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Thom/Beck	By : VinylTap Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Radiohead Views: 2950 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not know Beck or any of the members of Radiohead. This story is a work of fiction, and I make no money or profit from it.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
What was cool about playing a show like this was that you also got to watch a bunch of other acts. You still were partly a kid, and also you were a performer now, and you went back and forth between seeing stuff through both points of view. You were aware you were supposed to act a certain way, and you wondered how much of it was acting, and how much of it was who you really were.
It was like that for anyone who ever became something. You wanted to love, but you didn’t know who you were loving, because you didn’t know who was out there, really. It would hurt you much harder when you learned better later on.
Thom would fight so, so hard to try to love anyway, where he saw good despite it; it would become much easier to judge someone like Beck, who seldom revealed anything personal. You’d think he was off laughing behind your back about how you’d never know, but no one with secrets ever really laughs.
It’s easy to forget that, even if you know, because it feels like betrayal either way.
So Thom and Beck had become entertainers, and they couldn’t possibly have prepared for what that would be like, not any more than anyone can prepare for what it would be like to become anything. You want to raise kids. You want to become a doctor. You want to make it in the music business. You make a lifetime commitment to that, without possibly knowing ahead of time what it would really be like. Then you are faced with issues you couldn’t have planned for.
So early on, you don’t think stuff you do could ever matter, so you watch lightheartedly from the wings, whispering too loud, Beck could actually hear Colin murmur to Thom from just behind the curtain, “You fucked him, admit it.”
They snickered into each other, Colin gasping silently in shock when Beck actually shot him a glance mid-note, the blinding stage lights twinkling off his mic. He was fighting to hide a smile, Thom could tell, and Thom was grinning as well because he was pretty excited that he had it with a bloke. But there was no way to respond to a question like that without sounding like a complete cock.
“Jealous it wasn’t you, Coz?” He whispered.
“Bloody right I am.”
Thom regarded his friend with obvious pleasure, carefully taking his cigarette out from in-between his lips. “Say it like you mean it, and maybe I’ll snog you again.”
Colin laughed. “Jealous of you, not him,” he whispered, taking the cigarette from Thom and inhaling slowly. “Not had American.”
“That,” Thom said, “is utter rubbish.”
“Maybe a bit.”
They could joke all they wanted; Beck had a beautiful voice. It seemed far too deep for how young he appeared. His whole act was strange, but it wasn’t careless; you could tell he’d worked very hard, no matter how disheveled his clothes were. Nigel was checking him out in all the ways Thom and Colin weren’t, because Beck wasn’t another dime-a-dozen different equals genius act, he was meticulous in the most curious way.
He did things to a harmonica that seemed far too intense, that made you embarrassed for how dirty you thought it looked when it probably wasn’t.
“Now you’ll make me jealous, Nige,” Thom grinned, and Nigel’s face brightened, because it meant Thom had taken his offer seriously about working together on the next record.
“Buncha guys from another act watching me from the wing over there,” Beck sang, improvising mid-act, “think I can’t hear them, but I can…” He went back to his harmonica after that, too-long sleeves falling over his hands, long hair bouncing; the audience went nuts cheering for how he worked that thing.
When later Radiohead came on stage, Thom apologized good-naturedly to Beck for earlier, already calling him a friend. Beck laughed and clapped for them, shouting back that it was all right, sleeve still riding over his palm. They all had a bit of a garage band sound back then, Beck with Beercan, Thom with Pop is Dead. They both jumped around on stage like idiots, but the audience got into that, too.
Thom wore sunglasses even though it was dark out— he knew already that with all the jumping around he did, he couldn’t very well keep his lazy eye covered by his hair. Phil wore a beanie.
They put on a fantastic show even then, even when it was Stop Whispering, people reached out from the audience to try and grab Thom’s hand.
“The girls fancy you, look,” Thom murmured to Jonny when they were nearly done, and Jonny was glad he couldn’t see very well against the blinding stage lights, because it might make him mess up. It did make him smile, though, did he properly manage to look cool up there?
The after party was brilliant, nearly all the acts were there; it had almost made being on tour worthwhile. Jonny and Ed had been out signing autographs, they posed for photos with fans, there was a strange rush about speaking with people after the show. By the time Colin and Phil had got back to the company of their friends, Thom and Nigel were completely plastered, Nigel with his head in Thom’s lap and Thom merrily singing something that sounded vaguely like Losing My Religion.
He stiffened at the familiar sound of a harmonica, finger darting drunkenly so that Phil had to duck , and Thom slurred something about there it is again. In another room, Beck was playing for an audience consisting of Shannon Hoon, Mike D, and Rogers Stevens, whose drunken cheers nearly drowned the harmonica, itself.
