From solo acts or rock bands to road crews and groupies, all have a note to play in the melody of fame. Legends are born. Dreams die. Who will write your song?
[not an au on toki's end, it's his life, but what am i gonna do, wait for the "rock star but not au" meme?? up for band adventures, rival musicians, klokateers, groupies, whatever whatever whatever. 18+ if it starts getting spicy.]
[She's the drummer in a band with her three brothers, they've got a regular gig at the bar & grill in town, but definitely down for other versions. She's always gonna be a were-leopard though.]
[He's already a lead singer, but let's do this anyway! Maybe Manifest Destiny got big fast or something? He went solo? Vampire AU where he's slowly Lost-Boysing himself The World's Most Awesome Band? I'm down for hijinks!]
[Can go 'canonical' and say solo singer + backup band was one of her careers, or can go modern day with it and her pops was the mayor of a city/governor of a state and she's gone off to do her own thing. Her stuff probably feels/sounds like pop but is surprisingly high-concept in concert.]
[Seems kind of obvious. Can do a 'what if Corroded Coffin actually made it big' AU, or just Eddie as a solo act works too I think. Can be either having survived the Upside Down, or some kind of modern AU or whatever, I'm not picky.]
[Okay but hear me out: the Rangers as a band a la Jem and the Holograms or Josie and the Pussycats, still saving the world and all, but having to navigate shows at the same time.]
Anne Bonney | Pirate of Legend & Lore (sort of) | OTA
[She was a professional groupie for a while, but also Group Mom, let her make you a grillcheese sammich after the show, she's good at it, you can even crash on her couch if you've had too much to drink and can't drive home.]
( she can sing, but she'll be groupie for sure. could mayhaps do a thing where some famous musician is having a fling with her and realizes her talent? )
[Okay but hear me out... the gang aa a band? Touring the world nd being a badass band?? Heck yeah. Kni is a competing solo artist? Who carefully cultivated people of hic choice and skill to play back up, but Vash over here picking up any old person just to go have fun? Wolfwood would totally be a bass with a crazy cross looking bass guitar... yeah. Open to fans recognizing him too!]
Clive is sure this job might put gray hairs on his head by the time he's forty, but few are the jobs he can manage with the bad stain his mother's put on his name for well over a decade now. Handler for a rock band, it should be glamorous, right? Instead, he's finding himself more often keeping away overzealous fans or making sure people are showing up for press appointments.
Meryl and Vash are most often a delight. He wonders how Meryl ended up with this lot, being as nice as she is. Vash is... odd, but relatively harmless. Nicholas is the most likely culprit for his early aging, evidenced by the fact that Clive has had to make sure Meryl and Vash are on their way for a photoshoot while he hunts down their wayward bassist.
He has the obligation of having a key to all of their places for safety purposes. He's never had to use Vash's or Meryl's, but he's often slipping into Nicholas's place to see what's keeping him from his duties. He starts to search the halls and rooms, hoping at least that he will find Nicholas in a state that won't require hauling him into the shower. As stated, Clive's rarely so lucky.
Look, living the LIFE often gives him rewards, right? Those rewards being whatever drugs or drinks or men or women he wants, yeah? That's what being a rock star is about, isn't it? Sex, Drugs and Rock n' Roll! Nicholas, like Meryl, somehow got sucked up into this weird lil band because Vash said so, and he's oddly persuasive. Also, it's a lot better life then being a punk ass shit and doing crime.
So yes, it was a fact that out of the trio, Vash was that well loved weirdo musical genius who the world fawned over. Meryl ended up being the hot nerdy girl who did as told but still seemed to enjoy fans and music with out being trouble. Nicholas? The bad boy that was either loved or hated and had the most crazy rabid fans. It would not be unheard of to find him with groupies littering a hotel room somewhere, or have snuck one or two in the tour bus. But in his home? No.
He doesn't like people he doesn't know in his home. It is large but not huge. There is a pool table in a rec room, a pool out side, and a few empty bed rooms for guests he never has. There are three fucking bathrooms! His room is on the second floor, only because he likes to hang out to smoke on the balcony, so if he's not in bed, the couch, the pool or the bathroom floor, he's passed out out there.
Today however, when Clive approaches the house, he wouldn't see the idiot hanging off the balcony, nor was he floating in the pool, like he was last time. He's not in halls or rooms or beds or couch. He's not even laying on the kitchen floor this time! Nope. Today he would be found in a large corner spa tub. Not a single drop of water in the tub either. His head was propped in the corner, hands curled to his bare tummy, each holding a single mostly empty whiskey bottle. One leg is bent in the tub, the other draped out over the edge, bare foot sticking out (that appears to have dried blood from a cut on the bottom of his foot, a chunk of glass in the arch). It appears that he fell asleep inside the tub! There is vomit in the toilet, thankfully not a mess this time! And just liquid, no food. There are three other bottles littered the floor, one broken (and most likely he culprit of the cut on his foot), one spilled and soaking the bath mat.
