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To Live is to Die
Topic Started: March 5, 2008, 12:49 am (59,952 Views)
elena
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Outlaw Torn
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She has a lot of fun!Good to her! :horns2
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Metalicious
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Blackened
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No bus crash. Although with the comment about drunk driving I can see why that might pop into your mind. Everybody's safe. :biggrin

***********************************

I passed out around five a.m., cradled against Big Jim's shoulder, someone's jacket tucked around me. I woke up four hours later to find we'd pulled over for breakfast. At least, that's what Paulie told me. Everybody else was in the little cafe.

Draping the jacket I'd borrowed over Mike's bunk, I pulled my hood up and stepped into the fresh air, wishing I'd brought sunglasses. I pushed open the door to the cafe, and was greeted with a brutally loud chorus of "Morning, Tink!" and "What's up, Tink?"

Slinking into the corner booth with Mike and Snake, I ordered a coffee to go, and begged the waitress to find me a banana or twelve. "Potassium," I whispered when the guys asked me why. "S'good for hangovers. Shhhh."

Returning to the bus a few minutes later, Mike instructed me to lie down on his bunk and attempt to get some quality sleep. "You're no good to me if you have to nap while we're unloading," he winked. "And I can't let Hetfield see you all red-eyed and hungover. You've got three hours. Use 'em."

Too tired to argue, I downed the rest of the coffee, polished off my second banana and pulled the little curtain shut, curling up under the blankets. When I awoke a second time, Lars was standing over me, a mixture of amusement and concern on his face.

"You okay? Mike said you and the Wild Turkey had a little bonding session last night. You won't drink Jaggermeister with me but you'll down bourbon like there's no tomorrow?"

I sat up gingerly, careful not to bang my head on the upper bunk. "I love you, Danish, but you're being awfully loud right now. Any chance you could speak a little more softly?"

He crouched beside me, kissing my forehead. "Did you have fun?"

I smiled at him. "Yeah. How was the plane? Are we near the hotel?"

"We're outside the venue, but it's not far to the hotel. I'll take you over in a minute if you want."

I shook my head. "No, s'okay. I should stay and help. I said I would." I giggled at the look of disbelief he threw me. "I like helping! But...do you think we could find some coffee? I feel highly dependent on substances lately. Coffee, bourbon-"

"Bananas," he said grimly, picking up the peel that had somehow ended up by Mike's pillow.

"Ew. Yeah, let's throw that out."

I followed him out of the bus, gratefully taking the sunglasses he offered me. The guys were unpacking and setting up what the primary crew had left for them, and I ambled over to Mike, hoping for something to keep me occupied. "Good morning. Again."

"I don't think I can use you yet, honey. If you wanna come back about an hour before the show, I'm sure we can find something for you to do." He was busy ticking things off on a chart, so I walked off with Lars, promising to return that evening.

I slept a little more at the hotel before showering, taking a walk around the city, and then joining Kirk and Lani for dinner at seven. I'd brought a massive handbag holding my jeans and tee shirt and boots, and decided to wear a black thigh-skimming dress and red peep-toe heels.

"Wow," Kirk said softly when the matire'd had escorted me to the table.

"You look hot!" Lani grinned, patting the chair next to her.

"I knew I should have invited James," Kirk muttered, opening a menu.

"Ignore him," Lani advised me, handing me the wine list. "I told him not to meddle. Have you seen James today?"

I shook my head. "Haven't seen him since last night's encore. How's he doing?"

"He's good. He slept a lot on the plane, and was in a pretty good mood earlier when I saw him. He was worried last night when you weren't on the plane, though. Lars had to remind him you'd taken the slow mode of transport."

I ordered a large bottle of water to drink, deciding it wouldn't hurt to take a night off from alcohol.

We were finished by 8:30 and Lani and I accompanied Kirk to the venue, ducking around back and through a complicated of pedways and tunnels to get inside without Kirk being spotted.

There was a long, high-pitched whistle when we arrived backstage, and Snake called down from the lighting rig, "Look what Tink's wearin'!"

