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The Small Hours	By : lunavin Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Metallica Views: 2952 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Metallica. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 5
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Chapter Five: Jason isn't, and never will be, Cliff Burton

James was sitting on the sofa behind the controls in the studio. Inside the recording booth Kirk was trying out a few different riffs for a guitar solo. Lars and Bob were fiddling with the knobs. Jason was on the sofa next to James playing bass along with Kirk though his bass was unplugged.

James had a notebook perched on his crossed leg with the lyrics to "Bleeding Me" on them. He kept scratching things out and adding other words, and he was just a bit unsure as to where he was going with the song. I'm diggin my way to something better...

He'd written most of these lyrics ages ago, but slowly they were coming to mean something wholly different to him. Though for the life of him he couldn't figure out what that something actually was.

Jason's bass playing hummed through his head. I'm sowin' the seeds I take for granted...

For the last month Jason and James had been driving to the studio together. James’ truck had been fixed right away, but while it was in the shop anyway, he’d had them add a slew of new features and a new paint job on top of it all. He got it back a week ago, and offered to give Jason rides to the studio in repayment .

"What'ya think?" Bob's voice roused James from his introspection.

"About what?"

"The solo. Do you think it sounded better in the D tuning?"

"Fuck man, I spaced. Can you play it back?"

Bob rolled his eyes and rewound the recording. Kirk raised his arms in a "what the hell" motion at James.

------
After they had called it quits for the day, the band decided to head out to a bar for some relaxation time. It was only a Tuesday, which meant there would be less people out tonight and less likely their presence would cause problems with enthusiastic crowds. They found an empty table near the back of their preferred bar and ordered a few rounds. There was a live band playing that didn't sound too bad.

Things in the band were better now. No one had really said anything out loud before, but the tension had been there, and James hadn't been sure what was wrong and couldn't begin to understand how to fix it.

He was ashamed to think that it was all as simple as treating Jason better, because things had gotten better as soon as he had stopped yelling at Jason about his side projects. He realized his new understanding had coincided with spending the night in Jason's bed. That night had been positively wonderful, and sometimes James would stare at Jason before he could catch himself.

After that night, when Jason voiced opinions on the tracks they were laying out, James was listening. Now Jason was letting out his creative urges with them instead of sneaking off with other musicians. The death of the animosity between the singer and bassist seemed to relax the atmosphere enough that the rest of the group started talking instead of snapping at each other. James had begun to think they all needed group therapy, but was glad to see things start working themselves out.

Their waitress came over and set down four shots of JD in front of them. "Compliments of the band," she said.

This happened often, fans wanting to treat them. James picked up his shot and raised it to the band onstage before downing it. His glass reached the table first as the rest of Metallica all slammed theirs down as well.

"They're not so bad," Lars mused, "There's something wrong with that snare drum, though."

"Well maybe if they weren't buying rich rock stars drinks they could afford a new one," Kirk laughed.

"Let's invite 'em over then when they're done," Jason put in.

James eyed the band onstage as he listened to his band mates talk. "Sure, why not."

Thirty minutes later, the house band had finished their set and put away all their equipment to make room for the next band. The four guys were now crowded around Metallica's table. The waitress brought another round of drinks.

"You need a new snare drum..." Lars trailed off.

"Moe," the other drummer introduced himself and held out his hand for Lars to shake, "yeah I know. I bought that kit off some 18-year-old kid that was trying to save up for a car. It's really, really used."

James was having a conversation with the guy sitting next to him, the lead guitarist, George, about rifles. By the corner of his eye, though, he was looking at the guy sitting next to Jason, A good-looking guy with shoulder length black hair, the lead singer/bass player named Dylan.

All the guys in this band were a little star struck. The constant stream of beers though was making them relax a little and just be cool. But not Dylan, the more he drank the more he looked at Jason as if Jason was some sort of god. Jason, always a natural with the fans, was handling it with ease.

"Hey guys," Kirk spoke up to be heard over all the conversation, "I'm gonna head out."

"Yeah, I should sleep. Beer wore off awhile ago," Lars stood up as well. "You guys gonna be okay to drive?"

"James?" Jason asked.

"Yeah, I'm ready to go if you are," James answered. He was still giving Jason rides to and from the studio; therefore he was Jason's ride home.

"What about you guys?" Jason asked the younger band.

"Most of us came in my van," George answered. "I'm sober. Besides, our apartment is real close by."

"I can get a cab you guys," Dylan spoke up.

"You don't live with them?" James asked.

"Nah, I live with my brother. It's a bit out of the way for the rest of the band from here."

"It's no prob, man." George said.

James eyed Dylan over again. There was something in the way Dylan looked at Jason that was excitedly familiar.

"Why don't you just crash with us?" Vic, the rhythm guitarist, asked.

"I gotta be at work at 8. I'll get a cab. No big deal." Dylan answered. He got up and made his goodbyes to Metallica and his own band mates. When he got to Jason and gave this huge smile and a dopey-eyed look, James was suddenly flooded with the memories of his old days with Cliff.

All eight musicians made their way out of the bar. James walked up alongside of Dylan.

"Where do you live by?" James asked, Dylan answered.

"It's just you and your brother?"

"Yeah, but he went to Tahiti with his friends. I couldn't go cause we had a show. Man, am I glad I didn't go."

"I could give you a ride home," James offered.

The overwhelming gratitude in Dylan's eyes made James smirk. Some things never changed. James led Dylan over to the truck.

"I'll sit in the back," Dylan called out and climbed in the truck.

"James?" Jason stood by the open door.

"I offered him a ride home."

Jason looked slightly taken aback, but in a good way. He smiled up at James before climbing into the front seat.