He's literally only wearing leather pants that lace up the side and show off a inch of skin on either side. His simple iron cross laid heavy in the center of his chest, his sun shades were askew on his face and hair was messy and flopped over his eyes behind them. There is a burnt out cigarette in the bottom of the tub, where one could say he was fucking lucky he didn't burn himself when it fell out of his mouth. Then again there were another 20 butts scattered all over, like he'd been chain smoking all night for some reason. Mouth open and partly snoring, he was absolutely out for the count.
It's inevitable that Clive would end up in the bathroom to find Nicholas in his current state. This is after having searched very room on the first floor. He's already said a few prayers of thanks that he has not found Nicholas floating in the pool or sprawled out in some bizarre human sacrifice on the pool table. Those wouldn't even be the weirdes states he's found the bassist in.
Eventually, the second floor is the only option left, and once the bathroom fails to provide Nicholas, he heads for the bathrooms, all the while swearing to himself in a brusque tone. It's upon reaching the bathroom and seeing Nicholas that the swearing stops and he falls silent.
Of course...
"Fucking idiot..." Clive wants to go to turn on the tub, let a dose of cold water start to shock Nicholas out of his unconscious state and into a full-on hangover, but let no one say that Clive isn't kind. He walks over to the sink and starts to search the cabinet for the supply of over-the-counter pain relievers he's made sure are available situations he'd hoped would be less terrible than this. He pops a couple of pills into his hand from the bottle and then fills up a small glass used for mouthwash with water. He also soaks a rag on cool and brings the whole kit with him over to Nicholas in a steady balance between both his hands.
First comes setting down the pills and glass on the edge of the tub, and next comes spreading the wet rag over Nicholas's forehead.
"Don't do this to me now, you little punisher." He gently, again, to his credit, grabs hold of Nicholas's chin and starts to turn his head this way and that, looking for any signs of head trauma in whatever led to all this.
"You don't get to die on the day of an interview."
He's been really good this time! He's not tied to the pool table or a bed this time! He's not crammed into a hall closet to find darkness either. Nor floating, either on a floating bed, or face down in the pool. See? Passed out in a tub is the BEST way to find him! Literally already IN the shower, so no need to drag him there!
But in all seriousness, he has been far worse than this a dozen time before. This really just looks like, well, maybe having stepped on some broken glass, he took a seat on the tub and then maybe fell back into it and forgot what he was doing. Which is... well, basically it. Also the tub is large and spacious and cozy? There are no head wounds at all. He didn't burn himself this time with his forgotten smoke falling out of his mouth. There are no cuts or lumps or even bruises. Though his eyes definitely have bags under them with a darkness that said he's been stressing out more lately. Which was also true.
Then the cool cloth is rested over his forehead, the wetness would help wake him a bit, as does the tilting of his chin and head. He... groaned at the mans words. The actual WORDS not quite making it through to his brain, but the tone and voice catching in his mind as someone he knew. Someone he at least like. Had it been Vash he might have told him to 'Kindly fuck off'. But it's Clive, and so all he gets is a small groan and a smaller mumble of:
"No."
No what? No, let him die? No, let him sleep? No, go away? It's anyone's guess.
In a way, save for Meryl, they're all a pack of damaged idiots. Including Roberto, the manager. Clive might be doing this job out of necessity, but that doesn't mean he doesn't care. So when Nicholas mumbles out, No, all Clive can think about is some child protesting the call of, Wake up, it's time for school. It's a sad reality that our wounds freeze at the the age we receive them, isn't it?
Clive's mouth sets into a slight frown, however, because they don't have time for this. At this rate, honestly, Nicholas's portion of the interview has been pissed down the drain. They'll be lucky to reschedule.
"Nico. I need you to wake up now. We need to get that foot cleaned up." Still, Clive isn't going to waste time lingering over Nicholas's forehead. With all the firmness and gentleness of an overdoting big brother, Clive plucks the bottles out of Nicholas's hands and gets up from his crouch to walk them over to the trash bin. He drops into a crouch once more and starts to dig through the cabinet underneath the sink for a first aid kit. It's a little more advanced than your basic set, but that's because Clive's made sure they splurged on the bells and whistles to patch up Nicholas.
He brings the kit over toward Nicholas's injured foot and looks through the kit for a sealed set of tweezers and a numbing spray. He pulls out the latter first and gives the injury a good dose of numbing medicine. Nicholas is not allowed to call him unkind, because he could have just started pulling out the piece of glass. He sighs before starting to peel open the packet sealing the sterile tweezers.
He grunts as the other leaves his head alone, mouth working a moment, tongue dry and trying to moisten his lips in vain. He groaned, feeling the bottles removed, his hands trying to grip them once before they fell, but he gave in too easy as they were gone, his hands drifting down into his lap a moment. Letting out a long, low moan of annoyance. Fuck, he did not want to get up or out of bed.
