With The Band LotRPS AU (1/?)

[jettabug.livejournal.com]

Title: With The Band
Author: Jenna [jettabug]
Pairing: None as such. At least, none yet.
Rating: PG-13 for naughty words
Feedback: It's my drug of choice!
Author's Notes: This is my first attempt at AU.
Summary: When Elijah Wood meets Zen, he doesn't think his life can get any better.



With The Band
by Jenna

“Promise me that you’ll behave yourself.”

“No mom, I’m going to wreak havoc, give drugs to kids and run around naked.”

Debbie Wood set a look of pure annoyance on her son and crossed her arms.

Elijah laughed. “Come on mom, you know me better than that.”

Debbie relented. “You, I know. But this band…these…rockstars…”

“They are people, you know.”

“No, they’re wolves,” Debbie argued. “And I’m sending my baby right into their hands…”

Elijah rolled his eyes. “Please, mom, I’m 23. Not a baby.”

Debbie looked at her son imploringly. “Face it kid, you need me.”

“Sometimes,” Elijah offered.

Debbie raised an eyebrow.

“Ok, a bit more than sometimes.”

A smile danced on her lips.

“I need you all the time, ok mom?”

Debbie’s face broke out into a smile. “That’s my boy.” She leant over and kissed Elijah’s cheek impulsively.

“Please don’t,” he hedged, and tried to duck away from her kiss. Her lips just landed awkwardly on his ear.

“Have fun, but…not too much fun.”

Elijah popped his seatbelt and slid the strap of his canvas satchel bag over his head. “I will have a very bad time, if that will make you feel better.”

Debbie smiled. “Thanks sweetie.”

Elijah laughed and placed a lightning fast kiss on his mother’s hand. “Wish me luck!”

“I refuse to do such a thing!” Debbie called as Elijah climbed out of the family station wagon and waved at his mother.

Elijah waited until she’d left the parking lot of the entertainment arena, and began his walk across the car park to the big ramp towards the back of the building.

He slip slid down the sharp incline to the steel door at the button, and reached out to ring the buzzer.

The door creaked open heavily to reveal a tall wiry man, who held the coveted ‘Backstage List’ clipboard, an unsmiling gaze settled upon Elijah who looked up at him wearily.

“Hi,” Elijah began, clearing his throat. “I’m Elijah Wood and I’m from Stellar Magazine to interview Metallica.”

The security guard frowned and flipped through three pages on his clipboard. He scanned the list with his eyes.

“Wood, was it?” he demanded in a gruff voice.

Elijah nodded nervously, his mouth dry.

“Come on in,” the guard said, opening the door open for Elijah to slip through.

He did so and stood in a narrow hallway.

“You’ll need this,” the security guard said, handing him a backstage pass on a red string. “And this,” the guard added, pressing a press badge into his hand.

Elijah nodded and slipped the pass over his head, and clipped the badge to his shirt.

“The band has just gone on, so you can have time with them after the show. Feel free to watch from stage left.”

Elijah nodded and fingered the laminate card hanging around his neck. The Metallica logo adorned the front and on the back it had ‘BACKSTAGE PASS’ in huge letters. He felt a rush of pride as he ran his fingers over the words.

“The support has just finished their set. They hang around for a bit, so go on in and hang out.”

Elijah swallowed the nervous lump in his throat as the guard pointed down the hall to a closed door. He’d done only four major interviews in his journalism career. Four major bands that made his knees go weak and his palms begin to sweat.

Incubus. The Strokes. N*E*R*D. Outkast.

So Elijah barely listened as the security guard told him how to get to the green room, and just nodded and started to walk once he was dismissed.

Elijah stopped at another steel door and pushed it open tentatively. On the other side was the green room, thankfully, given it’s name by the pale green walls, dark green couches, and, of course, the plaque on the wall, proudly stating it’s name. ‘The Green Room’.

Four men sat around a coffee table, talking and laughing, but their chatter ceased immediately once Elijah entered the room.

“You press?” the man with the sandy hair demanded, fingers running over the strings of the guitar in his lap.

“I’m Elijah Wood, from Stellar Magazine.”

