Chapter Text
“Me and Roger are going to join the brave and courageous journey to find our drummers,” Robert announced. Roger looked like a kid at Christmas.
“Well, I guess that settles that,” John remarked. He gave a teasing side glance at Pete. “Maybe I should stay behind with you guys? I’ll keep you two company.”
Pete shot him back a look. “That won’t be necessary, mate.”
Jimmy shrugged. “Well, I mean, you can if you’re into that sort of thing…” He reached behind to get the key ring from the hook on the kitchen wall and tossed the keys to Robert. “Have fun, you lot. Give us a ring if you find them.”
“Oh yeah, we’ll give you two a head’s up before we come back,” John grinned.
John, Roger, Robert and John Paul Jones made their way down to the parking lot to Led Zeppelin’s van. John Paul Jones drove and John took the passenger seat. John looked through the collection of tapes they had stuffed in the glove compartment. Turns out, all the compilations of artists he liked were on the tapes that belonged to John Paul Jones. It was about time he met someone else who appreciated the greatest bassists in music history!
Robert and Roger sat in the very back for some reason, being unnecessarily secretive. They whispered back and forth as if they were discussing top secret government information. John let the two weird ones be.
Roger was just happy to be holding hands with Robert. He thought it was the best feeling in the world. Robert, however, seemed distracted.
“Tell me, what kinds of movies does Pete like?” he asked Roger.
“Usually the real scary kinds with exorcisms and stuff. Or really profound artsy fartsy movies that I never understand but he makes me sit through them anyways,” Roger told him.
“But, um, I like comedies. And musicals. And action movies. We should watch one sometime! Like, together. In an intimate setting.”
“What does Pete usually do on dates? Does he care much for the romantic shit or does he go straight for the kill?” Robert asked.
Roger paused to think. “I’ve seen him do both? Sometimes he has people leaving his house first thing in the morning when we come over for rehearsal, but sometimes we curl up and watch movies or go on long walks or—“
“Have you seen him, by any chance?” Robert asked tentatively.
“What? Like, literally have I seen him? Or—“
“Like, you know. Seen him.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You know. Him. The whole thing. The big prize.”
“Are you trying to…?”
“I want to know how big Pete’s dick is,” Robert rolled his eyes in frustration.
“Oh, you should have just said that.”
“I didn’t get a good sense this morning and it’s deeply troubling me. I need to know.”
“I mean, I think it’s quite nice. He’s knows what he’s doing which makes things all the better.” Roger smiled, proud of his friend.
“Wait, you’re making eavesdropping harder with all that innuendo,” John turned around to look at them. “What exactly are you talking about?”
“I want to know how big Pete’s dick is,” Robert raised his voice so John could hear.
“Pete’s dick?” John Paul Jones asked. “Why does he need to know how big Pete’s dick is?”
“John Paul Jones wants to know why you need to know how big Pete’s dick is,” John called to the back.
“I need to know how big Pete’s dick is so I can prepare myself,” Robert called back.
“I respect that,” John Paul Jones told him.
“Honestly, it’s quite impressive, but I have seen bigger,” John told Robert. “My own personal bias, of course.”
“I agree,” John Paul Jones said. “But you have to give him some credit.”
John looked at him. “Wait, you’ve…?”
“Nah, I’m just kidding,” John Paul Jones laughed. “I just felt a little left out of the conversation.”
There was a pleasant stretch of amicable silence where everyone was left to peacefully contemplate Pete’s dick. It wasn’t until they reached a crush of midday tourist traffic that John Paul Jones broke the silence and asked, “Wait, weren’t we supposed to be looking for our friends?”
“Oh, shit, I completely forgot they existed for a moment there,” Roger said. The power of Pete’s dick had left them all in a mesmerized trance.
“Where should we even look for them? In hindsight this was just an excuse to get out of the flat and do something,” John remarked.
“We could have a repeat of yesterday and have a montage of us looking in all the tourist spots and bonding over our mutual interests?” Roger suggested.
Robert leaned his head back against the headrest. “I’m positively lovesick and it’s making me melancholic. The only thing I’m interested in bonding with is P—“
Roger’s face lit up at the mention of lovesickness, full of boyish optimism. “Really, Robert? You should have said, I feel the same way about you too!”
John cut them both off before little Roger’s heart got broken. “Hey, why don’t we look at a record store or something? We should be enjoying the fresh air like normal people.”
John Paul Jones agreed and drove down to the neighbourhood where his favourite record store was. They parked on the street and strolled down the sidewalk, window shopping and chatting. Well, the two Johns acted normal. Robert trailed behind, looking moody, and then admired how moody he looked in the reflection of the shop windows. Roger hung off of his arm with hearts in his eyes, like a child who just discovered love for the first time. John hoped he’d be let down easy.
John decided that they’d wait until the late afternoon before they should start phoning around for any evidence of their drummers’ whereabouts. He did have a vague sinking feeling in his stomach but he tries to distract himself with other things. The record shop was quaint and the four of them enjoyed heated debates over what bands were superior to others, or what albums were most underrated. What they expected to be a vicious argument ended with them mostly agreeing on everything. The whole weekend seemed to be the two bands finding out that they had very similar tastes and being surprised about it.
“Jonesy, darling, is there a grocery store nearby?” Robert asked with a dramatic sigh as they left the record shop. “We should probably get things for our last supper together…”
John rolled his eyes. John Paul Jones stopped to think. “I’m pretty sure we passed one a block or two away, we could walk back until we find it.”
And so they did.
“Would it be overly ambitious of me to buy condoms while we’re out?” Robert asked.
“I admire your optimism,” John thought aloud. He turned to look at Roger, who had gone three deep shades of red in the face.
“Safety first,” John Paul Jones said.
They found a modest sized family owned grocery and stopped inside. Of course, they goofed off as much as physically possible.
