Before I begin, thanks to allwrong4life, who is the only one to have reviewed this story. I guess this is for you! *hugs* Even if I have an audience of one, at least SOMEONE is enjoying it!
Guys, this will be the last update for any of my fanfictions until probably next Saturday (unless I end up going to Pride, in which case it could be the Monday after next). Sorry, but we're going on a seriously long underway. When I return, I'm probably just going to be updating "Little Glass Vial" because I only have three more chapters left to write for it and it'll be the only one I can finish before I leave.
So, anyway, enjoy this chapter! Supernatural belongs to Kripke.
Lu had crashed on Ray's couch more times than he cared to recall. It was his go-to place whenever he couldn't stand Eve and needed someplace else to spend the night. For obvious reasons, he never asked Michael, and he was always uncomfortable with asking to stay with Gabriel or Castiel—both of them had boyfriends who were over nearly every night, and Lu didn't feel like waking up in the middle of the night when they were going at it. Fortunately, Ray didn't date much and his parents thought he was a good guy, so he usually had first dibs on the couch.
But it wasn't a permanent fix and Lu knew it. Very soon, he'd have to find a new seedy little apartment, somewhere near a bus stop or the subway or by Ray's house. There was no way he wasn't in for an infuriating couple of weeks, trying to apartment hunt in between working, finding a new singer, rehearsing with said new singer, doing shows… Fuck. Yeah, this was going to be stressful. He just had to hope that they actually found a singer the next day, because if they didn't, they'd have to take another day to find one or he'd be stuck singing himself.
The idea of just disbanding never crossed his mind. He'd invested too much time and effort—Hell, they all had—for something that obviously worked, and he wouldn't prove Michael right. He refused to let him be the catalyst that broke them up.
Ray shook him awake around eight. "Hey. Hey, Lu. I gotta go to work." Ray, that lucky bastard, had a job at Guitar Center, so in his off time, he could sneak off to the back and rehearse, not that he needed it. He could play any instrument you threw at him and, in addition to being a skilled drummer, bassist, and guitarist, could play the piano, violin, saxophone, and cello. It was all Lu could do to not feel a bit jealous—he could only play bass and enough guitar to squeak by.
"Yeah. Um, okay." Lu was still half-asleep as he tugged his shirt back on and Ray went back to his room. The strawberry blonde tumbled off the couch and blinked sleepily. The fall had jolted him a bit, but it always took awhile for him to wake up entirely. Slowly, he pulled himself to his feet and started folding up the blanket, yawning as he did so. By the time Ray came back out into the living room, now fully dressed, Lu was just standing up and stretching.
"Hungry?" Ray asked. Lu nodded, still feeling a bit dazed. "Alright, good. I was gonna stop and get some food anyway. Ready to go?"
Lu nodded again and slung his backpack over his shoulder. Most of the rest of his stuff was still in the bed of Ray's truck because they'd both been too exhausted to even think about bringing it in.
"Jesus," Ray muttered a few minutes later. He dug a cigarette out of his pack and made a face as he stuck it in his mouth. "One left. Want it?"
Lu half-shrugged and reached for it. Ray flicked his lighter and, after lighting his, handed the lighter to Lu. He lit his own cigarette and handed it back.
"This shit is totally fucked," Ray said. He took a long drag as the light turned green and he gunned the engine. "Michael quitting and then your shit with Eve—that's crazy. Completely messed-up."
"At least I didn't lose my job," Lu murmured. He let his cigarette dangle from his fingertips for a moment. "To be honest, there's no lost love with Eve. If Michael wants her, he can have her. I just wish she hadn't fucking kicked me out."
"She was probably squicked-out with the idea of you sleeping in the same bed where she fucked him."
Lu shot him a disgusted look. "Thanks. Now I'm squicked-out. I hadn't contemplated that idea, but now I'm wondering."
Ray grinned, exhaling a steady stream of smoke. "You're welcome. I aim to distress."
