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The Woe of Aftermath	By : Nexus Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Led Zeppelin Views: 4380 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Led Zeppelin. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Chapter II
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Robert sorted through a pile of jumbled clothes on the settee while Jimmy, delighted with the newfound treasure in Robert's drawer, rolled a particularly long spiff.

"Cool paper, Plant, where'd you find it?"

Robert pulled on a plain black shirt and green corduroys. His head hummed with an endless set of platitudes, desperately trying to conjure up something benign, something non-committal and mundane to say. He could do a fairly good job at playing the confident, imperturbable iceman when the other lads were around, but this was a horse of a different colour. Jimmy was strumming to a different tune today, and for the first time in a long while, Robert did not know whether he could sing along.

Jimmy lit the joint and lay back on the bed, his eyes closed, a diminutive smile gracing his pout.

"In a little bazaar in Amsterdam," Robert finally said and walked over to the bed, carefully sitting at the very edge like a boy nearing a callous threshold. "It reminded me of that joint Sandy was smoking, you know the one I mean."

Jimmy passed the spiff to Robert and sat up, reclining on his elbows, his eyes poring into Roberts'. "Yes, I remember."

Robert took a long drag and closed his eyes, willing himself to calm down. "She's a cool chick, Sandy," he smiled. "I wouldn't mind giving her one."

Jimmy laughed. "She reminds me of you, you know?"

The pot was clearly working its charm on Robert, and he smiled.

"Yeah, man, I dig it. We're both lead vox. We're both graced with dazzling golden manes," he laughed and lay back on an embroidered cushion, taking in another drag before returning it to Jimmy.

“Cheers. You both have that certain je ne sais quoi,” Jimmy smiled. “Shame she's leaving the Fairport Convention. I hear she's been having some personal differences with Ashley, bless her."

Jimmy thought Robert looked much calmer and hoped he would not chew his head off when prompted about the real issue at hand. He was going to have to find a creative way to approach this. Thankfully, now that Robert was blissfully stoned, the odds were in his favour.

"It really sucks, doesn't it Robert, when years of hard work are brought to a tragic conclusion following silly interlude."

Robert started combing his wet hair and smiled at Jimmy. "Sure is, look at the Beatles. I still can't believe that rotter McCartney sued the others!"

Jimmy nodded. "Tragic. We won't let that shit happen to us," he said and passed the joint back to Robert. "Here, let me comb your hair."

Robert thought nothing of it and handed the comb to Jimmy. The pair were often grooming each other's hair due to the sheer length of it. Robert sat on the edge of the bed, his back to Jimmy, and took in a steady drag. He felt so peaceful and content for a change; disturbing thoughts now miles away.

Jimmy proceeded to comb Robert's golden locks, and taking in the familiar scent of his herbal shampoo, he sighed. Robert leaned back into Jimmy, and the pair savoured the moment for the precious, fleeting lapse of reason that it was. Jimmy worked on the soft curls cascading magnificently down Robert's wet shirt, his heart quickening with every passing moment. Robert stubbed out the joint in a nearby ashtray and reclined closer against Jimmy.

Jimmy swallowed, his mouth now uncomfortably dry. "Ehm," he paused. "Robert, I——tell me you're not leaving the band."

Robert's eyes opened at that. "The fuck I am. Whatever gave you that idea?"

"You know what I'm talking about," Jimmy sighed and tugged at a stubborn knot in Robert's hair. "We haven't been getting along lately and..." he put the comb down, unable to continue the job properly with Robert practically leaning on his chest. "I don't know. I realise that I've been antagonistic ever since we came back——"

"Ever since that night in Sydney, you mean," Robert interjected, looking morosely at the floor.

"Yes, ever since that night in Sydney," Jimmy whispered and pulled his arms over Robert, embracing him gently from behind.

Robert closed his eyes and a single tear escaped the facade, slowly gushing down his porcelain face. Jimmy brushed a tentative finger over Robert's cheek and wiped the tear away.

"I am genuinely sorry for being such a prat, Robert," Jimmy sighed. "But I'm not as strong as you are. When we...when what happened happened...”

"You can't even say it!" Robert spat and tore himself away, regretting it instantly.

Jimmy forcefully turned Robert to him, so they were both facing each other.

