Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

'I'm so fucking done'
'No, wait. Fucking hell, Jim stop, wait. Where are you going? It wasn't that bad. Please wait, what the fuck, c'mon.'
'No, actually - it was. How long?'
'What?'
'Was I bleednig? How long before you told me?'
'No, man, if I didn't notice, nobody did. Stop worrying, Jimmy, please. It was fine'

Fine. Everything was always fine and good enough. For Rodgers it was always good enough. No matter how many fuck ups.

'He hit me. Was I this awful? To hit me in my fucking face?'

Paul seemed shocked. 'Who? When? Somebody beat you, Jimmy? Why?'
He didn't believe. In his fairy, ideal world violence didn't exist.
'Nobody beat me. The guitar guy hit me in the face. With my own guitar. Didn't notice, huh?'
'No, what? How come? I mean it wasn't on purpose, c'mon.'

Of course. Accident. Shit happens. Especially when you fucking pitiful, pathetic shit. Jimmy was. Everybody knew it. In fact everybody saw it. Tonight. Every night of this nightmare of a tour.

'Told you it was a stupid idea. Making a moron of myself in front of them. Poor Jimmy. Junkie Jimmy.'

Broken.

The last one he left out.
It was the fifth night of their American tour. The worst so far. The most humiliating. Why did he agree to do that? Because of Jeff? Out of boredom? Obviously, Ronnie Lane and his condition didn't have to do with anything here. Bastard friends assuring him that it will be fun? It will be good? Maybe. Well, it didn't matter anymore. He was so done. Everybody has seen him bled through the song. Poor Jimmy. Addicted Jimmy.
Broken.

'Jimmy? Please, come on. Stop it. They all fucked it up. We all did. Wasn't your fault. At least some of it.' Paul Rodgers. Child of happiness and optimism . Everything is fine. At least according to Paul. He was probably the only reason Jimmy hasn't gone back to England yet. Paul was here and apparently he wanted to continue this comedy. Not sure why, Jimmy had been following him and doing the gigs. Till now.

'Please, I fucked up big time. "Midnight moonlight"? I don't know what happened there. I'm sorry, I really am. Anyway, it's not the reason to call it off, right? We'll get better. Now come on. Let's join them, they've already started drinking. Stand up, Jim, let's go.'

So they went. The party was warming up. Jimmy always tried to sneak in and out unnoticed. With Paul everything was easier. Child of optimisim. Smiling and laughing. Maybe one more evening won't hurt that badly. Maybe we'll get better.

Chapter Text

With Jimmy it was always like that. After each show there was a panic attack, whining and then there was a party. At first, Paul had thought it would be good to try and keep him away from the huge amounts of booze and drugs they had there. But it was impossible as everybody was at the parties after the shows. Moreover, Jimmy wanted and apparently needed to get wasted to function from day to day. So, great deal - two in one, they attended every afterparty that occured.

Paul knew that that night it would be crucial to keep Jimmy from people like Wyman or Clapton, the malcontents, always ready to destroy the slightest trace of Jimmy’s self confidence and good mood.

They sat together on one of the sofas. Jimmy looked tired, high and maybe a little bit overexcited from the drugs. Paul fetched them some whiskey, lit Jimmy’s cigarette and they sat, not talking, Jimmy apparently still mad after the horrible gig. Paul knew it was hard for him to see people smiling, his old friends healthy, happy, having fun. For Jimmy everything changed three years ago, for the rest of the world after minor shock caused by Bonham's death it came back to normal and remained the same.
When they started the tour Jimmy wasn’t sure if it had been a good idea to come back. Paul encouraged him to take part, knowing that it would probably be the last opportunity to save him from the claws of addicton. Jimmy was in really bad shape at the beginning of the tour. Now? Not much better considering latest events, but there is always hope, right?

'What?'

'Hm?'

'You’re staring. Am I bleeding again?'

Jimmy acted like it was a joke, but Paul knew how insecure he was. How he wanted to control everything. It must have been a nightmare for such a control-freak. To not have control over anything, even himself. Poor bastard. Paul really wanted to help him. He was a friend. He really wanted to save him. Maybe he could, this time.

'What, no. You’re ok. I was just thinking. Cheers.'
'About what? How pretty I look tonight? Because you were staring.'

Insecure bastard. Everybody’s staring since you look lide a dead man walking, Page.
'Nothing particular, just… what are you doing tommorrow?'

'Don’t know, what’s tommorrow? A gig?'

