Every time the door opened, Dave looked up.
Guitar techs, drum techs, venue staff, some drunk girl in an Iron Maiden shirt... and then finally Rami and Josie stumbled in, drunker than he'd ever seen them and headed straight for the tiny bathroom just off the green room.
"Well... fuck," he muttered, tossing his pack of cigarettes to the table. That was the only room he knew of that had a study enough lock.
The door flew open again and she strode in arm and arm with Brody, that fucking bottle of whiskey still clutched in her hand.
"And that's my cue," Josh said excitedly, shoving himself out of the chair and bulldozing into a giggling Brody while tossing her over his shoulder and stomping out of the room.
Liz seemed disoriented now that she was alone, looking everywhere but at him before deciding to move to the bar. So Dave waited. He'd done some shots with Josh after ripping up the drums and was feeling more than a little buzzy, blatantly checking out the girl with the red hair and leather jacket that was popping open a beer.
He didn't notice the drum tech that was inching his way closer, shoving sticks into his pocket in an attempt to impress her and when Dave finally did notice, it was too late to interrupt so he settled back into the wooden chair to watch them.
He couldn't hear what they were saying, but the guy seemed harmless and she was smiling so he let it ride, watching out of the corner of his eye.
*
"Need a drink?"
Liz looked up from her fresh beer at the unfamiliar man beside her with the endearingly nervous smile and held up the bottle. "Just grabbed one, thanks though."
"That was a pretty great show, right? Did you watch?"
"Yeah, I managed a rail spot for the first half," her smile faltered when he crowded into her side, but she stood firm on the stained carpet.
"Did you see Dave Grohl is here? Dave fucking Grohl! I got to be his drum tech!"
Liz bit her lip hard to keep from laughing and dutifully tried to appear as impressed as possible, "Oh my god, I love him! I'm such a big fan!" She set her beer on the table and angled her hip toward him, pulling her shirt and jeans aside to show off her tattoo. "Do you think he's back here? I wonder if he's as nice as they say he is."
"Shhhh!" his eyes went wide as he shushed her, anxiously glancing over her shoulder, "He's right behind you! Oh shit, here he comes."
"'Scuse me," that voice and his large hand on the dip of her back made her melt just a little as she shuffled aside so he could reach the bottle of Wild Turkey she'd left there.
"Hey, man," the tech chirped eagerly, "I'm such a huge fan. Ever since I was a kid, you've been..."
Liz stepped back a bit, removing herself from the conversation as inconspicuously as possible, but Dave's palm fell on her back again, his fingers digging in just enough to hold her in place while maintaining full attention on the gushing drum tech.
"Well, it's great to see you, man," Dave told him with an outstretched hand. "The kit felt great and I'll look you up if my guy ever finally decides he's sick of me."
Liz watched in amazement as the tech practically inflated with pride, vigorously shaking Dave's hand with an almost tearful thank you.
"That was very nice of you," she whispered as Dave led her away.
"The snares were loose, but that's no reason to call him out in front of the girl he's trying to fuck, Nikki."
"He wasn't-" Liz glanced back just in time to see the tech's face go from elated to confused when he realized Dave had walked off with the girl he'd just been talking to. "... oh."
*
He'd never been to The Roundhouse before, but that wasn't really a problem. All venues had, at the very least, three designated rooms. A backstage common area for friends, family and assorted backstage pass holders, a dressing room for the band or talent, and rehearsal space. Sometimes they were nothing more than a series of tents haphazardly pitched on a grassy slope or they could be palatial professional locker rooms decked out with ten different catering tables and brand new leather furniture. This place was mid-range, comfortable but by no means grand, offering just the bare minimum of rooms and making up for it with an excellent selection of booze.
With his hand still on her back, he led her into the hallway Josh and Brody had disappeared to and started checking doors. Most rooms were locked, some were occupied, others were not conducive to his end goal.
Until the second to last door on the left revealed some poor guy's office consisting of a simple, horribly uncomfortable looking couch, a desk with an outdated computer, and walls lined with large dry-erase calendars marked with gig dates.
The overhead light was garish and he glanced over to wait for her inevitable remark, Are we performing surgery? That light is awful, but instead, her lips pulled into a smirk.
"I didn't realize I'd be auditioning," she said quietly as she crossed the room and lit at the edge of the desk.