Through the fresh fruits section, Roger draped himself over the bin full of lemons and sang. “Robby baby, the way you squeeze my lemon, I’m gonna fall right out of bed!”
Through the aisles of laundry detergents, John Paul Jones did stellar impressions of the cartoon mascot grandmothers, mothers, or little babies drawn on the labels. He perfected the poses and the facial expressions to a scary degree of accuracy.
Through the hygiene section, Robert found the two boxes of the biggest sized condoms available. “Oh, damn, these might be too small,” he said loudly.
They tried to find the aisle of pasta sauces for dinner that night, when suddenly John pushed past Robert and the others, and took off running.
Robert let out a dramatic gasp, the boxes of condoms flying from out of his hands gracefully as if in slow motion. “Oh whoops… I dropped my monster condoms that I use for my magnum dong!”
Roger turned the corner of the aisle just in time to see what the hell was going on. John was barreling like a rabid ox down the pasta aisle towards Keith Moon and John Bonham, who were standing at the end of the aisle minding their own business and comparing two jars of pasta sauce. John let out a weird battle cry and tackled Keith to the ground, knocking the pasta jars out of his hand and sent them flying through the air, smashing all over the linoleum floor.
John straddled Keith, pulling him up by the front of his shirt collar. He punched Keith in the face, but lovingly. “Keith! I was very worried about you and I missed you very much!”
By the time the others ran to join them, Keith looked terrified out of his wits. John Bonham, who just barely survived, plastered himself against the shelves, white as a ghost. The little old lady who they shared the aisle with pretended not to notice.
“Christ, John, get off of him!” Roger pulled the bassist off. Keith fell backwards, catching his breath. Those were the eyes of a traumatized man. He looked a little scruffy, and John noticed there was a cut on his face, one incisor tooth missing, and a Girl Scout pin on his shirt that hadn’t been there before.
“Holy fuck,” John Bonham said.
“Literally what the hell is going on ever with you guys,” John Paul Jones said, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“My extra-large condoms weren’t damaged guys, don’t worry,” Robert reminded them.
John helped Keith up and hugged him, now joyous. “What the hell happened to you two? We’ve been searching all of Brighton, day and night, tired and heartbroken, preparing for the worst…”
Keith and John Bonham looked at each other.
“Uh, it’s a bit of a long story…” Keith started. He changed the topic quickly. “Hey, where’s Pete and Jimmy?”
“They stayed behind at the flat in case you had the courtesy to ring us to say you were safe,” John glared, flipping back to anger again.
“So, they’re fucking?” Keith asked. Everyone nodded.
“Five quid says they’re in the living room and we’re going to walk right in on them,” John said.
“No, they probably didn’t even have the patience leave the kitchen,” John Paul Jones said.
“Jimmy’s a bedroom guy only,” Robert told them. Everyone pulled out their wallets, handing bet money over to John.
Now they stood awkwardly in the middle of the pasta aisle.
“You two have a lot of explaining to do,” John told them. “It better be a damn good story, too.”
“Let’s get them back to the flat, yeah?” Roger suggested.
Everyone started to leave when a pimply teenager in the grocery store apron walked past, stopping when he saw the shattered jar of pasta sauce all over the ground. “Hey, what’s going on here?”
The six men broke out into a run, sprinting around the back of the store, and out through the in door, which with a little tweaking would sound like a pretty cool album name. Keith leapt over an old lady’s grocery cart, the last one to narrowly escape the wrath of pimply authority. They ran down the street to where John Paul Jones parked the Led Zeppelin van.
“I can’t believe I stole these extra-large condoms!” Robert shouted down the street.
Everyone dove into the van, full of adrenaline even though literally no one was actually chasing them, but they felt good about themselves so that’s all that really matters.
“Wait,” John said, catching his breath. “Where’s Pete’s van?”
“I parked it around the block, where—“ Keith was cut off by John Bonham elbowing him in the ribs. “Yeah. Around the corner. Nothing weird.”
John squinted suspiciously.
“We just have to…erm, remove something first,” John Bonham reminded Keith less than subtly.
“Oh, fuck,” Keith winced. “Yeah, alright. So we’re meeting you at Bonzo’s flat, yeah?”
John waved an accusatory finger at Keith. “Not so fast. We’re going to tailgate you the whole time. We sort of don’t trust you to be on your own ever again.”
Keith shrugged. “Fair enough. We’ll pull the van round and you can follow us after.”
Before anyone could object, Keith and John Bonham left the van quickly. John rolled down the window and watched them walk around the block until they were out of sight. He still glared suspiciously anyways.
“You just…fucking tackled him, man….” John Paul Jones said quietly.
John shrugged. “There was no actual reason why. It just felt like a good way to transition into a climactic moment, you know?”
“I feel that.”
In the back, Roger gazed at Robert dreamily. He was holding the stolen boxes of condoms. “It says here that latex condoms are intended to prevent pregnancy, HIV/AIDS, and other sexually transmitted diseases.”
“Mhmm.”
Roger bit his lip, and batted his eyelashes. “That’s pretty hot.”
In the front seat, John felt personally victimized for having to endure listening to Roger try to be seductive.
To everyone’s relief, Pete’s beat up van eventually emerged from around the corner. Keith drove, and of course he started honking like a madman to piss everyone off. John Paul Jones started up the van and followed after them.
They were home a few minutes later. The six of them parked and made their way upstairs to the rented flat. John Paul Jones placed his ear against the front door, but shook his head. He couldn’t hear Pete and Jimmy.
“Alright lads, I’m not responsible for any mentally scarring sights you might see when I open the door,” John Paul Jones warned as he slid the key in the lock. Everyone pushed in right away, disappointed to see absolutely nothing.
A moment later, Jimmy emerged from one of the bedrooms, looking dishevelled, clearly not expecting their sudden homecoming.
“Told you,” Robert said. John handed him the wad of bet money from his wallet.