Honestly, it's the being called 'Nico' that had woken him up more. 'Nicholas' was always used by other people, of course, and fans just screamed 'Wolfwood' when they professed their love or needs. But people who called him 'Nico' were limited, and that generally got his attention faster. One eye cracked open, peeking through dark lashes as he other moved around, but it closed again as Clive crouched to work on his foot.
Clive, you are way too good for him. His toes curled a bit at the cool spray, and he grunted softly, but didn't fight the care. Instead, his arms stretched out and over his head a moment, hitting the wall behind him, wrapping his knuckles and rings against it, before slowly relaxing and dropping to his chest. One hand curled around his cross, while the other hand scratched at his belly.
"Fuck me, a'right... a'right." he yawned, groaning through the yawn loudly, before relaxing limp once again, eyes closed. "'m 'wake..."
Good. Clive doesn't have to call for the concierge medical service. He at least has enough training - combat first aid, to be honest - to treat things like this. If things were worse of, it would mean a potential leak to the press. Clive doesn't care, but the bosses do, and Clive cares enough about his charges to make sure they keep their careers going.
"Finally, he decides to grace us with consciousness." He's annoyed, but he also can't hide the faintest trace of amusement. Wolfwood is a little shit at times, but Clive can't help but wonder if his little brother would have grown up to be such an annoyance at times. Clive has the tweezers free now, and he uses one hand to grip Nicholas's foot, flexing it for better access. He works quick with his other hand to grab hold of the piece of glass and slide it out of the wound.
Once the glass is set aside, he grabs the antiseptic spray from the first aid kit and gives the wound a good dousing.
"Roberto is going to be pissed." But Roberto is usually upset with them all. He reaches for some rolled bandages next and starts wrapping Nicholas's foot. They can rinse it out later; he wants to make sure they can get the bassist out of the tub and that he doesn't have any glass embedded in his back or something.
"Let's get you into a chair, and I might make you some coffee. First take your pills and drink some water." He nods his head in the direction of the cup and pills set on the side of the tub.
It's not even a really big piece of glass too! Just a small bit in his foot, that he was too drunk to take out on his own. No big deal! "Mmm... you shoul' be glad 'm conscious at all. Don' wanna be." He protested with no real protest in his voice. As the glass was removed he didn't even flinch, just huffed a moment, nose curling as he felt it. He has a high, high pain tolerance. Injuries don't generally bother him. There had been times he'd had broken bones and ignored them until someone realized something was off on their own. This was nothing. So at least he doesn't protest the mending and wrapping!
The getting UP though? A bit more grumbling about that. "'Berto can suck my..." his hand reached down to grope his crotch, as if to state exactly what he can suck. But then it dropped away as if the comment about pills and water distracted him. His head turned, staring at them, and he reached to carefully take up the pills, pushing them into his mouth and, grossly, chewing them, lips curling as he did. This would have gone SO much better if he drank the water, but he ignored it, knowing it's not vodka.
Once in his mouth, he moves to try to grab the sides of the tub, groaning as he did. "Wha' time is it?" He mumbled, mouth once again working as if trying to wet his lips. Eyes... searching for a bottle.
"For the love of..." Clive watches the pill-eating display with a look somewhere between amazement and disgust. He considers holding Nicholas's nostrils shut to make him drink the water, but he is just not feeling the violence today.
Just to prevent any further incidences of broken glass, Clive moves to set the glass on the ground next to the tub. He then leans over Nicholas and starts working arms underneath the bassist's legs and around his shoulders. Picking up a body can be somewhat easy, if said body chooses not to be dead weight, but either way, Clive can manage, big boy that he is.
"I think your fans would be jealous of this sight," Clive mutters before proceeding with his bridal carry of Nicholas out toward the bedroom.
Honestly, you more then likely should have closed his nose and made him drink water. At this point he's just being stubborn. Anyone else would have turned the tub on as well, and listened to him scream about his his pants are leather and how dare you! But no, he DOES appreciate how nice Clive is being, he's just not showing it at all. Or even realizing he appreciates it, right now. What a lil Punk.
He was trying to pull his ass out of the tub, but then he felt Clive take hold of him, and he relaxed for a moment, assuming the other was about to haul him to sit on the edge of the tub. But then he was being lifted, and for some reason that woke him up more! His body tensed, his arms jerked and moved to grab on, one looping around the others neck the other grabbing his shirt.
"For fuck's sake! I can walk!" he yelped, only to groan as his head throbbed, to which he let his head drop into the others shoulder and neck, eyes closed. Okay, but maybe not having to walk was fine. Right?
"Let 'em be jealous. None of m' fans are big 'nough to haul m' ass 'roun'." he mumbled into Clive's neck, one arm curling in a bit tighter to snug in closer. This was nice. Maybe he can go back to sleep now. Yes. good.
"Like hell I'm letting you walk on that foot and ruin the bandaging." Honestly, when did Clive turn into such a doting hen? Oh, when he realized he was going to have to heard the whole band like chicks to where they needed to be. Once he has Nicholas sitting upright on the bed - and hello, without unceremoniously dropping him, he takes a step back to get a fuller look of Nicholas's condition.
