Lady Stardust
By Dani
Disclaimer at end of fic
Rating: Um... PG for being set in a bar and involving flirty men? There's not even any swearing. ^_^
Warnings: Very mild slash (a kiss on the hand is the worst thing in here. I'm so disappointed in myself!), first fic in this fandom for me (say that ten times fast!), messing about with major characters with no real given backgrounds (No, his name isn't really Percy. I just like that name and I think it fits! XD I'm the author! MWAHA!), songfic
Stuff Which Needs Said: The song is David Bowie's Lady Stardust. I really love this pairing (and it's all Rossie's fault for turning me on to the show!), I draw them constantly, and I'm not telling you who it is until the end. ^__^ God I love being a Writer.... Major thanks to Rossie and Perchie for looking this beast over before I put it up anywhere, and Jimmy for putting up with my character obsession. Special thanks to George for inspiring my tasteful slash pic of these two! Never knew perversion could be so useful... ^_^ Feedback is encouraged and revered... become a fan and get awe and worship for the rest of your natural life! Plus this really nice set of steak knives(a $19.95 value free! With your eternal devotion)!
Last note, I promise: If you don't like songfics, you can ignore the lyrics and it'll still make sense... but it's a lovely song. I recommend downloading it, if you haven't heard it!
And now.... Lady Stardust.
People stared at the makeup on his face
Laughed at his long black hair, his animal grace
Even in a city... even in the Big City, even when you're doing your best to lose yourself in any kind of place just to get away from your normal life... Something is there watching you. Some people like to say destiny, or fate, or god. I don't know what it is, I don't really care. All I know is, I tried to lose myself Friday night in a not-too-reputable bar and instead of losing myself, I found someone I already knew in a very different way. No one really pays attention to anyone in those bars. You go there for a reason: to get drunk, to pick up someone, to make a drug deal or an agreement or a minor war, any of a million reasons.
He was there to sing.
I was there for no reason but to lose myself, like I said, and something like that leaves a lot of time to watch things, pick up details. I'd seen his face before, noticed the details hidden therein: the sharp lines of his nose, the peculiar darkness of his eyes, the way his eyebrows lifted when he was thinking. He walked by where I sat, the ruddiness of his skin masked under some pale makeup and the darkness of his eyes enhanced with liner and shadow, eyebrows up in thought. He was dressed in jeans and a black, soft-looking shirt open at the neck. I'd never seen him in civvies before, not that I could recall. I don't think he saw me, not at first... I felt glaringly obvious, though. I couldn't take my eyes off his fluid movement.
Funny how much some clothes, a little makeup, a simple wig of long dark hair changed his appearance. Later, much later, I'd ask him about it, and he'd explain that he'd had hair that length before he'd joined the military. Altogether, it did make him look younger even than he was, like a teenager rather than a worried man. Even though we're nearly the same age, I always see him as so much younger than I, for some reason...
The boy in the bright blue jeans jumped up on the stage
And Lady Stardust sang his songs of darkness and disgrace
He hopped up on the stage with practiced ease, fiddled with the mike stand, gazed out over our heads. Two other people joined him, picking up instruments, and then a third sat at the unsteady-looking piano. They looked vaguely familiar, but I hardly glanced at them. He smiled, once, a brief and sad expression, and didn't bother to introduce himself or his band before launching straight into a song.
I'd never heard him sing before. He has a beautiful baritone singing voice, tones like liquid smoke and glass flowing through the words... So appropriate, his darkly beautiful timbre of voice for the dark, tarnished words. There was some sort of glitter on his jeans that sparkled with reflected light, but it didn't seem gaudy... just one more thing that seemed so odd in the ease with which he wore it.
And he was all right
The band was all together
Yes he was all right
The song went on forever
I couldn't tell you how long he sang for. It didn't seem that long, really, but in one sense it was a small forever of entrancement. The guitar, piano, drums—I hardly heard them. My selective hearing arrowed in on that sorrow-dark voice and his words that told of rejection and endless nights of shame. He looked at me, dark of hair and eye and word and voice, and I felt no need for light.
How in the world an underappreciated, self-conscious yes-man of a soldier had turned into a divine, self-assured creature of the night, I was unsure... And then I wondered if maybe the change had been wrought in the other direction. Later he informed me that the apparent split in personality had happened at the same time, both sides evolving when he was a teen in military school.
And he was all nice
Really quite out of sight
And he sang all night long
I could go on about our later, the times that were his and mine alone, for far longer than anyone would care to know, I'm sure. I'll say that I believed then, and still do now, that he's an astonishing person for getting through what he did with his own personality intact and thriving. At the time, though, sitting there watching him sing, I was simply mesmerized by him. The slightly nasal tones I was so accustomed to from him were lost entirely in the sweet huskiness of his voice.
The femme fatales emerged from shadows to watch this creature fair
Boys stood up on their chairs to make their point of view
Usually, you don't notice anyone else in the bar. It was very noticeable, though, when the women started moving closer to the stage, by ones and twos, until nearly every single one in the whole bar was looking up in rapt attention. They weren't the only ones, either—several of the men had filtered up and leaned on the walls by the stage front, trying to look casual. I wondered if any of them knew him, and then I realized that I really didn't, either. I'd never even learned his first name...