“You’re back!” Jimmy exclaimed.
“You’ll never guess where we found them,” John Paul Jones told him.
“I’m quite eager to hear the whole story!” Jimmy was overly-enthusiastic, clearly over compensating and trying to look normal.
“Home sweet home!” John Bonham threw his hands in the air, and then ran over to collapse on the couch. Keith ran and jumped on top of him, the two laughing like loons.
John and John Paul Jones sat together on the other couch, followed by Robert and Roger. Jimmy sat next to the drummers. John was giddy with excitement, waiting for Pete to make his grand appearance. When he finally did, it was absolutely rich. Pete emerged from the dark hallway with the most frustrated, glaring expression on his face. He looked like a fucking mess with his hair sticking up all over the place, and he still had his pyjamas on. He leaned in the doorway, arms folded. John snorted.
“Have a nice nap there, luv?” John asked.
“Eat a dick, John.”
John Paul Jones leaned over to John. “See, he’s only got one thing on his mind.”
“Speaking of eating,” Robert said. “I meant to get something for dinner but we ended up committing a felony and beating the shit out of Keith, so I say we order in. I’m quite hungry.”
John leaned over to John Paul Jones. “I can’t imagine Jimmy would be hungry, he looks like he’s just had a mouthful.”
“That sounds good to me,” Keith beamed. “Can we stay for dinner, Pete? Please?”
“One, I can’t afford to pitch in for my share of the meal,” Pete told him. “Two, we need to get home. We all have jobs to go to tomorrow morning, remember?”
John Paul Jones leaned over to John. “Someone’s grouchy because they didn’t finish…”
“Oh, come on, Pete!” Roger pleaded. “This is our life now. Me and Robert are in lo—“
“Actually,” John cut him off quickly to avoid any extra damage. “Pete does have a point. Thanks to a certain someone kidnapping another certain someone, we’ve all certainly overstayed our welcome trying to solve the mystery of our missing drummers.”
“It was hardly a mystery, more like glorified hide and seek,” Pete grumbled. “Who the hell thought of the title for this thing?”
“Maybe what we really found was the friendship along the way,” John Paul Jones said.
John Bonham looked at Keith. “Wait, did I kidnap you? Or did you kidnap me?”
“I’m pretty sure I kidnapped you because I did all the driving,” Keith said.
“But I convinced you to kidnap me, so I think it evens out,” John thought.
“Cool.”
“You haven’t overstayed you welcome,” Jimmy reassured everyone. “We’re sad to see you go.”
John Paul Jones and John looked at each other.
“Counterpoint,” Robert lifted an elegant finger in the air.
“Robert says he has a counterpoint,” Roger echoed.
“I just won a bet, let me pay for dinner,” Robert smiled graciously. “And then we can hear exactly what happened in this volunteer hostage situation. I’m intrigued.”
“Yeah, we’re really intrigued, Robert and me,” Roger added.
Pete pinched the bridge of his nose. “Alright. Really, I’d love to stay, but we do need to make the drive back home before it gets too late.”
“Don’t you worry, darling. Just stay a few more hours,” Jimmy told him.
John leaned over to John Paul Jones. “What are the odds that someone is going to try to sneak Pete into their bedroom one last time tonight?”
“I can personally feel the sexual tension in the room. I hope someone at least gets it in, or else one of us might actually die of frustration,” John Paul Jones answered.
Robert stood up slowly. “Silly me, I seem to have misplaced the take out menus. Pete, will you help me look for them? I think they were left in my bedroom.”
“I can help, I have really good eyesight,” Roger jumped up and tugged on Robert’s sleeve.
“Robert, you dummy,” John Bonham shifted a few magazines on the coffee table and pulled the menus out from underneath. “They’re right here!”
“Thank you, Bonzo,” Robert smiled tightly. Pete looked physically pained.
John Paul Jones leaned over to John. “I genuinely feel bad for him.”
Robert went into the kitchen to phone the restaurant. Roger followed him like a shadow. From the other room they heard him say, “Gosh, Robert, you look so pretty when you dial the phone like that…”
Pete took a seat next to John and John Paul Jones on the couch. If he so much as brushed Jimmy’s leg if he sat down beside him, he’d literally cum in his pants.
“I swear to God, this is what dying feels like,” Pete told them under his breath.
John leaned over to John Paul Jones. “I’m surprised no one’s initiated some friendly group orgy yet.”
Robert and Roger came back moments later, carrying eight bottles of beer. “I ordered a feast suit for kings, which we are,” Robert announced, and the two of them handed everyone a cold beer. “Cheers to our new friends. Let’s stay together forever.”
Robert squished himself next to Pete on the couch, and Roger sat on the other side of Pete, which was an acceptable substitute.
“You’re all welcome to stay over at mine next time you’re in town,” Pete offered, clinking bottles with everyone. A bottle opener was passed around. Keith tried to open a bottle with his teeth like he usually did to get a few laughs, but he suddenly cried out in pain and clutched his mouth.
“Fuck! I forgot I lost that tooth,” he wailed.
“Yeah, I was sort of curious about that,” John asked.
Keith looked at John Bonham. “Actually, we’re going to have to start at the very beginning.”
“Well, go on!” Jimmy encouraged them.
Keith pretended to crack his knuckles, and John Bonham cleared his throat and pretended to crack his neck. Everyone laughed, the eight of them properly relaxing for the first time that weekend. Robert leaned back into Pete, and Roger put his chin on Pete’s shoulder. It was nice.
“It all started one dark, stormy evening,” Keith announced, putting on his goofy posh voice.
“I had just finished the gig and I felt on top of the world,” John Bonham spoke darkly, like he was telling ghost stories at a campfire.
“I was sitting at the bar, minding my own business, when my spidey senses went off!” Keith exclaimed. “I felt another drummer approaching.”
“I approached him as if we were pulled together by destiny.”