All in all, it could have been worse.
He crosses his arms, still, and turns about to get a better look of the restroom. All of the damage is sinking in now: the cigarette butts, the empty bottles, the vomit in the toilet. Still could have been worse. So was Nico just behaving, or was he trying to leave a prettier scene for offing himself?
Clive looks back over his shoulder at the bassist. Little Punisher...
"I guess I'm stuck spending the rest of the day with you, since we're not getting you to that interview. D'you think you can stomach some toast?" It's too early for it, probably, but after having walked back over to the bed, he's brought the back of his hand to Nicholas's forehead, checking for any sign of a fever while he awaits a response.
He only grunted to the comment about not allowing him to ruin the bandage. His mouth opening to say something, no words coming out, only to nearly hiss like the black cat he is as he was dropped on his bed with so little grace. "Mean..." he mumbled, curling over a moment. Mmm bed.
The bathroom really wasn't at all as bad as it could have been! It has seen so much worse. He really did try to keep it all contained into the toilet too. A good Little Punisher! The glass was an accident, and the sleeping in the tub was also on accident. See? how thoughtful! You don't have to worry about too much.
"No one cares if 'm at tha' in'erview. Bet blondies thrilled 'm naw there ta embarrass 'im." He said, almost in a bit of a complaining whine ass he rolled to his back, one eye peeking up as the other came over to touch his forehead. Mm nice. He's warm, yes, but not really a major Fever kind of warm. Just a bit too drunk kind of warm.
"Had toas'." Yes, there is absolutely two pieces of burnt toast in the toaster, one with a bite out of it before being tossed back into it. So it's not a LIE that he had some. He did take a bite! But as the other checked his forehead, the words sank in about being stuck here spending the day with him. He frowned, eyes glancing off blankly to the opposing wall of the room, a single shoulder shrug. "You don't gotta stay. 'm sure you got better thin's to do."
"Nico." Clive's brow is furrowed with frustration, but that's the extent of it. "I'm not going to leave you alone in this state. I'd be a piss-poor... whatever I am to you all, at the end of the day, if I let you come out of this alone."
Headache, nausea, feeling like a semi truck has plowed you worse than any flu. Clive knows from personal experience the worst of a hangover. Coming out of it alone can feel like dying.
Clive manages to smile a little bit and pats Nicholas's arm.
"If you want me to leave you alone, I can go sit in another room. But I'm going to be here if you want to call for me. Want your water?"
Yet again, as the other said Nico, he seemed to focus, curled there on the bed, eyes peeking up at the other, staring at him with more focus now then before. He frowned, listening to the other, then moved, grabbing his pillow and curling an arm around it, head resting on it and... frowning. "Don' deserve to 'ave anyone here while I'm like this. You're job sucks. You mus' hate havin' to deal with this." he says slowly, focusing on actually talking and not just slurring words lazy like.
It's a real bad hangover, yes, an he drank and mixed too much to drink, and lords knows what else he took. So yes, he's going to go through the self built wringer of hangovers. But he also has been in a funk for a few days. Especially after that stupid interview that followed Nai's band. Seeing the new Bassist, Livio, had really bugged him. Not that he'd admit that. It's a mood shift, though not an uncommon one, so there was no reason to worry, right?
His eyes glanced though, to the nightstand. There is a empty bottle of vodka on it's side there, fallen over to lean into the wall. But there is also a partly drank but mostly full bottle of water sitting behind an entire stack of cigarette boxes. So he nods towards it, a hand slinking out as if to say 'yes, water please' with out actually saying it.
He also doesn't tell the other he has to leave. He... doesn't want him to, even if he knows the other would be much happier not having to deal with his dumb ass.
What a bold assumption for Nicholas to make. Just because Clive severely wonders how he's ended up in so many sitatuions like this, or worse, doesn't mean he's opposed to caring for the bassist, or the other members of the band. He shakes his head, amused for once with how childish Nicholas is acting.
He rises and grabs for the bottle of water, doing Nicholas the courtesy of untopping it and handing it over. Since Nicholas isn't asking him to leave, he walks around the bed over to the other side and takes a seat. He leans over to unlace his boots and yank them off his feet. The company requires that even the help like him dress to a certain standard, and that means tight jeans, and well- tight everything. He at least managed to convince them that a henley/jacket combo would suffice for a top.
"I dunno. Maybe if you behave for me today, it'll be like something of a vacation." Clive swings his legs up onto the bed and turns onto his side to glance over at Nicholas.
"Once you get an appetite back, we'll order something in and watch a movie, and you can tell me how we got here."
Bold Assumptions could have been his personal band name. And he absolutely acts like the worst bratty punk child when he's hurting and overly tired, so no one should be surprised. Though HE is surprised, as he takes the opened water bottle, to peek and see the other walk around to the other side of the bed.