“Nigel fancies working with him,” Thom informed Colin without being prompted.
Nigel, who hadn’t said so explicitly, considered it now. “Might not be bad,” he said, and Colin laughed while he struggled to open a beer.
“No, not a bad act,” he admitted.
“Give me that,” Thom said in a bout of exasperation, taking the beer from Colin and then beginning to struggle as well.
“The fuck…” he muttered as the cap wouldn’t budge, he cringed and bit his lip while attempting to twist it open, to no avail. Jonny and Ed had meant to head over toward the rest of the band when they finally arrived, but there Beck was calling to Jonny, waving to him drunkenly from where he was still playing the harmonica for the guys from Blind Melon and the Beastie Boys.
Jonny was in wonderful spirits; he’d been very shy of his fans, but they’d been really very nice, he’d been able to relax around them a little— then Beck had called for him directly, specifically him, and he had his harmonica—Jonny knew how to play it, as well, it felt somehow like they’d been old friends.
Beck’s arm came amicably around Jonny when he joined him in the other room, too-long sleeve falling over his hand again, and he was definitely drunk, but that was all right.
Jonny had actually screwed up the courage to ask if he could play, and Beck slurred something in Spanish to indicate he could, smacking the harmonica almost too hard against Jonny’s chest in a drunken gesture of heartfelt companionship.
Jonny didn’t mind; it was brilliant. It was the sort of thing Thom and Colin did, that he only ever got to watch. He turned it over in his hands at first, inspecting it, comparing it with his own back home; he then tried it out tentatively, and already everyone was cheering. He laughed sheepishly before taking it to his mouth again, and then began to play.
At first, the drunken cheers continued, but soon they all fell silent; Jonny was really quite good. Beck stared as well, clearly impressed, as though at last he’d met his match in this regard, he was the first to cheer—then everyone around joined in as well, until finally Thom, Colin, and Nigel went quiet in the other room, heads turning in the direction of the sound.
When they’d finally made their way to the adjacent room, Jonny had got so intensely into it he was bent partway over, dark hair swinging, long fingers obscuring the instrument entirely. It was some folk tune Thom never heard before, but Beck apparently had, because he was fervently singing along, boldly, intently, the both of them entirely lost in some other world.
“Fucking hell,” the words came just barely audible as Thom watched transfixed, Colin’s beer hanging forgotten from within his right hand, still screwed shut.
Colin watched very uneasily as Thom approached Jonny and Beck. Neither of them was aware yet, they both were too far into the act, but Colin could tell— Thom was trying to decide which of them to eat first.
Colin knew that look well. It was fun when it had been directed at him, much less so when it threatened to involve his baby brother. Thom appeared content to wait patiently for them to finish, however, smiling, vastly enjoying himself, Jonny looked up when everyone clapped at the conclusion of the song.
He laughed, shaking back his hair, turning to consult Beck about their performance. He’d not noticed Thom until he was pulling them both in by the hands, chuckling knowingly, drunkenly to himself.
“I want you, and I want you,” Thom said with a giggle, pointing to each of them in turn, and Colin already was protesting behind him. “Thomas, I’ll kill you,” he warned, teeth gritted through a smile, but Thom only laughed in response, “Because I wanna fuck your ickle baby brother, Coz?” he asked, pulling Jonny in very close.
Jonny flushed so profoundly he thought the sound in the room had gone out. He was dizzy without ever drinking at all, he stared at Thom, who was pulling him in, so close he could feel the warmth of his flesh from outside the fabric, he could smell the alcohol on his breath when he talked.
“Easy, Yorke,” Beck laughed, quite drunk as well, “You’re not exactly experienced there.”
He’d meant to refer to how Thom had only got with a bloke once before, but the damage was done; Thom appeared entirely crestfallen. His arms loosely wound about Jonny’s waist, he looked over to Beck as with genuine melancholy. “Didn't you like it?” he asked, and it was heart-wrenching somehow; Beck gazed back silently, lips parted, appearing deceptively fragile.
“I liked it,” he whispered, and everyone hooted and cheered when he leaned in to kiss Thom, Thom whose arms were still all around Jonny’s waist.
It was too much for Jonny. He was completely overwhelmed, and wasn’t even sure what with. He’d almost got himself to forget that Thom had presumably snogged the third act, but there it was happening, straight before him. He was jealous, very jealous, but he didn’t understand exactly of whom, and just what for.
But Thom’s hands remained locked around him, this never had happened before, he thought he still could hear the words ring in his ears, about how Thom wanted to fuck him.
(On to chapter 9)
- 7
- 8
- 9
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Thom/Beck