“I felt as though it was written in the stars, I just had to buy him drink. He said he’d take the strongest drink available. I then knew that this was only the beginning of our lifelong story.”
John Bonham dropped his voice low. “One drink became another, we were talking, and suddenly I decided that I needed to show my new friend my most favourite place in all of Brighton.”
“I told him I had a ride. Truly, Pete, I didn’t intend on being out long,” Keith grinned apologetically. “But once you saw that place, you’d understand why.”
“I gave him cryptic directions to a Chinese food restaurant downtown. We parked in a neighbourhood a few blocks away and walked over just to be safe.”
“It was like I was in an Ian Fleming novel. I didn’t know places like this actually existed.”
“He doesn’t just mean the Chinese restaurant,” John Bonham clarified. “Young Keith Moon thought he knew all there was to know about Chinese restaurants in Great Britain, but he couldn’t have been more wrong.”
“I thought John Bonham was going to treat me to a romantic candlelight dinner and a night of sweet lovemaking, but I much preferred what he did instead.”
“I took Keith Moon to the back of the restaurant, giving the young waitress at the cash register a special nod and wink combination, and took him past the beaded curtain and down the dark stairwell.”
“I was shaking in my boots, but at that moment I trusted John Bonham with my life.”
“Downstairs was none other than…” John Bonham held for the suspense. “An underground gambling ring!”
“Ta-da!”
“Oh, god,” Pete muttered. He’d have to lecture Keith on the ride home about not going to illegal gambling rings. This would not be the first time.
John Bonham continued. “The family that runs the restaurant started letting a few friends play poker in their store room, and they took a cut off the top at the end of the night to cover the beer and peanuts they supplied the players. But the cuts kept getting bigger and bigger with the more people who played. So they invested in cards and tokens, and more chairs and tables. They spread the word, and let other trusted guests come to play. And every night, they took a larger cut from everyone’s winnings.”
“But fear not, gentle friends,” Keith Moon assured them. “They put the money aside to pay for their eldest daughter’s university tuition in the United States of America, god bless.”
“The moral of the story is, it’s not illegal if you’re helping children’s education and wellbeing.”
“Their daughter is a very sweet girl, I met her last time I was there. I was more than happy to bet my shoes if it meant she was going to be independent in this cruel, sexist world.”
“And so, we gambled,” Keith told them. “We gambled with the best of the best in Brighton. Proper poker wizards, they were.”
“We gambled our hearts out. We forged friendships. We discovered more about ourselves than we could have ever imagined. And we helped support the future of England’s next generation.”
“Until, tragedy struck!” Keith and John Bonham slapped their wrists to their foreheads and gasped dramatically.
“I had run out of money!” Keith exclaimed. “I hadn’t a shilling left in me lil’ pockets.”
“And even worse, my dear friend had just lost a game against the master himself. He was so powerful and well-respected that we weren’t even allowed to know his name.”
“Technically, I owed him 72 virgins and my first born son. I had to think of a way to repay my loan if I ever wanted to see daylight again!”
“I took my poor, financially challenged friend for a huddle in the loo,” John Bonham said. “We devised the perfect heist plan. I was going to convince everyone I was actually part of MI6 and this was a police bust. Everyone would scramble and debts would be forgotten.”
“Except we were trapped!”
“When he opened the door, we found the Master waiting for us with his two henchmen!”
“They threatened us if we couldn’t pay back the Master.”
“Except Keith here thought he was good at negotiating. He offered to pawn something off from the van.”
“So I lead these scary guys out to the van because I figure, well hey, it’s not even mine.”
“Why I oughta…” Pete wagged his fist at Keith, and everyone laughed.
“When we walked out to the van, the Master took one look in the trunk and wanted John’s bass,” Keith continued.
“Keith!” John lurched forward, threatening to strangle Keith. “Swear to me you didn’t—“
John Bonham swatted John’s hands away, protecting Keith. “Wait, it gets better.”
Keith cleared his throat. “So, I let him have the bass. He sits on the curb and strums it for a bit. He looks like a kid discovering music for the first time, and my heart broke a million times over.”
“He decides he’ll take it, and he puts it back in the case and gets his henchman to carry it because it’s too heavy and he’s a frail old geezer,” John Bonham continued.
“So here’s where I redeem myself, friends,” Keith grinned at his own brilliance. “I slip the car keys into Bonzo’s back pocket. Just as we’re preparing to go walk back to the restaurant, I kick the henchman in the back of the knee and he takes a tumble. I grab the guitar case from him and bolt down the street!”
John Bonham moved to the edge of his seat. “I clued in quickly, and leapt into the van. I pulled out of my space and blocked the street so Keith could further ahead, until the henchman literally jumped onto the hood of the van! He rolled off like a damn pro and chased Keith down the street. I put the car in gear and chased the two of them until the bumper was touching the back of his heels.”
“In hindsight, we probably could have killed him,” Keith remarked. “But he made the smart move and eventually got off the road and let me off the hook. Bonzo slowed down just enough so I could toss the bass in and jump in the van.”
“I swear to god, you almost broke my heart there,” John wiped imaginary sweat from off his head. “My poor bass!”
“Don’t worry baby, I’ve got you.” Keith blew John a kiss.
“But that still doesn’t explain how you lost your tooth, or got your face scratched up,” Roger added, resting his head against Pete’s.
“Or how you got that little pin on your shirt,” Pete joined in.
“Oh, we haven’t even gotten to THAT part yet,” John Bonham and Keith grinned devilishly at each other.
“Well, go on, then!” Jimmy egged them on. “You’ve got me really invested now.”
“You start,” John Bonham told Keith.
“Alright, alright. So we’re driving, proper hurtling down this little suburb until the restaurant is a tiny speck in the rear mirror. We’re finally safe, or so we think.”
“We had all that adrenaline rushing through us, so we needed to do something wild to top it all off.”
John and John Paul Jones looked at each other.
