Rocky Horror does not belong to me; it belongs to the eternally awesome Richard O' Brien.
This story is rated T for some drug references and slight references to sex. (If it should be an M, I'll change it.)
Before anything, I want to say a big "Thank you" to my friend, Emily. Without their help, I still would have been struggling on ideas for this chapter. Also, I can't write anything even remotely physical, hence the very brief descriptions of make-out sessions.
This chapter is brought to you by "And Then He Kissed Me."
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9. Memory
As Brenda Lee hit that last note on "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree," she went into a spin, managing to mostly keep up with the music (booze and her own ignored exhaustion didn't help). Her final pose was met by some cheers and hollers, but those ended as quickly as they had started. As the partygoers continued their own dancing, she quickly noticed Eddie against the wall, his leather jacket slung over his shoulder. He winked at her and shot her a thumbs up.
Well, what the hell? She'd have to kill time somehow; might as well talk to someone she knew (kind of). Straightening up, she sauntered over, taking the empty space next to him.
"You know, you're pretty good at that." He grinned.
She blushed. "Thanks, Eddie."
"Kind of like the chick in all those movies."
Her eyebrows raised; who knew Eddie was a fan of classic musicals? "You mean Ginger Rogers?"
His face went blank for a few seconds, but he soon started grinning again. "Yeah, her. You know, you've got some real talent with those moves."
A roar of laughter from the other side of the room made their heads swivel. No doubt it was Frank, entertaining his guests while making sure they never forgot who really mattered in this room.
"Not that kind of talent." She sighed, jerking her thumb in Frank's direction. "I can't keep people interested in every little thing I say and do. He does it without even trying."
"Hey, come on," Eddie said, giving her a friendly little nudge. "give yourself some credit."
Her eyes starting to prick as she shook her head. "Honestly, I'd just be wandering around, trying to get people's attention." She cringed. Why would she ever say that?
"Woah, hey." A hand on her shoulder made her look back at Eddie. "I mean it. You were awesome up there."
A genuine compliment. When was the last time she'd heard one?
"You want to get out of here? Go somewhere a little quieter?" She asked, trying to be louder than the music and conversations. "We could try somewhere upstairs."
His face was blank again, making her think she'd have to repeat herself, but her meaning quickly dawned on him. "Sure!" He yelled back. "Lead the way."
They reached the bottom of the stairs before Eddie grabbed her arm. "Just a second!" He shouted over the din. "I gotta get something off the bike!" With that, he turned and disappeared into the crowd.
She sighed and plopped down on the bottom stair. What were the odds he was coming back? He probably realized she wasn't worth the time and took off on his motorcycle.
Resigned, she started people watching, not expecting Eddie to return a few minutes later, clutching a paper bag. "Told ya I'd be back!" He said, again flashing that smile that was growing on her. She found herself smiling as well as she led him up the stairs and through the crowded, winding halls.
Surprisingly for one of these parties, her room hadn't been commandeered by some lovers looking for privacy. With the door shut, the party was almost completely muted. If he was thinking what she was thinking, at least he came prepared; she didn't want to think how awkward it would be if they got caught raiding Frank's stash of condoms.
Instead, he turned the bag over onto her bed and several joints came tumbling out. Her jaw dropped. "I made some of these earlier, just to have them. Let's have a real party," Eddie grinned as he took a seat on the bed, "just you and me." He didn't seem to wait for an answer as he pulled a lighter out of his pocket.
This was getting better by the minute. "I'm not complaining, but isn't there enough of that downstairs?" Even now, she could still smell whatever was coming out of the Zen room.
Eddie shook his head as he put the joint in his mouth. "Everywhere else in this place is packed and this stuff's too good to share with just anyone."
Did that mean she was more than "just anyone"? Downstairs, she was happy to be whatever they wanted her to be, but this… She sat next to him on the bed, her heart starting to race.
Her thoughts drifted to other things as Eddie lit the joint and passed it to her. After some coughing and some questions of where the pot came from (because it seriously was the best she'd ever had; not even Frank's stuff was this good), they settled into a little routine of back-and-forth. He'd say something and take a hit, then she'd say something and take a hit. The pot probably helped, but they were finding all kinds of things to talk about.
"So, any plans for the holidays?" She asked before taking a hit and passing it back. "Not really." Eddie shook his head as he fished another joint out of the pile to replace the current one. "I got an uncle outside of town. I might go see him for Christmas."
She knew she wasn't always the brightest, but even she picked up on his word choice. "You might? What's wrong with him?"
"Well, he used to be a Nazi." She realized that was the wrong time to take a hit, as she choked with laughter and Eddie slapped her on the back. Once she could breathe normally again, she passed the butt of the joint back to him. "You can't be serious!" "Oh, yeah. He worked on their rocket shit." They had rockets? Maybe she should have paid more attention in history class. "Is that the only reason?"
