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kathierif_ficTitle: Rock'n'Roll
Author: Kathie
Fandom: CSI:NY
Disclaimer: Not mine, not true, blah.
Rating: FRT-13
Pairing: none
Summary: "Not a good fit," Danny said. "We're a rock band, we don't do jazz, man."
Warnings: band!AU!
Word Count: 1111 words
A/Ns: written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
au_bingo prompt band. I wanted to write a band!AU for about three years now, and finally, I did. *laughs* This is dedicated to Elvis, my personal crazy guitar guy from next door, and the stories he tells, which inspired this so, so much. Okay, he'll never read this, but man, I love you. <3.
“Not a good fit,” Danny said critically and pushed his glasses up his nose.
Don rolled his eyes. “Why not?” he wanted to know and took a sip of his beer.
Danny scrunched up his nose. “We’re a rock band,” he pointed out. “We don’t do jazz, man.”
Don glanced at the band crammed onto the small stage in the corner of the bar. “It’s a bass guitar. We need someone to play the bass, or we won’t have a tour, and if we don’t play the tour, we don’t earn any money at all and if we don’t make any money, we can’t pay the rent and next week, you can crawl back to your uncle and ask him for a job selling awnings.” He stopped to take another sip of his beer while wishing he’d chosen a stronger drink to give him the patience to deal with Danny’s neuroses.
Guitar players, he thought darkly. They were all high maintenance and absolutely batshit crazy. And Danny Messer was no exception to that rule.
They had met ages ago and had immediately clicked. Danny had left college to pursue a career in music, and Don, who didn’t have any better plans and could keep up a rhythm better than the drummer of Danny’s band back then had soon replaced that drummer. He and Danny had been together ever since, no matter how often the band split up and came together in various combinations again.
“He’s older than us,” Danny murmured into his whiskey.
Don rolled his eyes again.
“Sheldon is older than us, too,” he pointed out. “Hell, Mess, you are older than me. Where’s the problem? All I know is that this guy can play the bass and we need someone to do exactly that.”
Danny scowled at him, but Don had developed immunity to his death glare. Instead, he focused back on the music.
Jazz really wasn’t his kind of music, but the guy with the bass guitar really knew what he was doing. It was a refreshing change of pace from the last few guys they’d had.
And maybe he could sweep a few tricks from the band’s drummer, too, if he kept watching them.
~*+*~
“Well?” Sheldon demanded as the two of them stumbled into the warehouse they used for band rehearsals the next morning. It was no surprise Sheldon was already there, Don thought through the haze of too much alcohol and too little sleep. After he’d been unable to pay the rent of his apartment, Sheldon had moved here. Danny and Don had offered him the couch at their place, but Sheldon had declined their offer. “What do you think of the guy?”
Danny simply shrugged. “Okay,” he grumbled and moved to pick up his guitar.
Don and Sheldon exchanged a look and a shrug.
“You think he’d go for it?” Don asked and folded his body behind the drumkit. He picked up one of the drumsticks and twirled it expertly around his fingers.
Sheldon shrugged.
“No way, man,” Danny snorted. “He plays jazz. For someone like that, we’re like the bottom of the food chain. They think they’re better than us.”
Sheldon raised his eyebrows. “I’m a classic concert pianist,” he pointed out mildly. “If you managed to lure me into this band, you’ll get to convince that guy as well.”
Don simply threw one of his drumsticks at Danny, who yelped as if someone had tried to strangle him with guitar strings.
Guitarists.
Don really thought they were all insane.
Especially Danny.
~*+*~
The next evening, the three of them found themselves in the same little bar, crowded around the same small table Danny and Don had occupied the night before.
This time, Don ordered whiskey, just like Danny, and when Sheldon started to talk about music theory and Danny even joined in for a little, just to prove that he was smart and could do so if he wanted, Don knew he’d made the right decision.
~*+*~
The set had stopped half an hour ago, and the three of them found themselves in the back alley behind the club, huddled in their coats for warmth and waiting.