Nicholas shifted, laying back a bit, taking a sip of water. And then suddenly starting to down it, as if he'd never had a drop of water in his life, or at least a few days. Which honestly might be true. He literally guzzled half this bottle, before a hand came up to wipe at his mouth, not caring that he dribbled some over his cheek.
When he was done half drowning himself, he curled over on this side, to face the other, the open water bottle hugged between his arms, close to his chest and neck, open end up, and he stared. "Since when do I behave?" he said, voice more clear now that his mouth wasn't a desert. "And we got 'ere because you picked me up and hauled my dumb arse here. I could'a walked." he snorted, knowing damn well what the other had meant.
At least Clive is willing to play along with a lighter mood, now that he can see that Nicholas is not going to die on him. Clive never wants to deal with Roberto, the record label, or the press in that capacity - ever. He even almost laughs at that last remark, but he holds himself back to make sure Nicholas doesn't take a mile for such a small inch.
"I see... Well, I guess we'll still watch the movie and order something in, because I'll need to eat and I refuse to be bored while you recover from this." He holds back from saying, What you've done to yourself. Still, he can't help from fussing and he reaches to pluck the open water bottle from Nicholas's grip.
"Maybe let's not make a mess of your bed, too. I can't go stealing all of the fun from your groupies."
He likes that the other looked, well, at least amused with his comment. But it's fine, you don't need to laugh. Still, he's feeling a wee bit better just from that half a bottle of water. Go figure. But his face falls a tiny, tiny bit, barely noticeable unless you are good with micro expressions. He then snorts, eyes half lidded as he glances at the bed now and not the other. "Wouldn't want you to be bored, or hungry, while I just be a complete fuckin' mess. Yeah." It's not abnormal for Wolfwood to display his utter lack of care for himself or his dislike of himself around Clive. Everyone else just seems a crass happy party rocker.
Then the bottle was taken, and he blinked, looking up, hearing the comment and... he tried to joke. You could come play? Be my groupie? You'd be a lot more fun then any of the mindless anyhow! But what was said was not as light hearted. "Fun? Pretty sure you wouldn't want anything to do with this mess. You know too much. Bad 'nough you gottta put up with me anyhow." It's very nearly an apology. A silent 'Sorry' seeming tacked on in the end there.
Clive has rolled over to set the water bottle off on the nightstand to his side of the bed, and then rolls back to look at Nicholas. He picks up on the subtle almost-sorry and knows that it's the best he might get from Nicholas, and it still means something to him. His gaze softens.
"Well... Doesn't hurt that you're likable enough of the time." He pauses. "How's your head treating you?"
If he ever actually says a proper heartfelt apology, there is definitely a lot of emotion behind it and something might very much be wrong. It's not unheard of, but it's not used often.
He laid there, staring at the other as he put the water down and rolled back to watch him in return. "Thought my head was alright enough, other then the utter headache and hate? But now I'm wonderin' if I'm still passed out in the tub dreamin' again. Because I think you just said I'm likable enough? Now I know I'm not awake." he snorted darkly, lips twisted in a frown. If anyone is going to not only be egotistical enough to proclaim he is the best, as well as down enough to state he's a piece of trash being, it's Nicholas.
"...Okay, I take it back." Clive rolls his eyes and gives Nicholas the lightest of nudges against his shoulder, and then turns away to roll out of bed. He presses to his feet and starts for the door.
"I'm going to prepare something to fill your stomach, and then we're going to find a movie to watch. Maybe something with lots of guns and fire." Clive pauses at the door and glances over his shoulder with a teasing look. "Just promise you won't start taking notes."
Clive exits the bedroom and heads downstairs to the kitchen. He finds the remnants of Nicholas's attempt at toast and tosses it out without sighing too much. From there, his foray turns into a preparation of fresh, unburnt toast, and a light amount of scrambled eggs, absolutely light on any seasoning that might upset Nicholas's system further.
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bakerstreet2023-07-13 07:04 am
Toki Wartooth | Metalocalypse | ota
Shiny \ Fabulous Killjoys OC \ OTA
Steve | Stranger Things | OTA
Shaundra | Urban Fantasy OC | OTA
Henry Stillman | X-Verse OC | OTA
Alanna Calrissian | Star Wars OC | OTA
Eddie + Stranger Things + OTA
Trini | Power Rangers | OTA
Anne Bonney | Pirate of Legend & Lore (sort of) | OTA
Chrissy Cunningham + Stranger Things + OTA
becca ♠ original ♠ ota
Nicholas D. Wolfwood | Trigun Stampede
no subject
Meryl and Vash are most often a delight. He wonders how Meryl ended up with this lot, being as nice as she is. Vash is... odd, but relatively harmless. Nicholas is the most likely culprit for his early aging, evidenced by the fact that Clive has had to make sure Meryl and Vash are on their way for a photoshoot while he hunts down their wayward bassist.