"And me without my tux," Jim grinned, striding past me with his hands full of cables.

"Tink?" Kirk repeated.

"Like Tinkerbelle," Mike said helpfully. "Y'know, running around spreading sweetness and light," he grinned. "Like pixie dust."

Kirk's head whipped around at me and I held up my hands. "Not that kind of pixie dust, Kirk. Take it easy." The last thing I needed was a rumour going 'round that I was the resident coke dealer.

Mike gestured to my dress and heels. "You gonna climb the rigging in that get-up?"

I looked up to where Snake was crawling across the metal beams. "Probably not. But how impressive would that be!"

"Get changed then. You can take the leads up to Snake and then we're all set."

I ducked behind one of the risers, pulling my jeans on and yanking the dress over my head to replace it with the tee-shirt. I could hear Mike yelling for me, and I jogged back out in my bare feet, boots in one hand, bag in the other.

"Oh, for - put your shoes on, dumbass," he scolded me affectionately.

"You were screaming the place down and I was right over there," I pointed with my boots towards the riser. Dropping to the floor, I laced up my boots and tossed my bag over with the pile of other personal effects.

Snake yelled down for his walkie talkie, and I tucked it in my back pocket, intent on climbing up the rigging to hand it over.

"Where're you goin'?" Mike asked, yanking me back by the hem of my shirt.

"Up there. Relax, I'll be careful." Tugging my shirt out of his grasp, I scooted up the bars and straddled the rigging, sliding across to Snake. "Hey, buddy. Here ya go."

"Thanks. You gonna hang out up here with me tonight?" He clipped the radio on his belt. "It's a pretty cool way to watch the show. Just need to be careful to stay where I tell you. Otherwise you might get flambéed," he grinned, pointing to the pyro spots.

I promised to join him after the opening band had gone on, and spent the next ninety minutes hanging out with Lani at the venue's bar. "Do you have your security pass?" I asked her, patting my pockets and finding them empty. "I seem to have lost mine."

She shook her head. "Again? Honestly. Which number is this now?"

"It's my third. I don't know what happens to them!" I tipped back my drink, shaking my head when the bartender asked if I wanted another. "Maybe if I didn't put them in my pocket all the time..."

"Maybe if you didn't insist on climbing all over the stage like it's a playground," she grinned. Her security pass was around her neck. "Speaking of which, Snake said you wanna watch from the monkey bars tonight."

I giggled. The rigging was similar to that, except a hell of a lot higher. "Yeah. I only caught the last few songs of the shows so far. I'd like to watch the whole thing, and I'll be out of the way up there."

"And out of sight?" she asked, raising a perfectly groomed eyebrow as she sipped her drink.

"No. I mean, yeah, but that's not why. Not everything is about James."

She glanced over her shoulder, to where a large crowd of people had just formed around James, handing him a fresh shirt, informing him of messages from management back in New York, clarifying what he wanted to eat after the show, and passing him a copy of the latest setlist, which I knew Lars would change at least two more times anyway. "I beg to differ," she said, turning back to me with a wink.

I left money on the bar and told her I'd see her after the show. Taking the long way around so I wouldn't have to pass James, I found one of the crew and apologized for yet again losing my pass. Once backstage, I made my way back up to Snake and got settled against the rigging, my legs hanging over the criss-crossed metal bars.

From my viewpoint far above the stage, I could see the whole band as they readied themselves to go onstage. James was pacing, his guitar slung behind him, no doubt doing last minute vocal warm-ups. Lars was talking to his tech and Steve, practically bouncing. Kirk was fairly chilled out in comparison, walking back and forth behind the curtain, singing to himself and strumming his guitar. And Rob was seated, bass at his side, talking to his own techs.

Then the opening music started, and I looked down at the audience, watching as they all started to notice that the song had changed. Backstage, the guys immediately finished up what they were doing and came together in their huddle, arms around each other, heads bowed. Nobody ever went near them when they did this, but security hovered nearby just in case.