“So, we decided—“ Keith was cut off by a knock at the door. Everyone fell silent.
“Uh, delivery?” a pubescent squeak came from behind the door.
“Oh,” everyone sighed.
“Quick five minute intermission!” Keith called.
Empty beer bottles were put to the side and everyone got up to stretch. Robert walked over to the door, Roger following him as usual. Robert swung open the door and found an innocent looking teenaged boy, probably no older than nineteen.
“Aren’t you adorable,” Robert purred.
The delivery boy looked uncomfortable.
Robert took his earnings from his wallet and paid the delivery boy what he owed, plus a generous tip. Roger grabbed the bags of steaming hot Chinese food. In the kitchen, there was a tangle of plates being handed over, forks distributed, and napkins handed out. When no one was looking, Jimmy brushed into Pete, or placed a hand on the small of his back if he needed to get past him. Pete, who had just finally settled back down, was being pulled right back to the edge again. If no one touched him that night he was literally going to die. His borrowed pyjamas weren’t doing much to conceal him either.
Pete contemplated for a moment, watching everyone settle back down in the living room. Pete snuck off back to the bedrooms and changed into his jeans and shirt from yesterday, which hid his raging boner a bit better. All the fabric brushing over sensitive skin didn’t help. He debated just having a go at it right then and there, but decided against it. Pete did some stretches and thought about the Queen naked, which helped a bit.
He emerged into the living room once more, and luckily no one really noticed his change of clothes. He sat down next to Roger again, who snuggled in next to him with a sleepy smile. Roger was just happy that at least someone was paying attention to him.
Small cardboard boxes and hot aluminum plates filled to the brim with hot noodle dishes were passed around, everyone taking generous heaps. All eight of them were well fed, cozy, and happy in good company. Pete kissed Robert’s cheek quickly. “Thanks for dinner.”
“I know how you can pay me back later,” Robert patted his knee. He waved his fork at Keith and John Bonham. “On with the story! It’s too good, I’m doubting it’s real.”
Keith nudged John Bonham to start again. With a mouthful of noodles, John Bonham started to narrate again. “Right. So, we’re all fired up, blasting music in the car and driving around fast, enjoying the city lights. We drove past a diner and decided that we needed to eat. So I looped around the block and pulled in. We got greasy food to fuel us on our journey.”
“Aha!” John interrupted. “We looked there for you guys. Apparently we were an hour too late.”
Keith tutted. “Not good, Sherlock. Not good.”
John Bonham slurped on some noodles. “We decided to go down to the beach because it’d be empty. If there weren’t any kids around we could say curse words all we want.”
“I decided this night was one to celebrate, because me and my new friend cheated death and tricked a gambling master,” Keith bit into a chicken ball. “So we set out a blanket on the sand, smoked a ton of weed, ate greasy food and looked at the stars.”
“My weed!” Pete cried. “You owe me, you bugger.”
“Of course, my love,” Keith reassured him. “You never really take the time to look at the stars and think about your place in the universe. We’re so small, you know? It makes you wonder, why was I put here? Am I on my way to doing what I was meant to do? What does the universe have in store for me? Am I who I really should be? Why was I put here, and why now? What is my purpose?” Keith shovelled more noodles into his mouth. “And some other shit like that. Who knows, I was high. I’ll be damned though, I learned more about John Bonham that night than I think I knew about myself. You just don’t have heart to heart chats like that every day. We connected on a spiritual level, you feel me?”
Everyone nodded.
“So we were sitting there in tears, overjoyed with all the beauty in the world. We went from being on top of the game back to stardust. We were raw, emotional, vulnerable,” John Bonham continued. “And then we heard this baby crying. It just wrenched our hearts. What kind of arse leaves their baby on the beach in the middle of the night? We could have sworn we were the only ones there.”
“So, I’m going full paternal mode here,” Keith started. “At that point, I had convinced myself that my true purpose on his earth was to save his baby and nurse it back to health, raising it as my own. I remember standing up and running around the beach, trying to find where that mewling was coming from. And right by the garbage can was a little baby, already walking on two legs, stumbling around.”
Roger dropped his fork, clutching his heart. “Oh, my word…”
Keith chewed loudly. “I bend down to talk to it, you know? I’m like, ‘hey little guy, I’m going to be your father now. I love you so much. C’mere’. I make all them kissing noises at it and pick it up. I started cuddling it, and it felt so good, like it was really one of my own children. I swore to myself that I would love this child for the rest of my life.”
John’s bottom lip quivered.
John Bonham continued. “We owe all this to Pete’s weed, though. That shit was fucked up. I don’t know what extra ingredients got put in there, but it tripped us way out. I walk over to Keith and I see that he’s standing by the trash holding a fucking cat! And I was like, ‘Keith, why are you holding a cat?’, and Keith was sobbing, telling me it was his son and he loved him so much.”
“But what neither of us knew…” Keith told us. “…was that it wasn’t a baby, nor a cat. It was a raccoon! My beautiful raccoon son!”
“I guess I startled it, because when it saw me, it struggled to get out of Keith’s arms and it scratched him right across the face. Keith dropped it and the raccoon ran off into the night, and I had to comfort the poor lad for the loss of his first son.”
John Paul Jones wiped a tear from his eye.
“Should we take Keith to the doctor’s for that?” Roger whispered in Pete’s ear. Pete nodded.
“That was the most heartbreaking moment of my life. I’m still not quite healed,” Keith admitted. Everyone reached over to pat him comfortingly.
“So that explains the cut, what about your tooth? And the pin?” Jimmy asked.
“Oh boy,” Keith and John Bonham laughed.
“Alright, so,” John Bonham started, putting his empty plate to the side. “We may have questionable lifestyles, but we are not dumb men. Me and Keith are now realizing that we smoked more psychedelic shit in that mix than we originally thought. Neither of us are fit to drive, so we leave the van and walk around. I’m trying to find my favourite pub, but I’m like, ‘oh shit, Keith, my feet are turning into sand’.”