He has the obligation of having a key to all of their places for safety purposes. He's never had to use Vash's or Meryl's, but he's often slipping into Nicholas's place to see what's keeping him from his duties. He starts to search the halls and rooms, hoping at least that he will find Nicholas in a state that won't require hauling him into the shower. As stated, Clive's rarely so lucky.
no subject
So yes, it was a fact that out of the trio, Vash was that well loved weirdo musical genius who the world fawned over. Meryl ended up being the hot nerdy girl who did as told but still seemed to enjoy fans and music with out being trouble. Nicholas? The bad boy that was either loved or hated and had the most crazy rabid fans. It would not be unheard of to find him with groupies littering a hotel room somewhere, or have snuck one or two in the tour bus. But in his home? No.
He doesn't like people he doesn't know in his home. It is large but not huge. There is a pool table in a rec room, a pool out side, and a few empty bed rooms for guests he never has. There are three fucking bathrooms! His room is on the second floor, only because he likes to hang out to smoke on the balcony, so if he's not in bed, the couch, the pool or the bathroom floor, he's passed out out there.
Today however, when Clive approaches the house, he wouldn't see the idiot hanging off the balcony, nor was he floating in the pool, like he was last time. He's not in halls or rooms or beds or couch. He's not even laying on the kitchen floor this time! Nope. Today he would be found in a large corner spa tub. Not a single drop of water in the tub either. His head was propped in the corner, hands curled to his bare tummy, each holding a single mostly empty whiskey bottle. One leg is bent in the tub, the other draped out over the edge, bare foot sticking out (that appears to have dried blood from a cut on the bottom of his foot, a chunk of glass in the arch). It appears that he fell asleep inside the tub! There is vomit in the toilet, thankfully not a mess this time! And just liquid, no food. There are three other bottles littered the floor, one broken (and most likely he culprit of the cut on his foot), one spilled and soaking the bath mat.
He's literally only wearing leather pants that lace up the side and show off a inch of skin on either side. His simple iron cross laid heavy in the center of his chest, his sun shades were askew on his face and hair was messy and flopped over his eyes behind them. There is a burnt out cigarette in the bottom of the tub, where one could say he was fucking lucky he didn't burn himself when it fell out of his mouth. Then again there were another 20 butts scattered all over, like he'd been chain smoking all night for some reason. Mouth open and partly snoring, he was absolutely out for the count.
Sorry Clive.
no subject
Eventually, the second floor is the only option left, and once the bathroom fails to provide Nicholas, he heads for the bathrooms, all the while swearing to himself in a brusque tone. It's upon reaching the bathroom and seeing Nicholas that the swearing stops and he falls silent.
Of course...
"Fucking idiot..." Clive wants to go to turn on the tub, let a dose of cold water start to shock Nicholas out of his unconscious state and into a full-on hangover, but let no one say that Clive isn't kind. He walks over to the sink and starts to search the cabinet for the supply of over-the-counter pain relievers he's made sure are available situations he'd hoped would be less terrible than this. He pops a couple of pills into his hand from the bottle and then fills up a small glass used for mouthwash with water. He also soaks a rag on cool and brings the whole kit with him over to Nicholas in a steady balance between both his hands.
First comes setting down the pills and glass on the edge of the tub, and next comes spreading the wet rag over Nicholas's forehead.
"Don't do this to me now, you little punisher." He gently, again, to his credit, grabs hold of Nicholas's chin and starts to turn his head this way and that, looking for any signs of head trauma in whatever led to all this.
"You don't get to die on the day of an interview."
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But in all seriousness, he has been far worse than this a dozen time before. This really just looks like, well, maybe having stepped on some broken glass, he took a seat on the tub and then maybe fell back into it and forgot what he was doing. Which is... well, basically it. Also the tub is large and spacious and cozy? There are no head wounds at all. He didn't burn himself this time with his forgotten smoke falling out of his mouth. There are no cuts or lumps or even bruises. Though his eyes definitely have bags under them with a darkness that said he's been stressing out more lately. Which was also true.
Then the cool cloth is rested over his forehead, the wetness would help wake him a bit, as does the tilting of his chin and head. He... groaned at the mans words. The actual WORDS not quite making it through to his brain, but the tone and voice catching in his mind as someone he knew. Someone he at least like. Had it been Vash he might have told him to 'Kindly fuck off'. But it's Clive, and so all he gets is a small groan and a smaller mumble of:
"No."
No what? No, let him die? No, let him sleep? No, go away? It's anyone's guess.
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Clive's mouth sets into a slight frown, however, because they don't have time for this. At this rate, honestly, Nicholas's portion of the interview has been pissed down the drain. They'll be lucky to reschedule.
"Nico. I need you to wake up now. We need to get that foot cleaned up." Still, Clive isn't going to waste time lingering over Nicholas's forehead. With all the firmness and gentleness of an overdoting big brother, Clive plucks the bottles out of Nicholas's hands and gets up from his crouch to walk them over to the trash bin. He drops into a crouch once more and starts to dig through the cabinet underneath the sink for a first aid kit. It's a little more advanced than your basic set, but that's because Clive's made sure they splurged on the bells and whistles to patch up Nicholas.