He looked at her in confusion until she gestured at the couch with that tell-tale blush creeping up her neck.
Oh.
There had been a long drive between gigs somewhere in the South on the last tour where Rami had gathered him and Taylor around his laptop to show him a video of a girl on a leather couch slowly stripping off her clothes for a guy that didn't deserve her in the least."Doesn't she look like Allison?" Rami had laughed, a harmless insinuation which had put Taylor in a foul mood for the rest of the night.
He wanted to ask Liz how she even knew about that particular genre - was she watching it without him knowing? - but now wasn't the time or the place.
Instead, he sank into the well-loved couch and spread himself out, one arm draped across the back and the other angled on the armrest. She only stared at him, waiting for instructions or guidance or something until he raised an eyebrow at her.
"You gonna?"
"... gonna what?"
Scooting himself further down in the seat, he moved one hand to his belt buckle, watching her face closely. He would back off at the first sign of her discomfort, but at that moment he was having way too much fun.
"Oh... right," she whispered and ambled over, stopping directly between his knees.
He could see the inner turmoil she was experiencing, the part of her that wanted to give him hell for being so demanding and the part of her that had committed to this little scene were vastly different versions and he still wasn't sure which one would win in the end. But he was gonna push her until one of them did.
Pulling at his belt again, she swatted his hand away and loosened the leather straps herself while leaning over him, putting her lips achingly close to his.
"Do you kiss, Eric?"
She was asking if he had rules or boundaries, if he had standards and limitations to what he'd do with a groupie, but the question had surprised him. The entire time he'd been thinking he was leading her through unknown territory, when in reality she was right up in the same league with him, just playing a different part.
But he'd taken too long to get to that epiphany and she'd interpreted his hesitation as something entirely different with just a little whisper, "... okay then."
Her hand snaked into his jeans and closed around him, making his hips buck up into her fist just as he clamped his hand around the back of her head and yanked her mouth to his.
Wild Turkey.
He'd never again be able to think of anything but her at the taste of that stuff, he might not even be able to drive through the whole of Kentucky. The husband side of him was busy trying to figure out how to get enough food in her to soak up all that bourbon while the rest of him was indulging in her touch.
"Oh... god," he groaned as if he were in pain when her mouth closed around him and sunk down far enough that her air was cut off. It'd only take a few more of those and he'd be just a puddle of bones on that shitty Ikea couch.
But she was getting smug. Her smile when he whimpered gave him a long enough break to catch his bearings and he reached forward to shove her jacket off her shoulders.
"Stand up," he growled, biting back a groan when her mouth left him with a loud pop. "Take off your jeans, leave the shoes."
He could just see the words falling out of her mouth, "They're skinny jeans, dumbass," but instead was met with silence as she quickly stepped out of her heels to shimmy her jeans off and then slipping the black stilettos back on.
"Cute tattoo," he muttered, dragging his eyes up her body while lazily flexing his hand around himself.
"Thanks. It's a band I like," it was clear by the steady eye contact that she was struggling not to watch what his hand was up to, "They're pretty underground, you might not have heard of them."
He huffed a laugh and shook his head a bit at her jab, then forcefully shoved off the couch to hook his hand under her arm to crowd her against the wall.
"Did you like the show?"
Her jaw fell open, trying to appear unaffected by his hand working her panties aside, "Not my favorite band, but you managed to get my pants off so..."
"Who's your favorite, Nikki?" he breathed, dragging his free hand across her skin where his life's work was inked into her hip.
*
She had a couple of options here.
She could be bratty and tell him it was Coldplay or Guns n' Roses, or she could play the part of the groupie and stroke his ego... among other things. Choose your own adventure type sex. She could also play it right down the middle.
"Nirvana."
The breath shot out from her lungs when he spun her around to face the wall then gently trailed his fingertips up her spine while purring in her ear, "You were dancing the entire time."
"You were watching me?"
"You were watching me."
She sighed when his chest pressed against her back, forcing her further into the wall, "I have a thing for drummers."
A shiver ran up her spine when his laugh blew over her shoulder and his worn Vans kicked her designer heels further apart. "Yeah?
"Mmhmm," she squeaked as his rough fingers sunk into her and he made no effort to hide his approval.
"Have you been like this all night for me, baby?"
