kiki didn’t turn around, instead, she instinctively looked at her wristwatch while Jeff set off to check.
Hm. We open in an hour. Who’s -
“Dammit, Ames, I knocked like four times. If you want a new guitarist, just tell me. Making me freeze to death a bit overkill.”
The nasal voice from her dream created a wave of heat inside her, running through her body like someone dumped a bucket of scorching coffee on her head. She looked over her shoulder and there he was, in the flesh, right in front of her.
He had his big brown jacket on, a puffy checkered scarf bundled around his neck and a neatly tied burgundy bandana. His comically large hands were poking out of woollen fingerless gloves and he rubbed them together, slightly shivering.
When he saw her, he cracked into a wide crooked smile that made tiny little dimples appear on his frostbitten cheeks.
Irresistibly smug.
“Oi, cheerio, Baby! Beautiful morning, innit?” Stone chirped, putting on an atrocious accent again. Kiki narrowed her eyes.
“Well, look who it is. Are you stalking me, beanpole?” she hissed, the corner of her mouth twitching when he chuckled.
“You wish,” he raised an eyebrow and took off his backpack. “I came to welcome my rhythm section buddy Jeff back to the world of dead-end jobs.”
He mindlessly dropped the backpack on the counter and Jeff cursed, pushing it down to the floor.
“Dude, I just wiped it!” he frowned. “Did I miss something? What’s up with the baby?”
“She’s tiny, annoying and says ‘fuck’ like she’d just learned how to swear. Do the math,” Stone shrugged and flicked Kiki’s nose. She slapped his hand away.
“Give him a break, Jeff. It just makes him feel like a big boy,” she retorted and Jeff leaned against the counter, darting between them for a few seconds. Then he let out a huge sigh.
“Oh dear god, there’s two of them now.”
Kiki felt another wave of blood creep up her cheeks as Stone stared her down. He wasn’t wearing eyeliner this time, but his eyes were nonetheless overpowering.
Maybe even more so, strangely glowing in the dim morning light, seemingly lightened by the snow outside.
I don’t have time for this.
She stuck her tongue out at him, hopped off the counter and put the blackboard next to the cashier before turning her back to him. She began rearranging the to-go cups by size to occupy her brain with anything else but him.
He just smirked and loosened the top layers of his scarf.
“Andy’s not here yet?”
“Nope. Haven’t seen him since he brought me lunch three days ago. How was the gig?” Jeff questioned while he wiped off the snowdrops that fell on the counter from Stone’s backpack.
Stone leaned his elbows on it and rested his head in his hands, palms squishing his patchy red cheeks.
“Badass. The EP sounds even more incredible live, now that you have a comparison. There were, like, a ton of new people. Chicks everywhere, like mosquitoes. Hiro got hit in the face with a fucking bra. The whole of Sub Pop was there, too, all four of ‘em.”
“Were the guys there?” Jeff asked after a few moments of silence and the room suddenly filled with strange gravity. Kiki frowned a little and took a sip of her tea, trying not to eavesdrop. Stone sighed.
“Steve was. We kinda waved at each other, but we didn’t speak,” he shrugged and scratched his temple. He coughed to get rid of the strain in his voice.
“I met Baby, though, so that was significantly more stimulating. Intellectually, of course,” he mused and Jeff snorted, looking between the pair.
“Bet.”
Kiki turned around and hummed, still clutching her cup.
“Glad to serve, beanpole. When do I get to see the two of you play, anyway? I’ve heard that you’re hot shit and I’d love to confirm slash deny that,” she nonchalantly crossed her arms but tensed when she saw the sombre look exchanged between them.
Bad move.
“Actually, we just broke up. About a month ago,” Jeff mumbled and tucked the rag into his back pocket again. Stone’s expression turned serious again, hardening like a statue.
“It was for the best of all of us, we weren’t going anywhere.”
He didn’t sound as sure as he probably wanted to. He bit his lip and looked at Kiki as if he was waiting for her reaction. She let out a heavy sigh.
“Christ, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be nosy or anything,” she mumbled and Jeff shook his head, softly patting her back.
“No, no, it’s okay, we sort of initiated it, anyway. Musical differences and all that.”
“They told us to go fuck ourselves because we were careerists,” Stone chimed in and emphasized the word with bitter air quotes, clearly hurt by the sentiment.
Jeff smacked his lips and frowned at Stone, obviously trying to draw a thick line under that conversation. Kiki bit her cheek, thinking of something to say.
“To be honest, you do seem like little gold diggers,” she sighed and they both chuckled, which was a relief. “No, but seriously. Nobody’s punk enough to enjoy cleaning tables and swiping floors and scrapping for food. And if they say they are, they’re lying.”
Jeff and Stone exchanged a small content smile, obviously glad that someone was on the same page with them.
“Yeah. Sounds good if you have three warm meals and a comfy bed secured at home. Like Stoney here. He has a little trust fund, don’t you?” Jeff poked Stone’s chest.
He began to turn red in the face and once again, Kiki caught a rare awkward crack in his facade. She opened her mouth wide and gasped.
“Aw, you have a loving family, Stoney? That’s not very punk rock of you,” she tutted and shook her head, grinning widely when he reached over the counter and squeezed her nose.
“Shut it, Baby. I’m a working struggling artist just like you…fuck!” His eyes widened. “What time is it?”
She promptly checked her watch.
“Quarter to six.”
“Uh, yeah, gotta run. The baguettes won’t bake themselves,” Stone explained, tightened his scarf and grabbed his backpack off the floor. He turned his attention to Jeff. “Be back for lunch, the usual time. My treat today, I’ll bring some grub. Got any grass?”
“Dude, come on. You’ll ruin me. This is the last time, I'm telling you, you’re buying next. I only have enough left for three spliffs, anyway,” Jeff firmly shook his head and shooed Stone away.
Kiki chuckled, trying to shut down her embarrassing thoughts.
She was afraid that Stone could hear them, observing himself puffing a thick cloud of illicit smoke in her face from an obscenely small distance.
He certainly looked at her like he was seeing it as well, a pompous grin plastered on his face as he raised his eyebrows, innocently questioning why she was so flustered.
“Well, you're free to keep my share, weed stinks like a sweaty ballsack. Always, no exceptions,” she added the last part to convince herself. She would’ve succeeded if it wasn’t for Stone’s loud wolf whistle.
“Would you look at that, Ames? We got a good catholic schoolgirl on our hands,” he chirped. Kiki mocked a laugh and gave him a middle finger, using her offensive gesture to obscure the patchy blush on her face.
Jeff giggled, reaching for the coffee mill next to him.
“Leave her alone, dude. I wanna catch a jam with her before she gets a restraining order against you,” he affectionately patted Kiki’s head.
“Don’t care, I’ll corrupt her sooner or later, that’s a cross I have to bear. Are you two free today? Parents are out of town, so we can get that jam off our chests. I get off at five.”
“That’s weirdly specific,” Kiki squinted at him, still red in the face. Jeff’s cheeks puffed with a throaty laugh as Stone tried his best to keep the corners of his mouth down.
“Depends. If you’re good enough, I may cut it down to four, just for you. Now, fetch me a keg of cappuccino to go, fair maiden!”
She gasped and flung her arm to slap his head, but he managed to jump out of her way. Jeff’s chirpy laughter echoed through the room as he raised his arms to keep them apart.
“Okay, Tom and Jerry, knock it off.”
“I’ll fetch you a cappuccino when you fetch me a breakfast croissant, baker boy,” Kiki hissed and Stone broke into a smug grin, skipping away to the door.
“Deal. Be right back,” he waved and walked right into a coathanger. He caught balance pretty quickly, though, and slung the backpack over his shoulder.
“Don’t threaten us,” she called back at him and cackled at his stumble. He blew each of them a theatrical air kiss and backed out of the door, disappearing into the light snow around the corner. Kiki chuckled, staring out of the window for a few more seconds.
The faint cloud of his strawberry shampoo lingered in her head, along with the sweet freezing air that emanated from his clothes.
Kiki had heard some girls swooning over Chris when she and Stone made their way through the crowd after the show. She wondered if girls talked like that about Stone at his band’s gigs.
Considering the amount of chicks that greeted him with the affectionate nickname, the ghastly purring giggles already rang in her ears.
She fixed her dissociated gaze at no particular place in front of her. Chris led her through the small venue to the bar, answering greetings from all sides.
“Hey, you ok?” he questioned and he squeezed her shoulder. She jerked, realizing he was probably speaking to her the whole time. Stone chuckled.
“She does that a lot, just zones out to make contact with the Mothership.”
“Har har, beanpole. Sorry, I’m just…getting a bit tired, I guess. Long day,” she shrugged and gave Chris an apologetic smile.
“It’s past Baby’s bedtime, you see?” Stone patted her head and she frowned, elbowing him in the stomach.
“I’ve spent basically my whole evening talking to you, Stoney. No wonder I’m falling asleep,” she put on a sarcastic smile and emphasized what was apparently the only correct way to address him.
Stone was just about to return the jab when Chris interrupted them with a hearty giggle.
“Shit, didn’t you say you’ve just met? Like, today? Can’t wait to see you twenty years of marriage deep,” he grinned and ignored their heated cheeks as he ordered a round of tequila shots.
After a few seconds of staring through the glass door, Kiki noticed Jeff in the corner of her eye, studiously watching her.
She did a double-take between the street and his smug smirk and frowned.
“'Sup?”
“Nothing, nothing,” he raised his arms in surrender with a small wink and then started grinding coffee again, humming. When she disappeared into the back room with a suspiciously bright grin, he added the lyrics.
“So this is love, mmhm hmhm…”
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Jealousy - Stone Gossard
“So this guy, Eddie, what’s he like?” I ask Dave, who is sitting on the couch in my tiny living room. I give him a beer and take the seat next to him.
“He’s quiet, but I guess he’s alright. You’ll find out tonight, though.” Dave comments before taking a swig of his beer.
I give him a confused look, “What about tonight?”
“Oh, Stone didn’t tell you? We’re gonna practise tonight and thought it’d be nice to invite you and Becky, to meet Eddie.”
I nod, “That sounds nice! I’m curious to see who that beautiful voice belongs to.” I say and we both start laughing.
I am surprised Stone didn’t tell me, though. He always tells me everything. I assume Mike told Becky immediately.
Dave and I used to share an apartment together, that’s how I got to know the other guys from Mookie Blaylock and that’s also how Stone and I got to know each other.
When Stone and I got together, I decided I was in for my own apartment. Dave understood and now he lives in our old apartment with his girlfriend.
“Hey Krusen, I think I'm gonna take a shower and get ready for tonight then. What time am I expected?” I ask as Dave finishes his beer.
“Just make sure you’re ready at 6. I’ll tell Stone to come and pick you up.”
I nod in agreement and Dave and I let Dave out after saying goodbye.
It’s now 3:45 PM, which means I’ve got plenty of time left to get ready and eat something. But me being me, am I too lazy to cook something, so I decided to go out to the pizzeria around the corner of my apartment.
Just before I leave my apartment, the phone rings. I get back in the living room and answer the phone.
“Hello?
“Hey Darlin’, wanna grab some food?”
“Hey Steno, yeah ‘course. I was just gonna head out to the pizzeria actually. Meet me there in 10?”
“Sure thing, see you then babe.”
“Seee ya.”
I hang up with a smile on my face. Recently Stone and I haven’t had the chance to be together very often due to the band meetings and then they finally got their singer, so it was a nice idea to grab dinner with him again.
After about a two minute walk I make it to the pizzeria and get a table for two. Not too long after that Stone arrives and when he spots me a smile spreads across his face.
“Hi dear,” he says before pecking my lips and taking the seat opposite from me.
“Hi love, I’ve missed you.”
“I know, I’ve missed you, too.” he smiles.
Soon after we order something to drink and our pizza’s. The pizza’s arrive, along with the drinks very quickly and we both dig in.
We just talk about how things are going and I ask him why he didn’t invite me for tonights practice. He looks up with a guilty look and tells me he completely forgot due to the fact that he’s a bit stressed out lately, because of the band and also because of work.
I tell him it’s not a problem and he shouldn’t worry about it, because I know he’s stressed. And besides that, it’s humane to forget something every once in a while. We both laugh it off and continue our delicious meal.
Afterwards we go back to my place and both get ready. Stone has enough clothes at my place to survive for a month.
In the meantime Stone got called by Dave, who told him he should pick me up, Stone explains he’s already with me and we laugh a bit.
At 5:45 PM it’s time to leave the apartment, so we make our way down to Stone’s car and he drive’s us to Jeff’s house, which is where they have been practising the last couple of days.
“There they are!” Jeff chimes as soon as we step foot into the basement of his house.
“Hey guys,” Stone and I say at the same time, which causes everyone to laugh.
There is one face I have never seen before, which can only mean one thing.
I walk up to the guy and extend my hand, “You must be the infamous Eddie Vedder. I’m (Y/N).” I say with a smile.
He returns both gestures, “Indeed I am, madame.” he says which makes me laugh. In the corner of my eye I see Stone making a face I’m not used to seeing, but I decide to ignore it.