They stopped at a 7-Eleven and picked up a couple of breakfast sandwiches. Lu popped them in the microwave while Ray paid for them and bought another pack of smokes. At the last minute, Lu pulled a bottle of Dr Pepper out of the cooler and set it on the counter before fishing a couple of singles out of his wallet and handing them to Ray, who was sliding his debit card through the card reader. "Thanks, honey," Lu said in a high-pitched voice, batting his eyes.
Ray snorted with laughter. "You better watch your ass with that voice."
Lu picked up his sandwich and soda and left the store, swaying his hips as he went. Judging by Ray's mad cackle, he was watching and it made Lu laugh, too. It was strange, but despite everything that had transpired in the last twelve hours or so, he still felt upbeat. He was resilient—it would take a lot more than a douchebag now-ex-bandmate and a stupid now-ex-girlfriend to ruin his mood.
Six hours later found Lu in the bass section of Guitar Center, perched on a table with a hot little Epiphone bass slung around his neck. He absently kicked at the seat in front of him and started strumming out the opening bass line for The Cure's "Fascination Street." Ray was skulking around the drum area, so Lu had been forced to find some way to entertain himself, and focusing his attention on nailing the song kept his mind from wandering over to the blonde he'd seen the night before—he'd managed to not think about him (too much) over the past few hours. Still, he'd hung out here enough times that the other employees were comfortable with letting him creep around unsupervised.
Someone wandered into his line of sight and he looked up. The customer was looking around nervously, and Lu got the impression he hadn't been instrument shopping before. "What's up?" he asked before he could help himself.
"Um, I was just interested in looking at a bass guitar but…"
"But it's a bit overwhelming, right?"
The guy nodded. Light reflected off his shaved head and Lu resisted the urge to shield his eyes. "No problem. Completely new to the music thing?"
"Well, not completely, but definitely new to the bass thing."
"I recommend a Dean, in that case." Lu pointed to one corner. "Fairly cheap, and excellent quality for the price. I had a lime-green Dean for my first bass. Otherwise, you could end up forking out a ton of cash for what could end up being an expensive door-stop."
The other guy nodded again, looking a bit more relaxed. "Thanks. I honestly don't know anything about basses, so…"
"Yeah, no problem." Lu focused his attention back on the bass in his hands as the customer went to the Dean corner and started looking at them a bit more closely. About ten minutes later, he left with a plain black Dean in his hands and a smug look on his face.
When Ray found him about ten minutes later, Lu immediately looked up. "Time to go?" he asked hopefully.
"Not quite yet. Did a guy come through here about ten, fifteen minutes ago wanting to look at basses?"
"Yeah, why?"
"He said, and I quote, 'That creepy guy playing bass in the back helped me out a lot. You should promote him.' That wasn't you, was it?"
"'Creepy'? What the actual fuck? I am not creepy."
Ray closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. "I figured. Anyway, I told him that if it was who I thought it was, he doesn't work here, and he seemed surprised."
"Cool. When is it time to leave?"
Ray checked his watch. "Another hour or so. Jesus, you are so fucking high-maintenance."
"Pay attention to me! I'm bored!" Lu whined, grinning.
"It's like dealing with a fucking five-year-old," Ray muttered.
Fortunately, the end of Ray's shift arrived with enough time for them to dash over to The Warehouse. Castiel and Gabriel were already there and so were about twenty people Lu didn't recognize. He scanned the group and felt something—he wasn't sure if it was relief or disappointment—when he saw that the blonde wasn't there.
"Hey, guys," Gabriel said cheerily. "What's going on? You ready to find our new frontman?"
"Is Crowley coming?" Ray asked, ignoring Gabriel's question.
The short guitarist shrugged. "Who knows with that guy? He'll probably stop by in an hour or so."
"Let's just start," Castiel muttered, looking over his shoulder at the group waiting to sing.
A half an hour later and they'd heard a few flat-out terrible singers, a lot of decent singers, and one pretty good singer named Pamela Gordon. Crowley swaggered in just as she was about halfway done with a rendition of The Damned's "Jet Boy, Jet Girl" that had Gabriel sniggering behind his hand. "She's good," Crowley said.