I smiled sadly for a love I could not obey
Lady Stardust sang his songs of darkness and dismay
He caught my eyes again, his dark gaze acknowledging and appraising in the same moment. Maybe he was as surprised as I was that I was there—his eyebrows lifted, just for a second of thought. He'd gone through two songs, started a new one. This song picked at the edges of my mind, almost-familiar chords and melodies sliding into hazy newness just as I could feel the name of the tune I knew coming to me. The effect was unsettling... I suppose I display my emotions too easily. Maybe he can just read me like a book anyway. Regardless, he cast a tiny smile at me and I returned it, a two-man loop of feigned comforting.
Damn it, I wanted to kiss him. The sudden urge was so powerful it hurt.
And he was all right
The band was all together
Yes he was all right
The song went on forever
And he was all nice
Really quite out of sight
And he sang all night
All night long
He didn't look away from me. I couldn't look away from him. This was driving me completely looney... I made my decision without really thinking about it. 'Will you talk to me later?' I mouthed slowly. He dipped his head in a nod, disguised as on-stage theatrics for the rest of the audience. He'd agreed... Now what? I could feel my fingers trembling with nervous energy, and I was sure my breathing was irregular. How long was he going to sing? I would sit there all night for the chance to speak with him.
Oh how I sighed
When they asked if I knew his name
One of the mooning girls noticed the communication between the singer and I. She asked if I knew him... What would I say? Did I really know him, or was it just workplace acquaintanceship and physical attraction combining? I shrugged noncommittally, shushing her so I could hear him uninterrupted.
For he was all right
His song went on forever
Yes he was all right
The song was all together
Yes he sang all nice
Really quite paradise
And he sang all right
All night long
Song after song... he seemed to have an endless supply of them, and they were all wonderful. Fast ones, slow ones, sad or hopeful or simply words... And then the songs stopped. He said goodnight. The band grabbed their instruments, walked off. I blinked, settling back into something more closely approaching normality... Not entirely normal, though. He hopped off the front of the stage, eyes on me, and started toward me through the thinning crowd. Unconsciously, I stood up, not wanting to feel even shorter next to his slim height.
Wrong song
His lanky frame was the epitome of grace as he walked over to my side. A small, intimate smile lurked at his lips and turned my mouth dry. "Ben," he acknowledged me quietly, stretching out his hand. I took it, impulsively brushing my lips over the backs of his fingers rather than shaking his hand. "God, you're chivalrous! I thought that was dead." I shook my head, partly in disagreement, partly in sheer disbelief. "Call me Percy, by the way. I just ditch the rest of my name in here."
"Percy..." His name was a lovely sound rolling off my tongue. He smiled at me again, a smile which suggested barely suppressed laughter. "I've never seen you here before," I offered weakly.
"That's funny... I'm here a lot, and I was about to say the same thing to you." Even when not singing, his voice was smooth and clear. Some small part of my mind wondered why he always sounded like he had a head cold at work.
"That could be it. This is the first time I've been here." He did laugh at that, a low rustle of amusement.
"You're funny..." His eyes were so dark, how could they sparkle like that? "So what drags you to this humble establishment, oh paragon of chivalry?" I shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant.
"I wanted to get out of the apartment. Friday nights are bad times to be alone." That was an understatement, especially when you've got a nosy Jewish mother constantly trying to set you up with some nice girl... "I heard about this place somewhere... I can't even remember where." Completely true. I almost wished I could recall. Percy nodded slowly. "And you?"
"Best open mike reception in the Big City that I've been able to find. Never dreamed anyone from work would ever stoop this low, either." Even when he was being self-deprecating, he had a charming grin. "Not that I'm complaining, unless you thought we sucked."
"No way..." How could he even consider the possibility? "You were sublime..." Something about his eyes was addictive. I couldn't look away. "Practically paradise." He turned away slightly, flushed.
"Flatterer." Unexpectedly, he yawned behind his hand. "Ack... It's almost 2 AM already." Black hair brushed my cheek as he rested his forehead on my shoulder. "How about it, Ben? Want a ride home?"
"I can drive. I didn't have much to drink, I'm sober." Stupid, I chided myself, you should have taken him up on it. "I can drive you, though. You look a little peaked..." He smirked, just the slightest bit, as if he knew very well what I was trying to pull and was happy I'd finally caught on.
"Sure. Sleepy drivers are dangerous." As if to prove his point, he yawned again, this time into my shoulder.
"They certainly are..." My arms circled him lightly. "Come on, sweet Percy, and let us depart."
~end~
Disclaimer: I tweaked the characters quite a bit for this, but they should still be recognizable as Ben the Narrator and Private Public from Sheep in the Big City. As such, they belong to Mo Willems and Cartoon Network, not some doofy lil' fangirl with too much time on her hands and a fondness for cartoon slash. (Although I still haven't forgiven them for what they did to Ben in the first season finale. Grr, beating up on the poor speccy boi...)