“Well, welcome to Seattle, I’m sure you're gonna have a great time.” I say, “Oh! and I just wanted to say that, even though I haven’t heard it live yet, you’ve got a beautiful voice.” I smile
If I didn’t know any better I’d say a faint blush appears on Eddie’s face, but I don’t get the chance to see if it is really there, ‘cause Stone makes sure of that.
He snatches my hand, “We’re gonna grab a beer upstairs. Anyone else want anything?” he asks nonchalantly. I don’t say anything about the fact that he just, pretty rudely, took me away from a conversation. But since it was ending anyways, I let it slip and go up with Stone to get some drinks.
The guys finish their practice with satisfied looks on their faces. Becky and I clap and cheer very loudly, which makes them all laugh and Eddie even gets a bit flushed by it.
Stone and Jeff are the ones to clean up the mess, so I decide to take a smoke outside with Eddie.
“You were great, I’m sure you guys will make it far. I really hope you do, you deserve it.” I said while Eddie lit his own cigarette.
He smiled, “Thanks, it really means a lot. And thanks for making me feel so welcome here, it’s really good to have that feeling.”
I look at him for a second and put my hand on his shoulder, “No problem, Eddie. It’s the least thing I can do. After all, I don’t want to scare you away.”
We burst into a bit of laughter until Stone comes out as well. First, he smiles, but when he sees my hand on Eddie’s shoulder while we’re laughing, it fades.
“What’s so funny?” he asks pretty annoyed.
I give him a weird look and I immediately feel Eddie tense up. I remove my hand from his shoulder and finish my cig.
“Aren’t we allowed to have fun and laugh about things?” I ask, getting annoyed by the fact that ever since I made contact with Eddie, Stone got all tensed up and annoyed.
He probably thinks I don’t see it, but I’ve known him longer than a day, I know when he’s jealous. I’ve told him so many times he has nothing to worry and shouldn’t be jealous, but I guess he doesn’t seem to understand.
“Yeah, you are. But not with you’re hands all over him.”
There he goes. He always makes such a scene of things.
Eddie immediately takes a step back and starts apologising, to both Stone and me, but I shrug it off.
“Don’t apologise Ed, Stone’s being an ass and he knows, he just can’t help it.”
I know that was harsh, but can you blame me? I’ve had a couple of drinks and I was seriously just talking to a guy with one fucking hand on his shoulder, not even with any intentions.
“Are you serious, (Y/N)?” Stone asks flabbergasted.
“I’m gonna head in guys, I- I’ll see you later.” Eddie quietly says before sprinting inside.
“What is your problem?” Stone continues.
I roll my eyes and as I’m about to grab another cig from my pocket, Stone gabs my hand to prevent it from happening.
“Answer me, (Y/N).”
I wriggle myself from his grip and turn around, “Why are you always so fucking jealous when I’m around new guys?” I yell as I turn to face him again.
His features soften when he sees my face: not angry, just disappointed.
“(Y/N)-” Stone tries, but I’m not done yet.
“No, Stone. When I was talking to Eddie before practice, you were already being an ass in front of him and now this? Look, I get that you don’t want to lose me. Hell, I don’t want to lose you either! But please, if I say that you’ve got no reasons to be jealous, then don’t be. ‘Cause you're an ass if you’re jealous. And I don’t like a jealous Steno.”
I finish my rant and grab a cig as I’m done.
Stone walks up to me and grabs my face between his hands, “I’m sorry, love. It’s just, Eddie is a good-looking guy, you know?” he says and makes me chuckle. “I just got insecure again. Please, forgive me, though?” he says with those fucking puppy eyes.
“I really can’t stay angry at you for more than 5 minutes.” I say as I give in and feel his soft lips on mine.
He kisses me tenderly and shows me just how much he loves me and it’s the best feeling in the whole wide world. Hell, in the whole universe!
“I love you, babe.” he says with a soft voice after we broke apart.
“Hmm, yeah, I love you too, but first you need to apologise for acting like a dick towards Eddie.”
He laughs, but listens nonetheless. I follow him inside, hands intertwined. It is true though, I really can’t stay mad at him for more than 5 minutes.
#Stone Gossard#stone gossard x reader#stone gossard x oc#stone gossard fanfiction#stone gossard fanfic#stone gossard one shot#stone#steno#stoney#pearl jam#pearl jam fanfiction#pearl jam fanfic#pearl jam one shot#mike mccready#Eddie vedder#Jeff ament#dave krusen
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One shot posted!
(Young) Eddie Vedder x OC
Setting: 1990's, Seattle, Washington
It's a bit old but I like it so go give a try!
#eddievedder#pearljam#edved#stone gossard#jeffament#mikemccready#eddie vedder fanfic#eddie vedder one shot#1990s#1990s music#seattle#washington#seattlescene#eddie vedder x oc#fanfics#artists on tumblr#artists
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Wet Sand
Stone Gossard x OC
Chapter 4 - Watermelon In Easter Hay
Summary: you get me. that’s why.
masterlist
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫
notes: chapter foooour! disclaimer: this one is quite tough, so be careful about the tw’s and look out for each other, guys <3 tough times always end and we come out the other way stronger than ever before.
tw: a lot of hurt. mentions of the thing that rhymes with kegs, brief mentions of drug abuse, addiction, brief hint at s*1c1de, description of panic attacks/trauma dissociation. comfort.
i promise that the next one will be so agressively fluffy you’ll drown in it.
songs:
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫
Somehow, time suddenly started to pass quicker than usual, especially in the context of prolonged winter nights.
The number of oat milk lattes pressed was slowly rising into the low hundreds over the next three weeks, the lunch feasts weren’t as flashy as the first time - it was more of a lunch snack split between three people.
But Kiki didn’t mind.
I could get used to this.
The mantra played on a loop in her head when she got up each morning, the entire bike ride to the parking lot, the whole walk from there to the café.
She was so excited about getting used to this that despite her crippling insomnia, she began to arrive to work about half an hour before Jeff, who was a self-proclaimed morning bird.
She just couldn’t wait.
To get there and wipe the tables. To scribble the dailies on the menu blackboard. To hear Jeff’s adorable righteous fury when he started yapping about yesterday’s ball game - in fact, she was looking forward to learning all the details.
Most of all, though, to catch a flash of wild ruddy hair through the window and hear a knock on the door. See Stone shaking a paper bag in the air with a wide smile as she let him in, receiving a delightfully warm croissant and an even warmer hug.
“That, sir, is illegal. Do the higher-ups know that you’re nicking under their noses every day?”
“You said I’m a punk, I gotta protect my reputation.”
Still, the Christmas holidays couldn’t come fast enough. So, right after her last shift of the year, Kiki beelined to the laundromat to pick up her clothes as quickly as she could.
She stuffed the few pieces she had into her backpack and headed straight home. She was already running late to a meet-up with Stone back at Pioneer Square. It was the day of a long awaited holiday night-out.
When she got back to her apartment, she grinned as she rummaged a t-shirt out of the bag. It had a big Nets logo on the front. Jeff brought it to her yesterday, it still had a pleasant soapy scent.
“Don’t worry, it’s fresh from the laundry basket. It’s a bit big but it’ll do. Now that you’re starting to warm up to it, I have to sway you to the right team.”
“Jesus, Ames, you’re tasteless. Always with the propaganda. Let her form her own opinion.”
“You’re just mad that you didn’t get one.”
Kiki was giddy when she caught herself calling the unlikely duo ‘friends’ in her head.
I could get used to this.
She was whistling an Aerosmith song - another consequence of daily hanging out with Jeff - while she cuffed the baggy sleeves of her newly acquired NBA apparel.
Tightening the shoelaces of her combat boots, she softly cursed when she bent down - she felt a stab in her stomach. No lunch today.
It was the beginning of a holiday break, meaning all money goes to cheap beer and 3 a.m. Doghouse fries to-go.
And the rent was due.
No, asking him for another help-out isn’t an option. Not again. You won’t die if you only eat once a day for a week.
And besides, she was planning to return everyone’s hospitality by buying at least one round tonight.
The two of them had a rendezvous at the Off Ramp with Chris, Jeff and a couple of guys. A cherub-looking jester called Andy, who occasionally washed the dishes at the café, and Stone and Jeff’s sweet gangly bandmate, Bruce.
One thing she’d learned over her multiple visits to the Off Ramp - it was probably the worst excuse for a bar she’d ever seen.
The upside was that the music was impeccable and the alcohol was ID-free.
That was about it.
First of all, it was Stone’s money laundering headquarters. He lured in unassuming patrons to make bizarre bets with him while knowing the payoff like the back of his hand.
His favourite was guessing how many dead cockroaches there were next to the vodka shelf - it was usually between five and eight.
One of the most successful schemes so far was when he got a group of French girls to each bet a shot that Matt from Soundgarden would break a stick within the first song.
He broke two in the first thirty seconds.
Stone won four shots and Kiki mocked him for missing out on an ‘authentic French kiss’ when he turned his cheek as one of the girls went in for a passionate bonus prize.
Plus, only she knew that he’d sneaked backstage before the show to file a weak spot in four of Matt’s flimsy drumsticks - she was the one guarding the back room so no one would walk in on him.
Jeff, meanwhile, was an angel. Carefully watching everyone’s drinks so they wouldn’t get spiked, something that was sadly a common occurrence in the sweaty dim hell hole. Always ready to light anyone’s stick of choice. Rocking out to every song with identical enthusiasm, even if he’d heard it thirty times over.
But even the most joyous of companies couldn’t deny the fact that a certain degree of thick skin was needed to snake through the narrow corridors.
All the vomit stains and broken bottles on the carpeted floors sometimes called for nearly athletic skills.
There seemed to be a different kind of bodily fluid for every inch of the dancefloor. On top of that, it was all lousily enlightened by a disco ball that was threatening to fall apart at any moment.
If you wandered too close to the supposed kitchen, the stench was so pungent it must’ve caused at least one nosebleed over the years in service.
The women’s restrooms were desolate. There was more piss on the floor than in the actual toilet bowls, powder sprinkles of questionable origin were scattered around the sinks and the mirrors were broken, barely functional and always covered in lipstick stains and sweaty handprints.
And the guys that had - for obvious reasons - visited both, swore that the men’s room was far, far worse.
In other bars around Seattle, it wouldn’t be shocking to accidentally stumble upon some couple enjoying their date in a bathroom stall. Here, it was less common.
You were more likely to bump into them right in front of the restrooms, blocking the way in.
To spend a night out at the Ramp was a truly authentic pagan experience.
I could get used to this.
Kiki opted for leaving her bike at home and took in a deep breath of the frosty air as she strolled through the busy streets of Chinatown.
The sun was long gone and a fog settled over the roads, so she clutched her crochet bag closer and tried to warm up by folding her arms.
Andy, who was fronting another domestic band, had an enchanting voice and Bruce was already a solid third cog in a well-synergized string faction of Green River.
So the five of them were planning to jam as soon as possible.
But something always came up. Christmas was around the corner and everybody took more shifts at work to afford the luxuries of holidays.
That was twice as true for musicians - none of them simply had time to focus on music, hence her lack of session gigs. Her excitement was immeasurable, though.
To play with like-minded people, finally able to express herself however she wanted.
Unable to sustain a minute of peace, though, her brain always came up with pointless arguments.
Can I express myself, though? ‘Myself’ is not nearly good enough to keep up with them.
With him.
I wonder how he feels music. Does he hunch? Bop his head? Jump around or just sway?
Are his eyes closed? He seems like someone who would mouth along with his riffs. Nerd.
Can't really imagine how he touches the strings, though. Maybe he does a lot of slides.
Heavy and slow. Teasing.
That sounds like him.
“Look what the cat dragged in. Baby, do you own a watch? I’ve been waiting here for like fifteen minutes,” Stone muttered through chattering teeth when she finally arrived at their meeting spot, startling her out of her thoughts. “I’m pretty sure this is frozen solid, along with my balls.”
Kiki already recognized the paper bag he was clutching.
Her eyebrows knitted in confusion when he waved his wrist in front of her face to show her the time and then gave her a bone-crushing hug.
“God dammit, I forgot to wind it. Sorry,” she mumbled into his chest, a flaming blush prickling her icy ears.
The scent of fresh pastries and cinnamon still lingered on his sweatshirt.
“What’s the ruckus?” she let him go and immediately checked her watch to twist the little winding wheel.
“Huh? Oh, I was running late in the morning so I couldn’t stop by. I grabbed it on my way home at least, don’t wanna lose my stealing streak,” he shrugged as she took the bag from him and they both set off.
“Ah, you’re a saint, Stoney. I’m so hungry I could eat a fucking horse,” she breathed out puffs of fog.
“Ames and I were wondering where you got lost. Thought you had slipped on ice and fallen into a ditch,” she huffed. She struggled to keep up with his brisk tempo and munch on her cold cinnamon roll at the same time. “I had a cake in mind, you know, to bring to the hospital.”
“Yeah?”
“Mhmpf. All pink with big chocolate letters on top,” she mumbled through a mouthful of food, waving her hand in the air to mime handwriting. “'Good riddance.'”
He scoffed, reluctantly chomping down when she offered him a bite.