He brings the kit over toward Nicholas's injured foot and looks through the kit for a sealed set of tweezers and a numbing spray. He pulls out the latter first and gives the injury a good dose of numbing medicine. Nicholas is not allowed to call him unkind, because he could have just started pulling out the piece of glass. He sighs before starting to peel open the packet sealing the sterile tweezers.
"Please? Wake up."
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Honestly, it's the being called 'Nico' that had woken him up more. 'Nicholas' was always used by other people, of course, and fans just screamed 'Wolfwood' when they professed their love or needs. But people who called him 'Nico' were limited, and that generally got his attention faster. One eye cracked open, peeking through dark lashes as he other moved around, but it closed again as Clive crouched to work on his foot.
Clive, you are way too good for him. His toes curled a bit at the cool spray, and he grunted softly, but didn't fight the care. Instead, his arms stretched out and over his head a moment, hitting the wall behind him, wrapping his knuckles and rings against it, before slowly relaxing and dropping to his chest. One hand curled around his cross, while the other hand scratched at his belly.
"Fuck me, a'right... a'right." he yawned, groaning through the yawn loudly, before relaxing limp once again, eyes closed. "'m 'wake..."
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"Finally, he decides to grace us with consciousness." He's annoyed, but he also can't hide the faintest trace of amusement. Wolfwood is a little shit at times, but Clive can't help but wonder if his little brother would have grown up to be such an annoyance at times. Clive has the tweezers free now, and he uses one hand to grip Nicholas's foot, flexing it for better access. He works quick with his other hand to grab hold of the piece of glass and slide it out of the wound.
Once the glass is set aside, he grabs the antiseptic spray from the first aid kit and gives the wound a good dousing.
"Roberto is going to be pissed." But Roberto is usually upset with them all. He reaches for some rolled bandages next and starts wrapping Nicholas's foot. They can rinse it out later; he wants to make sure they can get the bassist out of the tub and that he doesn't have any glass embedded in his back or something.
"Let's get you into a chair, and I might make you some coffee. First take your pills and drink some water." He nods his head in the direction of the cup and pills set on the side of the tub.
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The getting UP though? A bit more grumbling about that. "'Berto can suck my..." his hand reached down to grope his crotch, as if to state exactly what he can suck. But then it dropped away as if the comment about pills and water distracted him. His head turned, staring at them, and he reached to carefully take up the pills, pushing them into his mouth and, grossly, chewing them, lips curling as he did. This would have gone SO much better if he drank the water, but he ignored it, knowing it's not vodka.
Once in his mouth, he moves to try to grab the sides of the tub, groaning as he did. "Wha' time is it?" He mumbled, mouth once again working as if trying to wet his lips. Eyes... searching for a bottle.
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Just to prevent any further incidences of broken glass, Clive moves to set the glass on the ground next to the tub. He then leans over Nicholas and starts working arms underneath the bassist's legs and around his shoulders. Picking up a body can be somewhat easy, if said body chooses not to be dead weight, but either way, Clive can manage, big boy that he is.
"I think your fans would be jealous of this sight," Clive mutters before proceeding with his bridal carry of Nicholas out toward the bedroom.
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He was trying to pull his ass out of the tub, but then he felt Clive take hold of him, and he relaxed for a moment, assuming the other was about to haul him to sit on the edge of the tub. But then he was being lifted, and for some reason that woke him up more! His body tensed, his arms jerked and moved to grab on, one looping around the others neck the other grabbing his shirt.
"For fuck's sake! I can walk!" he yelped, only to groan as his head throbbed, to which he let his head drop into the others shoulder and neck, eyes closed. Okay, but maybe not having to walk was fine. Right?
"Let 'em be jealous. None of m' fans are big 'nough to haul m' ass 'roun'." he mumbled into Clive's neck, one arm curling in a bit tighter to snug in closer. This was nice. Maybe he can go back to sleep now. Yes. good.
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All in all, it could have been worse.
He crosses his arms, still, and turns about to get a better look of the restroom. All of the damage is sinking in now: the cigarette butts, the empty bottles, the vomit in the toilet. Still could have been worse. So was Nico just behaving, or was he trying to leave a prettier scene for offing himself?
Clive looks back over his shoulder at the bassist. Little Punisher...
"I guess I'm stuck spending the rest of the day with you, since we're not getting you to that interview. D'you think you can stomach some toast?" It's too early for it, probably, but after having walked back over to the bed, he's brought the back of his hand to Nicholas's forehead, checking for any sign of a fever while he awaits a response.
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The bathroom really wasn't at all as bad as it could have been! It has seen so much worse. He really did try to keep it all contained into the toilet too. A good Little Punisher! The glass was an accident, and the sleeping in the tub was also on accident. See? how thoughtful! You don't have to worry about too much.
