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Obscure Alternatives	By : signorinaravelli Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Pink Floyd Views: 936 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Pink Floyd. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Roger could feel his face flush with embarrassment over his mistake, especially as David held two beers in his hand and was clearly here with good intentions. But the guitarist took it in his usual stride and seemed less concerned with his welcome and more with trying to peer into the room.

“I’m sorry about that, Dave. I didn’t know it was you.” He stepped aside to allow him to enter and David’s expression turned to one of absolute delight.

“Oh my God, Rog!” He wandered inside with the composure of a child in awe, setting the beers down on the coffee table absently. “This room is perfect for you!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Roger asked flatly, shutting the door behind him.

“It’s completely sterile.” He ran his fingers over the still-warm leather of the sofa. “And cold.”

“I’m not sterile and cold.”

“Right. Because that’s definitely the impression I get whenever I so much as hum a tune around you.”

“There’s a difference between perfectionism and coldness, you know, and if you can’t see it then you’re the one with the problem, mate, not me.” David just looked back at him and laughed, then continued to pursue the contents of the room. Roger would have liked to believe that laugh was employed because David couldn’t think of anything else clever to say. It was unlikely though. There was always something slightly condescending behind that smile, something that told Roger about the existence of some private joke that he wasn’t in on. It was unbelievably infuriating. If there was one thing he prided himself in, it was his ability to one-up people, yet this was practically impossible to do with David.
Infuriating and fascinating. A constant challenge and perhaps part of his charm. Though Roger sometimes hated David, he always respected him, which was a world more than he could say for almost anyone else he knew.

“What the fuck? Did you come here just to insult me?” Perhaps that came out a bit too defensive. Never good to express vulnerability in front of David, though he seemed to be in a pleasant spirits and would probably ignore it for now.

“No, Rog. I’m sorry. It’s just too easy-” David noticed that Roger’s eyes flashed angrily and realized that the comment might start a entirely new argument. “Anyway, I came here to ask how you liked the room. But it’s completely different from mine. They must have themes throughout the hotel or something.”

“Oh? What’s yours like then?”

“I’ll show you.” He eyed the table and smiled to himself. “Even your magazines are different.” He picked one up and leafed through it. “Very, very modern, I think.”

“Huh?”

David held the magazine up to display what appeared to be a centerfold. Upon closer examination, Roger found that it was indeed a centerfold. A pouting blonde clad in silver boots, hair done up in some sort of pseudo-spacey fashion. And perhaps most interestingly, futuristic apparatuses were plugged into her nether regions. At first all Roger could do was comment on how bizarre the photograph was before his surprised amusement over it transferred to the magazine in general.

“Dave, it’s smut!”

“Well it’s not gardening, is it?”

“You don’t look surprised at all…”

“There’s some in my room too, you know.”

Roger laughed bemusedly and held the object in question up.

“Don’t you find it a bit weird that they just have smut lying about in the rooms?”

“Well, I mean, at first I did but…” A look of awareness suddenly crossed his face. “Rog, don’t tell me you’re really that naïve, please don’t…”

“About what?”

“About the mirrors and the magazines and the condoms-”

“I didn’t see any condoms.”

“Did you check your bed? There was one lying on top of one of the pillows and a whole drawer full of them.”

“But…” It quickly dawned on him, though still seemed rather unlikely. “Oh, come on, Dave! It couldn’t be anything like that, the Japanese are so fucking uptight th-”

“Just look at all the fucking mirrors! Could it get anymore obvious?” Perhaps the mirrors had been so blatant that Roger hadn’t even considered what actual purpose they served…“I think this is some kind of sex hotel.”

“No, it isn’t…” Roger muttered, feigning skepticism despite the enlightened smile creeping over his face.

“It is! I swear it is! There’s a catalogue in my room that’s got a menu or something of costumes and toys.” Roger made noise of delight. “And I’m serious; I think you can get them delivered like room service.”

They had a good laugh over the situation, over whether Steve realized exactly what sort of place this was, and whether they should try and use the “menu” or not. In the end, Roger was quite keen on seeing David’s room, so they took their beers and left. In the hallway a teenage couple was unlocking a door down the hall. The girl spotted the two men together and was clearly trying to stifle a delighted giggle at the perceived situation. Roger, naturally, was quite embarrassed but David remained playful as usual. He gave her a secretive wink and wrapped an arm teasingly around Roger’s waist, much to the latter’s surprise and excitement. The girl clapped a hand over her mouth, clearly enjoying this almost as much as Roger was. The boy had to practically drag her out of the hallway to keep her from gawking more - not before she gave them an approving nod and smile.

David’s room, by contrast, looked much more welcoming than did Roger’s. It had the rustic look of a cabin complete an artificial fireplace, a large fiberglass stump serving as a table (Roger reckoned he’d never seen that before), and “windows” looking out onto a peaceful forest scene. The walls were done up with “authentic” wood paneling and lined with trophy heads of an odd assortment. Rhinoceroses, bears, a lynx, and a hippopotamus. Though as fake as anything else in the room, Roger still didn’t like their beady plastic eyes staring at him and so he turned his attentions to the bed. Flannel sheets, soft white pillows, and a big red comforter; lucky bastard Dave.

“Funny…” he murmured.

“Hm?” The beers were put aside in favor of rum and cokes from the mini-bar and David had busied himself preparing these. Roger settled into the couch and propped one leg over the other.