“Slow down or you’ll choke. I don’t wanna spend the night with my hand down your throat,” he chuckled, slightly concerned by the sheer speed of her eating.
“You said you had a first-aid course, no? Time to put your money where your mouth is,” she muttered again and gulped down the last bite.
The Ramp was packed to the brim, but it wasn’t hard to find the colourful cast of friends, even in the dim orange light.
Chris and Bruce towered over the sea of people like long-haired maypoles, passing a joint to Jeff. He was wearing a bright purple hat with an orange bow - an extravagant wizard. And as they got closer, Andy, who was a lot shorter than the three of them, surprisingly stood out even more. Unmistakable with his furry white coat and bright red lipstick.
Stone, in his kaleidoscope vest, was holding her hand so he wouldn’t lose her in the crowd. Her fingers were still cold as ice, but somehow they warmed him down to the marrow of his bones.
Unbeknownst to her, his mind worked in similar patterns to hers.
I could get used to this.
● ● ● ● ● ●
“…they’ve been away for a month, so, obviously, I was salivating for all the details, shivering like a fucking Chihuahua. And then he just stepped out of his ugly station wagon, stinking like rotten eggs and with a bloody scratch on his cheek, like, this big,” Andy colourfully explained, raised his little finger to illustrate and continued.
“Gave me that fucking blank stare of his and asked me if I knew that Crüe dumped Nikki Sixx in a dumpster last week.”
Kiki rolled her eyes and puffed out a laugh. Somehow, her conversation with Andy derailed to the story of Green River’s disasterous DIY tour.
“Jeez…what a sweet talker,” she scoffed, her grin growing wider when Andy’s baby blue eyes popped open as he vehemently nodded.
“And I was like…no?” he raised his knitted eyebrows and shook his head. “And he shrugged and went: ‘Well, Crüe dumped Nikki Sixx in a dumpster last week.’ And didn’t say a word for the rest of the day.”
“Pfft, he just wanted to be mysterious,” Kiki snorted, taking a swig of her beer.
There seemed to be a pattern, though.
Observing him for the past month, she’d noticed that Stone sometimes switched into a completely different person. Especially when getting into specific topics.
Usually hard drugs, relationships and politics.
The sarcasm suddenly became borderline cruel, not playful. And his cool punky attitude felt stoic and alien.
“Had to question Ames afterwards, because Stoney just. wouldn’t. talk. about it. He just does that sometimes. Nomen est omen, I guess,” Andy chuckled, confirming her suspicion.
“Unresolved childhood trauma, maybe?” she shrugged and took a swig of her beer.
I recognize that one from a mile away.
“Nah, the Gossards are the sweetest sweethearts of all the sweethearts ever,” Andy shook his head. His chubby cheeks were flushed from the shots of tequila Stone had been supplying all night.
A bunch of tourists were in the house, which meant a fruitful playground.
“I think he was just born that way.”
“Heartless?” Kiki scoffed, her smile widening when she caught Stone giving her subtle thumbs up from the bar.
The bartender was already pouring another round. Stone grinned when she returned the gesture and then started wiping off a lipstick stain on his cheek with a slightly disgusted expression. Andy smirked.
“Composed,” he shrugged.
“Weeeell, a little detached.”
“…practical,” he added, biting his cheek to contain laughter. Kiki squinted at him and shook her head.
“Yeah, bullshit. I still smell trauma,” she mumbled, gulping down another sip.
A question was playing around her head for some time. And now seemed to be the perfect moment to ask.
Because if Stone was the resourceful little shit of the group, Andy was the all-knowing chatterbox.
“Did that guy ever manage to keep a girlfriend?”
“Yeah, once,” Andy replied, playing around with the squeezed slice of lime in his empty shot glass.
“There we fucking go! The enigma of Stone Gossard solved! Good job, my dear Watson,” Kiki slapped her thighs, raising her bottle to clink Andy’s empty glass. He giggled like a child. Different people had different reactions to her dry English attitude.
Jeff seemed to have an open mind despite clearly not getting it.
Chris usually gave her disarming smiles, probably taking it for a cute younger-sister quirk.
Stone was…well, Stone about it. Never missing a beat to shoot back at her like he had been deprived of an arguing partner for his whole life.
And Andy always rewarded her with the most angelic giggles she’d ever heard.
“…well? Spill the beans!” Kiki nudged him, leaning a bit closer on the bar table. Andy dismissively waved her off.
“Oh, I don’t like to gossip…” he nonchalantly shook his head.
They stared at each other with wide eyes before bursting into wild cackles, getting a few confused looks from people around them.
When Andy was done with his adorable snorts, he cleared his throat.
“Okay, so, way back in…’84 methinks. Her name was Tara, she was from Utah or Alabama or…whatever, who gives a shit. Anyway, very religious family, Mormons I think, you know how they do it down there,” he theatrically shivered with disgust and continued.
“However. Stoney’s brash mouth could seduce a fucking saint. I’ve heard it rumoured that she screamed for Jesus the first time he -“
“Woah, okay, okay, no, thanks. I get it, please spare me,” she scowled and plugged her ears.
She hoped that Andy wouldn’t notice the raging blush that rapidly filled her entire face, but he was very hard to fool.
“I know you wanna hear all of it -” he smirked, “- but very well. Anyway, he was completely smitten. Treated her so right, didn’t give her any of that shithead attitude.”
That sounds terrifying.
“All of a sudden like a lamb. It was terrifying.”
“Bet,” Kiki snorted and bit into the rim of her bottle to tame the growing smirk on her face. “And how was she?”
“Apparently, not bad,” he mused, giggling again when her eyes widened and she threateningly lunged forward.
“Sorry, sorry,” he raised his arm in defence and took a few seconds to compose himself. “Well, once he helped her out of her redneck shell, she was, uh, how do I put it…”
“A cool girl?” Kiki shrugged and took a swig.
“An insufferable bitch,” he deadpanned and the beer flew out of her nose. He gave her some time to wipe her mouth and continued in a slightly sombre tone.
“She cheated a whole lot, probably wanted to try out as much as she could, now that she’d realized that God can’t make her cum,” he explained, making her snort again.
Fucking hell. This clown. I love him.
The way the story was going, though, her enjoyment slowly faded.
“You know that he’s a tease. And sometimes girls mistake his sarcasm for flirting.”
Yeah, tell me about it.
"So she used to make out with people right in front of him just to make him jealous,” Andy scowled and she mirrored his expression.
“Oof. How long did that go on?” Kiki asked, not even sure if she wanted to hear the rest of the story.
Her gaze trailed off to Stone’s grin as he was handing a shot to Bruce a few feet away from them. Now, there was something behind his smile that she hadn’t noticed before.
“About a year and a half or something, on and off,” Andy’s voice snapped her back to the conversation. “Then she broke up with him and went back home. I bet she married her cousin or something.”
Kiki scoffed and shook her head. She wasn’t sure how to comment on it, so she let Andy finish his story, even though she regretted even asking for it.
“He was devastated after all that, barely talked for weeks. I think he secretly used to be a romantic, but she kinda sobered him up from that whole ‘soulmate’ thing. I don’t think he’s dated anyone else since,” he ended with a shrug, mindlessly biting into the lime he fished out of the shot glass.
It seemed like he was trying to lighten the mood, his face twisting into a scrunched grimace.
“A Greek tragedy, really,” she followed his suit, letting out a bleak chuckle.
Andy waved his hand and swallowed a few times to push the sourness down before continuing in a slightly slurry voice.
“No, seriously. It kinda makes me sad. Actually, I think I haven’t seen him kiss a girl since then, you know?”
And you dare to laugh at me, beanpole?
“Yeah, he flirts and sleeps around, but he never kisses anyone on the lips,” Andy added, shrugging. “Maybe it’s some kind of a self-defence mechanism, I don’t know. I have no idea what’s going on behind that huge forehead of his.”
Oh.
“Like, he enjoys the one-night-stand-thrill or whatever but also doesn’t like it when girls touch him. And I mean touch as in this -” he reached out, patted Kiki’s shoulder and then rubbed her back. “-right?”
…yeah. But…
“Cringes at hugs and stuff, but once he’s enough inches away and certain that they're into it, he doesn’t have a problem with straight up telling them he wants to fuck their brains out,” Andy shook his head. “And somehow, it works. Sometimes I wonder if he’s even from the same planet.”
“I mean, that makes two of us, the hugging thing. But he does it whenever we meet anyway, so there’s a scoop for you,” Kiki tried to sound as careless as possible, kicking back the rest of her beer in one swell swoop.
“It’s different with you, you’re like his little Pooky bear,” Andy smirked, lacing his fingers under his chin. She snorted and raised her eyebrows.
“A what?”
“Pooky. You know Garfield, right? The comics?”
When Kiki shook her head with a curious smile, Andy gasped.
“What?! Sarcastic little shit of a cat who hates everyone but his teddy bear Pooky? And Pooky always pretends that he’s just a toy and then suddenly moves and rearranges stuff just to fuck with Garfield’s head?” he babbled, wildly gesturing.
“That sounds deranged. I love it,” she giggled, still unconvinced about the metaphor.
“Oh man, I grew up on that. I still have a stack of ‘em at home, I’ll borrow you some!” he enthusiastically grabbed her hand. “Then you’ll see why you’re Pooky.”
“I’d love that. And I truly admire that you make everything sound like a compliment,” Kiki grinned.
“It is,” Andy shot back, raising his eyebrows with a smirk. She scoffed.
“Pretty sure that just means he doesn’t view me as a potential fuck.”
He squinted and tipped his head to the side like a puppy.
“Yeeeeah, I wouldn’t exactly say that.”
“Just between us,” she interrupted him, “I’d admit that it hurts my ego, but I’m too vain. Guess I’m not his type.”
“Does he have a type? I haven’t noticed, maybe I’ve been around him for too long,” he chuckled, taking another pointless bite of the lime as if he was trying to suck out the last drops of tequila.
“Well, from what I’ve seen, they’re usually tall, sporty and sweet,” she counted on her fingers and then shrugged. “Then again, who’s type isn’t tall, sporty and sweet?”
Andy's toothy grin widened.
“Seems like your type is lanky, malnourished and sardonic.”
No.
“Yeah, no. I don’t - nope. Let’s cut this conversation before it starts, please,” she wiggled her finger at him, eyebrows knitted. His smile got even brighter.
“Why not, Pooky?” he pressed, grabbing her hand again. “You’re the only person I know who clicked with him without wanting to knock his teeth out first. And he’s into it.”
It sounds so easy when you say it.
“Because I don’t want to. And neither does he. I’m certain that we both like it just the way it is, trust me.”
Shit, he doesn’t trust me.
“You think I don’t know that you’re fucking on the side?” he exclaimed so loud Kiki had to bang her forehead against the bar table to hide her face from the people turning their heads.
“Jesus Christ, Andy! You’re disgusting,” she hissed when looked up, scowling.
His smile was omnipresent, though.
If Stone was the Roman statue, Andy was the Harlequin.
“Well, are you?”
“NO!”
“Not yet, you mean,” he raised his eyebrows, trying to contain another brewing giggle.
“Not yet, not tomorrow, not ever. Okay? I’m done with this topic, you clown, let’s move on,” Kiki reached out and softly pushed him.
Andy didn’t seem too keen on moving on, though, as his shoulders shook with a cackle.
“Have you ever stopped to think why he stares at your lips when you’re babbling? ‘Cause I have, Pooky,” he raised his index finger and tapped on her forehead to make the wrinkles between her eyebrows disappear.
All the other guys were on their way back to them, their laughs nearing Kiki’s ears as Andy whispered with a sly grin.
“It’s because you’re not his type.”
● ● ● ● ● ●
“I think I need a shot of bleach,” Kiki’s raspy voice appeared seemingly out of nowhere.
She left the group to get a beer, but before she could push her way back through the crowd, everyone except Stone had already scattered around the bar again.
He was startled when she walked straight up to him and slammed her forehead against his chest.
Unprovoked touching? This is new. I could get used to this.
“What’s up?” Stone chuckled, hoping that the sound of his heartbeat would get drowned in the loud buzz around them.
Kiki just slammed her head into his ribcage again and took a moment to shiver off some sort of disgust.
She raised her hand without a word and stuck a jumbo shot of vodka in his face. Snickering, he reluctantly took it and she finally looked up.
Her fae-like features were twisted in a comical grimace, mixing both amusement and repulsion.
“I just walked past Mike from Alice. Nailing a chick, that blonde exchange student -“
“Shocking! Your first time seeing a cock?” he interrupted with a brash grin, but his expression froze when she finished her sentence.
“- against the kitchen door.”
“Wh-what?! The kitchen?” he stuttered out, slowly breaking into a scowl identical to hers. Kiki vehemently nodded.
“Fuck. That’s rancid,” Stone choked out and fiercely kicked back the vodka. His nose wrinkled in a signature scrunch.
“I was trying to run past it as fast as I could, but I was so perplexed by them that I stopped by and kinda gave him a -“
She took a step back from Stone and demonstrated her best judgemental glare, raising her eyebrows as far as they could go.