The music rose to its climax and the guys stepped back from each other, arms outstretched for their instruments. Lars went out first, jogging over to his set, and the crowd went insane. Kirk was next, skipping out on stage, followed by Rob, and finally James, taking huge strides across the stage to stand on the far side. Launching into the first song, they started with a bang, as a huge pyro display went off several feet off to my right.

Snake looked up from his perch in the middle of the light rig, shooting me a grin. I waved back, letting him know that I was fine, and resumed watching the boys.

Halfway into the show, Rob took over the stage with a bass solo, and I couldn't keep ignoring the fact that I'd had to pee for the last twenty minutes. I motioned to Snake that I'd be right back, and crossed to the back of the rigging, quickly stepping down as though it were a ladder. Dropping my foot to one of the bars when I was nearing the floor, I felt an arm wrap tightly around my waist, lifting me off the rig, and Big Jim deposited me on the floor.

"Be careful!" he yelled over the noise of the bass.

Nodding, I ran across the stage, trying not to trip over anything. Jogging down the stairwell that led to the washrooms, I slammed right into James, who was just around the corner, apparently going the same way.
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Scorpion Flower
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And?? yes....they run into each other, but where's the rest?? :lol:
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elena
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That chapter was great!
I wonder how James and Charlie will react! :blink:
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PurpleRose
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Great updates :tu:

So glad you are still writing this fic I love it :heart:
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Metalicious
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PurpleRose! Nice to see you again!

*********

Laughing, he steadied me, holding me by the shoulders. "What are you doing here?"

"I had about a gallon of water at dinner. I'm hoping the women's bathroom is around here somewhere. What are you doing here?" I asked, grinning.

"Same. Different bathroom," he winked. "C'mon, it's around here somewhere."

I followed him down the hall, trying not to stare at the way his sweaty shirt was clinging to his back, outlining every muscle, his arms glistening with sweat, his hair damp and curling off his neck... Lord.

We turned a corner and found one door, swung open, with two stalls inside. He grinned at me over his shoulder. "Shall we?"

Well, if he could act like this wasn't weird, so could I. I shut the stall door and dropped my jeans. I could hear him chuckling in the stall next to mine, his laugh echoing in the small space. "Something funny, Hetfield?"

"Just thinking that this is the most time I've spent with you conscious lately. Not the venue I'd thought it'd be."

Zipping up my jeans, I came out and washed my hands, looking at him in the mirror when he joined me. "I'll take whatever I can get," I smiled, and handed him the paper towel.

Walking just ahead of me as we went back the way we'd come, he slowed a little so I could keep up and cleared his throat. "Do you wanna hang out after the show?"

I just about tripped over my own feet, I was so surprised. Trying to keep the shock from my face, I nodded. "Sure."

He smiled. "Cool."

Rob was winding down, and Kirk and Lars were getting ready to head back out. James' tech handed him one of the Trucksters, and Mick saw us and raised a hand. "Hetfield. Tink."

James slid the strap over his head, shooting me a questioning look, a little smile playing on his face. "'Tink'?"

I looked away, hands in my pockets, playing dumb. "Hmm? What?"

Big Jim chose that moment to walk by. "Evening, Tinkerbelle. James. Good show so far, buddy."

They bumped fists, and James turned back to me, laughing. "Tinkerbelle, eh? Wait...where're you going?"

I had a hand on the bars, and was about to climb back up. I jerked my head towards the ceiling. "Up there. Great view."

He looked a little skeptical, but then shrugged. Leaning in close to me as Lars started up the drums again, he put his mouth to my ear. "Don't fall, Tinkerbelle," he murmured, lips brushing my skin. "I don't think you can actually fly."

I watched as he strode onstage, fists raised, prompting the crowd to do the same. Scrambling up the supports, I got to the top just as the boys launched into Master of Puppets. They seemed in even better form than before the break. Lars was going nuts on the drums, making ridiculous faces. Rob was crabwalking like crazy. Kirk was in full-on flexiguy mode, leaning back so far he was almost in bridge position, eyes closed, mouth wide open, and James was stalking the whole length of the stage, playing first to one side, then another, meeting Kirk in the middle for some kind of duel.

