AN: This is a cute lil one-shot companion piece that goes with the novel I'm working on. Literally just pure unadulterated fluff, my boys being cute and silly together for a few hundred words because I desperately needed a break from writing depressing scenes. Enjoy <3
CW: Mild spice, like maaaybe 2 chili pepper emojis out of 5? No overt smut, but I'll put a separator line before the spicy section so you can skip if needed.
Bass Lessons
Seattle, WA: May 1994
It was after eight on a Friday night, and Jamie was only just getting home from the studio.
Tonight, for the first time in a long time, his fingertips were throbbing dully from playing for so long. It was a comforting ache, the signpost of a productive session.
He missed playing live shows, but days like this weren't so bad either.
Jo was a hell of a producer. She was fun, hilarious and easy-going outside of work, even more so now that Chrissy was constantly murmuring filthy things in her ear. But in the booth, Jo was all business. She had Jamie play the same bars over and over, what must have been 50 times at least, until she was finally satisfied. Then a few more for good measure. "For layering," she said. She was picky as hell and a stringent perfectionist, but Jamie didn't mind. He was growing fond of her, actually, and it bummed him out a little every time he remembered that they only had a few songs left to record.
The thought of finishing the album was eating at Jamie's nerves in more ways than one. At the front of his mind was the niggling feeling that when the album came out, one way or another, things were going to change on a fundamental level. Hell, half the world seemed to think grunge died with Kurt Cobain. What if the album completely flopped? What if it didn't? Both possibilities seemed equally terrifying. Jo's words the night of the house party were still seared in his mind: Fame changes people.
Did he really want things to change?
The rest of the band was still at the studio. Chrissy still had vocals to record, and Poppy and Tallie both opted to keep her company. Chrissy convinced Riley to hang back, which meant Corbin would also be staying. Knowing Corbin and Poppy, they'd convince the rest of them to go out for drinks when they were done. They likely wouldn't stagger in the door until at least 2AM.
Jamie wasn't feeling the club tonight, so he'd grabbed a cab back to the townhouse on his own. As was often the case lately, his mind was elsewhere.
The screen door opened with a loud screech. A wide smile split his face when he saw a single pair of well-worn Docs on the mat, and a denim jacket folded neatly over the back of the couch. Both were still damp from the persistent drizzle outside.
He kicked off his high-tops and bounded up the stairs, taking them two at a time and making a beeline straight for River's room, only to find it empty. His camera bag was open on the floor by the book shelf and several lenses had been laid carefully across the desk alongside a small bottle of cleaning solution, but there was no sign of River.
A quiet sound down the hall met his ears and Jamie perked up, backtracking to his own bedroom. That was where he found him, sitting cross-legged on the unmade bed, barefoot in a pair of torn up jeans with Jamie's old Music Man StingRay in his lap.
Jamie couldn't help but grin. The StingRay was the first bass he ever owned; a classic, gorgeous instrument with a powder blue finish and a pearly white pickguard. He bought it secondhand from a pawnshop when he was thirteen years old, with his own money, to boot. It had taken him months of saving up his allowance. His parents were (justifiably) convinced it would be yet another of Jamie's fleeting hobbies. Their reluctance was understandable; his attention span had always been fickle.
But in that case they'd been dead wrong. Over a decade later and the old StingRay remained one of Jamie's most prized possessions. It still played like a dream, too, though after years of abuse, most of the body was now covered in stickers and faded sharpie doodles. Those were courtesy of Chrissy, Riley and Corbin mostly, back when they were kids jamming in Jamie's parents' garage.
He leaned one shoulder against the doorframe, watching River in amused silence.
His jet black curls fell in loose ringlets over his eyes as he leaned over the fretboard, his brow creased with concentration. He was so focused that he didn't even notice Jamie standing there. He was wearing one of Jamie's shirts, something he only did when no one was home. This time it was a vintage Rolling Stones tee from their 1972 American tour. It swallowed River's slight frame, hanging loosely off the slope of his narrow shoulders and engulfing his arms almost to his elbows. Still, Jamie ardently believed it looked better on River than it ever had on him.