“And I shit you not, he stared me dead in the eye for like ten seconds and then just turned around -” she mimed holding someone’s ass in her arms and spun around, “- and continued like I wasn’t there.”
Stone’s cheeks puffed with a laugh and he nonchalantly shook his head, but his ears started to burn red because of her vivid description. And he couldn’t stop his intoxicated mind from wandering.
Get it together, asshole. Not her. She made that very clear.
“I mean, maybe he wanted to give her a proper Ramp experience...” he shrugged, trying to focus on anything else than the glistening sweat on her flushed cheeks.
Kiki scoffed and took a swig of her beer before folding her arms.
“Yeah, but the kitchen?! I mean, you wouldn’t do that. You’re an A-grade slut, but at least you’re a gentleman, too.”
Just let her have the last word. It’s so easy. For once in your life, just shut the fu-
“Depends on the company. You, I’d even take inside the kitchen if I had to.”
But instead of scolding himself, Stone’s mind filled up with confidence as the vodka spilt through his brain cells and his lips curled into a triumphant smirk.
Stop lying to yourself, Gossard. Don’t act like you don’t get off on this shit.
Kiki raised an eyebrow and seemed to genuinely ponder if he was being serious, but she quickly brushed off her momentary lapse of judgement with a sharp scoff.
“Fine, from now on I officially don’t believe anything that comes out of this filthy cakehole,” she shook her head and reached up to poke his mouth.
Surprised by her own audacity, she tapped her finger on the small dimple in the middle of his bottom lip. “Don’t slip on the cum-stained floor when you go wash it out with soap.”
She held it there, basking in the crackling sensation that pulsed from his soft skin through her calloused fingertip.
When Stone took a tiny step back, darting across her face with an unreadable expression, she froze. Her hand hung in the air as his eyebrows twitched into a minuscule frown.
After a moment far too long for her comfort, she jumped when he lunged forward and bit her finger, cursing under her breath.
He was cackling as he ruffled her hair, Kiki slapped his hand away and rubbed on the bite mark on her knuckle.
Even though Stone’s shoulders were shaking with giggles, there was a clear shift in his demeanour. He firmly folded his arms and took another step back, clearing his throat.
He knew she’d noticed.
Yeah, right, big guy. So much for ‘put my money where my mouth is’. Idiot.
“Fuck, great, now I have rabies,” Kiki muttered, studying her finger in the dim light as she gave him a side-eye, trying to hide a smirk.
Stone chuckled and scratched his forehead.
What the fuck is wrong with you, dude? A girl has touched you before. A lot of them did. She’s just another one. Just a girl. Just…
“What’s wrong? Am I foaming at the mouth already?” Kiki gasped, staring him down with a quizzical brow.
Why does she...strange. So, so strange.
All he managed to do was shake his head and try to put on an unbothered grin.
Snap out of it, you dumb fuck.
“Cat got your tongue?” she quipped, scoffing when he didn’t answer.
“Silent treatment, that’s new. And weird. I already miss your yapping,” Kiki shook her head and watched Stone’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. He took a breath to speak, swiftly easing back into his smart-ass mode.
“Woah, woah, okay. Spoke too soon. Tell you what, I’ll go powder my nose and in the meantime, you can try to think of something funny to say,” she handed him her beer and patted his warm cheek. “You can do it, pretty boy, I believe in you.”
And with that, she disappeared, the crowd swallowing her small stature like an ocean wave. Stone luckily found an empty spot in the hoard of people next to the wall.
He leaned on it and banged his head against the uneven bricks.
You’re in deep shit, friend.
● ● ● ● ● ●
Five minutes passed. Then ten. After twenty, Stone’s impatient foot tapping caused a cramp to shoot through his calf, so he cursed and kicked the air a few times to shake it off.
Jesus, did she get flushed down the drain?
He wasn’t paying any attention to the shaggy-haired surfer dude in front of him. Stone somehow found himself in a conversation with him - he just appeared out of nowhere and started yapping on and on about how the bars are worse around Sunset Boulevard.
Ever the businessman, Stone took the opportunity to bet a shot that they would see at least a trio of cockroaches throughout the night.
Of course, he knew that even three was an outstandingly small number.
I’ll go check on her.
He excused himself and assured the guy that he would be back to collect his prize. He snaked through the entire bar, looking for her in every dark corner of the place.
He even tried knocking on the women’s room and calling after her, peeking in when a chirping group of girls allowed him to do so ‘if he really is Stoney’.
But she was nowhere to be found. The last place he didn’t check was a small patio behind the back door, usually a spot one went to when they wanted to fuck a stranger.
Nah, she just needed a breather alone. Or with the discount Steven Tyler that’s been eyeing her from the barstool all night.
Fuck, what do I care?
He liked to think that he had the talent to stomach anything with a straight face, but an unfamiliar burn settled in his lungs as he made his way through a narrow corridor leading to the door.
This is a bad idea. Turn around and leave. Go count cockroaches or something.
He passed a couple that was shamelessly slamming against the wall with dull thuds, but it didn’t phase him at all.
He was too busy fighting his hazy brain, trying to coax his limbs to beeline back inside.
But he couldn’t stop himself as he took the shabby door handle and pushed the metal door open with a loud creak.
Maybe he’d take the scene of her pinned against the dirty bricks by someone else than him over whatever he just walked into.
Kiki was lying on the filthy concrete, curled up in a fetal position and shaking. She was holding a fading cigarette between her cramped fingers, hot ash falling on her red knuckles with every sob she let out.
Stone didn’t think twice about dropping down to his knees and hovering above her, little rocks and rubble stabbed his skin through the holes in his jeans.
“Jesus fucking Christ. What - what’s wrong, Baby?” he stuttered as he pulled to sit her up and shuffle to the wall to rest her back against it. She immediately hugged her knees, avoiding his eyes like a plague.
She was hyperventilating, tears streamed out of her puffy eyes and fell on the snot-stained Nets t-shirt.
He crouched in front of her and tried to take the cigarette away so it wouldn’t burn her. But her hand twitched and the cramp intensified, so he put his hands on her knees instead, cautiously caressing her.
“It’s f-fine, let m-me be. I’ll c-come inside i-in a sec,” she hiccuped, shuffling away when he moved to sit down next to her.
He carefully hugged her around the shoulders and pressed her to his chest. She was still shaking with rapid breaths, but her body slowly collapsed closer to him.
Stone felt his limbs tingle with an alien sensation, almost as if he’d never touched a woman before. Like an eerie fever dream.
“What’s wrong? What happened?”
“No, I’m…I’m okay, t-this h-happens sometimes…s-sorry,” she mumbled again, resting her forehead on her knees. His heart dropped.
“Did someone hurt you?” he questioned, trying to lift her chin to see if her face was in one piece.
“No, no, it’s nothing, I just…just l-leave me here, okay? I’ll be right back,” she choked out and let him take a look. After sparing him a brief glance, Kiki shook his hand off and hid behind her hair again.
She didn’t have any bruises, only cracked lips from all the salty tears.
“What happened? Who hurt you? Tell me, please,” he pressed, reaching up to stroke her hair.
“No one, I’m n-not hurt…it’s fine. Just go,” she repeated like a broken record, but he noticed that she began to melt into his arms and finally dropped the cigarette butt on the ground.
“I’m not leaving you.”
That brought a new wave of shivers and he desperately clutched her closer to make her warm.
Neither of them was wearing a jacket or a sweater, so he didn’t have much to work with. It still seemed to help, though, as her breathing slowly calmed down.
“What’s up, Baby?” Stone whispered after a long moment of silence, disturbed only by her fading sobs.
“I-it’s just…it’s me, I’m sorry. I’m just a sissy.”
She took a long pause to breathe in and cleared her hoarse throat.
“I, uh…I just saw some girls shooting up in the bathroom, that’s all. They offered me some, too, just as a cherry on top.”
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Oh. Did…did you -” he carefully started, still whispering. The implication brought a bit of fuel into her exhausted body, so she immediately cut him off.
“Fuck no. Christ, of course not."
Kiki sounded almost offended, so he quickly regretted even thinking about that option.
“I’m sorry. Sorry, I just…it’s not uncommon here…” Stone muttered with a bitter undertone in his voice. She took a big breath again.
“I know, it’s f-fucking everywhere. I don’t know what I was thinking…as if you could run away from drugs,” she lamented under her breath like she was scolding herself. “I guess I p-probably chose the wrong career. It j-just hit me more than it should’ve. Like I said, sissy.”
He wasn’t sure of what to say, so he just stared at the dirty ground in front of them. He realized there were multiple fresh-looking cigarette butts, she must’ve smoked a lot more before he arrived.
Kiki sniffed and wiped her wet nose with the back of her hand.
“It’s, uh…my dad, he…”
She took a moment to inhale a shaky breath.
“He was a smack addict, OD’d this spring. I didn’t know him that well, but, uh…I’ve seen that shit when he crashed at our place, you know…mom and I had this tiny little flat.”
She suddenly sounded clear and lucid, almost detached.
“I ran off as often as I could, slept at whatever place I worked at or in the school gym…I was probably the only kid that enjoyed going to school, ‘cause it meant I wouldn’t have to be at home. They both had a lot of friends over,” she scoffed. “Well, friends - dodgy old men and strung-out buddies with a pocketful of crack.”
She started picking on her cuticles and tore a hangnail, so Stone mindlessly reached out to stop her and started playing with the battered old ring on her middle finger.
“And mom was…she was ill. Real ill. You know, here,” she tapped her temple. “Got some of it from her, I think. Family heirloom.”
A few moments of tense silence and she continued.
“I guess they did love each other, in some ugly twisted way. In the end, she couldn’t bear to live without him,” Kiki mumbled the last part like she was talking to herself.
“So, uh…I kinda found myself alone in a dirty hole in the middle of East End with about fifty quid to my name…mom left me that,” she scoffed again, this time even sharper. “No note or anything, just that one fucking piece of worthless green paper.”
She sighed and watched his bony fingers slowly wiggle the ring left and right, slightly concerned that he didn’t speak yet.
Or move, for that matter.
“Dad’s cousin, Toby, moved here a long time ago. The only family I knew, so when it all happened, he tracked me down and said he’d take care of me. Got me a one-way plane ticket. A guitar case and these stupid dungarees,” she swabbed her nose again and wiped it on her pants to make a point. “That’s all I had on me.”
“What about him?” Stone suddenly asked, his voice eerily monotone.
“He recently moved to Aberdeen, but he still helps me with rent, even when I don’t ask. I try not to, obviously…I gotta look for something cheaper, ‘cause he’s already done enough, you know?“ Kiki waved her hand to try and loosen her shaking fingers. “Too much.”
She took a deep breath and fiercely shook her head.
“Fuck, sorry. I didn’t mean to just…shit, that was like an infodump from a bad movie,” she added and cleared her throat.
“Take it as a roundabout way of saying ‘run while you still can’,” she chuckled and tried to shuffle away, but Stone squeezed her closer.
A warm tear tickled her pale wrist, but it wasn’t one of her own. His breathing didn’t change, neither did his heartbeat or his stance.
Only the dull sound of teardrops falling on her skin as they dropped from the tip of his nose.
A Roman statue, weeping.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
His voice didn’t indicate any sort of emotion, but it soothed her in a way she’d never felt before. She raised her eyebrows.
“Like, ever?” she huffed, trying to loosen the mood, but he stayed still.
“If that’s what you want,” he said and patiently waited for her reaction. When she didn’t give him one, he cleared his throat and finally moved to rest his head on top of hers.
“Didn’t know you smoked.”
She scoffed.
“Only when I’m really riled up. News flash, it’s a nasty habit with zero benefits. Makes me even more poor, stinky and unhealthy.”
“A woman after my own heart," Stone nudged her shoulder, savouring the sound of her silent chuckle. "Just realized…I never asked you where you live.”
“At the corner of South Main and 17th Ave, next to Chinatown. A hovel, but there’s a bed and a bathroom and only I have the key. So I can’t complain,” she shrugged and continued. There wasn’t a hint of sarcasm in her voice.
“Still costs an arm and a leg, though, so it’s only temporary. Too small to get a roommate. I mean, I prefer solitude anyway, but you can’t always get what you want.”
“You could live with me, you know. I mean, if you want. At my place,” Stone said after a long minute of silence, still fiddling with her ring. "Be alone together."
A breath hitched in Kiki’s throat and she furiously shook her head.
“No. No, no, thanks…thanks so much, Stoney, but no. That’s - that’s too much to ask for,” she began stuttering again.
Stone moved to look at her, but she was firmly fixated on the trashcan on the other side of the patio.
“You didn’t even ask for that,” he shot back, raising his eyebrows.
“Yeah, but you’re already more hospitable than I deserve,” she replied and shook her head again. “And I doubt your parents would be chuffed about a sudden stray raccoon occupying their house.”
He briskly sat up straight and pushed away from the wall to face her.
"No, I’m serious. There’s a little brick shed behind the house, that’s where I live. I re-made it into a proper living space, isolated the walls and put electricity there. A bathroom with a tiny shower, a kitchen corner and a small electric cooker. Got my own door, my own key, it’s detached from the house,” he spewed out, suddenly more animated than she’d ever seen him.
