the reluctant lobotomist (fourfreedoms) wrote,
the reluctant lobotomist


[ mood | cheery ]
[ music | Goodnight and Go-Frou Frou ]

Title: It's An Ill Wind That Blows No Good
Genre: er, I dunno, it's up to you to decide whether it's AU or not, and it's definitely romantic and I think it's humorous.
Author: Lauren
Disclaimer: This never happened, and if it did, how on earth would I know about it? I'm not that much of a stalker.
Summary: One little annoying song that you absolutely hate can really make things turn out okay.
Rating: PG-13, for swearing and gratuitous groping.
Chapters: one shot.
Warnings: Well if mania and slight insanity all in the name of love bothers you, you'd better skedaddle.

This is for lindas_muse for the purposes of cheering her up. Hopefully, it did what it was intended to do.

I was just sitting reading a book in the little café I’ve always loved when that ridiculous song came on. It pulled me immediately out of the haze the book had created and jerked me back into the present. Ach, no, please God no, I thought to myself upon recognizing the campy tune.

I looked about the tiny coffee shop to see everybody else swaying along with the beat absent mindedly as they sipped their macchiato and espressos. Damn them all.

I was suddenly possessed of a mad urge to start hurling about the crockery until they turned the horrible song off, but, thankfully, I contained myself. A table of teenage girls was squealing over the old 80s tune and singing along like they were the latest contestants of Pop Idol.

I had to get out. Right now. Before I really did snap and started doing damage to my immediate surroundings. Gathering my things together, I threw money on the table, and left my still warm coffee half-finished. The minute the outside air hit my face, I calmed down.

Jessie’s Girl. The favorite song of teenage girls everywhere. No matter what decade they’re from, at some point in their lives, they are going to adore that song. What exactly was my problem? Could it be that it was overplayed? No. While deejays loved to play that song for their 80s memorabilia hour, that wasn’t the problem. The problem was that the song applied to my own life a little too much, a fact I didn’t like to be reminded of.

Only, I wasn’t in love with Jessie’s girl. I was in love with Jessie himself.

It started drizzling lightly, and with a sigh, both at the rain and for the rather dismal thoughts clouding my head, I took off towards my apartment. The day had been going so nicely, and I could already see the rest of it sliding down hill.

I lay on my bed trying my hardest to read my book, but the stupid song wouldn’t leave me alone. It had, as it invariably does, gotten stuck in my head after a mere 30 seconds of listening.

But she’s watching him with those eyes
And she’s lovin’ him with that body
I just know it.

Yes, yes I did know it. Daniel, as men are wont to do (I do not deny it), had told me everything about his exploits. Every gruesome detail had cemented itself in my head, and with the song playing as background music, I visualized it over and over.

I sighed and got up out of bed. I would not have that awful song stuck in my head. Better the friggin’ ABCs than that horrid reminder of how I suffered a deep abiding love for my straight male best friend. Which, fortunately for Jessie’s stupid girl, I was nice enough not to do anything about. Although, most people would probably say it wasn’t kindness but fear that stopped me from making a move. Whatever you want to call it, Darren Hayes would be making no moves on Daniel Jones.

Guns N’ Roses? Where did I get this CD? Karl must have left it at some point. Well it wasn’t my usual cup of tea, but it was about as far from sadistic Rick Springfield as you could get. As the first few measures of Paradise City started I sighed, and flopped into a chair, my head resting in my hand.

Karl would say my problem was that I wasn’t getting laid enough. Typical of that vulgarian. Not getting laid enough? No, not getting laid enough by the right person. I sighed and fingered the soft cashmere of my black sweater. How long had I been so hopelessly in love with Daniel? My entire life, hah, how pathetic. I looked over at a picture of Daniel, Lee, Ben, Karl, and me on the end table and sighed. Yes, it had been a lifetime.

Take me down to the Paradise City
Where the grass is green and the girls are pretty
Oh won’t you please take me home.

The song lyrics penetrated my sulking state and I was suddenly reminded why I hated GNR. Axl’s singing could compete with my dead cat’s midnight yowling.

“This is ridiculous,” I said out loud as I jumped to my feet and turned the stereo off mid wail. I sighed and picked up my coat. There was a Jimmy Stewart festival was going on at the old-fashioned theater down the road. I’d seen Rear Window a million times before, but better that then this empty house and tempting thoughts of Daniel splayed naked about my apartment a million different ways.

I had just yanked the door open to rush outside, when I was confronted with the sight of Daniel, fist raised to knock on the door, or now my face, as the door had been removed. We blinked at each other and his hand dropped. Oh, this is bad. Why couldn’t he have come back after I’d had a nice session with the Alfred Hitchcock film?

“Uh, hello,” he said after a moment’s pause. There were raindrops beading on his eyelashes. He looked beautiful, dressed all in black, as per usual. Oh lord. If only I hadn’t heard that stupid song, I would’ve been all right. I would’ve been able to ignore the feelings that always simmered underneath my skin when I was around him.

“Hey,” I replied softly, stepping back into the room to allow him to step by me. He smelled like rain and like Daniel. Yuck, that thought was so Faulkneresque I wanted to hit myself.

“Were you going somewhere?” he said as I shut the door.

I looked back at him and shrugged my coat off. “Just needed to get out of this emptiness, but now you’re here, I don’t need to.”

Did that sound too much like a Hallmark card to you? Jesus, I can’t believe I said that. Stupid fucking coffee shop, how dare they play that song? Daniel grinned at me before he flopped onto my couch, one long leg bending at the knee, the other straight out in front of him.