"She's the best one so far," Castiel said.
Crowley looked at the four people still left. "Hmm. She'll probably be the best one out of any of this lot. Best style, too."
"Style can be changed. Talent can't," Ray pointed out. "But I agree—she's probably the best we're gonna get."
She seemed to hear them despite their whispers and she grinned. Suddenly, she stared at the door to the side and the band, puzzled, turned to look, too. For a few long moments, there was absolutely nothing. And then the door few open and a sultry voice with a definitively British accent said, "I hope I'm not too late."
Lu's throat went dry. It was the blonde from the night before sauntering in, a cocky smirk on his face and leather jacket stretched tight across his shoulders. Fuck!
"No, not at all," Crowley said smoothly. "In fact, I do believe you beat the rush."
The blonde grinned and went to the back to wait with the other handful of hopefuls.
For the next ten minutes, Lu silently prayed that, when the blonde got up to sing, he would be horrible. One by one, the remaining potential singers took the floor and, while one was good and the other three were just okay, none were anywhere near as good as Pamela had been. And then the blonde got up and grinned at them. "Evening, gents. This is Social Distortion's 'Ball and Chain.'" He seemed to smirk right at Lu as he started singing. "Well, it's been ten years and a thousand tears and look at the mess I'm in—a broken heart and a broken nose and an empty bottle of gin…"
By the time he was done, Lu was ready to flip the table in rage. This asshole was amazing, much better than Pamela, and judging by the impressed looks his bandmates were shooting the blonde, there was no way they wouldn't hire him. He wished "This guy makes me want to do sick things" was a valid excuse for not choosing him, but he got the feeling that, even then, the other three would just tell him to deal with it.
The worst part was, the guy seemed to be aware of Lu's reaction. Far from being apologetic, it apparently amused him because he never stopped grinning. That grin seemed to say, "Yes, I know I'm a sexy bastard. What are you gonna do about it?"
"Well, I'm sold," Gabriel said cheerfully. "I vote for that guy."
"Second," Castiel said.
"Third!" Ray said. He nodded enthusiastically. And then the three of them looked at Lu.
"Yeah," he muttered. "Why the fuck not?"
"Excellent," Crowley said. "Hopefully you don't end up punching this one in the face, yeah?" Lu pointedly ignored his comment, suddenly intent on studying the lines on the page of the notebook in front of him. He'd started roughing out another song and the words were now swirling in front of him. "So what's your name?" he heard Crowley ask.
"Balthazar Roché."
"Hmm," Ray said. "I hereby bequeath you with the stage name 'Bizarre.' I'm Raphael. Stage name is Sizzler."
"Gabriel. I'm called G-Man and Loki."
"Castiel. They gave me the ridiculous name of Steal."
Lu looked up. "They call me Satan. My name is Lucifer." He caught the amused look on Balthazar's face and was sure he knew what he was thinking: Your now-ex-singer was named Michael, and he had a quarrel with the bandmate named Lucifer. That is absolutely perfect. The irony wasn't lost on him, either.
"I'm Jeremy Crowley, the band manager. You can just call me Crowley. So, listen. There's a rehearsal tomorrow night and another gig next Friday. I suggest you free up your schedule so you can get some practice in with this lot." He stood up. "Now, if that's all taken care of, who wants a drink?"
Lu sorely wanted to take him up on that, but he had to work in the morning and he was planning on starting his apartment hunt afterward. He had to be on point. Making absolutely sure to not steal one last glance at their new singer, he headed to the door.
Still, he could feel Balthazar's eyes burning a hole through his jacket as he went.
So that customer I imagined to be Uriel, just in case anyone cares.
I just adore sexually-frustrated Lucifer. He is so adorbz. And originally, I planned on having Lucifer's best friend be Gabriel, but Ray seems to filling that billet much better. They're surprisingly close. I need to figure out their backstory. To the Storymobile!
...leave me some lovely reviews to come back to?