“I pay my parents some rent, but once we split it, we'll have more money for music. Or you can pay a smaller half and cook dinner from time to time to make up for the rest.”
Stone didn’t even let her take a breath.
“There’s an attic above the room, like a little loft. I already put a permanent ladder there, but it just collects dust ‘cause I don’t have enough stuff to fill it up,” he continued and finally let go of her fingers, waving his hands around as if he were using an invisible broom. “We can clean it up and put up a bed for you, or I can move up there and you can sleep downstairs, whatever you like better.”
Kiki stopped him, more firmly than before.
“Stoney, I can’t accept that.”
“Why not? Like I said, if you want, there’s an unused space and I was looking for someone to take in anyway, to split the rent. It’s a little neighbourhood in Capitol Hill, ten-minute bike ride from Pioneer. Volunteer Park right under your nose,” he continued, like a dedicated salesman.
“I know all the nooks and crannies, there’s tons of cool bars and cheap food spots. When the mountain’s out, you can see the Needle.”
He paused and when she didn’t immediately shoot him down, he started pushing again.
“If you insist on paying rent,” he shrugged and she finally looked up at him, slightly frowning. Red eyes and a patchy blush, smudged eyeliner and parched lips.
And yet, she was the most breathtaking human he’d ever seen.
“…and I wouldn’t dare to try and stop you, we’ll split, fair share. More dough for guitar strings and beer for both.”
“It’s just…I’m not…” she stuttered but Stone didn’t let her finish.
“If you’re concerned about the size, it’s about 175 square feet, I can shrink my stuff as much as you need -“
“No, it’s not that, that’s bigger than my flat. I just…”
“I rarely bring girls there. And if I happened to do that, by any chance, I’d tell you before -"
“You’re too good to me.”
Silence fell between them once again. This time, though, it was different. His big, strange gaze swallowed Kiki whole as if she was seeing him for the first time again.
Stone darted across her face and stopped at a fresh tear forming in the corner of her eye. He reached up and wiped it away with his thumb, touch as light as a feather.
“It’s about time someone is.”
“Stoney, I want to be alone,” she barely whispered, studying his firm expression.
“So do I.”
She finally ran out of pointless arguments and, after a moment, slowly nodded in agreement. He mirrored her nod, peridot twinkling under the milky moonlit sky.
How could I say no to them?
“I’ll pick you up at your place tomorrow morning, show you around and you can decide if you like the look of it, okay?”
“Why?” she let the all-encompassing question hang in the air.
He sighed and rested his head on top of hers again.
“You get me. That’s why.”
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫
#90s music#grunge fanfiction#mother love bone#pearl jam#pearl jam fanfic#pearl jam fanfiction#pearl jam imagine#stone gossard fanfic#stone gossard fanfiction#stone gossard x oc#stone gossard#band fic
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Wet Sand
Stone Gossard x OC
Chapter 3 - For Emily, Whenever I May Find Her
Summary: there’s a first time for everything.
masterlist
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notes: chapter three is go! hope you enjoy the voyage through the start of the weird relationship between these punky dummies - you met a day ago, it’s not that deep. right? right?!
tw: weed, virginity talk, allusions to the word that rhymes with eggs. dreamy pining psychedellia.
songs:
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“Morning! What can I help you with?”
“I’ll have a latte, please. Do you have something else than milk, though?”
“Jeff? Do we have any oat milk left?”
“Yep, I just opened a fresh carton.”
“There you have it!”
“Great, I’ll take that, thanks.”
“That’ll be a dollar in total, please. One oat milk latte, Jeff!”
“Coming up.”
Just as Kiki took a dollar bill from the cute ginger girl in front of her, the front door swung open, sending in a swift of cold air.
It was Stone, excitedly waving a paper bag in the air. Her jaw dropped and she shook her head with a huff. Stone seemed out of breath as he ran up to the counter, fog still puffing out of his mouth.
“Here it is, milady, it’s still warm. My apple turnovers will burn if I don’t come back in ten minutes, so make it quick, please,” he spewed, leaning against the counter as he tried to catch his breath.
“You’re so weird,” was all Kiki stuttered out through giggles. That made a huge smile appear on his face, his eyes twinkling. She took the paper bag from him and peeked inside, sighing with contentment when the scent of freshly baked pastry filled her nose.
“Jeff! One cappuccino with an extra shot of spit, please,” Kiki called over her shoulder and Stone’s Cheshire cat grin grew even wider, chuckling. She scratched her forehead to hide her raging blush with her hair.
Jeff shook his head as if he was already over what he called ‘the Tom and Jerry on crack routine’ earlier. He gave her the ginger’s order and as Kiki handed her the oat milk latte, she noticed that the girl checked Stone up and down. And he gave her a little side-eye, smirking.
“Oh! Oh hey, Stoney! Haven’t seen you in ages, almost didn’t recognize you! Great hair,” the girl blurted out and went in for a hug. Stone seemed to know who she is, but Kiki could notice that he tensed up, clearly not too keen on hugging everyone he bumps into.
She felt some sort of twisted satisfaction when he awkwardly gave her a half-assed hug, but as soon as the girl let him go, it was as if a switch flipped in his brain. He eased again and folded his arms, as cool as ever.
“Mel, Mel, Mel…fancy seeing you here. Thanks, there was a sale on red box dye in CVS. Not like you need that,” he chirped and reached out to flick a strand of her hair, a sly smirk plastered on his lips. "You might find a few of us strolling around town."
Mel’s airy giggle rang through the room and Kiki darted between the two of them. The dynamic seemed to be slightly similar to the one she’d seen with the blondie last night. And once again, she couldn’t help but feel awful.
‘Kay, mate, I get it, you enjoy flirting with everybody else, but do you have to fling it in my face?
“There’s a rumour going around that you’ve dropped out and ran off with a travelling circus show. Disappeared for, like, what…” he continued, scratching his chin.
“I don’t know, five months? I just had tons of work for school so I wasn’t out much,” she shrugged. “I’m back now, though, Christmas break. So we can get the party started right where we left off,” Mel quipped and took a sip of her coffee, leaving a lipstick stain on the lid.
She looked at him through her lashes to emulate a ginger Bambi and he smirked, but his words were seeping with sarcasm.
“Can’t wait.”
Oblivious to his jab, she took another sip and asked Kiki for a napkin. Without leaving Mel out of her sight, she blindly reached under the counter, whipping out a tissue box.
Stone carefully observed the shorter woman in front of him, biting his cheek when Kiki put on a fake smile and theatrically presented the box to her.
“Hate to barge in on your planning session but I might need to serve another coffee, so I gotta ask you to move slightly to your left or right, depending on your preference,” she explained, moving her sardonic gaze to Stone.
He was already darting across her face with a cocky grin and he didn’t seem too phased. On the contrary, his scoff indicated that he was amused by her acidity.
“You still have my number, right? So that’s sorted,” Mel said after patting her lips dry as they shifted to the side.
Nobody was behind them, but Stone knew better than to comment on it. He knew Kiki’s frigid response would provoke another war for the last word.
“I keep it in a heart-shaped locket next to my bed, no worries,” he retorted and Mel blushed a little, putting a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
“Always the tease. Let me know then and we’ll figure something out,” she purred and took a look at her wristwatch. “Oh, gotta run. My class starts in half an hour. See ya, Stoney!” she went in for another hug and he lousily put his arm around her shoulders, his smile once again twitching with an uncomfortable cramp.
“Yeah, see ya,” he mumbled, giving her a jittery wave.
“Cheers, have a great day,” Kiki called after Mel as she walked away, narrowing her eyes at Stone when he turned back to her.
She took a big bite of her croissant, humming when Stone raised his eyebrows in question.
“Hm, it’s digestible.”
“Excuse me? We at Grand Central Bakery pride ourselves in the best pastries in town,” he shot back, shaking his head as he leaned on the counter. “I chose the crispiest one I had, don’t be a brat.”
Kiki dusted off a fleck of puff pastry that settled in the corner of her lips, ignoring the rush of blood that crept up her neck. She scoffed.
“You don’t strike me as a locket kinda guy.”
“I had to think of something,” he shrugged, fiddling with little clumps of wool on his left glove. She raised her eyebrows with a dramatic gasp and clutched her invisible pearls.
“So you’re saying you don’t have it?”
“The only things I keep next to my bed are a grass pipe and a mug that’s been collecting coffee debris for two months.”
That’s, uh…not surprising. Somehow. What the -
“I’ve seen her once at the Ramp and didn’t have the heart to turn her number down. She had cute handwriting,” Stone shrugged again, biting his lips to contain a grin when she let out a loud annoyed sigh.
“How chivalrous of you. Your turnovers are burning as we speak, so you should make like a Mel and disappear,” Kiki said as she took the coffee Jeff handed her. “One spit cappuccino to-go, that will be fifty cents.”
“It says a buck on the board,” he squinted at the menu and grabbed his cup. His freezing fingers brushed against Kiki's knuckles and she stifled a cough before taking another big bite of her croissant.
“You paid the other half in material goods,” she mumbled with her mouth full and stuck out her palm. Stone chuckled and fished a half-dollar coin out of his back pocket, theatrically slapping it on top of her palm.
“Should I make like a Mel and give you my number? As a little tip?” he grinned, taking a sip of his coffee as she raised her eyebrows.
“Tempting…but, no,” she gave him a mocking smile and tossed the coin into the cashier drawer. “I don’t have a locket to store such a valuable thing.”
Stone scoffed and mirrored her sarcastic smile, reaching over the counter to flick her nose. She slapped his hand away and tapped on her watch to remind him to leave.
“Touché. I’ll be waiting ‘til you get one,” he gave her a silly wink and whistled to get Jeff’s attention. “See ya at lunch, Ames.”
Jeff just quickly looked over his shoulder and continued to wash his hands in the sink.
“See ya, now go before they sack you,” he mumbled with a grin. Kiki gasped.
“Jesus, don’t give him ideas or we'll never get rid of him.”
Stone was already half out of the door when he gave her a middle finger, leaving his arm between the doorframe. He held it there until the door squished him and then snaked out, once again disappearing into the icy fog outside.
● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ●
Precise like a Swiss clock, he came back to the café exactly at half past noon, just as Jeff reached the door to lock it for the lunch pause. He let Stone in, eyeing the bag in his hand with a gulp.
“I have arrived, children. Turkey salad sandwiches from Cyclops, fries to share,” Stone sharply exhaled when he walked in, slightly out of breath, and shook the plastic bag in the air. His hair was tied up in a neat ponytail, pointy ears red and tender from the frosty wind.
Kiki’s stomach growled on cue at the whiff of fries and Jeff whistled, reaching into the bag like a starved raccoon.
“Woah, fancy. Got your allowance, buddy?” he mused, chuckling when Stone softly slapped his cheek.
“Fuck off. Took three extra shifts last week to pay you back for the weed, asshole. You’re a spendy date,” he hissed and walked away from Jeff before he could finish taking his food.
He came up to Kiki and reached out to ruffle her hair, throwing his arm around her shoulders. As he led her to the back door, he called after Jeff. “Baby didn’t even want me to buy her a beer yesterday, you should take notes.”
Kiki chuckled and grabbed her leather jacket as they walked past the coathanger. A picture of his awkward wince at Mel's hug flashed through her head when he tugged on her hair as if it was the most natural move in the world, his cold fingers grazing her neck.
“Hungry?”
“Like a wolf,” she quipped back, chuckling when Jeff mocked Stone’s hair tug and yanked the bag out of his hands. He reached inside and chomped down a bundle of fries.
When they walked out, the cold air felt refreshing, in stark contrast to the overheated café. There was a small roof over the short staircase as well as a part of the patio.
It was quite clean and without any snow, so they all sat down in a circle and took their food, plopping the fry basket in the centre.
When Kiki took the first bite, it was a heavenly sensation. After days on crusty bread, the juicy salad and grilled turkey hit just the right spot. She closed her eyes and hummed, dipping a few fries into the signature Cyclops spicy mayo dip.
“My, my, Ames, I think she likes it,” Stone mused and she rolled her eyes, scoffing.
“I shall die and go to heaven, now. Bye,” she mumbled with her mouth full, resting her head against the brick wall.
Jeff laughed and reached into the inner pocket of his windbreaker. He grabbed a cigarette pack with three blunts and a lighter inside and offered it to Stone, who took one out and lit it. After he took a long drag, he handed it to Kiki, who just took a bite of her sandwich.
“I told you, it’s like sticking your head into a fratboy’s gym locker,” she shook her head and pushed his hand away.
Stone exchanged an amused look with Jeff as he passed him the joint and chomped down a bunch of fries.
“Oh, and I can’t jam today, gotta go get the knee checked for the last time,” Jeff shrugged as Stone shook his head. He wiped his hands on his jeans and loosened his scarf to scratch the back of his neck, just where the tips of his ponytail tickled him.
Jeff did a quick double-check between Stone and his food as he passed the joint back and prepared to take the first bite.
“Stoney. My dude. Is that a fucking hickey?” he gasped, breathing in a bit of toast.
Stone's eyes popped open as if someone dumped a bucket of cold water down his jacket and started feeling around his neck in panic.