It was incredible. I didn't even notice Snake had moved to sit beside me until he poked me in the side. Leaning in so I could hear him, he motioned below. "Watch the next part. James always jumps a little with the pyro."

I watched, and he did look a little startled, even though I knew he knew exactly when and where it was coming. Looking up at that exact moment, he stared right at me, shooting me a grin and shuddering a little, as if he knew what Snake had just told me. I gave him a thumbs up and pointed for him to go towards the front of the stage, far away from the pryo. He raised his right hand, flashing the horns at me, and turned back to the crowd, bringing his hand down to strike the next note.

There were two encores, and the guys spent a few minutes after the show tossing out picks and wristbands, with Lars jogging up to various points on the stage to hand out drumsticks. James jokingly held out his guitar at one point as if to give it to the guys in the front row, and then pulled it back, pretending to look horrified.

I followed Snake down the rig, still watching the guys, and yelped when an arm wrapped around my waist, and Big Jim lifted me off the bars before I'd hit the floor. Hoisting me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing, he carried me across the back of the stage.

"Jim? Jim!" I lifted my head to see where he was taking me, and ducked down again when I was almost decapitated by a doorframe. My shirt was riding up, and I tried to tug it back down, but I was being jerked around too much.

Walking down a long hallway, he greeted a number of the crew, all of whom said hello to me also, or just patted my butt in a friendly, if slightly disconcerting, greeting. Finally putting me down, he turned me around and I saw James towelling off. "Here ya go," he said, pushing me forwards so I almost stumbled.

Seeing my dishevelled appearance, James bit his lip, clearly trying not to smile. "Thanks Jim."

Flustered, I watched as Jim nodded and then turned to leave and pushed my hair out of my face. "You asked him to do that? I would have come on my own."

Pulling a clean shirt on, James shook his head, looking abashed. "I asked if he could make sure you didn't take off with the crew. I guess he thought this was the best way to do that."

"Oh." I slumped into a chair, slinging my legs over the armrest.

Lars bounded into the room, smiling widely. "Hey! Enjoy the show?"

I nodded, grinning. "Amazing. The crowd was awesome."

Smirking, he glanced at James. "Hear that, Hetfield? The crowd was awesome." Rolling up his towel, he snapped it at me, and I moved my feet just in time. "Where were you, anyway? I didn't see you backstage at all."

"She was up with Snake," James informed him, tugging on his boots, his face carefully neutral.

"Brave girl," Lars said with a mischievous grin.

I yanked the towel from his grasp and snapped it back at him. "Jackass," I muttered.

"You guys gonna come to the bar?" He looked back and forth between us. "I invited a couple of friends."

James raised an eyebrow at me, and I mirrored his expression, not really caring what we did. I was just happy he wanted to spend some time together. Lars could invite the entire audience if he wanted. "Sure," James said, still looking at me.

"Great. I gotta shower. See you over there. Steve has the details." Bouncing out of the room, he could be heard chattering all the way down the hall.

"We don't have to go," James started slowly.

"I don't mind," I smiled. I really didn't.

"We could head over there now, before it gets really crowded. Do you wanna grab your bag before we go?" He was standing in front of me now, close enough to touch. "You could always get somebody to take it to the hotel for you."

I nodded, taking the radio from where I'd fastened it to my belt loop, and called Mick. "Hi buddy, it's Charlie. Can you make sure that my bag gets sent over to the hotel? I'm heading out and I left it back there."

"Ten four, Tink," he said, all business even with the nickname.

"Thanks!" I took the hoody that James held out, since mine was in my bag, and followed him down the long concrete hallway, where one of his security detail pushed open a big steele door, the cool night air coming in with a whoosh.