“And I was like, I can’t let my friend completely dissolve into sand and leave me forever. So somehow I grabbed him and did the fireman’s carry, and I carried him to the first pub I could find to get him a restorative drink.”
“We’re sitting at the bar, and I’m sipping this damn good ale, thinking about how I was going to use the foot pedal on my drum kit without any feet.”
“And then, I saw her.” Keith clapped a hand over his heart. “The most beautiful lass my eyes ever did gaze upon. She sat beside me at the bar, looking all shy and coy. I started talking to her, and I told her I was just grieving the loss of my son. She started crying, she felt so bad for me, and I started crying too, and we were hugging and crying all over the damn place. Then she reached to her jacket she had hanging off the back of her chair. She unpinned this little heart pin, and put it on my shirt. Turns out, her daughter’s in the girl guides, yeah? And her daughter earned the bravery pin for breaking her arm or some shit, but bless her little heart, she gave the pin to her mum so she could stay strong while her mum and her dad were getting divorced. And now, this lovely woman was giving me this bravery pin because she said I needed it more than she did. I was proper falling in love, even though I was tripping shit, some things just make sense. So she’s holding my hand, patting it comfortingly—“
“That’s when I look over,” John Bonham said. “And I see this giant hulking man looming over Keith. Before I know it, he’s shouting stuff like, ‘oi mate, get yer mitts off me girlfriend!’ and then he grabs Keith by the collar of his shirt and tosses him off the seat. I try and do something but my brain’s going in slow motion, and I can’t see because my eyes are filling with sand!”
“No thanks to Bonzo, I’m left to fight for my honour. I tell him I just lost my son! But he doesn’t care. So I punch him in the gut for being so insensitive. He hits me back right away, right in the mouth, and my poor tooth goes flying out, never to be seen again. Just like my child.”
“I remember the bar tender getting off his lazy arse and interfering, and he kicks all four of us out. I’m glad because we still didn’t have any money to pay for the drinks. The pretty girl apologizes quickly and drags her shitty boyfriend off back to their car. There’s blood pouring out of Keith’s mouth and also I’m drunk and stoned, so I threw up outside of a stationary store all over the pavement.”
“At that point, I’m feeling exhausted,” Keith said, putting his dishes to the side. “So much happened in one day. I couldn’t believe that just that morning I was on a road trip with my friends to see a simple concert. So, I take Bonzo by the arm and we wander around until we stumble upon the van. We put on some music and drive back to the beach, which is still empty. I looked out at the ocean and mourned my son for the last time.”
“Then I take the middle seats, and Keith takes the back. We lock the doors and we fall asleep as soon as we lay down.”
Keith cringed. “We wake up and it’s too sunny out, the air in the van is stale, and we both feel sick as dogs. We scramble out and throw up in the garbage cans on the beach where all those families and tourists can see. We need some time to properly sit and remember what happened, so we went to a breakfast restaurant and tried to piece together everything that happened. We still didn’t have any money to pay, so we said we forgot our wallets in the van and ran out.”
“I’ll go back and pay them, I promise,” John Bonham assured everyone. “We were starting to feel a bit better later, and we realized that none of our friends knew where we were. I figured you had all gone back to the flat like normal people after the show.”
“I felt bad because I know you guys worry about me all the time, so I thought I’d at least offer to make everyone dinner to make up for it. We go to a grocery store and we go pick up supplies to make a nice pasta dinner even though we still didn’t have any money because we gambled it away to Chinese gambling lords. But that’s okay because the next thing I know, I’m being tackled to the ground by none other than John Entwistle.”
“And we come full circle!” John laughed. John Paul Jones applauded.
“The end!” Keith and John Bonham chorused.
“That was one fucking emotional journey,” Pete said. “We should turn that into a full concept album. Or a rock opera, if you will.”
“Imagine if our claim to fame was an album based off of Keith Moon cuddling a raccoon and puking everywhere?” Roger said, and everyone laughed. Little did they know, the memory of Keith’s raccoon baby would go on to inspire such works such as Tommy, Quadrophenia, and Lifehouse.
“I am profoundly moved by that story,” Robert said solemnly.
“I’d let you guys off the hook after a tale like that,” Jimmy said. “If it weren’t for you loons, things definitely would have turned out a lot different between all of us.”
And Pete probably wouldn’t be so sexually frustrated he was going to die.
“So, are we forgiven?” Keith Moon asked, smiling.
“I’ll consider it,” Pete teased. “You owe me a lot of chores around the house to make up for it.”
“Aye aye, captain!”
Later on, everyone lazily cleaned up. The kitchen was crowded again as dishes were washed and garbage was thrown out. Pete washed the dishes, Keith dried, and Jimmy put them away. Roger helped put away all the leftovers. They were like one, big, happy, gay-ass family. They did have to take their leave eventually, though.
“Right, well, how about heading home, then?” John said.
“Please, can we stay just a bit longer?” Keith pleaded, but Roger was already yawning and the action of that weekend was catching up to everyone.
“Yeah, it’s about time we get ready to leave. Pete, are you driving?” Roger asked.
“Wait, I need to get my jacket first,” Pete said, walking to the bedroom. Jimmy didn’t think twice about following him. Robert followed Jimmy. Roger followed Robert, shutting the bedroom door behind them. The four stood in the middle of the room, staring at each other.
They had no clue how to go about this. Who would make the first move? Who would get Pete first? Who would pay attention to poor Roger?
No one moved.
“How long do you think we have until the others notice we’ve disappeared?” Pete whispered, breathless with anticipation. “I won’t take very long, and if someone makes me cum I swear I’ll fall in love with you at this point.”
The other three all started to move to him at once.
“Wait,” Robert said, everyone halting. “Let’s rock-paper-scissors this bitch like civilized adults.”