“Huh? Where?”
“Holy shit, how old did you say you were?” Kiki scoffed, slapping her forehead when she leaned over to take a peek at the small purple bruise under his ear. “Fifteen?”
“Twenty-one?”
They spoke at the same time and Jeff started laughing at Stone’s sudden defensive body language, choking on his sandwich.
“I’ve seen worse, Kiki. One time, he ca-“
“Okay, okay, okay. Chill out or I’ll tell her why the hat stays on when you fuck,” Stone reached over to Jeff and slapped the back of his head, forcing the blunt into his mouth.
Jeff was still trying to cough out the piece of bread stuck in his throat, so he started wheezing even harder.
When Stone guaranteed that Jeff was properly shut down, he finally let him go and slapped his back a few times while taking a puff. His brawny friend finally calmed down after a minute of furious coughing, but he still didn’t lose the wide grin on his face.
“Jesus fuck, I need water. Be good,” Jeff stuttered and hopped up, disappearing behind the staff door.
A moment of slightly awkward silence passed as they exchanged a look, both eagerly trying not to burst out laughing. Stone tried to offer her the blunt once again, but Kiki took a bite of her sandwich instead.
With a little bit of luck, I’ll choke too and won’t have to look at you anymore. That would be cool.
“Pussy,” Stone huffed and broke into a wide grin when she gave him the finger. He sighed and leaned his back against the cold brick wall, crossing his legs as he chomped on a fry.
“So, you came here all alone?” he questioned, his face clouded by remnants of smoke.
“Yup. Free as a bird, I guess. Weehoo,” Kiki chuckled, wiping toast crumbs from her cheeks with the back of her hand.
Not getting into that right now. Not when I have this glorious toastie in my hand.
Stone whistled.
“Left a strapping young lad named Arthur behind, I presume?”
“Do I really seem like a desirable object of attention?” she huffed, softly tugging on her freckled cheeks and pointing at her mismatched irises. He gave her a side-eye and took another fry.
“I mean…”
Stop taunting, asshole.
“Shut it. No, there was no Arthur to leave behind.”
“Tommy?”
“No.”
“Charlie?”
“No, there were no Tommies or Charlies or Henries, so save that.”
Stone shut his mouth and his eyes slowly widened as he sat up straight, taking the half-eaten fry out of his mouth. He stared at her for a few seconds before raising his eyebrows as far as they could go, his hand still hanging in the air.
“Uh, wait, wait, wait. Let me get this straight. You mean…I’m sitting in front of a real, unadulterated Virgin Mary?”
“I’m not -“ Kiki interrupted him way too abruptly and shrugged so hard that a piece of turkey flew out of her sandwich. When his overwhelming stare grew even wider, she lowered her voice. “I’m not a virgin, okay?”
“Sure. And I am,” he snorted out a laugh and slapped his knee as if it was the most amusing information he’d ever learned. “Bet you never even kissed a guy, Mary.”
She kicked his shin as hard as she could, adding a weak punch to his bony shoulder. Stone just giggled again and his freckled nose scrunched.
Irresistibly irritating.
“Leave me alone! I have! I have kissed a guy, okay? Once or twice…or once,” she mumbled, getting more quiet as her excuses ran out. His jaw dropped.
“Holy. Shit.”
“Fuck off! It’s not fair to compare me to you, you’re a little whore!” she shrieked, her voice jumping a few octaves higher than usual. That made him laugh even harder.
“I’d take a whore over a Mother Theresa,” he shrugged and finally ate the cold fry he’d been squishing between his fingers. Kiki shook her mop of curls, trying to curtain her patchy cheeks.
“You know, Stoney, you talk a lot for someone who’s at an arm’s length from my virgin fists. So watch your mouth.”
He raised his hands in defence and bit his lips to contain the laughter. She threw him a scolding stare and took an angry bite of a big bunch of fries.
Stone inhaled to speak and she already raised her finger to shut him up, but he just wouldn’t let it go.
“You know, there’s two things I can’t stand in my proximity. Girls with freckles and virgins. And you’re sitting right in front of me.”
“Yeah? Tough shit, can’t do much about that,” she shot back, her mouth full of potatoes. He raised his eyebrows again, breaking into a poorly contained grin.
“Uh…I have a few ideas.“
Okay, now you’re crossing a line.
“You disgust me,” she coughed out after a few moments of chewing.
Stone just slowly took a big hit and lazily leaned closer to her. He puffed the thick cloud right into her face and a tingle ran through her vertebrae as if he shocked her with a taser.
Fuck. That’s impossible. He knows. He must know.
“Do I? Why are you blushing?” he added, voice hoarse from the smoke.
Kiki took a moment to compose herself, suppressing a sneeze that tickled her nostrils. She gulped down the fries, mindlessly staring at his smirking lips as she recalled her dream.
“Fucking hell. Your hubris is baffling, mate,” she muttered and cleared her throat to get rid of the strain in her vocal cords.
“My hubris is baffling? Golly gee shucks. I shall dub thee ‘granny’ instead of ‘baby’ if you keep talking like it’s the eighteen hundreds,” he calmly retorted, tipping his head to the side. “I’m just saying, if you ever need a friend to help out…”
Kiki scoffed.
“You know, this whole ‘sarcastic lanky stoner punk‘ shtick you got going on might work on girls around here, but I can see right through you,” she sneered, trying to show confidence in her words. “You’re like an annoying old book I’ve read ten times over. I’m in your fucking head, beanpole.”
“Yeah, you are,” he quietly quipped, tipping his head to the other side. Kiki raised her eyebrows.
“Stop staring at me like that.”
“Why?” Stone tipped his head again and put on an innocent pout, his eyes gleaming as if he flipped a light switch.
How the fuck does he do that?
“Because I don’t like it,” she weakly shot back.
“Somehow, I don’t believe you.”
Neither of them moved an inch, though. And after a few moments of tense silence, she finally thought of an answer worthy of the personified mischief in front of her.
Payback, beanpole. Payback.
“Stoney, Stoney. My great-great-grandma used to have this saying. You know, in the eighteen hundreds,” she nonchalantly waved her hand and tipped her head as well, carefully taking the joint from his fingers.
“It went ‘Never trust a guy with a hickey,’” she mumbled and raised it to her lips. “‘…especially when he says he wants to fuck you real bad.’”
She finished by taking a deep hit and without a single blink, she blew the smoke in his face.
“And I’ve lived by that ever since.”
Before he could respond, she stuck the blunt between his lips, backed away and took another unassuming bite of her sandwich.
Stone’s eyes fluttered closed for a split second before he raised his eyebrows and cleared his throat.
Just as he took the joint out to shoot back at her, the metal door swung open and Jeff hopped off the small set of stairs, landing right between them.
“Ah, I could’ve died back there and you didn’t even come to check on me! Bet you were talking shit,” he chuckled and scooted over to his food, chomping on a few fries. “What did I miss?”
Stone stared at Kiki and she just shrugged, challenging him to answer. He blinked and then finally eased back into his immovable cool facade, scoffing.
He took a quick look at his watch and got up, unceremoniously putting the joint out on the door before slipping inside.
“Keeva is a virgin.”
She was carefully scanning the empty street for any signs of human appearance, but it seemed like this ghost town was empty.
What a haunting feeling.
She was evidently waiting for something - someone, anxiously tapping her foot in a steady rhythm.
It was the dead of night, soft snowflakes soundlessly floated around her and muffled all sounds of the darkness like weightless cotton balls. As if she was stuck in a crystal snow globe filled with ink.
Warm lamps stood along the pavement of what was eerily similar to Pioneer Square. They emanated a beautiful amber glow, making the white flecks seem almost like fire sparks.
The entry signs of all surrounding shops were written in unreadable letters that moved and changed time and time again, appearing and going as they pleased.
A clump of snow glided its way to the tip of her nose. She crossed her eyes to look at it and tried to blow it away, but she accidentally breathed it in instead.
She let out a suppressed sneeze and rubbed the melting flake away, her fingertips freezing.
Looking up from the sparkling gravel under her feet, she scanned the starry sky with childlike wonder. She couldn’t exactly tell the stars from the snowflakes. Both twinkled similarly, illuminated by the full moon that hung right above her.
The light mirrored in his peculiar eyes, making them seem like glowing gems from afar when he emerged from the surrounding fog on the opposite end of the street. He made his presence known with a soft whistle.
She already knew he was there, though. The air shifted around her just as he appeared out of nowhere.
She turned her head to look at him, breaking into a wide grin when he took his hand out of his pocket and gave her an endearing wave.
He skipped along the road in long hops, nearing her a lot quicker than the distance seemed to be. As if he was skipping through time as well.
He wasn’t leaving any footsteps behind, he didn’t have a shade. But then again, neither did she.
Sprinkles of snowflakes fell on his messy red hair, tied into a tangled bun on top of his head with an outrageously pink scrunchie. Here, though, the fabric seemed to be muted and warm, surprisingly soft. Just like him.
“Oh, look who’s here! You were waiting for me in this weather? I’m blushing,” he mused, putting his arm around her as soon as he reached her.
He gave her what would normally be a bone-crushing squeeze, but in this place, it felt like catching fog with bare hands.
“You told me not to forget. You’re more intimidating than you think,” she mumbled and folded her arms to warm her hands in the armpits of her leather jacket. He grinned.
“Well, I think pretty highly of myself, so…”
“Yeah, I figured,” she squinted at him, curiously studying the red frostbitten patches on his cheeks with a sly smile.
“Wanna take this? It’s fucking freezing out here,” he mumbled when her teeth started chattering and began to take his suede jacket off. But she shook her head, holding his arms in place.
She ran her hands through thin air.
“Nope, I’m fine, ta. Did you make this weather up, Stoney? Like a weird yawn-to-put-your-arm-around-a-girl type deal?” she nonchalantly chuckled and blood quickly rushed to her cheeks when he unexpectedly took her fingers in his palms, rubbing them together to melt the freezing sensation.
It was eerie, to suddenly feel his skin on hers. Icy and silky, like a soft breeze tickling her pale knuckles. The intensity of her blush was painful, stinging and scratching her cold flesh from the inside.
He lifted her hands to his lips, softly blowing on them. His breath was balmy and caressing, like running one’s hands through a bowl of honey.
“Maybe I did. Twenty-one years alive and I’ve never seen as much snow as this year. It’s like you brought it with you, like a little punky Jack Frost,” he mumbled into their intertwined fingers. “I’m not complaining, though. Feels like we’re in a song or something.”
“Why do I have the feeling that you’ve already used that trick a couple of times?” she playfully lifted her index finger to nudge his aquiline nose, but once again, she only poked air.
Like she was able to touch him only when he permitted it. Manipulating the matter of her body, the sole sovereign of this bizarre world, above the limits of time and space. The look he gave her wasn’t as mischievous as she’d expected.
“Would it hurt you to stop being bitchy for just a couple of seconds?” he raised his eyebrows but continued to softly caress the back of her hands.
Silence hung in the air as she averted her eyes, embarrassed by his sudden crassness.
“I never dream,” he added and waited for her to look at him. His eyes were brutally honest. Older, wiser, burdened with something she wasn’t able to decipher. “But when I see you out there, I can’t tell if I’m awake.”
She opened her mouth to say something, but she wasn’t able to find words that would describe the feelings running through her head like a freight train.
Instead, she opted for carefully loosening her hands out of his grip and then took his fingers in hers, now returning the favour by blowing on his red knuckles.
His expression softened a bit as he watched little puffs of fog leave her lips, eyes dissociating when she gathered the courage to plant a feather-light kiss on his fingertips. Then, she gently pushed the hand back to his face, pressing the fingers against his lips.
They were still warm.
His eyes fluttered closed because somehow, he could still feel the soft skin of her lips on them.
Without thinking, he mirrored her action and returned the roundabout kiss by reaching back down to her, lingering on her lips for a fleeting moment before finally slipping his hands back into his pockets.
After what felt like hours in a maze of his strange gaze, she gathered enough strength to steady her breath and finally spoke.
“Let’s not wake up, then.”
And as if on cue, the shriek of an alarm clock disturbed the ghostly silence. It seemed to be slightly muffled by the glowing fog around them, but it still pierced her heart like a scalloped knife.
His murky voice washed over her like a warm ocean wave, spilling into her veins. Slowly, calmly, somberly.
And as always, crowned by a daring smirk.