We stepped into the street, and I looked around, trying to get my bearings. I knew the bar Lars wanted to hit, and it was about two blocks away. I slid my hands in my jeans pockets, and glanced over at James, who was watching me intently. "Autograph signing, or no autograph signing?" I asked, wondering if he wanted to spend some time with the fans.

He shook his head. "Not tonight. Why, you know a back road or something?" he grinned.

I shrugged, trying to seem cool and mysterious. "Or something."
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Scorpion Flower
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Humm..is it now? :biggrin or maybe not.

I'm glad he finally asked her to spend some time together, I'm not expecting them to get together already, maybe Charlie is expecting that, but in the end is gonna turn ou differentely. Am i rambling too much??? :lol:
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Virtual Bettie
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It's good that they can spead some time hanging out, talking, reforging that friendship bond and all. I think if they dove right back into the relationship it would crash and burn like the Hindenburg.

So glad you seem back in the groove with this story, not that you ever fell out of it.
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Metalicious
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Virtual Bettie
Dec 19 2008, 07:28 AM

So glad you seem back in the groove with this story, not that you ever fell out of it.

You are so sweet. I totally fell out of the groove, I left it for so long! But it seems all, like, 'game on' now, so I'm happy. And happy y'all are reading. :D

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elena
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So happy because they go out! :nanner:
Love,love your fiction! :heart:
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Metalicious
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Thanks for reading!! :D

**********************************

I gestured for him to follow me, and led him down the street, away from the venue. I wanted to tell him how much I'd enjoyed the concert, but he seemed content to walk in silence, so I stayed quiet. We came to a bridge, and he stopped suddenly in the middle.

I looked up to see him staring out across the water, his gaze fixed on something in the distance, and I turned to see what he was looking at. The Eiffel Tower was lit up, standing out against the skyline.

"This is one of your favourite cities?" he asked, turning his eyes to me.

"Yeah," I said, smiling.

He looked around, taking in the quiet streets, gorgeous architecture, and the Tower, which seemed to be at once delicate and overwhelming. "I can see why."

We continued walking, a little closer together than before.

"Did you come here a lot when you lived in England?"

I nodded. "It's really easy with the tunnel. And I had friends living in one of the quarters, so I could just stay with them. It made for a nice little weekend trip."

James laughed, holding his hand to his ear like a phone. "Hey, what's up, I'm just heading to Paris for the weekend," he said in what I assumed was a mock version of my voice.

Shooting him a look, I held my hand up to my ear and growled, "Hey, what's up, I'm just taking a private plane to Montana for the weekend."

He burst out laughing, and linked an arm around my neck, rubbing his knuckles on my head. "Touché," he chuckled, releasing me.

We got the chosen locale a few minutes later, and it was fairly busy, but we managed to snag a spot at the bar. "Perrier, rocks," James said when the bartender appeared, making an adorable attempt at saying please in French.

I nodded to indicate that I'd have the same, when James put a hand over mine.

"Don't," he said softly. "Have whatever you want. I'll make sure you get back to the hotel okay." Then he added, "And hey, you don't have your purse with you, so I'm getting the tab."

I stared at him for a moment, wondering where all this easy affection was coming from, and then decided not to question it. Turning to the bartender, I ordered in French - asking for the only thing I could remember the words for - and then turned my back to the bar, watching the crowd.

"What'd ya get?" James inquired, leaning back against the bar beside me.

"Bottle of Johnny Walker Blue Label," I said casually, grinning when he burst out laughing again. God, I loved his laugh. "Nah, I asked for a whiskey sour," I told him.

Our drinks arrived, and James held out his card to start a tab. The bartender took it, and then looked at me, speaking rapidly in French. Smiling at James, he put the card behind the bar and then turned to serve other patrons.

James looked at me curiously, sipping his Perrier. "What was that all about?"

I laughed. "Like you don't have some idea?"

He glanced down, looking sheepish. "He's a fan?"

Nodding, I lifted my glass to my lips, amused by the way James still got a little weird about free stuff. "Our first round's on the house. If he owned the bar, all our drinks would be free. But he doesn't want to get fired."