He watched as River pushed the E string down against the second fret with his left hand, then plucked tentatively at it with his right. It buzzed so loudly that the thin F# was barely audible. His mouth puckered in a frown. "Shit," he muttered.
A wry grin broke across Jamie's face. "You're not pressing hard enough with your left hand," he advised, chuckling.
River's head snapped up to meet his gaze, deep crimson staining his pale cheeks as his eyes widened in surprise. He practically threw the bass aside, scooting away from it across the mattress like he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't. "I was waiting for you to get home," he said by way of an explanation, a defensive edge to his voice. "I got bored."
"Oh, don't stop on my account," Jamie insisted, still grinning. "I had no idea you had secret aspirations to be the next Les Claypool."
He crossed the room, shrugging off his windbreaker and tossing it unceremoniously over the back of the desk chair. Then he flung himself onto the bed beside River, landing on his side and propping himself up on his elbow.
River tensed, lifting an eyebrow. "The next who?"
"Seriously?" Jamie blinked. "You're hopeless."
"Well, clearly I'm meant to stick with photography," River mumbled, rolling his eyes. "I don't know if you heard the same thing I just did, but I sounded terrible."
"A little," Jamie admitted, winking. "I told you, you just need to press harder."
River scowled at him. "I was pressing as hard as I could."
"Not hard enough, clearly." Jamie shrugged. He reached back to pick up the bass, setting it in River's lap again. "C'mon, give it another shot!"
River shook his head, attempting to wriggle back toward the headboard and away from the offending instrument. "Absolutely not," he insisted. "We're not doing this. I was just--I didn't want to--"
"Nope, too late now," Jamie laughed. He threw an arm out to stop him from shimmying any further, and an electric tingle shot up his forearm as the small of River's back collided against it. River froze, and Jamie felt the shiver that rippled down his spine at the unexpected contact.
He smirked, watching the tips of River's ears go red. "Come on," he chided, jutting out his lower lip in a dramatic pout. "For me?"
River scoffed. "Is that supposed to convince me?" Apparently it did, though, because he ceased his attempts at escape and slumped beside Jamie with a huff, the StingRay across his lap. "Fine. I'll try."
"Do or do not," Jamie recited sagely. "There is no try."
River rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath as he picked up the bass again and adjusted his grip, but Jamie didn't catch it. He was too busy trying not to stare, though he was failing rather spectacularly. He wasn't sure if it was the fact that River was wearing his clothes, that he was taking an interest in his interests or just the way he looked holding a bass, but Jamie's heart was thrumming with uncontrollable desperation against his ribs.
He opened his mouth to speak, then paused, closing it again. Another grin lit up his face as realization dawned on him. "Wait," he said. "You said you were waiting for me to get home?"
River flushed again and cast his gaze downward, scratching absently at the peeling edge of a faded AC/DC sticker on the front of the bass. "Obviously. Why else would I be in your room?"
Jamie shrugged. "Dunno, maybe you just wanted to go through my stuff. Uncover all my secrets for future blackmail opportunities. I never know with you."
River laughed outright at this, and Jamie had to tear his eyes away because the earnest smile that lit up his face was enough to send him into full-blown cardiac arrest. Unrestrained, careless laughter was rare for River, and Jamie let the sound of it wash over him like a cool tide. "Please," River snorted. "What secrets? You couldn't keep a secret if someone paid you. You're an open book."
Jamie cocked an eyebrow at him, a smirk twitching at one corner of his lips. "I've managed to keep you a secret, haven't I?"
The air shifted with his words, growing thick with so much tension that Jamie was sure if he swiped a hand across the space between them, he'd feel resistance. It made his skin tingle and burn, even as the damp May breeze drifted through the open window and lifted the hair off the back of his neck.
