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Chapter 1
2009.08.27. 17:24
DISCLAIMER: The story you will get to read here is PURE FICTION! All happenings and actions are just the result of my FANTASY and should be considered as PARODY. It is NOT my intent to harm anyone's privacy - as the persons this FANFICTION deals with are of public interest and have celebrity status.
Title: santa barbara diaries
Author: morganalefaye aka davesdarkangel
Genre: Slash
Pair: Mart/Dave
Summary: During a break, being on a recording session (SOTU) Dave finds Martin’s diary…
Rating: R
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Martin fixes Dave with his glassy green eyes. "When you're here with me in Santa Barbara you're mine."...
1.
The midday sun already passed the zenith and the temperature in the studio starts to suck big time – eventhough the AC is running like mad. It’s all the syths emanating a heat any other device would declare a clear defeat.
„Guys, let’s call it a day and perhaps resume tonight.“ Ben takes off his glasses and tries to clean and dry them for what seems the millionth time. Dave sighs in relief and Andy promptly drops his headphones onto his keyboard. The sweat is pouring in cascades and everybody has an uncomfy, sticky feeling. Just Mart seems to be the coolness in person. He lifts his head while plucking some riffs on his Gretsch and eyes his bandmates in kinda surprise.
„Ah, come on – it’s not that bad! Let’s at least finish the base tracks!“
„No way, Curly! I’m massively dehydrated – my head starts buzzing and my pants already stick to my ass!“
„Don’t be such a sissy, Dave! It’s May and the weather is just as it should be around this time of year.“
„Not if you’re used to foggy London, mate.“, Andy chimes in and tries to pull his t-shirt a litte more over his paunch – yet the dampness of the fabric lets it cling to his sweatty skin.
„Anyone for working straight on?“
Nobody but Mart lift their hands. He pouts and rolls his eyes.
„OK, OK! Majority rules. Damn, I really hope you’ll acclimatise soon!“
„Going for the vegetarian café next to the pier?“ Dave collects his stuff and shoves it into his fashy dark-grey backpack, including his MacBook. Grabbing his mineral bottle the others start to snicker. There’s a huge skull sketched on it with black marker and the letters „DAVE“ pop into the eye.
Sitting under an awning, having a little sea breeze, makes it a little more bearable. David leans back in his chair and starts rolling up his grey trousers. With a broad grin he adjusts his pilote shades and stretches his pale legs.
„Geez, Englishman in Santa Barbara!“
„David, stop it! The food falls out off my face – it’s embarrassing!“
Roaring laughter fills the patio and the four men need all their restraint not to act up more like students on spring break.
Taking another sip of his latte Dave finally dawns that he left his blackberry in the studio. He’s supposed to call Jen and the kids concerning his upcoming birthday. As he usually lets them fly in he should fix the flights – yet Jenny still is busy with an ad campain – so it’s going to be a last minute thing. He hate’s it – to be honest.
„I left my mobile in the studio, damn! Need to make a few important calls!“
„The heat definitely must grill the last of your grey cells, mate! Using a teleprompter on stage is one thing, but don’t get down to a state we need to hire a nan for you!“
„Ah, fuck off, Curly!“
Dave nudges the blond man and then jumps up from his seat.
„Suppose you pay – thanx a lot!“
When entering the deserted studio with his keycard Dave sighs, not really keen on entering the heated place. Seeing his mobile resting next to Mart’s laptop he walks over there and takes it, recognizing that Martin didn’t shut down his Mac – just put it to sleep. Curiosity killed the cat – Dave can’t resist and opens the lid – the screen flashing back to life. To his surprise Curly didn’t use a password – he immediately has acces to all files.
„Let’s see what you have to offer, my sensitive, sensual friend...“, Dave mumbles and quickly flips through the directories. Mart could be back any minute – who knows if he wouldn’t return? He’s crazy when he’s got some ideas flipping through his mind.
His eyes get stuck at an folder called „d-diary“. Nosey as he is he clicks on it. Reading someone’s private diaries – shame on you, Dave!
He picks out one of the last entries – more randomly.
Santa Barbara, May 1st, 2008
I can’t await to see your pretty face again, Dave. Tomorrow finally is that day! It’s been so long – the days in January still linger in my mind and I could continuously slap my face for not being brave enough to finally have poured my heart out to you. I have written 2 new songs meanwhile – the lyrics so obvious I’m mereley ashamed to show them anyone in public – but they are so brilliant, so much you! You are my ghost, walking through my house – you are the stain in my bed – the memory, that lingers – the voice in my head! You corrupted me completely – all I want is to finally put my hands on your hips, my lips on your gorgeous, luscious lips – but I know I have to be careful – not loosing what I already haven’t got.