“We need to talk.” Daniel shifted on the sofa to look at me, his eyes piecing into mine. Good God, don’t tell me you’ve finally figured it out, I’ve been hiding it for years.

“Er . . .yes?” I said as I sat down awkwardly in a chair.

“Well you see, I . . .” Danny was interrupted by the neighbor blasting her stereo.

I wish that I had Jessie’s Girl,
Why can’t I find a woman,
Why can’t I find a woman like that?

Holy mother of God, do you hate me or something?

“Er, so . . .” Daniel paused to look at me. “Darren, are you all right?”

I imagine I had a very strained expression on my face. “Oh, yes fine . . .” I squeaked out, pasting a very fake grin onto my face.

Daniel gave me a strange look and then rolled himself back into a sitting position. “Darren? You’re acting very strange . . .”

Was I? Well maybe it had to do with that blasted stupid music that was ruining my life. But I can’t tell you that, now can I, because then I’d have to explain why it was ruining my life and then my life wouldn’t just be ruined, it would be ruined with shit on top.

I took a deep breath and tried my hardest to keep from screaming out loud in rage and frustration. “No, no, I’m fine.”

Daniel took a deep breath. “Look, I . . .” he broke off, his eyes darting around the room. “I guess you already know what I’m going to tell you, other wise you wouldn’t be so . . .”

Oh, no, don’t tell me you’re going to get married. That would be just like the movies. The song’s brilliant little instrumental solo was just winding up. Ah, what a nice touch to this disastrous scene.

“Oh, God. I give up.” Daniel stood up and walked towards my chair. I could envision him grabbing my shoulder and sentimentally asking me to be his best man. He got down on his knees and I knew all my worst imaginings were true. He was going to say those horrible words. My heart was going to break.

I watched him, my body tense, waiting to weather the news. Then his mouth was on mine. What? What! That was not supposed to happen. Is this some bizarre Jones family custom, make out with the best man so that he knows what he’s missing?

He pulled back and looked me in the eye. One of his hands rested on my knee, the other was cupping my face.

“Okay, that did not go well . . .” he sighed, and looked away from me. “I just thought you should know, it was tearing me apart.”

“What are you talking about?” His impending marriage was tearing him apart. Perhaps this was a good sign. Yes, boy with cold feet clearly equals gay.

He looked at me like I was an idiot. “Darren, I love you!”

“I . . .what?” I shook my head and stood up. I ran over to the wall I shared with the stupid 80s loving neighbor, banged hard against the plaster and shouted as loud as I could, “Turn that shite off!”

A few more notes played and then all was silent.

I sighed and began ranting at the wall. “I knew it, that song has made me go completely bonkers. Because clearly I’m hearing things. I know I did not just hear you say you loved me, because that’s exactly what I want you to say, and therefore, because this is my life, it will never happen.”

I heard laughter coming from behind me. I turned back around. Uh-oh, did I say that aloud? Well, I suppose laughter was the best reaction I could hope for.

“Darren, you idiot . . .” Daniel burst out between gasps of laughter. He was literally rolling on the floor. “I do love you.”

“No you don’t, Rick Springfield has driven me round the proverbial bend.”

“I have absolutely no idea what you are going on about,” Daniel said with a smile as he got to his feet. He took a few steps closer. “Does this mean you love me too?”

I looked away. He was so close. My eyes just wanted to drift shut so that I could wallow in the feeling of his presence. “Yes, it does.”

Then he was kissing me again. Our bodies still had a whisper of space in-between, like preteens uncomfortable with getting close. His hand rested lightly against my waist, and then, past the pleasurable haze suffusing me steadily, I finally got it. Suddenly we were falling back against the wall I had so furiously pounded against. His body pressed hard into my own as we broke off our kiss in shock and surprise.

He braced one hand against the wall next to my head as he ground himself into me. “Darren, have you any idea what I want to do to you?” I shivered as his whispered words caressed the shell of my ear.

“I believe I have some idea, or was that a rhetorical question?” I said breathlessly as he started trailing kisses up and down my neck. He pulled back and laughed, his long clever fingers finding their way under my shirt and dancing upon bare skin. “I have to ask, where does your girl friend fall into this equation?”

That, I knew, was not a stupid question. “We broke up two weeks ago.” He bit my collarbone and I arched up into the touch.

“Why, exactly, didn’t you tell me?”

He pulled back and then his hand was back, cupping my face again. Our eyes connected in a gaze so heated and full of meaning it was almost too much.

“Well, I decided finally, I couldn’t just bury my feelings for you in that relationship with her, so I broke up with her, and then I had to figure out how to tell you, because I realized I couldn’t go on living with out telling you.”

“Two weeks?” Why weren’t you here the minute she was out of the picture, you little bastard? If you had been I would’ve avoided all that 80s pop tune related agony.

“Yes, I know it’s soon. But I—”

I cut him off as his arms slid down around my waist in an easy and comfortable embrace. “Are you kidding? I would’ve had you here in ten seconds!”

Then he was laughing some more, and then I was laughing, and then we were kissing. Oh god, the kissing was good. Why hadn’t I done this years ago? Oh, right, I was afraid to.

“Darren?” Daniel said in between teasing nips on my lips as he unbuttoned my shirt, the cashmere sweater having long been discarded.

“Yes?” I replied, relishing every minute sensation that I might have missed out on, had Daniel not been so bold.

“What’s this about Rick Springfield?” He pulled back and shoved the shirt from my shoulders.

“Oh, that. Heheh . . .well . . .”


Tags: darren/daniel, savage garden
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