River looked sideways at him through his eyelashes, his expression unreadable. "Point taken," he said in a low voice. He cleared his throat. "Are we getting this over with, or...?"
"Love the enthusiasm," Jamie joked. He jumped to his feet, dragging a small, dusty amp from under the bed and plugging the bass into it. A low hum filled the small room as he sank back onto the bed to River's left, scooting closer to set the bass upright in his lap. "Okay, show me again."
"This is dumb," River grumbled, but he pressed the E string down against the second fret like he'd been doing when Jamie walked in. He plucked the string a second time, and the buzz was only more apparent now that he was plugged in. "See? I suck."
Jamie bit down on his lower lip and swallowed back a laugh. "I have a couple notes."
River glared at him. "Of course you do."
Jamie looked back at him, a bright, unwavering smile on his face, waiting for permission.
"Fine, fine," River sighed in defeat. "I'd love to hear your notes, Jamie."
"Your wrist," he said, pointing. "Hold it straighter. It'll be easier to get the pressure you want and you'll get a better range of motion if you're not straining it so much." He reached for River's left hand to show him, then drew back, running his hand sheepishly through his hair. "Sorry. Can I...?"
River appraised him for a moment. Finally, he smirked and nodded.
Heat spiked in Jamie's cheeks as he shuffled closer, positioning himself just behind River's shoulder. They were close enough now that he could smell his Old Spice cologne, close enough to see the goosebumps pebbling across the back of River's neck.
He reached forward again with trembling fingers to press the pad of his thumb against the warm, fluttering pulse point at the inside of River's wrist. Gently but firmly, he slid his thumb up toward his palm, forcing him to straighten his wrist.
"It helps if you hold the neck forward a little, too," he explained, guiding his arm outward.
River punched out a soft breath as his fingers relaxed more easily over the strings. Tentatively, he pressed on the E string again. "Like that?"
Jamie nodded. "Yeah, that's good! Feels a lot better like that, doesn't it?"
River turned his head just enough for Jamie to see his sharp cheekbones tilt in a coy smirk. "Yeah, that feels pretty good."
Jamie snorted with laughter. "I'm sure it does. Okay, other hand." He reached across River's chest, trying to ignore the way the hair on his arm stood at attention when River's warm breath ghosted across his bicep. Once again, he failed spectacularly. "Your palm, here, should usually rest against the body. Like this." He skimmed a fingertip across the fleshy part of River's palm at the base of his thumb and guided his hand down over the strings.
Jamie withdrew his hand with a satisfied nod, and he'd have been lying if he'd said the soft brush of his knuckle against the side of River's arm as it passed by wasn't intentional. He heard the breath hitch in his throat.
"Okay, play it now."
River chewed at the inside of his cheek, but he obeyed without complaint. This time the note rang clearly out of the amp. The corners of his mouth flicked up in a small smile.
Jamie grinned and ruffled River's hair, threading his fingers through his ebony curls. "See? Soon you'll be better than me."
"Ta gueule," River mumbled, ducking out of his reach with a scowl. "Don't patronize me. Show me something else."
Jamie hummed thoughtfully, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Okay. Umm, move up to the A string." River threw him a pointed glance over his shoulder. He laughed. "Second from the top. 9th fret."
River glanced down the neck to make sure he had the correct placement and plucked at the string. It came out clear again, not even a hint of buzz.
Jamie nodded. "Okay, now stay on that string but move your left hand up to the seventh fret. Yeah, good! Now do that twice. Then go up a string and go back to the ninth fret..."
They went on this way for a few minutes. Occasionally Jamie stopped him and repositioned his fingers on the strings, and every time he did his heart stuttered in his chest. They paused every few notes so River could go back and play the whole thing from the top, and Jamie couldn't help but smile at the frustrated glint in his eyes every time he forgot the order and had to start again.
"This is so much harder than it looks," River grumbled. "I hate not being good at shit right away."
Jamie chuckled. "Life would be pretty boring if we were just automatically good at everything."