The band, Don had noticed, had consisted of different musicians than the night before. The only constant had been the bass guitarist they were waiting for now.
The door opened and a wave of warmth and scraps of conversations drifted out, together with the man they were waiting for. He was carrying a guitar case and was humming softly, but when he saw them, he stopped and raised his eyebrows. “If you want to rob me, believe me, I have no money,” he stated.
Don and Danny looked at each other, and Don nudged Danny slightly. Danny stepped forward and grinned at the man. “We’re not here to rob you,” he said confidently. “We’re here to make you an offer.”
The man frowned. “You were at the show yesterday too,” he said calmly. “I noticed you because you don’t really look like the type to enjoy jazz.”
Danny grimaced. “Not really,” he admitted. “Actually, we’re looking for a bassist for our band.” Before the man could object, Danny hastily added, “Hey, I don’t like classical shit either, but Shel here does and he does fine with us.”
The man tilted his head to the side. “Let’s get some coffee and talk,” he suggested. “I know a place.”
~*+*~
Mac, it turned out, was indeed interested in joining them, at least for the planned tour and more out of curiosity than passion for rock music, but he managed to learn their entire program and all their songs within one week, showing the single-minded focus of the truly insane and all guitar players Don had ever encountered, not that there was much of a difference between those two. Mac and Danny pushed each other to new heights, and they went out for a drink one evening and returned the next morning with three new songs and dark circles under their eyes, giddy with exhaustion and alcohol.
Guitarists, Don thought as he exchanged a long-suffering look with Sheldon, who was standing behind the keyboards as if he needed the barrier to protect himself from the craziness of Danny and Mac, unleashed together.
The tour would either be a total success with them like that, or Danny and Mac would kill each other after just a few gigs.
“Rock’n’Roll,” Danny slurred with a shrug as Don voiced those thoughts. “Only the young die good, right?”
Sheldon and Mac loudly corrected him, voices overlapping each other in playful exasperation.
Don threw his sticks at Danny.
Guitarists.
They were all crazy.
~end
Author: Kathie
Fandom: CSI:NY
Disclaimer: Not mine, not true, blah.
Rating: FRT-13
Pairing: none
Summary: "Not a good fit," Danny said. "We're a rock band, we don't do jazz, man."
Warnings: band!AU!
Word Count: 1111 words
A/Ns: written for
au_bingo prompt band. I wanted to write a band!AU for about three years now, and finally, I did. *laughs* This is dedicated to Elvis, my personal crazy guitar guy from next door, and the stories he tells, which inspired this so, so much. Okay, he'll never read this, but man, I love you. <3.“Not a good fit,” Danny said critically and pushed his glasses up his nose.
Don rolled his eyes. “Why not?” he wanted to know and took a sip of his beer.
Danny scrunched up his nose. “We’re a rock band,” he pointed out. “We don’t do jazz, man.”
Don glanced at the band crammed onto the small stage in the corner of the bar. “It’s a bass guitar. We need someone to play the bass, or we won’t have a tour, and if we don’t play the tour, we don’t earn any money at all and if we don’t make any money, we can’t pay the rent and next week, you can crawl back to your uncle and ask him for a job selling awnings.” He stopped to take another sip of his beer while wishing he’d chosen a stronger drink to give him the patience to deal with Danny’s neuroses.
Guitar players, he thought darkly. They were all high maintenance and absolutely batshit crazy. And Danny Messer was no exception to that rule.
They had met ages ago and had immediately clicked. Danny had left college to pursue a career in music, and Don, who didn’t have any better plans and could keep up a rhythm better than the drummer of Danny’s band back then had soon replaced that drummer. He and Danny had been together ever since, no matter how often the band split up and came together in various combinations again.
“He’s older than us,” Danny murmured into his whiskey.
Don rolled his eyes again.
“Sheldon is older than us, too,” he pointed out. “Hell, Mess, you are older than me. Where’s the problem? All I know is that this guy can play the bass and we need someone to do exactly that.”