“Tomorrow, same time, same place. Don’t you forget…”
#pearl jam fanfic#pearl jam fanfiction#pearl jam imagine#stone gossard fanfic#stone gossard fanfiction#stone gossard x oc#pearl jam#mother love bone#grunge fanfiction#90s music#jeff ament#stone gossard#band fic
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Wet Sand
Stone Gossard x OC
Masterlist
꧁•⊹٭𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚝 𝚜𝚊𝚗𝚍, 𝚒 𝚍𝚘٭⊹•꧂
At the height of the popularity of hair metal, corny MTV videos and spandex, the grounded sound of smalltown gritty guitars starts bubbling to the surface of Seattle underground. Stone Gossard and Kiki Andrews, the four-armed riff beast of Mother Love Bone, find themselves in the eye of the storm as the whirlwind of rising popularity tests their limits.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫
notes: this is for all the down-bad 90’s band kids who don’t fit in (and don’t wanna fit in)
once again, the names of chapters reference a song either appearing in the story or just simply fitting the vibe. ♡
you can try to play along and see if you can spot them. it can be a little inside joke between us, reader.
caution: a lot of swearing, pining, possibly mildly lewd content, a whole lot of chirping from sarcastic little assholes that are hopelessly in love, minor injuries (the 90’s were the wild wild west), mentions of drugs and addiction. i will list any tws at the beginning of each chapter ♡
Chapter 1 - River
Chapter 2 - I’m On Fire
Chapter 3 - For Emily, Whenever I May Find Her
Chapter 4 - Watermelon In Easter Hay
#pearl jam fanfic#pearl jam fanfiction#stone gossard fanfic#stone gossard fanfiction#stone gossard x oc#90s music#pearl jam imagine#pearl jam#mother love bone#band fic#grunge#grunge fanfiction#grunge fic#lmfao i know all grunge musicians hate the term grunge#i just couldnt help myself#fanfiction#fanfic#stone gossard
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Wet Sand
Stone Gossard x OC
Chapter 1 - River
꧁•⊹٭𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚝 𝚜𝚊𝚗𝚍, 𝚒 𝚍𝚘٭⊹•꧂
Summary: He was a punk, she did...punk. Can I make it any more obvious?
masterlist
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫
Notes: but tryskomys, I hear you say, you have two unfinished fanfictions and you’re just going to pull a non-existent sixth member of one of the most influential bands of all time out of your ass? and my answer is yes. i am about to do that. i hope that this can be read even if you're not aware/a fan of this type of music. maybe i can convert you, though? give it a try, it might win your heart over. i'd be honoured if it was through my story. (more notes at the end)
tw: swear words, flirting skills of a 9 year-old. cheesy meet-cute. like, rom-com style stinky cheese. hope you'll like it!
songs:
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫
1987, December
It’s late.
Probably already dark outside, the basement didn’t have any windows so there was no way to tell. Not that it mattered anyway, winter seemed to feast on seasonal depression so it made the sun go down even before it could properly rise above the horizon of the Seattle skyline.
She was grasping at straws though, looking for any excuse to bail. Excuse for herself, that is.
This was your idea, idiot. Sit and observe the local wildlife, you said. Serves you right.
She winced at her internal self-scolding as she looked around the room, scratching her forehead uncomfortably. It should be illegal to have this many people in one place. It just doesn’t seem right.
The human species has evolved from herd behaviour, but it seems like bars are a lingering relic of those times. Like a pocket universe where anything goes. A window to the past. Especially the mating calls.
She allowed herself to break the edgy facade she cemented on her freckled face and grinned, hiding the smug expression by taking a swig of the stale beer that she’d been sipping for the last hour.
A couple of teenagers, definitely not old enough to be in a bar, just walked - stumbled by. Their tongues were so far up each other’s throats that they probably reached into their eye sockets, too.
She managed to lift the lukewarm bottle of Budweiser just as they crashed into her table, minimalizing the spillage to a tiny puddle. They didn’t even seem to notice the collision, instead awkwardly taking a beeline to the restrooms.
Bless their hearts.
She snorted and wiped the liquid with the hem of her blue sweatshirt before cuffing the sleeves. There were many more odd couples similarly lost in their little worlds, some of them more one-sided than others. Her eyes scanned the line of people standing in front of the counter, either waiting for their drinks or simply chatting.
A surfer dude with a barely visible 5 o'clock shadow trying to woo a short brunette who seemed to be too drunk to realize he’s clumsily trying to slip a pill into her drink. Thankfully she seemed to be quite infatuated with his greasy blonde hair and wouldn’t look away no matter how hard he tried to bait her. In the end, her friend came up and dragged her away, leaving the guy to sit there like a lost kid.
All is fair in love and war my ass. Good riddance, prick.
The girl rubbed her eye and softly cursed when it stung. She forgot she had eyeliner on but it was already smudged, mixing with the purple circles under her eyes.
The bar was definitely going overboard with the heating, trying to make up for the coldness emanating from the brick walls, abused by the snowy breeze outside. The herd factor didn’t contribute to making the place more breathable either.
She took another gulp of her beer, pulling a disgusted grimace as the stale liquid moved down her throat. Her gaze moved to another group of people at the bar.
Two girls, one very tall and the other trying to make up for her average height with big heels, talking to a fairly good-looking guy who just seemed to enjoy the attention.
There was no way she could hear them from this distance, but the body language was a clear giveaway that they were trying to one-up each other, one outfit more colourful than the other, showing all the peacock feathers that matter to a guy like that - pompous, in a tight shirt and permed hair teased as far as they could go. She even felt like she could smell his nauseating pine cologne.
Oh, a little bandana too. Cute. Crawled right out of a Mötley video.
She snorted again, wiping a drop of beer that ran down her chin as she moved to the next couple. One of the lone strings of artificial light was pointing there, making it seem a lot more dramatic than it needed to be. Like a Renaissance painting.
She was just about to study the scene but her eyes flickered next to them at the sound of a shot glass breaking against the floor. She rested her back against the hard wall, welcoming the stingy sensation of the cold stone.
Ha, stone, what a grounding word.
Stone, stone.
My kingdom for a stone…
She sang a little melody in her head before frowning.
“What the fuck?” she whispered to scold herself again, wondering if there are any brain cells left in her brain, considering they seemed to be rapidly dying due to the lack of oxygen in the room.
She realized she truly might not have much to work with at this point because she was starting to see colours that definitely weren’t there.
Is that a fluffy pink scrunchie?
The pair consisted of what seemed to be another mating ritual, but this time, she couldn’t get a read on the situation. At all. She just couldn’t concentrate, all her senses were fixated on that one scrunchie wrapped around a high ponytail.
She studied the flowing hair that cascaded around it. Long, a little wavy. Soft, considering they had an unnatural red tint near the ends, probably courtesy of a bad dye job.
Too soft. Unfairly soft.
She blinked a few times and squinted, unable to make out the face they belonged to as he was facing the bar, his shoulders shaking with a laugh. Broad shoulders. Angular.
She realized he was towering over most of the bar and wondered if he was really that tall or if it was just the phosphorescent scrunchie standing out like a black eye. She caught a glimpse of his hand as he moved his lanky arm to pat the blond girl next to him on the back, almost condescendingly. An unusual gesture for a mating ritual.
The blondie, courtesy of peroxide, was pretty tall as well, but his huge hand seemed to take up a bizarre amount of length of her torso.
The sagacious watcher darted her eyes from knuckle to knuckle, trying to count them as if she were making sure he didn’t have any extras. No, they were just very long. And elegant.
When she reached his fourth finger, graced with a simple silver ring, the hand disappeared into his back pocket, awkwardly sticking out as it didn’t really fit. She chewed on her lip to contain another smug grin.
Good riddance. That’s what you get for wearing tight jeans, you beanpole. Might as well wear stockings next time.
She quickly turned her attention the room again when she realized she held her gaze on his ass for way too long to pass it as simply observing the locals. Her breath seemed to hitch in her throat, so she sipped a bit of her beer to ground herself in the murky depths of socialization.
Hm. Grounding. My kingdom for a stone…
This time she visibly shook her head and a blush crept up her jawline, perplexed by the way her brain ridiculed her. And the image of the guy’s fingers burned behind her eyelids like a cruel brand.
They would look great wrapped around the neck. Of a Les Paul. The neck of a Les Paul. Not a Strat, that one is not thick enough for them. Fuck.
She looked again, this time he was facing the tall blondie next to him so she could see the little peak of his face. She didn’t want to, though. The hand was enough. Somehow her head screamed at her to look away, to find a different object of attention, just not this stupid beanpole. She couldn’t help it. The overly dramatic lighting hit the angles of his face just too perfectly not to look.
His forehead was quite prominent. His nose too, true aquiline shape. And a sharp jawline, clenching from time to time when he chuckled at something the blondie said.
Like a Roman statue.
She chewed on her lip again, this time a bit more harshly to silence her stained thoughts. She wasn’t sure about the rest of his face as the lighting only illuminated the most noticeable parts, but she could tell he had a very unusual kind of attraction.
Look anywhere else but his face. Or hair, or ass. Come on, there must be somewhere else.
She hyped herself up to leave his Roman nose alone and her eyes were already involuntarily falling back down his body, but this time she stopped at his torso. She sucked her teeth, trying to hide an amused smirk.
A white t-shirt, sleeves rolled up a bit. And a vest. Not just any vest. It was this grotesque mix of velvet, crochet and patchwork fabric, all sorts of different colours.
Really? With that scrunchie? Decadent.
She would’ve thought it was some sort of a bizarre Seattle trend if he wasn’t the only one wearing that. Somehow, it looked perfect on him, though. It hung from his slender shoulders like he was born with it, beaming under the sliver of light like one of those colourful kaleidoscopes kids buy in scammy souvenir shops. It must’ve been the way he was carrying himself.
He had this smug confidence around him, that was all she could make out. Otherwise, he was unreadable. Unlike the other guys around the bar, cool and unbothered.
Like a stone wall.
This time, her brain didn’t sing a stupid tune. She was too fixated on the way his nose scrunched whenever he broke into a smirk, raising his eyebrows as the blondie tried to articulate something. She was clearly trying to play it cool but ended up being flustered instead. He seemed to bask in it, though.
Figures that a beanpole with a scrunchie would be amused by some poor girl’s advances.
He does seem like he’s kinda into it, though. The way he bites his lip from time to time gives it away. And he’s definitely standing way too close to her.
She was so caught up in her crass analysis that she didn’t notice that the guy turned to face the room, leaned his palm against the wooden bar and scanned the crowd with a dissociated gaze. She thought she started seeing strange colours again when her vision blurred in a green haze. It took her a split second before she realized he was looking right at her.
The green was his eyes. Huge, protruding eyes lined with the slightest hint of eyeliner.
Shit.
Her head snapped to the restroom door, trying to avert her attention to anything else but the fact that she had been caught gawking at a stranger across a bar. The sudden motion made her neck cramp, so she reached up and poked it as nonchalantly as possible.
Very subtle.
Her eyes started wandering away from the restroom sign and she tried to not repeat her mistake. But he just stuck out of the crowd, with that stupid scrunchie and that stupid nose. It was like waving a diamond ring in front of a magpie.
Her hopeless gaze just ended up on him again. She was taken aback when she found that the glowing green didn’t move.
This time, he was the one to dart away when their eyes met, rapidly turning his attention to the blondie. He did it a lot more gracefully than her, but she couldn’t help but grin when he clumsily rubbed his neck.
She caught a glimpse of the tiniest crack in his composed facade before he brushed a stray hair away from his face and tucked it behind his ear. He leaned his elbow on the bar, coolness wrapping him around once again.
Strike one.
She could still see in her peripheral that he was looking around the room and she subconsciously followed his suit, like yawning when someone else does.
It didn’t take too long before their line of sight crossed again, this time they both knew better than to lock themselves in an unescapable staring contest and looked away before anyone could classify it as anything else but a coincidence.
Strike two.
She catastrophically failed at containing the smile that appeared on her face, quickly taking a sip of her beer to hide it in case he happened to look at her again.
The beer was getting warmer and warmer and that made the bitterness overwhelming, so the grin was exchanged for the typical nose scrunch grimace you do when you drink something that used to have bubbles in it.
The momentary lapse in attention caused her to involuntarily shoot him another look, but he was already studying her face with a lopsided smirk dancing on his lips. His eyes stayed the same, but somehow she felt the smile changed his demeanour.
Strike three.
He seemed to soundlessly tut and slowly shook his head as if he was deeply disappointed that she was making faces while drinking alcohol like a child.
Before she could stop herself, she mockingly repeated his grin and then stuck out her tongue at him.
Like a child. 5th grade flirting, very mature.
He closed his eyes for a second to compose himself and then turned back to the blondie next to him, unsuccessfully trying to hide a toothy smile with a gulp of beer, just like she did minutes ago.
If she could deck herself in the face, she would do it in a heartbeat. She would deck him as well for the tasteless taunt. She rolled her eyes at her own immaturity, but it was simply a knee-jerk reaction to his mischievous expression.
Pavlov’s beanpole.
She didn’t see that grin on his face when he was talking to the blondie. She couldn’t decide if that was a particularly good thing. The suave factor was exchanged for playful sarcasm and she was wondering if it was insulting or not.
Is he insinuating that I’m not worthy of his coolness like Miss Fast Times over there?
She automatically tried to smooth her messy hair down, putting a stray curl behind her ear.
Pavlov’s beanpole.
The curl just bounced back, joining the unruly sea that lined her face. Not that his lack of interest would be a big surprise to her, considering the out-of-place look that she was sporting.
The mousy fawn colour of the mop of curls was contaminated by a similar grown-out red as his, the sectoral heterochromia tinted one of her otherwise brown eyes with a streak of blue.
The satanic-panic-defying t-shirt with a red dragon didn’t help much, either. How could she compete with a girl-next-door-all-American sweetheart when she’d look like a stray raccoon from The Shire next to her and Mr. Beanpole who’s a whole foot taller than her?