Eddie shrugged. "That, and he's always giving the usual lecture. 'Get a real job, get a haircut, get rid of the motorcycle.' I like these delivery jobs. I can work my own hours, and I take the bike all over the place."
It was then she realized that "all over the place" had a nice ring to it. "If you could just ride your motorcycle anywhere, where would you go?" "Anywhere." His eyes seemed far away; right now, he was more than just a delivery boy smoking pot in her room with her. What could she say to that?
She didn't know how long it had been quiet between them until Eddie cleared his throat. "By the way," he said, reaching for his jacket (which she didn't even notice he'd taken off), "I, uh, got a little something." From his pocket, he pulled out a small box wrapped in gold paper with silver snowflakes.
A gift? For her? A little guilt and embarrassment started to rise within her. "But I didn't get you anything."
Eddie waved his hand. "Nah, I'm just happy to be having a good time." She hoped that wasn't the pot talking as she ripped the paper, opened the box, and gasped. Inside, on white tissue paper, was a pair of black leather cuffs. She lifted them up to her lamp. The leather was soft, and the many studs and large buckles caught the light, making little reflections on the wall.
"I saw them in that odds and ends store downtown and I thought of you." For the second time that night, her jaw dropped, and she stared at him. Did he just say…?
Eddie, sensing her shock, immediately tried to backpedal. "I mean—well, I just wanted—" She didn't give him a chance to explain as she threw her arms around him. The tears she had forced back were now falling. "I'm sorry," she said, wiping her eyes and smearing her makeup. "This is just the most thoughtful gift I've gotten in…" How long? Probably since before she'd left. "…a while."
She wasn't even thinking, but she knew it felt right when they leaned in and kissed. The fact that he slipped an arm around her, that she took his dark hair in her fingers, that she could feel the heat coming off him; she stopped counting everything that was going right for the first time in a while.
Tonight was perfect.
Except for one little nagging question. "By the way, I don't think you meant Ginger Rogers downstairs. Who did you mean to say I dance like?"
"Uh, jeez." Even in the dim light, he was obviously blushing. "What's-her-name, the one with the lollipop."
A laugh erupted out of her. "Shirley Temple?! You think I dance like Shirley Temple?"
"It's just you both look so happy dancing, and you both got curly hair." Oh, ok, that made sense. Any more compliments and she thought she was going to burst.
"Here's looking at you, kid…" Wait, what?
She shook her head and her vision cleared to the sight of Casablanca on her room's monitor. Oh, right; Christmas had been over for a week. Frank had been running a movie marathon on the monitors all day (his New Year's tradition since coming to Earth, apparently). After dinner in the kitchen with Magenta and Riff Raff, she'd sat at the foot of her bed and settled in with a bottle of Jack, content to ignore that this hell of a year was almost over.
The music swelled as Humphrey Bogart and Claude Rains disappeared into the fog, and the clock in the hall began to chime. She didn't need to count to know it was midnight. In the distance, she heard the bang of fireworks from whatever passed for a New Year's celebration in Denton.
She raised the bottle to the fireworks and the music. "Happy New Year's, Eddie."
After draining the last few drops, she briefly contemplated how stiff and cruddy she was, how good stretching and washing her face would be, but sleepiness replaced those thoughts and she drifted away again.
As 1974 began, she dreamed of Shirley Temple and smoking pot…
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"You know how much I enjoy parties, but I figured we could take things a little easier after Christmas."
That was Frank's reason for spending a quiet New Year's together. This involved a candlelit dinner with champagne (which he didn't mind Frank drinking by himself) and a quiet retreat to the Zen Room, where Riff Raff stood by a bubbling hookah pipe, waiting. Light trails of smoke poured out of the top, filling the room with a fruity, spicy smell.
"All prepared, master." The creepy butler said, shoving hoses into their hands and slinking away. He didn't even notice he'd watched where the servant had gone until Frank cleared his throat. His creator had taken a seat on a small sofa and patted the spot next to him.
He sat down as Frank held his hose to his dark, glittery lips. "Watch closely."
The only sounds in the room were the bubbling water and his creator inhaling a couple of times before removing the hose from his mouth to blow out a curl of smoke. When the air cleared, he did it again, this time blowing a smoke ring.
"Now, you try." Well, how hard could this be? Placing the hose between his lips, he took a deep breath…and immediately regretted it. Whatever was in the smoke scratched his throat and burned his lungs. His mind briefly raced with thoughts of how it felt not to breathe before Frank's hand patting his back helped the feeling go away.
Once he could breathe normally, he turned to his creator, trying to not show any embarrassment. "Sorry."
"Don't worry about it." Frank murmured, gently patting his knee. "If you cough, that means you're doing it right."
Little things like that made it easy to forget Frank had stabbed a man to a bloody pulp and then cheated on him with a stranger.