Danny scowled at him, but Don had developed immunity to his death glare. Instead, he focused back on the music.
Jazz really wasn’t his kind of music, but the guy with the bass guitar really knew what he was doing. It was a refreshing change of pace from the last few guys they’d had.
And maybe he could sweep a few tricks from the band’s drummer, too, if he kept watching them.
~*+*~
“Well?” Sheldon demanded as the two of them stumbled into the warehouse they used for band rehearsals the next morning. It was no surprise Sheldon was already there, Don thought through the haze of too much alcohol and too little sleep. After he’d been unable to pay the rent of his apartment, Sheldon had moved here. Danny and Don had offered him the couch at their place, but Sheldon had declined their offer. “What do you think of the guy?”
Danny simply shrugged. “Okay,” he grumbled and moved to pick up his guitar.
Don and Sheldon exchanged a look and a shrug.
“You think he’d go for it?” Don asked and folded his body behind the drumkit. He picked up one of the drumsticks and twirled it expertly around his fingers.
Sheldon shrugged.
“No way, man,” Danny snorted. “He plays jazz. For someone like that, we’re like the bottom of the food chain. They think they’re better than us.”
Sheldon raised his eyebrows. “I’m a classic concert pianist,” he pointed out mildly. “If you managed to lure me into this band, you’ll get to convince that guy as well.”
Don simply threw one of his drumsticks at Danny, who yelped as if someone had tried to strangle him with guitar strings.
Guitarists.
Don really thought they were all insane.
Especially Danny.
~*+*~
The next evening, the three of them found themselves in the same little bar, crowded around the same small table Danny and Don had occupied the night before.
This time, Don ordered whiskey, just like Danny, and when Sheldon started to talk about music theory and Danny even joined in for a little, just to prove that he was smart and could do so if he wanted, Don knew he’d made the right decision.
~*+*~
The set had stopped half an hour ago, and the three of them found themselves in the back alley behind the club, huddled in their coats for warmth and waiting.
The band, Don had noticed, had consisted of different musicians than the night before. The only constant had been the bass guitarist they were waiting for now.
The door opened and a wave of warmth and scraps of conversations drifted out, together with the man they were waiting for. He was carrying a guitar case and was humming softly, but when he saw them, he stopped and raised his eyebrows. “If you want to rob me, believe me, I have no money,” he stated.
Don and Danny looked at each other, and Don nudged Danny slightly. Danny stepped forward and grinned at the man. “We’re not here to rob you,” he said confidently. “We’re here to make you an offer.”
The man frowned. “You were at the show yesterday too,” he said calmly. “I noticed you because you don’t really look like the type to enjoy jazz.”
Danny grimaced. “Not really,” he admitted. “Actually, we’re looking for a bassist for our band.” Before the man could object, Danny hastily added, “Hey, I don’t like classical shit either, but Shel here does and he does fine with us.”
The man tilted his head to the side. “Let’s get some coffee and talk,” he suggested. “I know a place.”
~*+*~
Mac, it turned out, was indeed interested in joining them, at least for the planned tour and more out of curiosity than passion for rock music, but he managed to learn their entire program and all their songs within one week, showing the single-minded focus of the truly insane and all guitar players Don had ever encountered, not that there was much of a difference between those two. Mac and Danny pushed each other to new heights, and they went out for a drink one evening and returned the next morning with three new songs and dark circles under their eyes, giddy with exhaustion and alcohol.
Guitarists, Don thought as he exchanged a long-suffering look with Sheldon, who was standing behind the keyboards as if he needed the barrier to protect himself from the craziness of Danny and Mac, unleashed together.
The tour would either be a total success with them like that, or Danny and Mac would kill each other after just a few gigs.
“Rock’n’Roll,” Danny slurred with a shrug as Don voiced those thoughts. “Only the young die good, right?”
Sheldon and Mac loudly corrected him, voices overlapping each other in playful exasperation.
Don threw his sticks at Danny.
Guitarists.
They were all crazy.
~end