The three men were now driving along. Dylan's place was only slightly out of the way to James and Jason's neighborhood, but Jason didn't mind at all.

Jason had taken Lars advice about James seriously even though after paying attention for a week or so he found no difference in the way James treated him than he treated Lars, Kirk, or Bob. Jason put it all out of his mind and decided to let things run their course.

"I really appreciate this you guys," Dylan started as James pulled into the parking lot of Dylan's apartment. "I can't wait to tell my brother, he's gonna have a cow. Hey, you guys wanna come inside? I got beer."

James smiled inwardly. "I wouldn't mind. Jason?"

Jason looked over at Dylan's eager face. "Well, a few minutes couldn't hurt."

Dylan almost fell out of the truck in his excitement. He led the two members of Metallica up a flight of stairs and into a small apartment. It was relatively clean for two guys; the only thing littering the floor was a Playstation and games. Dylan took his bass from off his shoulders where it was slung and stood it next to a small amp by the wall.

"George has all the good amps. His parents have money. When I'm at home I practice off of this one."

"That's not the worst I've seen," Jason spoke.

"Have a seat anywhere," Dylan said as he walked to the kitchen. "I have Miller and Bud."

"Miller," Jason and James spoke together. They both sat on the sofa.

Dylan came back with bottles for all three of them and then sat by in the armchair.

"What does your brother do?" James began conversation. So far, things were progressing well, he thought, with a wave of nostalgia. He remembered how to do this, had done it many times before.

Since they had already been drinking, it wasn't very long before he could tell Dylan was starting to get that alcohol lulled feeling. Jason on his left was relaxed as well when James stood up and started gathering their recent bottles to toss out.

Inside the kitchen, James took one of the Miller's and shook it so the suds would foam out once Jason opened it. Careful to remember which one was for Jason, he went back out to the living room.

"Last one, James," Jason said.

"All right."

When Jason flipped off the bottle cap, the foam started rushing out and pouring over his lap before he got it away from himself and put it on the coffee table.

"Oh, do you need some napkins?" Dylan asked.

"Nah, he's all right," James answered. "I got him."

Jason looked up at James, watched him lean over and start wiping away the suds from his lap with his hands, hands that were lingering over certain areas that were responding to him. James grabbed Jason's beer soaked hand and cleaned off one of the fingers with his tongue.

"Oh," Dylan mouthed.

"What?" James turned and ground out, ready for this part of the scene.

"That was hot."

Jason stood up quickly and backed away from James.

"That was hot?" James looked at Dylan. "You think me licking Jason’s fingers is hot?" James sounded confused.

"Well, I mean, I'm sorry, I must be overreacting. You guys are just real close friends and here I am overreacting. I'm sorry. I'll go get napkins," Dylan rushed from the room.

Jason turned to James, "what are you doing?"

"What? I was cleaning you off."

"I'm not doing this, James. I'm not gonna take advantage of a fan like that."

"Oh, you've never fucked a groupie? Give me a goddamn break. Don't get all holier than thou on me."

"It's not the same fucking thing and you know it," Jason ground out between gritted teeth. "This isn't a groupie throwing some ass in our face. This is you orchestrating an orgy on an unsuspecting kid."

"Uh, guys?" Dylan spoke from the end of the room, clutching a roll of paper towels. James and Jason turned to look at him, "If that's what you want I'm okay with it. I'm bisexual."

James laughed loudly. "See Jason? He wants it."

Jason looked at the predator's glint in James eyes, some things never do change, he thought. "I'm not Cliff, James." Jason sounded pained, "I thought... I thought things were getting better between us."

"They are."

James made a last attempt with Jason, he went over and started trailing kisses on his bass players neck. Jason's eyes started closing, but not before he saw Dylan watching from across the way.

"C'mon Jase," James purred in his ear. "Remember how good it was? This guy wants us, it'll be the biggest thrill of his life."

Jason considered it, he really did. With James’ mouth working his neck and the hopeful look in Dylan's eyes he almost gave into James. Images of his night with James and Cliff started played in his head then. Even if Dylan did want to have sex with them, that didn't take away the fact that James had just cast Jason in the Cliff role. Not in the band, but in bed. Something twisted in Jason’s gut, and he wondered why after all these years he had let himself be hurt again.

Jason pushed James away gently; "I can't be Cliff for you, James. I spent years wanting to be Cliff for all of you. I'm done. I can only be Jason. I know that wasn't enough."

"You can't tell me you don't want me," James glided a hand down to Jason's hardening cock as proof. He didn’t want to listen to Jason’s words. He knew Jason wasn’t Cliff, had been painfully aware of it for years. What he wanted right now was Jason.

“What if it was just you and me then?” James pulled back and looked into Jason’s eyes.

“Really?” Jason was surprised at the feelings that rushed him then; hope, fear, longing.

“Dylan can just watch. He might like that too,” James drawled.

Jason broke eye contact and laughed mirthlessly. "I think... I think I might have said yes to you, James, if I thought it was me you actually wanted."

James heard the finality in Jason's voice. "Fine. Dylan, we're leaving!"

Dylan went up to Jason looking a little disappointed. James had moved passed the kid and started working the locks on the door to the apartment.

"I'm sorry, Dylan. Maybe we'll see you again at the bar sometime," Jason brought him in for a hug and gave him a peck on the mouth. Dylan smiled a little, at least he would have that.

"Let's go, Newsted!" James was already walking out the door.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean for you guys to fight," Dylan looked remorseful.

"It's not about you. It's just the history between us."

And with that Jason walked out the apartment and down the stairs where he could already hear James turning on the engine.
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The Small Hours