"Where'd you learn to speak French?" He ran his thumb over the rim of his glass, and then looked up when several people we knew filed through the door.

"I took some classes. And it's really similar to Spanish, which I took all the way through school, so..." I shrugged.

Lars emerged from the crowd of people who'd arrived, and he wrapped me in a hug, kissing my cheeks, and then did the same to James, who managed not to roll his eyes at the cheek kissing. Taking a sip of my drink, he made a face, and ordered a few bottles of champagne. Seeing the look of concern I gave him, he ran a hand over my hair, still standing between me and James. "What's wrong, sweetheart? Not a fan of Moet?"

"It goes to my head too fast," I pouted, wondering how offended he'd be if I just kept drinking whiskey. "I think it's all the bubbles."

James made a choking sound, and covered it with a cough, wiping his mouth and distinctly not looking at me.

"The bubbles, hmm?" Lars smiled wryly. "Not the alcohol?"

I pursed my lips. "It might be the alcohol."

Lani appeared a moment later, and sighed heavily when she saw me. "Really? Jeans? To the bar?"

"What happened to your non-judging household?" I teased her.

She laughed. "We're not there anymore. And you looked so nice in your dress." She took a glass of champagne from Lars and then added as an afterthought, "Not that you don't look nice in jeans, too. That's not what I meant."

"I know what you meant," I assured her, totally happy to be wearing what I was. I wasn't out to impress anybody. I just wanted to relax and have fun. And in the back of my mind was the thought that if I stayed out long enough, I'd be pretty drunk. Not wearing a dress greatly reduced the chances of me accidentally flashing the bar later.

"She looked really hot, though," Lani told James. "Didn't she, baby?" She tugged on Kirk's shirt, sliding an arm around his waist.

"I'm not getting involved," Kirk said lightly, avoiding her eyes. "You wanna go find some seats, man?" he asked James, who readily agreed, leaving Lani and I standing at the bar.

"Meddler," I muttered, trying not to smile. I looked down at my faded jeans that rode low on my hips, and my grey short-sleeve tee shirt, soft and worn thin from being washed so many times. I knew I didn't look trendy or glamorous, but I didn't really care.

Ordering another whiskey sour, I looked around to see where the guys had gone to sit, and saw them perched on stools at a high table in the corner. Lars and Rob had joined them, along with Mike and Snake, which surprised me, since normally the crew didn't party with the band.

Lani and I started over to their table, when two tall, dark-haired men in suits approached us, blocking our path.

"Good evening," the one closer to me said, flashing me a brilliant smile. "May we buy you ladies some drinks?"

"Yes," Lani said, flashing a smile of her own. "And you can have the bartender send them to that table over there." She leaned around the other guy, giving Kirk a little wave.

Looking slightly put-out, the two men glanced at each other and then behind them, where the entire table of six was watching, looking very amused. "You do not wish to drink with us?"

"No, thank you. We're here with friends. We should really get over there." I started to move past them and the one near me took my hand, squeezing it gently. Sighing, I pulled my walkie-talkie from my back pocket with my free hand and held it up to my mouth. "Mike, this is Tink, over."

I could hear Mike's laugh across the bar, and he came over the radio clearly. "Roger that, Tink, what's up?"

"We're having some technical difficulties over here. The message doesn't appear to be getting through. Faulty wiring maybe," I smirked at the guy. "Considering alternative measures and requesting back-up."

"Any particular back-up maneuvers? Danish style, Californian...whiskey warlord Samurai?" he added, and I could see Rob getting up from his seat.

"No need for that," I said, as the two guys in front of us dispersed. Putting the radio back in my pocket, I followed Lani to the table.

"Tinkerbelle," Mike nodded, taking a long pull from his beer and winking at me.

"Michael," I greeted him, hopping onto a stool beside Rob. "Hi Tru."

He pressed a quick kiss to my temple. "Hi."

Lars and Mike proceeded to order rounds of Jaggerbombs, ignoring me when I made a show of looking at my watch and suggesting they weren't gonna last the night.