"That's your opinion," River retorted, arching an eyebrow. "Personally, I'd be fine with it."
You're good at most things without even trying, Jamie wanted to say, but he kept his mouth shut. Compliments made River uncomfortable, and this was probably the longest they'd ever been in a room alone together without either arguing or fucking. He considered mentioning it, then thought better of that, too.
Eventually River was able to pluck out a slow, stilted string of notes with no mistakes. A smug smile spread across his face. "I think I've heard this before."
Jamie grinned, nudging his shoulder. "Of course you have. You just played the first bit of the chorus of Under the Bridge by the Red Hot Chili Peppers. Well, a simplified version. See? Listen." He held out both hands and River dutifully passed him the bass. Jamie played once through the chorus, at the proper tempo this time, adding back in the rests and extra notes he'd discarded for River's benefit.
"Show off," River murmured, feigning disinterest even as Jamie watched his pupils expand before his eyes. "Okay, yeah. That one I know."
He smirked. "I'd certainly hope so, my little prodigy. Otherwise I'd have no choice but to evict you."
"First of all, little?" River sniffed, rearing back in mock offense. "I resent that. I'm not even that short, you're just abnormally tall."
"I'm not that tall."
River rolled his eyes. "Sure, freakshow. Second, my brother would be way too thrilled if you kicked me out, and I just can't abide by that. I'm not going anywhere."
Jamie frowned and turned to face him, pulling his legs up to sit cross-legged. "Thrilled? You don't really think that, do you?" He set the StingRay across his lap. "Corbin loves that you're here."
River mirrored his movement as if on instinct, their knees knocking together as they sat facing each other. "Yeah, right." He huffed a skeptical laugh. "All we ever do is fight. I think he's starting to remember we don't actually get along."
Jamie shook his head, exasperated. "He just cares about you, Riv. And he doesn't know what to do with it. Corbin doesn't care about all that much, you know that. He just... doesn't know where to put it all when he does."
Another obvious reason for their constant bickering, at least to Jamie, was that River was a walking reminder of the life Corbin left behind at fifteen years old. Corbin had never told him as much out loud, but Jamie knew him too well not to see it. Sleeping across the hall from River, seeing him every day after five years with not so much as a word spoken between them, forced Corbin to face emotions he'd long-since buried. Feelings and memories he'd likely hoped to ignore for the rest of his life. That was Corbin's coping mechanism of choice--burying things and hoping they'd simply decay and turn to dust over time. River's presence in the house made that impossible.
Of course, Jamie would never tell River that. It wasn't his place.
"You've always been better at reading him than me," River muttered. "I swear, you two were meant to be brothers."
Jamie shrugged, feeling a little guilty. He didn't know what to say to that, and he suspected any answer he gave would be the wrong one. River's blue eyes had frozen to hard ice. His glare was cold and accusing. Jamie could feel an argument brewing, like distant storm clouds on the horizon.
He should've known better than to spur a conversation about Corbin. At the end of the day, River would always blame Jamie for the chasm of distance between them. In River's eyes, his older brother had left him behind. Jamie was the reason. Because from the time they were seven years old, it was Jamie's shoulder Corbin cried on, Jamie in whom he confided all his deepest secrets and fears. It was Jamie who taught Corbin there was more to life than doing what was expected, Jamie who gave him an escape from his abusive parents, gave him a home, a family. One River had no interest in being a part of, but he resented them all the same.
Jamie didn't fault River for blaming him. In fact, he was happy to shoulder the blame. Because if River blamed him, that meant he wasn't blaming Corbin. And that was worth it.
For several long seconds, nothing but the quiet hum of the amp broke the silence between them.
"Let's not talk about Corbin anymore," Jamie finally suggested.
"Best idea you've had all day," River replied coolly. "I'll do you one better. Let's not talk at all. I don't know about you, but I have a long list of far more entertaining ways to pass the time."