“I said ‘funny’. The irony of being in a sex hotel and having no one to actually have sex with.” He took the glass handed to him, expecting David to take a seat beside him. He didn’t though, and instead leaned against the wall and appeared to be musing to himself. This made Roger a bit nervous. Another of those “private joke” sort of things, only this seemed a bit more serious. The fact that David towered over him while he sat wasn’t very helpful either; he was supposed to be the one who towered over people, not the other way around. And fuck, why did things like these have to make him so anxious? He spoke more to break the silence than anything else. “What do you think Nick and Rick are doing then?” he asked quietly.

“Probably out looking for someone to join them.”

“Ah.” He nodded in agreement then paused for a few seconds. “And why aren’t you doing that?”

“I guess I’m just waiting for the right person.”

“Right, because you’ve never been one for an indiscriminate fuck.” David chuckled lightly at this and absently sipped his drink. “And anyway, I don’t think you’re going to find what you’re looking for sitting around by yourself.”

“I’m not alone.”

“Oh, not counting me, I mean.”

“What makes you think you don’t count?” David turned his eyes on him and appeared to be waiting for an actual answer. Roger couldn’t believe what he was hearing…surely it was all in his mind. Surely he was creating innuendoes where there were none, as he usually did. But the way David stared at him definitely seemed to be more than an imagined innuendo. So this must have been a joke then. Any moment now David would break out laughing at Roger’s obvious unease and they’d return to casual conversation. So to that end, Roger could only smile.

“Could I have another drink?”

“You haven’t even touched the one I gave you.” David observed. Roger realized this was true and reddened for the second time today.

“Oh yeah.” He laughed humorlessly and averted his eyes, grasping mentally for some topic that he could slip seamlessly into the ‘conversation’. “What time’s rehearsal tomorrow?”

“You’re nervous.”

“I’m not!” Roger snapped.

“Well, you’re getting awfully defensive about it, aren’t you?”

“Why should I be nervous?”

“I have no idea. You tell me.”

Oh God, I am creating innuendoes!

“I…I have no fucking idea…” He looked at the drink in his hand before swallowing half of it down and slumping into the cushions. “I think I’m just tired. A little stressed about that festival tomorrow.” Not to mention randy as anything.

“Mm,” David agreed and finally sat beside him. “I’m a bit tired of being carted around. It’s been tour after tour after tour…”

“The sake’s quite good though.”

“Oh yeah, very good.”

They were interrupted but a loud bang in the next room, clearly that of a headboard against a wall. Someone was adamant about whatever they were doing. Roger and David looked at one another blankly for a moment before breaking out into laughter over their none-too-subtle neighbors. It was certainly helpful to Roger’s nerves and the conversation began to pick up steam again, especially after they’d shared a partially-smoked joint from David’s pocket. Though not quite as stoned as they’d have liked to be, were nicely buzzed from the combination of the pot and the rum. Sometime after one AM, Roger decided that he’d like to retire early tonight, to be well rested for the day ahead of them. But the thought of going back to his room, while it was so warm and cozy in David’s little cabin…

“Dave?”

“Hm?”

“Could I stay in here tonight?”

David raised a fine eyebrow.

“Why?”

“I don’t feel like going back to my room. It’s more comfortable in here.”

“Yeah, alright.”

“I’ll take the sofa.”

“Who said you had to take the sofa?”

“You know I wouldn’t take your bed away.” David said nothing but fixed Roger with that odd look from earlier. “I’ll uh…I’ll go get the sheets from the other room.”

“No, you won’t.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re sleeping in my bed.”

“I told you I wouldn’t take your bed-”

“I never said you’d be taking it away from me.”

That was a bit too cryptic for Roger’s vivid imagination.

“Em…” He could feel the anxiety creeping back in. “Okay…I think I’m gonna go outside for a fag.” David buried his face in his hands and shook his head in exasperation. “What is it?” Muffled laughter. “What’s wrong?”

“CHRIST, Roger, Jesus-fucking-Christ.” The suddenness of it made Roger jump a bit. “Do I have to spell it out for you? Do you want it in big fucking neon lights?” He gestured with his hands to imitate the expanse of a marquis. “I WANT TO FUCK YOU. Apparently subtlety doesn’t work with you. Neither does physically rubbing myself against you.”

“The subway?” He hadn’t really intended to say it out loud. His mind itself was completely blank, dazed from the explicitness of what David was saying. It was simply too much too soon for him to respond properly.

“Yes!”

“You’re joking.”

“Oh, you stupid, stupid cunt…” David sucked in a deep breath and began to rise, frustrated enough that he seemed about to give up. Awareness was just flooding into Roger, the possibility of a hundred fantasies finally experienced, when David stopped and looked back at him. There was a momentary meeting of eyes, during which it looked as though Roger might have tried to get up. David foresaw this, however. To remedy the situation, he practically threw himself on his band mate, took hold of his hair roughly in one hand, and forced their lips together.

It made Roger smile internally.

Notes: Though the boys refer to it as a “sex hotel”, they’re actually called “love hotels” and are very common in Japan. Oh, and I’m disregarding the fact that the guys’ respective wives were with them at the time of this tour. But oh dear, it would be much too difficult to think of an actual explanation for their absence, wouldn’t it?
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Obscure Alternatives