Now, his creator just looked at him encouragingly. "Don't breathe so deeply next time. Just try it again."
He did so, taking shorter breaths than before. It made him feel lightheaded, but he enjoyed it, as opposed to what the sugar tests did to him.
He didn't know how long this went on, but eventually, Frank plucked the hose from his hand and settled himself in Rocky's lap; one arm draped over his neck, the other still held the second hose, now placed to his lips. "Breathe in." His creator ordered, gently but without room for response.
In his hazy state, he didn't understand why they would share a hose now, but he did what he was told, trying not to choke himself again. No sooner had he inhaled than Frank replaced the hose with his own mouth. He knew what to do now, running his fingers through his creator's hair and letting Frank's tongue into his mouth. The flavor of the smoke lingered between them.
Pulling back, Frank looked at him through half-lidded eyes. "You just wait." The scientist mumbled. "This is going to be our year."
Any response he had was stifled by Frank repositioning himself and kissing his way down the tanned, muscled torso. He settled back as his blood raced and Frank started palming him through his gold pants.
He leaned his head back and watched the room disappear into the smoke…
The store was packed but inviting. Tables, chairs, and other old furniture were both for sale and used as displays for many smaller items.
He browsed the glass cases, filled with jewelry and old weapons. This was just the front room; a person could get lost in this store, with its two floors and a basement which just seemed to keep going and going. It wasn't called Denton Odds & Ends for nothing. This place had 30 rooms, and each one had its own theme: clothes, books, toys. (Even freaking Halloween and Christmas got their own rooms).
The store wasn't too busy today, just some last-minute shoppers who didn't want to take their chances at the department store.
He wasn't here to just browse today; he came here with a purpose. She'd vouched for him that first day, insisting he hang around and get to know the place. It was because of her that he now had the largest delivery job he'd ever taken. It wasn't pizzas or groceries anymore; it was something important, even though he didn't know what. What mattered now was that he had some cash to burn, and he'd make sure to get something she'd really enjoy.
The minutes turned to hours (maybe) and before long, he found himself in his favorite part of the store: the music room on the second floor. Anything music-related went in there – instruments, sheet music, equipment, and, of course, albums.
"Not like there's anything here today, though." He groaned to himself as he sifted through the records; more big band and country albums. He knew he should have gotten used to it by now, but the people who had rock albums in this town were not going to admit it.
This trip was turning out to be a bust. He wanted this gift to be special, but he barely knew her. He didn't have that much cash (for now; Frank said there'd be more after New Year's), so something expensive was out. He didn't see any clothes that looked like something she'd want to wear, and all the other crap available wasn't giving him any ideas.
And then, he saw them. There they were, sitting on a little table he'd missed coming up the stairs. A pair of black leather cuffs, with silver buckles and dotted with studs. A little sticker stuck to one read $10.00.
He could just see them now, matching that leather blouse she liked wearing, adding some spark to her tap dancing, or waving her arms as she talked. The thought to just stick them in his pockets and save the cash for something bigger crossed his mind, but he shook his head; he had a good feeling about this, and this time, he would do it properly.
That did it. He snatched the cuffs up, barreling down the stairs and through the narrow halls, almost knocking over displays left and right. He skidded to a stop at the register in the front room, where a bored teenager sat behind the counter, not even reacting to all the noise. As he placed the cuffs down and started rifling through pockets for his wad of bills, the cashier took one look at him and asked, "You want those gift-wrapped?"
Stepping out into the brisk morning a few minutes later, he tucked his purchase into his jacket pocket, where it just fit, and turned to where he parked the bike. Despite the full gift wrap costing more than he expected, he just knew it would be worth it. He couldn't wait to see her face at the party tonight…
Not even the tears on his cheeks got the attention of Frank, who had drifted off. How long had he been out? For that matter, what had even happened? It was one thing for Eddie to briefly make him sing along to the radio, but that… There was no doubt about it. He needed some answers. He was going to make Eddie talk, somehow.
Frank shifted a little, snuggling closer. The air had cleared, and the house was quiet, except for the clock in the hall. He briefly put his determination for answers out of his mind as he picked up his creator bridal-style and carried him out into the hall.
He started up the stairs as the clock began to chime, and he heard bangs and pops in the distance. Frank had explained New Year's to him earlier, how Earth people shot off fireworks and dropped balls in celebration, and they resolved to do something different with their lives for the next year; he didn't understand why, but Frank assured him not to worry about it.
Once in their room, he gently placed his creator on the large bed and was ready to fall asleep himself when a gold flash caught his eye. He briefly watched fireworks of all colors light up the night before slipping under the covers with a resolution of his own. If he could see Eddie's memories, what else was he capable of?
As 1974 began, he dreamed of $10 and tap dances…
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Thanks for reading! See you next chapter!