"Fine then! When we FUCKED, does that make you feel any better? When we SHAGGED, I woke up the next day with a headache the size of Queensland. I couldn't bear to look you in the eye, so I coped the best way I knew how, I forgot it ever happened. I blanked it out, like a wretched adolescent memory you spend years trying to repress. I'm sorry Robert, but I'm not used to this kind of shit. I'm not queer."

"Heaven forbid,” Robert spat acerbically. “And I, with my years of experience, have to cater to the snakes in your head because you're too much of a coward to face up to it!"

"Well you're obviously coping a lot better than I am," Jimmy said, almost to himself.

He sighed and looked up at Robert, who was standing by the bed with a look that spoke of so much pain that an ache formed in his chest.

"Robert, you're right, I am a coward," he wiped a rogue tear from his face and stood up, now parallel to Robert. "I'd better leave, eh. It's getting late."

"No. I'm not letting you off the hook that easy. We must sort this out now, or Ian may as well replace me," Robert muttered and stalked away heavily to the kitchen.

Thank goodness, Jimmy thought, and fell back onto the bed. He lay on his back, tapping fingers against one of the bed posts, cursing himself silently for being such a spineless coward. He loved Robert, truly and wholeheartedly loved him. Ever since the first moment he laid eyes on the smiley, gangly teenager on that desolate platform back in 1968 he felt an unsurpassable attachment to him. This was more than mere comradeship, or even brotherly love of sorts. He loved Bonzo and Jonesy too, yet he did not experience that familiar twinge in his stomach every time they walked into a room.

Oh, man, what the fuck is happening to me, he pondered. Why does the sight of Robert in that wet shirt stir things deep below and make me tighten with lewd, shameless anticipation?

A few minutes later Robert returned to the bedroom with two mugs of coffee and handed Jimmy one.

"Ta," Jimmy smiled up at Robert and felt that familiar pang in his loins when Robert smiled back.

"Listen," Robert began, resuming his earlier position on the bed beside Jimmy. "I don't want to fight about it, but if we are to put this business behind us I need to understand why it happened. If you don't want a repeat performance and to tuck it away, never to resurface again, that's cool with me. But I need to understand what was going on in your head, because after all Jimmy, it was YOU who seduced ME."

Jimmy couldn't argue with that. He stuck his crotch out and pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket.

"You will die of lung cancer, you know."

Jimmy grinned. "That's rather precious coming from you mate."

"I don't smoke as much as you; I have my voice to consider."

"Yeah, well, I'm the guitarist. I'll expire soon anyway."

"Live fast, die young, and leave a good looking corpse," Robert sighed and passed Jimmy the lighter. Jimmy lit a cigarette and considered his next words carefully, unsure of how to explain the chaotic bedlam in his head to Robert.

"Gods, I've been such a bastard, haven't I," Jimmy whispered.

"We have already established that."

Jimmy chuckled and shook his head. Robert's hair was almost dry now, his majestic locks curling into gold-spun tresses.

"Robert, I'm not trying to avoid the issue, okay, but there is something that I'd like to know."

"And what's that?"

"What turns you on?"

Robert narrowed his eyes and looked at Jimmy for a moment. "I tend to vary depending on situations and personal blackness levels," he said and reached for his cup of coffee.

Jimmy nodded. "Anything else?" he inquired.

"Sometimes I am happy to follow the competent. Other times I yearn to push the useless out of the way and take charge. As in life, so in sex," said Robert thoughtfully.

"Uh huh."

"Why?"

"Meeting people with whom I share a true mix of intellectual and physical chemistry, is rare," he shot Robert a meaningful gaze and let the subsequent silence speak for itself.

Robert's heart quickened and he knew it had absolutely nothing to do with caffeine rush. "What are you saying?"

Jimmy moved in closer to Robert and took the steaming mug from his hand, placing it on the floor. He stubbed out his cigarette and slowly ran a finger through a lock of Robert's hair, pausing to take in its marvellous scent. Robert shut his eyes and savoured Jimmy's exquisite touch. His miraculous fingers touched him now; leisurely, eagerly provoking a line of aroused flesh down Robert's neck...

Continued in chapter three....
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The Woe of Aftermath