Jamie cocked a doubtful eyebrow, but any objection he may have had evaporated from his mind when River pitched forward without warning, claiming his mouth in a careless, bruising kiss that knocked Jamie's glasses askew. He grinned against River's lips and pulled back just enough to speak, pressing their foreheads together. "You have my attention," he panted. "I'm thinking we start at the top of the list and work our way down."
River groaned. "Stop talking."
He fisted the front of Jamie's t-shirt in one hand, twisting the other through the deep brown curls near the nape of his neck. In the process he jostled the bass still cradled in Jamie's lap, sending a loud, discordant clanking sound through the amp. Jamie laughed and pushed the instrument carefully out of the way, but his snicker dissolved into a quiet moan as River dragged his mouth back to his.
Again, they collided in a messy clash of lips, teeth and tongue. Jamie gasped as River's teeth grazed his lower lip, then clamped down hard enough to prompt an exquisite bolt of pain that made each and every one of his nerve endings sing.
Without breaking the kiss, River uncrossed his legs and crawled into Jamie's lap, straddling him. Jamie's hips automatically tilted up to meet him as the length of their upper bodies pressed flush against each other.
"Off," River ordered, leaning back and pulling at the hem of Jamie's shirt until he tugged it over his head and tossed it aside. River made a low, appreciative sound in the back of his throat as he ran both hands across Jamie's bare shoulders and down his chest. He could practically feel the scorching trails River's eyes left behind as his gaze raked hungrily across each of his features.
He knew what the answer would likely be, but Jamie decided to shoot his shot anyway. He fiddled tentatively with the hem of River's oversized shirt. "Will you---?"
"No," River interrupted sharply, tugging his shirt back into place and kissing him hard again so he couldn't pursue the matter. "I thought I said no talking."
I don't care about the scars, Jamie wanted to say. They're part of you, and you're beautiful, so they're beautiful. Well, no, what happened to you wasn't beautiful. I just mean the scars are beautiful because they make you who you are, and who you are is... Wait. No. Jesus Christ. He couldn't even get it right in his damn head. This was precisely why Jamie never said these things out loud.
He didn't push it. River did, however, permit Jamie's hands to explore a little just beneath the hem of his shirt, to skim across the flat plane between his waistband and his belly button, to traverse the dip of his jutting hip bones and trace the landscape of his alabaster skin. It was like he was carved from marble, scars or no scars.
River flicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, sending a violent jolt through Jamie's entire body. He gripped River's hips tightly with both hands, jerking him hard against him. The needy, desperate keen that tore from River's lips in response was so fucking sinful that Jamie felt it settle deep in his bones, the echoes of it imprinting on every cell in his body. He cursed under his breath as River rocked against him, pulling away and gasping for air.
"You drive me fucking crazy," Jamie breathed, his voice husky. "Like, constantly. It's actually hard to function when you're just walking around like this all the time. You know that, right?"
River tipped his head back in a breathless laugh. "How are you still talking?"
Jamie grinned, taking advantage of the improved access and bringing his mouth to the exposed skin at River's throat, peppering kisses up the column of his Adam's apple and along his sharp jawline. He sucked and nipped at the sensitive spot just below his earlobe and dragged his lips along the curve of his ear, digging his fingers into the small of his back.
River shivered and arched forward with a sigh, fumbling blindly for Jamie's belt buckle.
The screen door opened downstairs with a familiar screech, followed by muted voices and laughter drifting up the stairs toward them. They froze, both breathing hard. Jamie's eyes darted to the alarm clock on his nightstand--it wasn't even ten. Evidently their housemates had decided not to go out to the club after all. Of course.
"Putain de merde," River muttered, scowling. Before Jamie had time to blink he was on his feet, face flushed, hair tousled. He threw Jamie a sly smirk over his shoulder, already heading for the door. "Thanks for the bass lesson."
Another blink and River disappeared from view, padding swiftly and silently down the hall and back to his own room.