"No one cares if 'm at tha' in'erview. Bet blondies thrilled 'm naw there ta embarrass 'im." He said, almost in a bit of a complaining whine ass he rolled to his back, one eye peeking up as the other came over to touch his forehead. Mm nice. He's warm, yes, but not really a major Fever kind of warm. Just a bit too drunk kind of warm.
"Had toas'." Yes, there is absolutely two pieces of burnt toast in the toaster, one with a bite out of it before being tossed back into it. So it's not a LIE that he had some. He did take a bite! But as the other checked his forehead, the words sank in about being stuck here spending the day with him. He frowned, eyes glancing off blankly to the opposing wall of the room, a single shoulder shrug. "You don't gotta stay. 'm sure you got better thin's to do."
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Headache, nausea, feeling like a semi truck has plowed you worse than any flu. Clive knows from personal experience the worst of a hangover. Coming out of it alone can feel like dying.
Clive manages to smile a little bit and pats Nicholas's arm.
"If you want me to leave you alone, I can go sit in another room. But I'm going to be here if you want to call for me. Want your water?"
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It's a real bad hangover, yes, an he drank and mixed too much to drink, and lords knows what else he took. So yes, he's going to go through the self built wringer of hangovers. But he also has been in a funk for a few days. Especially after that stupid interview that followed Nai's band. Seeing the new Bassist, Livio, had really bugged him. Not that he'd admit that. It's a mood shift, though not an uncommon one, so there was no reason to worry, right?
His eyes glanced though, to the nightstand. There is a empty bottle of vodka on it's side there, fallen over to lean into the wall. But there is also a partly drank but mostly full bottle of water sitting behind an entire stack of cigarette boxes. So he nods towards it, a hand slinking out as if to say 'yes, water please' with out actually saying it.
He also doesn't tell the other he has to leave. He... doesn't want him to, even if he knows the other would be much happier not having to deal with his dumb ass.
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He rises and grabs for the bottle of water, doing Nicholas the courtesy of untopping it and handing it over. Since Nicholas isn't asking him to leave, he walks around the bed over to the other side and takes a seat. He leans over to unlace his boots and yank them off his feet. The company requires that even the help like him dress to a certain standard, and that means tight jeans, and well- tight everything. He at least managed to convince them that a henley/jacket combo would suffice for a top.
"I dunno. Maybe if you behave for me today, it'll be like something of a vacation." Clive swings his legs up onto the bed and turns onto his side to glance over at Nicholas.
"Once you get an appetite back, we'll order something in and watch a movie, and you can tell me how we got here."
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Nicholas shifted, laying back a bit, taking a sip of water. And then suddenly starting to down it, as if he'd never had a drop of water in his life, or at least a few days. Which honestly might be true. He literally guzzled half this bottle, before a hand came up to wipe at his mouth, not caring that he dribbled some over his cheek.
When he was done half drowning himself, he curled over on this side, to face the other, the open water bottle hugged between his arms, close to his chest and neck, open end up, and he stared. "Since when do I behave?" he said, voice more clear now that his mouth wasn't a desert. "And we got 'ere because you picked me up and hauled my dumb arse here. I could'a walked." he snorted, knowing damn well what the other had meant.
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"I see... Well, I guess we'll still watch the movie and order something in, because I'll need to eat and I refuse to be bored while you recover from this." He holds back from saying, What you've done to yourself. Still, he can't help from fussing and he reaches to pluck the open water bottle from Nicholas's grip.
"Maybe let's not make a mess of your bed, too. I can't go stealing all of the fun from your groupies."
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Then the bottle was taken, and he blinked, looking up, hearing the comment and... he tried to joke. You could come play? Be my groupie? You'd be a lot more fun then any of the mindless anyhow! But what was said was not as light hearted. "Fun? Pretty sure you wouldn't want anything to do with this mess. You know too much. Bad 'nough you gottta put up with me anyhow." It's very nearly an apology. A silent 'Sorry' seeming tacked on in the end there.
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"Well... Doesn't hurt that you're likable enough of the time." He pauses. "How's your head treating you?"
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He laid there, staring at the other as he put the water down and rolled back to watch him in return. "Thought my head was alright enough, other then the utter headache and hate? But now I'm wonderin' if I'm still passed out in the tub dreamin' again. Because I think you just said I'm likable enough? Now I know I'm not awake." he snorted darkly, lips twisted in a frown. If anyone is going to not only be egotistical enough to proclaim he is the best, as well as down enough to state he's a piece of trash being, it's Nicholas.
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"I'm going to prepare something to fill your stomach, and then we're going to find a movie to watch. Maybe something with lots of guns and fire." Clive pauses at the door and glances over his shoulder with a teasing look. "Just promise you won't start taking notes."
Clive exits the bedroom and heads downstairs to the kitchen. He finds the remnants of Nicholas's attempt at toast and tosses it out without sighing too much. From there, his foray turns into a preparation of fresh, unburnt toast, and a light amount of scrambled eggs, absolutely light on any seasoning that might upset Nicholas's system further.
Coronabeth Tridentarius | Locked Tomb