When I see you cocking your brow, hearing that telltale laughter – you have no idea what you do to me – just alone with your velvety baritone. I wish I could have told you that most of my lyrics I wrote for you – just you. Yes, some people picked on that again and again, year after year – but I always denied it – insisting on using casual inspiration. Bullshit! Why do I always have to be so damn insecure?! When you will walk out off the terminal I will nearly suffocate again – forgetting to breathe. I really hope for some divine intervention this time – as you so aptly wrote on your last solo – which I still hold dearly as it’s one of the rare occasions I can get to know and feel the real you.
I know – I’m going to make a fool out of myself again – but I will try – for you, my sun, moon and stars!
Martin
David falls back onto the swivel chair behind him and can’t close his mouth. His mind is on overload, the synapses of his body firing signals on and on.
„No way, Curly! What the fuck?!“
He tries to get back his composure – but to not much avail. Goosebumps are making their way down his spine – and it’s not just the heat in the studio that opens every pore of his body, releasing loads of wetness. It’s pure adrenaline rushing through his system – and moreover – to his absolute puzzlement – his trousers are painfully tight over a raging hard on! Damn you, Curly!
He can’t help it – he must read on. After all these years – and he didn’t notice! Maybe didn’t want to see it – feel it.
Santa Barbara, May 2nd, 2008
Boy, was I nervous – haven’t slept all night! And then the automatic glass door opened...and time stood still for a moment. I could have mauled you on the spot, ripped those bloody tight jeans off you and then feasted on your lovely cock! Oh god, I have seen it many times before – when we shared rooms and the shower. I wonder if you remember that night during World Violation when we both were so loaded that it took us a while to get out off the bathroom again – without slipping on the slippery tiles. Strange enough I recall every move, every sound – and the smell of you sweat and that lousy cheap shower gel. Yes – that expensive one you found two days later was my present. You thought it must have been a fan with goog taste. I’M your biggest fan, Dave – you just were too busy with all the groupies, drugs and booze to pamper your cracked ego that you didn’t recognize. I know – it’s all my fault. I never really encouraged you. It took me a while to understand that you felt so small compared to me. Thinking back – all that booze, the drugs and chaos – all, cause you were looking for selfesteem, encouragement, love. And I denied you my love – I thought you were superficial, a friend of debauchery – restless, no real foundation – well, to a certain degree. I was so wrong!
And then you walked through that bloody door and hugged me – your scent nearly driving me insane with want and lust! Yes, you developed an excellent taste over the years – not just concerning your drop down gorgeous suits or your cologne...
But I digress...we sat next to each other in that limo and you couldn’t stop talking about your sweet Rosie. The kids – one of the few things in my life I did the right way – I’m really proud of. When I look at them, into their eyes, it gives me that cosy, mushy feeling of being home – a place that’s for sure as difficult for me to find than for you, Dave. Living on lies – ignoring the signs...I can’t tell you how happy I am still that you were at my side during the divorce from Suzy. I have no clue how I would survived the tour without your support. If I hadn’t been so weak I would have taken advantage of the many moments I rested against your chest, sobbing like a baby. I learned so much from you – from your personal, painful experiences concerning relationships and addiction. I wish I could finally tell you this straight into your face – that you shouldn’t feel minor to me. There’s no reason for that – you gave me so much!
I touched your hand, squeezed it and told you I was so glad to see you and to work with you again. Bollocks! I should have taken you into my arms and kiss you! Well, that would have ended in another desaster, perhaps.
When we got out at the hotel you are booked in with the others, Andy and Christian were already waiting in the lobby, checking in. And then the evening went by with chit chat in the hotel bar. Do I sound disappointed? Positive! Sooner or later I will get you in an appropriate situation – and then all pieces will fall into place! I love you, Dave – more than words can ever express!
Martin
A sound at the door lets Dave jump from his trance. Not wanting to risk to be caught he thinks for a moment and then searches for his backpack. After a bit of rummaging he finds what he’s looking for. Quickly he inserts the USB stick into the next available slot and drags the complete folder over. The file is quite huge. An audio signal tells him the transfer is complete. Hastily he hides the stick into his pocket and sets the desktop back to the state he found it in, closing the lid.
Confused and deeply in thoughts he leaves the building, walking down the road to head for his hotel.
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