A few seconds later, Jamie heard multiple sets of feet ascending the stairs. He barely had time to throw his shirt over his head and swing his legs back over the edge of the bed before his best friend appeared in the doorway. He was wearing his beat-up leather jacket and his usual crooked grin, a pair of drum sticks sticking out the back pocket of his jeans.
"Miss me, shithead?" Corbin asked breezily, carding his fingers through his long black hair and pulling it into a loose top-knot.
Jamie grinned back at him, still fighting to catch his breath. "Always, fuckface," he replied, trying desperately to keep his voice even. "What's this, a rare Friday night in?"
Corbin nodded.
Riley appeared at his side seconds later, offering Jamie a warm smile as he slung an arm loosely around Corbin's waist. "Chrissy thought we should hit up Blockbuster and rent a movie instead," he explained.
"Down for some Evil Dead?" Corbin asked, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.
Jamie grinned. "Well yeah. 'Course." Then his face fell. "I don't think we have popcorn, though."
"Way ahead of you," Corbin assured him with a wink. "We made a pitstop at 7-Eleven just for you. Extra butter, just how you like it."
"You think of everything," Jamie sighed, faking a swoon. "What would I do without you, baby?"
"You'd be super fucking bored, darling," Corbin cooed back at him. "And hungry."
Riley shook his head in exasperation. "I look forward to my wedding invite," he joked, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "Anyway, 7-Eleven was Tallie's idea. Casanova here is just taking the credit."
"You're welcome!" Tallie's disembodied voice called sharply from the bathroom over the sound of running water.
"The fuck, Ry?" Corbin complained, crossing his arms. "Way to throw me under the bus."
"Sorry, darling," Riley snickered, tugging Corbin more snugly against his side. "Tal and I have a pact. Guitar player solidarity. I wouldn't expect you to get it."
"Fucking right!" Tallie called again from the bathroom.
Corbin fixed Riley with a petulant glare, and the expression reminded Jamie so much of River that he felt an odd tug in his chest. Even their eyes were the same shade of deep, dusky blue. He could still feel the echoes of River's fingers threading through his hair, the heat of his lips against his skin. Like the aftershock that follows an earthquake. If they'd just had a few more minutes...
He cast his gaze to the floor, flooded with sudden guilt. Corbin was his best friend, and here was Jamie, fantasizing about his little brother right in front of him like a total asshole.
Fortunately, Corbin was too busy bantering with Riley to notice Jamie's inner turmoil. "And what about boyfriend solidarity?" he demanded. "That has to trump guitar player solidarity."
Riley laughed, stirring the shock of straight, sandy brown hair that flopped over his forehead. "Oh, boyfriend solidarity, huh?" he murmured, nuzzling affectionately against the shell of Corbin's ear. "Is that what we are?" A blush crept up Corbin's neck and into his cheeks as he realized what he'd just said, but Riley had already turned back to Jamie. "Hey, is River home? He's welcome to come down and watch the movie too, obviously."
"Dunno," Jamie shrugged. "Haven't seen him."
"Like he'd want to anyway," Corbin huffed, pulling a face. "Don't waste your breath. Okay, I'm gonna go change. Don't start the movie without me!" Corbin took off down the hall without another word. Riley's amber eyes followed him as he went, a slow smirk spreading across his face. "I'm going to change too," he decided rather abruptly, his smirk growing steadily wider.
Jamie cocked an eyebrow. "If you take longer than 40 minutes, we're starting the movie without you. I mean it this time."
Riley laughed. "Sure you do." He disappeared after Corbin, only to reappear a second later with a self-satisfied expression on his freckled face. He raised an eyebrow, gesturing toward Jamie with a flick of his hand. "Your shirt's on inside out, by the way."
He was gone before Jamie could formulate a proper response.
Jamie stared at the empty doorway for several seconds. Then he fell back onto the mattress with a long sigh. Chuckling quietly to himself, he shook his head.
"Well, fuck."
© Victoria St. Michael 2023