A simple nod was all she could provide, too busy with anticipation as he lined himself up with her and pressed in with agonizing slowness. Her head fell between her shoulders and her nails dug into the skin on the back of his hand he had wrapped around her hipbone. She had been like that all night for him, watching him in his element was an incredible turn on and she was the one he'd chosen above all others.
"Harder."
She sounded desperate and greedy and she didn't care. She especially didn't care now that Dave was growling exceedingly suggestive remarks into her hair and let herself wonder if this would be their thing. Maybe they would ramble around backstage spaces pretending like they didn't know each other and then...
He almost had her there, she was trembling and arching like a live wire and it happened before she could catch herself, "Dave..."
She didn't have time to process that he was gone until he'd spun her around and pressed her back against the wall, pushing into her as he sighed, "Elizabeth."
From there, the energy changed. Where he'd been distantly determined, he was now almost oppressively affectionate; keeping one hand locked under her jaw so he could watch every expression he was responsible for. Until the moment she broke and went boneless in his arms, barely keeping herself upright long enough for him to finish just moments after her.
"Those lucky fucking bitches," she gasped against his chest.
There was a rumbling laugh in his chest as he lifted her a bit higher on the wall to look at her, "No, baby."
Everything in his stare told her that those girls didn't get half of what he gave to her. He held her in much higher regard and that he was a little embarrassed at how he'd treated all those nameless, faceless girls in his past. It was all very sweet, so sweet that Liz felt a little embarrassed herself.
"Damnit, Dave!" she cried with faux irritation, "I told you I wanted the rock star experience, not the boyfriend experience!"
"You got both," he chuckled, gently setting her feet back on the floor and stepping back to put himself back together.
"You seriously just... bring them into some random backroom without so much as a conversation?"
"We had a conversation!" he protested, "At the bar!"
She gave him a doubtful stare and reached for her jeans that had been tossed on the desk as he went on, "They know what the band wants and the band knows what the girls want and... ya know..."
"Sounds very... efficient. And it's mutual, right?"
He held up a finger and gave her a pointed look, "It was mutual. I don't do that shit anymore, remember? But back then, not many girls wanted to stay on the bus long enough to reach the next city, if that tells you anything."
"Yikes," she paused to let his words sink in as she pulled her jeans back on. "But you were...-"
"It was the 90's, baby," he said matter-of-factly, holding her steady to help her with her shoes, "There was always a bowl of condoms right next to the booze. Always."
Looking down at him crouched on the floor in front of her, she played a little with the bill of his hat as he looked up at her anxiously.
*
Oh shit. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. She's in her head, she's gone rogue.
"You okay?" he asked, staying on the floor where he could see her face.
"Yeah, I'm just..."
"You're overthinking it."
"Goddamn right I am," she muttered.
He had to move fast. Tugging her back to the couch, he dropped into it with a deep sigh and pulled her into his lap. "Liz... I did it because I felt like it was expected of me, and yeah, it was fun up to a point. But after a while, it got so... tedious. Pick a girl out of the crowd, chat her up, get off in some dirty back room and move on to the next town. I didn't care if she had a boyfriend or a husband waiting for her, I didn't give a fuck if I was destroying the exact same thing I was looking for. I just didn't care."
"That's a hell of a way to audition girlfriends, David," she said softly.
"I didn't realize that's what I was doing until Nate called me out," he let his eyes unfocus at the memory of Nate yelling a blue streak when he'd finally walked in on one too many of his liaisons, "And then I got to really thinking about it and started this weird introspective process where I wrote down everything I was looking for in a girl. Little did I know, Nate - that fucker - had a distant cousin and-"
"Dave," she sighed dramatically and he got the impression she desperately wanted to roll her eyes, "You can't tell me you spent your entire adult life looking for me while in the same breath explaining that you used your dick as a divining rod for over a decade."
"I'm just saying that I was looking for something and I found it in you," he said through a smile.
Her eyes finally rolled with, "That was deep, Grohl."
He huffed and tossed her onto her back on the couch beside him, "You are a fucking terrible therapist, Colbert!"
A fingernail pointed in his face, backed by a wide smile, "That's not my fucking name."
"Neither is Nikki, but here we are."
She stared at him, her jaw slack for a moment and then burst into giggles as he leaned over to kiss her and a sharp knock landed on the door.
"You two done yet?" Taylor's voice called through the door.
"Hold on, T!" he yelled, then dipped his head back into the crook of her neck with a much quieter, "My divining rod just found something."