Pete sat through four agonizing rounds before he gave up. “Seriously, you guys. Anyone?”
Robert decided to make the first move, and he threw himself into Pete’s arms. “Oh, I just can’t possibly stand to let you leave, my love.”
Pete held him close, stroking his hair comfortingly. “We’ll see each other again, don’t fret.” He looked over Robert’s head and saw something in Roger’s eyes that made his heart break. Pete thought for a moment. “Go sit down for a sec, yeah?”
Robert obeyed with a melancholic sigh. He sat on the edge of the bed.
“Now, close your eyes. I’m going to give you a goodbye kiss,” Pete told him.
“Why do I have to close my eyes?” Robert asked.
“Because, uh,” Pete bit his bottom lip. “I’m terribly bashful. Go on, close your eyes.”
Robert closed his eyes and puckered his lips. Pete gestured Roger to come over. Roger slowly stepped forward, his big puppy dog eyes looking so sad. He leaned forward and gave Robert a first and last kiss, tender and chaste. With a defeated head hung, Roger left the room quietly.
Robert’s cheeks reddened. “Oh my god, Pete. I felt fireworks! It’s meant to be!”
Pete looked at Jimmy, placing a finger over his lips and begging for his silence. Robert opened his eyes, gone all gooey and warm for the kiss he thought Pete had given him.
“Alright, um, that’s our goodbye for now, but you all have to visit again soon, promise?” Pete asked.
“Of course we will, darling,” Robert purred. “Leave me to dream about that tender kiss so now I have a reason to come back for more.”
“Uh, okay,” Pete forced a big smile. “Bye for now.” Robert jangled his bracelets, then grabbed a pair of scissors from the top of the dresser and left the room as well. The second the door shut again, Pete looked over at Jimmy.
“Well?” Pete smiled. Jimmy gave him a look that sent him stirring all over again. Locking eyes, they climbed back onto the bed. Pete stretched out on his back and Jimmy crawled over him. They shared a deep kiss, one they had been waiting forever to continue.
“Mm,” Jimmy kissed down Pete’s jaw. “I wouldn’t let you leave without a proper goodbye, now would I?”
Pete closed his eyes and sighed. He felt Jimmy’s delicate fingers work their way down to the button on his jeans and the zipper. Pete let his mind wander back to those delicate fingers working their way across the frets on that double-necked guitar. As Jimmy stroked him, he thought about owning one of those guitars himself, and how great it must feel to play something so powerful.
Pete covered his mouth to keep quiet as he felt Jimmy’s lips back on him, where they should be. Jimmy’s small tongue teasing his over-sensitive skin felt divine, and he found himself already winding up again towards his much anticipated finish.
Pete threaded his free hand through Jimmy’s long hair, gently coaxing him to swallow deeper. Pete thought about his guitar back home again, and he let a moan slip. At that moment, Keith flung open the bedroom door and shouted, “Oh, gross!”
“Keith!” Pete shouted back, ripped from his warm state of ecstasy. Once more, Pete was left on the edge with his boner just hanging out in the open for everyone in the world to see. “I am going to fucking kill you—“
“What’s all the shouting for? What happened?” John and John Paul Jones rushed to the doorway, then they both burst out laughing.
“Oh my god,” Pete scrambled to cover himself. But it was too late, because Robert and Roger showed up too, standing on their tiptoes to see what was going on over everyone’s heads.
“Oh, so that’s how big he is,” Robert remarked. “Sweet Jesus.”
“Can everyone please stop looking at my penis?” Pete cried as he tried to button his jeans back up with great difficulty.
Beside him, Jimmy was giggling, his face red from embarrassment. “Oh, boy. This’ll make for an interesting story to tell.”
Pete nearly strangled him. Did he think this was a joke? He stood up, and shamelessly stuffed his big ol’ wiener back into his jeans in front of all his friends. “You’ve all killed every chance of my happiness this weekend. Let’s just go home so I can end my suffering.”
John had tears in his eyes from laughing so hard. He swung an arm around Pete’s shoulders sympathetically. “Oh, come on, mate. How can you suffer knowing you’ve got that huge thing packed away in your trousers?”
Pete ignored him and handed his car keys to him instead. “Go unlock the van. Everyone get in.”
He separated the members of The Who from the members of Led Zeppelin, herding his boys out the front door.
The four Led Zeppelin boys waved at Pete.
“Thanks again for coming to see us the other night,” John Paul Jones said.
“We’re glad we got to meet you,” John Bonham added.
“We hoped you enjoyed the show,” Robert said sincerely.
“Yeah, well, I hope you all enjoyed mine,” Pete snorted. He was so sexually frustrated he couldn’t even think properly. Any shred of dignity he had left was now obliterated. He may as well laugh about it before he threw himself off a cliff.
“I’ll see you again very soon, I promise,” Jimmy smiled sympathetically. He took Pete’s hand and kissed it. “One day we’ll do things properly.”
Robert walked Pete to the door. Robert handed him a sealed, unmarked envelope discreetly and whispered, “I’ll be back for you.” Robert then licked the side of Pete’s face as some weird voodoo hippy sign of affection. Pete waved goodbye to his new friends one last time and left the flat.
He was pleased to find Roger waiting for him. “Christ almighty.”
“You can say that again,” Roger sighed. Pete wrapped an arm around the shorter man’s shoulders as they walked down the stairs.
“Are you going to be okay, mate?” Pete asked quietly.
Roger shrugged, playing it casual. “I dunno. Probably.”
Pete kissed the side of his head. He took the envelope Robert gave him, and slipped it in the back pocket of Roger’s jeans.
For the first time in his life, Pete was looking forward to a regular work week where things would be normal again. They made it out to the van just as the sun was setting, giving them a few hours to get home before proper tiredness would set in. Pete took the driver’s seat, and Roger was his loyal passenger seat companion. John sat in the middle bench, cradling his bass like a mother who had lost sight of her baby. Or a raccoon baby, if you will. Keith sat curled up in the back, wearing one of John Bonham’s hooded sweatshirts.