James switched seats with Rob later on, joining Zach and I for a discussion on the merits of the Eiffel Tower, and why Parisians seemed to loathe it. My walkie-talkie whined and buzzed every so often, and Zach urged me to turn it off.

"But then I couldn't do this," I reasoned, hauling it out of my pocket and turning it on. "Paging Mike, over."

Mike, standing at the bar, glanced over and held up his radio. "Yo."

"Please bring me another whiskey sour. Over," I requested, and he doubled over laughing, putting his radio back on his belt. "See?" I said gleefully. "Genius!"

Zach shook his head, laughing. "Fine."

I downed a shot that Lars brought me, wincing as my face nearly turned inside out. "What was that?"

"Sour apple," he grinned. "Want another?"

"Gross, no!"

He held out a glass of champagne, and I gulped it down, trying to rid my mouth of the foul taste of the shot. Taking the empty glass from me when I was done, Lars raised an eyebrow. "Does this mean we should be on the look out for signs of bubble intoxication?"

Shit. I'd meant to stay away from the champagne. "No," I lied. "I'll be fine."
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Scorpion Flower
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Ok..The party is on..but let's get rolling to next part.

Good Chapter, and London is indeed an amazing town. i love it. :)
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elena
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James wants to become again close to her?I hope so.
Very good chapter! :heart:
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FYI - they are in Paris. Hence the French babbling.

***********************

It may have been the champagne. It may have been the five whiskey sours, or the shot, or a combination of all three. Whatever the cause, the effect was that I was completely inebriated a very short time later. I knew this because I complained to James that the room was spinning, and he said no, I was, and then put a hand on my leg to stop me from swiveling around on my stool. The room got still again, and I dropped my head, looking up at him sheepishly. "Oh. Thank you."

Laughing, he ran a hand over my hair and said he'd be right back. Rob took his place, tilting my head up and holding up his left hand. "How many fingers?"

"Four!"

He looked at his hand and then back at me. "Four?"

I reached out and fumbled for his hand. "This is a thumb, not a finger," I said, squeezing his thumb gently. "I'm fine, don't worry."

He laughed, pulling me into a tight hug, and I squeezed my arms around him, pressing my cheek to his broad chest. Releasing me, he eased me backwards gently. "Tag," he smiled at James over my shoulder, and I felt James' arm go around my waist.

I leaned backwards. "Hey!"

"Hi, drunkie. You wanna stay longer or do you wanna get some air?"

I wondered if 'get some air' was code for 'make out'. I hoped so. "Let's go. I'm done." I blew air kisses to everyone, backing up and trying not to trip. James retrieved his credit card and guided me to the exit. We saw Mike in a deserted booth, looking like he was falling asleep, and I yanked my walkie-talkie out. "Man down. Man down!"

Shaking with laughter, James leaned down and murmured something to Mike, who nodded, eyes still closed, a contented little smile on his face.

"C'mon, Tinkerbelle," James put a hand to the small of my back, nudging me out the door.

We walked around for a while, and I wasn't really paying attention to where we were until James stopped walking. We'd been winding our way down a number of side streets, and I was all turned around, so to see the Eiffel Tower appear seemingly out of nowhere was a surprise. James tilted his head back, looking way up, his hands shoved in his pockets.

I tapped his arm and gestured for him to follow me, heading across the square. All the staircases were chained off for the night, but the area directly underneath the Tower was always accessible. I flipped up the hood of my sweatshirt, and stretched out on the ground, staring up through the intricate metal framework. James lay down beside me, lacing his hands behind his head.

"I don't understand why the locals don't dig it," I murmured.

"Because eet eez gauche," James replied in a terrible French accent, making me laugh.

"I'm serious. It's beautiful - at least, I think it's beautiful. And it's a feat of brilliant engineering, the repercussions of which were and still are echoed in architecture all around the world."

He dropped his head sideways to look at me. "You're not drunk."

I smiled. "Oh, I'm drunk all right. I'm just an articulate drunk."