Thank god no one’s heard me speak, they would stone me for foreign espionage or some shit. That’s it. One last peek and go home.
Oh.
The scrunchie disappeared from her sight and so did the peroxide blond perm, leaving a gaping nothingness in the stream of warm light.
Good for you, sweetheart. It’s not like you had to try or anything.
The watcher rolled her eyes at her bitterness and emptied the rest of the bottle in her throat, downing it like it was a shot. Another twitch of the nose, now accompanied by a stifled cough.
See, that didn’t even hurt. The elders of Hackney would’ve been proud. Fucking lightweight.
That seemed to be enough for that night, so she rubbed her eyes again and tried to mentally prepare for squeezing through all those cheerful people. The bony fingers were still lurking behind her eyelids, now joined by a pair of cheeky olive eyes.
When the vigorous rubbing stopped, she blinked a few times to make sure she did open her eyes, because the hands were still there. Right in front of her, leaning against the table, each fully wrapped around a dewy beer bottle. She looked up. The eyes were there, too, exactly as sly as before. Only even bigger up close.
Jesus Christ.
"Figured you’d want something you wouldn’t choke on. Seems like I came exactly at the right moment.”
His voice was a lot deeper than she would’ve expected, nasal and smug. The smug part was, on the other hand, just as she’d imagined. It was irresistibly annoying.
Don’t be rude, don’t be rude, don’t…
“Did that line ever work out for you?”
Oh well.
His smirk grew even wider, scrunching his nose just as she’d noticed before. Very irresistible. A chuckle rumbled somewhere deep inside his chest. It sent a jolt through her whole body, she was taken aback by the way her limbs jerked at his command.
Pavlov’s beanpole.
“I don’t know, that’s what I’m trying to find out,” he chirped, raising his eyebrows when she didn’t chuckle. Irresistibly punchable face. She felt like she was under a microscope, those saucer eyes inspecting her every move.
His face was properly illuminated now that he leaned a bit closer, making all those angles even more prominent.
The nose looked softer somehow, almost elven, the scrunchie twinkled in all shades of pink. She noticed that he had two almost symmetrical freckles on each of his cheeks, as well as on both sides of his chin. A Roman statue sculpted with a protractor. He raised his eyebrows even higher, challenging her to respond.
“Earth to Baby? Who put you in a corner?” he mused, waving his obscenely long fingers in front of her eyes. Measuring her entire face.
Pavlov’s…fingers? Quick, say something witty.
“Budweiser tastes like piss.”
Nailed it.
His laugh rang in her ears. She caught a glimpse of his teeth, observing the sharp tips of his canines. Even his teeth would cause a papercut.
“Different strokes, different folks,” he retorted, shrugging. She mirrored his movement.
“I’m not into golden showers, sorry,” she shook her head, putting on a pitiful pout. He let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head.
“In that case, I’ll be on my way, milady.”
He bowed and dramatically spun around as if he were leaving. She chuckled, a sound that made him spin back and lean against the table again, this time even closer, with another irresistibly annoying smirk.
Jesus. Do you know the term 'personal space', mate?
She tried to convince herself that she minded by leaning back against the stone wall. It was like he could hear the wheels turning in her head, raising his eyebrows on cue with her inevitable train of thought.
My kingdom for a…
“Stone.”
Her eyes popped open.
What the fuck is this fever dream? Can he hear me?
“Pardon?” she choked out. He narrowed his eyes at her.
“That’s my name.”
Huh?
“Oh. I wish I could help you with that,” she blurted out, regretting it immediately when his eyes lost all cheerfulness.
If there was an encyclopaedia of human expressions, that would be the picture next to the definition of 'puppy eyes'.
Before she could say anything, he raised his eyebrows again and broke into a wide grin, the suave coolness back in its tracks.
“Oh my god, your face. Don’t cry, Baby, not for me.”
Fucking beanpole.
She rolled her eyes so hard she might’ve pulled a muscle, letting out a heavy huff when he giggled. His hair bounced off his shoulders as they shook, waving a strawberry shampoo scent in her direction. That was enough to make a wave of blood rush into her cheeks.
Cool down, fast.
“What a gentleman. Can’t resist a beer from such sophisticated hands,” she shrugged, hiding the way her throat knotted with a soft cough. He just nodded, handing her the bottle.
His fingers seemed to be everywhere, and when they brushed against hers, she could swear her eyes went fuzzy for a split second. He seemed to notice the contact too, quickly offering his bottle for a clink.
“Cheers, Baby.”
“Chin-chin, beanpole.”
He snorted at the nickname, taking a swig. She followed, welcoming the harsh bubbling sensation only a cold beverage can bring. He tapped his finger on the wooden table.
“Can I sit?”
“It’s the Land of the Free, mate. Be my guest,” she nodded, raising her eyebrows when he cursed under his breath with a chuckle.
“Don’t spoil me, I’ll blush,” he reached for an empty chair in the cubicle next to them and sat down opposite her.
He folded his arms, trying not to take up all space at the table. She didn’t feel any less overwhelmed though, as his eyes were still darting around her pale face, very occasionally blinking in a slow, deliberate pattern.
“Thanks for the drink. Hope your lady doesn’t mind,” she narrowed her eyes, trying to look anywhere but his face. He raised his eyebrows for a second as if he didn’t know what she was talking about and then nodded.
“Oh! Oh yeah, I was waiting for my lady to sober up a bit but she got spooked when she didn’t see my face four times anymore,” he shrugged, not showing a single sign of defeat or self-pity. She knitted her eyebrows as she took a drink, tutting.
“I think it was the scrunchie, Stone,” she put extra weight on his name and he gave her the best pout he could conjure.
“Baby doesn’t like my scrunchie?”
“I think it’s cute, goes with the granny vest. But you know how it goes, different strokes…” she nodded sympathetically, her heart skipping a beat when his lips parted in a big “O” and he opened his eyes even wider.
How is that possible?
“You think I’m cute?”
Abort.
“I said your scrunchie was cute. Big difference, Stone,” she emphasized his name again, making him shake his head in disappointment.
“That’s getting kind of old. You’re running out of ammo. That’s like waving a big red blanket in front of me, so watch out,” he threatened with his index finger. She raised her palms in defence.
He scanned her arms, wondering how something so innocently small could make his cheeks inflame so harshly. He just started to imagine wrapping her hands in his when her voice tore him out of his thoughts. It was low and silent, velvety like a siren call. It undermined the whole 'innocent' thing.
“I surrender. I’ve just never met a person named Stone before. Might be a common name here, what the hell do I know.”
He managed to compose himself quite quickly, shooing dirty thoughts out of his head like unwanted pest.
“Let’s hear your name then, see how it stands the test of time. Kate? Audie? Marge?” he mused in a terrible English accent as he counted the names on his fingers. She mocked a laugh, shaking her head.
“Har har. Okay, Dick van Dyke, you struck me as a witty person. I’m disappointed.”
“Maggie?”
“No.”
“Agnes?”
“…no?”
“Aha! Adelaide! Maeve!”
“Do I look like your grandma? You’re the one who borrowed her vest!” she pointed at him, her voice changing pitch as she waved her arms around.
He smiled like the Cheshire cat, now being the one to raise his arms in surrender. She shook her head with a scoff.
“It’s Keeva.”
“See, told you.”
She reached up as if she was going to slap him, with a big grin plastered on her face. He flinched and raised his arms even higher, trying to contain the laughter that was rumbling in his throat.
“Your name is Kiwi and you’re…”
“Keeva!”
“…and you’re laughing about Stone? Baby, we’re in the same boat here,” he raised an eyebrow, clueless to the fact his Patrick Swayze routine impacted her more and more with every use.
Stop it, beanpole.
“Nobody calls me Keeva, though, thankfully. It’s Kiki. Easily disguised, unlike Stone, which sounds like a name from a Cheech and Chong movie, by the way,” she retorted, grinning in expectation as she noticed the single twitch in his eye that appeared before every snappy remark.
“Oh, ok. Kiki, as in the Kikimora, right? Kinda suits you, not gonna lie,” he smirked and she shook her head in disbelief at his blatant taunting.
“Lies, lies. Don’t try to deflect, Stoner, you’re the one with the weird name here.”
“It’s not just your name, though, I’ve heard things about you that you wouldn’t believe,” he shrugged, nonchalantly looking around the bar as she froze on the spot.
What the hell…
He looked at her again and leaned forward, motioning her to come closer to him, too. His saucer eyes scanned her with intense sincerity. She frowned but inched closer. He nudged her head with his cheek so he’d be closer to her ear. His hair tickled her carmine face, his warm breath like gasoline on her already flaming ears.
“I’m in your walls,” he breathed out, breaking into a wide pompous smirk when her eyes widened at his audacity. His aquiline nose brushed against her cheekbone as he sat back in his chair, clearly satisfied when she jerked her foot forward, kicking his shin with the tip of her worn-out Docs.
Pavlov’s Stone.
“Ow! I just can’t get enough of that thing you do with your mouth when you’re pissed off, sorry,” he snorted, reaching under the table to rub the spot she’d just hit. As if the blush could get any worse.
“I’m fucking with you. It’s a small world out here. A friend of mine has a band who was told by another band that a band that practices in the Potatohead hired some hot-shot English munchkin as a session musician for their EP. And that she’s wreaking havoc and corrupting the youth of Seattle with good ol’ evil rock and roll,” he shrugged. “And the friend told my band and I told another band…you know how rumours spread like wildfire around starving artists.”
Oh. So the fingers do wrap around a Les Paul. Figures.
“You trying to tell me that I get jobs because of you? My knight in shining armour, pleasure to finally meet the man who puts crusty toasts with a smear of butter on my table each night,” she did a quick dramatic bow and couldn’t help but smile at the way his eyes twinkled when he realized that he didn’t mistake her for someone else.
He’d hoped it was her. He’d be disappointed if it wasn’t.
“Anytime, Baby. If you behave, I might tell another band and you’ll get a slice of cheese on top.”
Is the 'baby' still a part of the routine?
“Charitable. Well, there’s a surprisingly big market for session musicians here. It’s not the most fabulous thing in the world, but I get to play and get paid for it, that’s all I could ever ask for, really.”
He looked so different when he was serious. Older. Stoic. Breathtaking. He nodded and Kiki knew Stone completely understood what she was talking about. It was in those damned eyes.
“Is it fulfilling?”
“What job is? I mean, I work in a café four days a week. When I get to go to the studio, sometimes they give me sheet music, sometimes they tell me to just do whatever, I do my part and go home. Hardly fulfilling for a musician, but you know…”
“Yeah, I know what you mean.” Stone nodded, focusing his distant gaze on the table.
He reached up to his hair and pulled off the scrunchie, letting the brown waves fall in his eyes before carefully tucking them behind his slightly pointy ears.
Her nose was hit with his scent again and she was glad his stare was fixated on the pink fabric he was trying to play Cat's cradle with under the table. He always got to the first loop and let it go again, the scrunchie was way too small for his hands.
“Are you in a band?” he asked, and for the first time that evening, he seemed to be a bit awkward, vulnerable even. It was endearing, another irresistible notch on his belt.
“Do I look like I have any friends?” she chuckled, relieved when he mirrored her smile. The sudden seriousness was overwhelming.
Can this guy do anything in moderation?
“Different strokes...but I’ve heard that you’re fucking great,” he let the compliment hang in the air for a few moments before striking her with another look.
Scrutinizing her. Pinning her to her seat again. She shook her head, hoping the short curls curtain at least a part of her red face.
“Not really. If I was, I would be in a band. I mean, I’ve been here for about a month now, so that’s a pretty short time to find anyone, but still…” she sighed. “I’ve had no time to go and see any gigs yet. I wanted to check out Soundgarden tonight, I’ve heard they’re playing Off Ramp, but…”
His eyes lit up so bright they swallowed her senses and made her lips part in surprise. She thought they couldn’t get any more mesmerizing.
There’s that misbehaving beanpole again.
“No way, are you stalking me? I’m going there, too.”
“Did you get lost on the way? We’ve both been here for hours,” she chuckled and took a drink of the beer that was once again indigestible. She pulled another face and that earned a deep, breathy laugh from him.
“I know a shortcut, Baby. We’ll get you a fresh bottle there, I can’t stand seeing your baby face in pain. Come on, chop-chop or we'll miss it! Jesus, when Chris sees you there, he’s gonna implode!”
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫
i've never been too comfortable writing about real, actual people so if this is awkward, i'm really sorry, i'm working on it ♡ i try to take this as more of an 'inspired by real events' story, so we'll see what comes of it.
sincerest apologies to fellow Pearl Marmelade fans, my brain works in bizzare patterns. Please, don’t stone me. hehe. heh. get it? love you all!
#pearl jam fanfic#pearl jam fanfiction#stone gossard fanfiction#stone gossard fanfic#stone gossard x oc#90s music#pearl jam imagine#mother love bone#pearl jam#band fic#grunge fanfiction#grunge fic#lmfao i know all the grunge musicians hate the term#i just couldnt help it#fanfiction#fanfic#stone gossard
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