“Here for Metallica, right?” The older man asked, taking a sip from a beer bottle.

“Well…yes,” Elijah admitted. “But I was hoping I’d get to have a word with you guys first.”

Elijah knew the band quite well, had followed their music since they’d released their first single a few months ago. He liked their sound.

Zen.

Four guys, Dominic, Billy, Orlando and Viggo.

“You even know our band, man?” Orlando demanded.

Elijah set Orlando with a look. “You’re Orlando. And that’s Viggo, Dominic and Billy,” he said, pointing to each as he said their name. “Your album is called ‘Eternal’, and probably the most amazing record I’ve ever listened to. I think the song ‘Out’ is some of your best work, and you were right to use more guitar work on the track called ‘Fire Girl’.”

Dominic, who had been silent up until that point, opened his mouth to say something. “You liked ‘Out’?”

Elijah nodded. “I think it’s awesome.”

Viggo licked his lips slowly. “So, what are you doing over there by the door?! Come! Sit!”

Elijah’s face broke out into a smile and he crossed the room and sat down on the green couch beside Orlando, who clapped him on the back.

**

“You’re into all this magazine shit?” Orlando demanded a while later, leaning back into the couch, regarding Elijah through lidded eyes.

Elijah shrugged. “It’s ok, I suppose.” He took a sip of his beer. “It’s something, at least.”

“It’s shit, that’s what it is,” Billy spoke up from his chair where he still cradled his guitar to his chest. “You need to be doing something better.”

“I won’t argue with you there,” Elijah muttered.

“How are your guitar skills?” Dom asked, who’d been optionally quiet the whole night, tapping his drumsticks against his knee every once and awhile.

“They’re not great,” Elijah said truthfully. “But they don’t suck.”

“Can’t suck worse than Billy,” Orlando joked, and almost suddenly, a guitar pick flew across the room and landed in his hair.

“Can’t suck worse than your attempt at singing.”

“Ouch,” Viggo responded playfully, grabbing a handful of potato chips from the bowl on the low coffee table.

“Don’t get me started on you!” Billy exclaimed playfully, throwing another pick in Viggo’s direction.

“I’d like to hear your style sometime,” Dom said after the room had quietened down a bit.

“Really?” Elijah demanded, almost disbelieving.

“Sure,” Dom responded.

“We’re gonna be here in LA for the next week,” Orlando offered, helping himself to a cold slice of pizza from the box on the table.

“Yeah, you should come hang out with us,” Billy reinforced, taking a cloth from his pocket and began to wipe down his guitar.

“Are you sure?” Elijah asked, a little hesitant, imagining his mother’s reaction.

“Totally,” Orlando said. “We’re at the big hotel on Sunset. Forget the name.”

Elijah nodded slowly. “The big yellow one?”

“That’s it,” Orlando confirmed.

“That’s Sunset Plaza.”

“Whatever,” Orlando said off-handedly. “Just be there.”

A loud noise came through the wall, and the sounds of a car screeching filled their ears.

“Holy fuck,” Elijah breathed.

“What?” Billy demanded, tucking his guitar safely away in its case.

Elijah chuckled. “I had an interview with Metallica to do…”

“So fuck it,” Billy said. “You’re with us, now.”

The band started to get up and round their stuff together as a short man with dark hair, flanked by a gorgeous brunette entered the room.

“Ready gentlemen?” he demanded.

“Sure thing, Pete,” Viggo confirmed, dipping to the floor to pick up his already packed guitar case.

“You did a good show, baby,” the brunette said, and moved to Viggo’s side, where she pecked him on the cheek.

“Thanks Liv,” Viggo said warmly, an arm wrapping around her waist.

“Let’s blow this place!” Orlando cried and grabbed a bag and they all trooped out of the room, Elijah trailing behind.

They made their way out past the security guard and up the big ramp.

“James Dean,” Dom said suddenly, stopping to turn and face Elijah.

“I beg your pardon?”

“At Sunset Plaza. I’m booked under James Dean.”

Elijah smiled knowingly. “See you there.”

Cross posted: fellow_shippers