Chuckling, he turned his face upwards again. "You hungry at all? Want something to soak up the bubbles?"

I smacked his hip lightly. "C'mon, you knew what I was talking about. I get loopy drinking carbonated water!"

He let out a low whistle. "Good thing you stayed away from my Perrier, then."

Glaring at him, I sat up, clutching at the ground when I swayed side to side. "Food would be good. Let's see if we can find something that's still open."

We walked along in companionable silence, until I spotted a café with its lights on. Running ahead, I pressed my hands to the locked glass doors, looking for somebody who might let us in. "Any day now," I called to James, who was ambling along slowly.

"They're not open," he called back, in no hurry to join me in what he obviously thought was a futile mission.

A cute guy in black trousers and a white shirt with the cuffs rolled up walked to the door, smiling. He unlocked it, and pushed it open so he could stand between the locked and unlocked doors. "Oui? Are you lost?"

Annoyed that he already knew we weren't French, I launched into a half-French, half nonsensical explanation. "J'suis desolee, mais nous sommes fatigue et j'ai fain, mais tout les cafés son...shut, et si je ne peus pas, um, trouver, le...dinner, c'est une bonne possiblité que je peu...die."

Looking very much like he wanted to laugh, and admirably holding back a smile, he held the door wide, inviting us in. "We are not open yet, but please, I will find you something."

Sighing with relief, I could have hugged him. Settling for thanking him profusely, I pulled my sweatshirt off, and followed him to a table near the kitchen. He brought us each a glass of water, and then coffee. "Ooh, je t'aime," I told him when the coffee arrived, and he laughed, shaking his head.

"Well, I understood that," James grinned.

Ten minutes later, two croques monsieurs arrived in front of us, and I swooned after the first bite. "I don't know if it's because I'm tired, and approaching a hangover, or because this is just really amazing, but this is possibly the best grilled cheese and ham sandwich in the history of the whole world."

Pulling up a chair to sit with us, the waiter, who could also cook, it seemed, watched us happily. "Truffle oil," he said, nodding, and I moaned with contentment.

The door dinged a few minutes later, and two guys in chef whites arrived, smiling broadly and murmuring quiet hellos. They went back into the kitchen, and I turned to the guy at our table. "What time do you open?"

"At five-thirty. They come in early to prepare."

I considered this for a moment and looked over at James, who was studiously avoiding eye contact. "And what time is it now?"

"Four forty-five," he said cheerfully, pushing back from the table.

"Four forty-five?" I stared at James, incredulous. "You let me keep you out until four forty-five? You guys have interviews starting at nine!"

He lifted one shoulder faintly, in a very French gesture, and sipped his coffee. "You were having fun. I can sleep later."

I didn't know what to say to that. Holding my coffee mug with both hands, I rolled it back and forth between my palms, looking around the café and then back at him. "Thank you," I said softly.

The corners of his mouth turned up in a sweet smile. "You're welcome."

We left thirty euros on the table, waving to our new friend as we left, and hailed a taxi back to the hotel. James wanted to walk, but I wanted him to go to sleep as soon as possible, already feeling guilty for having kept him out all night.

I went straight to the front desk since I had no idea what room I was in, and received a room key, as well as a message left by Lani saying I should call her the next morning. Or...in a few hours. Walking to the elevators with James, I glanced over and smiled when I saw him smiling. "I had fun tonight," I told him.

"I was just thinking the same thing." He looked so cute, hands in his back pockets, the sleeves of his hoody pushed up, his hair tousled and still curly at the back.

The elevator dinged its arrival and we stepped in, pushing the buttons for the ninth and tenth floors. "I hope you're not too wiped at your interview. Thanks for making sure I got back here okay," I said, holding the door open when we arrived on nine.

"I'll be fine. Have a good sleep," he smiled, leaning back against the mirrored wall of the lift. "G'night Tinkerbelle."

"Night." I stepped into the hall, letting the door slide shut.
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elena
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Outlaw Torn
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I realy thought that they whould kiss. :(
More,please! :heart:
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