“Alright,” Pete chewed on his bottom lip, already planning how many hours of sleep he might be able to get before work tomorrow. “Fuck. We gotta get home.”
Roger tore open the envelope. “Oh my fucking god. Pete, he cut off a lock of his hair to give to us!”
“Shit,” Pete furrowed his eyebrows. “What are we supposed to do with it?”
Roger held the envelope to his chest, looking out the window dramatically. “I’m going to treasure it forever…”
There was a comfortable silence between the four of them as they drove through the city, reflecting on the events of the craziest weekend they’d had in years. Finally their intense, steamy, homoerotic weekend was over. But they were naïve to think that that would be their only homoerotic weekend with the members of Led Zeppelin…
It didn’t take long before Pete’s body betrayed him again, reminding him of the hot gay action he’d had that day and how it left him more unsatisfied than a horny teenager on a family vacation. As he navigated through the city streets, his body stiffened up again, and he started stewing in his grumpiness. In fact, now that he had time to properly think about it, Pete had never felt so tense and irritable in his life. Three times! Three times in one day, he was touched and brought right to the very edge, and then left to rot. All he needed was a simple orgasm, was that too much to ask?
Pete drove, hands tightly gripping the wheel, going just a bit too fast, and his other leg bouncing like mad. His anxious energy was almost palpable. They hadn’t even reached the highway when the gas light came on, and for the first time they all noticed that there was only a sliver left on the meter.
Pete spoke very quietly and very slow, holding back every ounce of white hot anger inside of him. “Keith, why didn’t you bother to tell me we were low on gas?”
Keith swallowed quickly, not entirely sure that he was safe from Pete’s wrath all the way in the back seat. “It totally slipped my mind. I’m really, really sorry, mate…”
The meter drained quickly because the dumb fucking shit van guzzled so much gas that he couldn’t afford to keep filled because his band wasn’t making any fucking money.
“Pete, you’ll be fine,” Roger said gently. “Look, we can see the gas station from here.”
John leaned forward, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Deep breaths, mate…”
Pete didn’t know much about cars, but he was so goddamn angry at the world that he thought it would make sense that if he drove faster, they would make it farther. He narrowed his eyes, and gripped the wheel tighter.
“Pete, don’t—“
Pete slammed his foot on the gas, lurching the stupid piece of shit van forward as they hurtled down the remaining stretch of empty road. Everyone was flung back in their seats and decided they were probably going to die in the next few moments. The goddamn fucking van gunned down its last few yards before the engine groaned, clanked, and started slowing down.
Pete went dangerously quiet. “No.”
“Lord have mercy on us all,” John whispered quickly.
“FUCK,” Pete shouted at the shitty fucking van. “YOU PIECE OF SHIT.”
“Pete, c’mon love,” Roger pleaded.
“DON’T YOU DARE SLOW DOWN.” The shitty fucking van disobeyed and rolled to a dead stop, literally one metre away from the entrance to the gas station.
“WHY IS THIS THE PERFECT METAPHOR FOR MY LIFE,” Pete screeched. He punched the steering wheel, the honk startling everybody. The rest of them stayed frozen, scared that any sudden movement would frighten their now rabid bandmate.
Roger cleared his throat gently. If anything happened, Pete would murder him first because he was closest, so he decided to sacrifice himself. “Pete, why don’t you step out and get some fresh air, yeah? We’ll push the van from here.” The devastating thing was that they were literally feet away from the gas pumps. The road was relatively clear, but Pete probably would have stepped out into traffic anyways. He walked around to the other side of the fucking dumbass van.
“GOD IS DEAD,” he kicked the back tire. “GOD IS-“ kick “DEAD-” kick “GOD-“ kick “IS-“ kick “DEAD-“ kick.
“Fucking hell, I have never seen a man that frustrated before,” Keith said quietly.
“Alright, everyone hand over some gas money,” John told them. They all kept a careful eye on Pete outside and took out their wallets, handing cash over to John.
Roger stepped out, and the others watched the brave soul approach Pete. He got Pete to sit down on the dusty ground beside him. Roger let Pete put his head in his lap so Roger could stroke his hair while the poor guy nearly had a nervous breakdown. Roger made eye contact with the other two and nodded, giving them the signal that it was safe to get out.
Between John and Keith, the two of them managed to push the back of the stupid dumb fucking van the few measly feet to the gas pumps. Roger helped Pete back up and wrapped an arm around his waist, helping him walk back over to the others. Pete looked dead inside.
Pete cleared his throat and spoke very quietly. “You’re all my best friends, and I love you, but you’re all fucking terrible.”
The other three nodded.
“You cockblock me, you eat my food, you clog my sink, you use my gas, and you drain every last pound from my wallet.”
The other three nodded again.
“I am considering homicide simply because you guys don’t know how to knock on a goddamn bedroom door before walking in. I will spare your lives only because you can actually play your instruments damn better than any hippy band ever could.”
The other three nodded in agreement. “Yeah, fair enough.”
Keith tried to go in for a group hug, but Pete stopped him immediately. “No. Fuck that. This time, you’re all waiting for me. And I swear to god, I deserve this.” He broke away from Roger to open the trunk of the van. Pete opened the suitcase and pulled out the porn magazine they had jokingly packed, and stomped angrily into the gas station to get to the washrooms.
There was a small stretch of silence before John said, “I bet five quid he’ll finish and be back out in five minutes.”
Keith shook his head. “From personal experience, I’d say seven and a half minutes.”
“The poor guy’s been on edge for a day and a half now,” Roger shook his head solemnly. “I bet two minutes, tops.”
They all frowned out of pity, and then took out their wallets.
-THE WHO AND LED ZEPPELIN WILL RETURN…-