He didn’t know. Of course not, it didn’t matter for him. Paul felt a little annoyed.

'What gig, Jim? Don’t you know which day you play and which you don’t?'
Unnecessary. Why did he started that stupid conversation? Why even bother? Jimmy was high, tired, it was no use, planning stuff now.

'Um, sorry. Actually I don’t know when I play, Paul. What’s tomorrow?'
Charming bastard

'We’re going to Inglewood.'

'Good. Wanna sit with me on the bus or then?'

'Yeah, good'.

'What are you up to, boys?'

Beck. Could be worse. Jimmy likes Jeff and Jeff loves Jimmy with all his weird grumpy self. Actually, it's probably thanks to Jeff that Jimmy even came to U.S.
Jeff's a good friend that everybody needs. Especially Jimmy. Especially these days. Paul watched two old friends talking about some irrelevant stuff. Guitars, groupies, whatever. Jimmy relatively calm, optimistic even. What a change. Thank you Jeff.

Then, Clapton appeared. Slightly drunk. Gonna be fun. A real nightmare. Paul tried desperately to avoid the clash of egoes there:

'Jimmy, wanna go somewhere else?'
Pathetic, he's already here. Also, why even bother, Jimmy is an adult, he has to deal with his own shit.

'Hi, Page! How was it? Was I good?'
Fucking piece od shit.

'Oi, Eric! Having fun? Professional as always!'
Jimmy is so wasted. It won't end well.

'Think I'm gonna tell them to pull your plug on my songs, right mate? Really painful to listen, you put on a sad show, Jim, 'm sorry.'

What the hell? Jimmy fell silent, watching Clapton with wide open hazy eyes. Weird. Paul expected a fight, anything. Silence.

'Fuck off Eric'
Did he say that, really?

'What, Rodgers somebody has to tell your bestie the truth sometime. Get your shit together, Jim. We don't need another dead rockstar.'

Paul was dreaming. It was the only reasonable explanation for all this. Because Clapton would't say this. Nobody talks like this. Not to Jimmy.

'You're really crossing the line, dude.'
And what was that? Was he trying to be polite even now? When Jimmy sat there nex to him broken and empty. So hurt. Paul could imagine his pain. He knew it. Inside and out.

'Eric, let's just go, see you Jimmy, Paul.'
Jeff Beck. Saving them all. Thank you Jeff.

Jimmy sitting there looked like an old, ruined doll. Green-eyed, so sad. Paul hoped that maybe he was so high that he didn't understand, this one time.

'Let's go Jimmy, wanna go already?'
Yes, he did. Paul took him to the car and they went to the hotel. He dozed off with his head on Paul's shoulder. Poor bastard.

Chapter Text

Jimmy was leaning on him the whole ride to the hotel. Not entirely wasted but really tired, looked like he was asleep the whole time. Paul took him to his room upstairs and made him sit on the couch. He seemed limp and numb. Paul left him there and went to the bathroom. He placed his hands on both sides of marble sink and slowly looked into his own eyes. Now what?
It was a nightmare, probably last chance for Jimmy to survive, but the tour was a survival trip itself. Fuck, now what?
Paul needed a plan to help him. He wasn't Jeff who could show up from time to time and heal Jimmy just with his calming presence. When Jeff was there, everything was good. But it didn't last long after he was gone. Jimmy needed something else, anything. He needed Paul and Paul needed a plan. Something to hold on to. Gigs and parties won't do. It's not enough.

He sighed, cleaned his face and brushed his teeth. When he came out of the bathroom, Jimmy was still on the sofa, looking around like somebody who just have woken up from a deep sleep.

'You're gonna stay for the night.'

'Why, take me to my room, I wanna go.'
Always complaining, how can anybody be so childish?

'Well, ok Jimmy. Which room are we talking about?'
Quiet.
Of course he didn't remember. It was better, in fact, it was safer for Jimmy to stay.

'C'mon I wanna sleep, Jim. Do you want to use the bathroom? Well, do it now. And...'

'What?'

'Nah, just hurry, I wanna sleep.'

It was early, but not too early to get up. Paul stretched, yawned and sat up. Sudden flush of fear ran through his body, when he noticed Jimmy lying opposite the couch. He urged out of bed and kneeled next to the skinny body huddlled on the floor. Slowly placing one hand on thin back he felt blood pumping in his ears. Don't be dead, please, don't be dead.
He was definitely alive, Paul could feel shaky breaths, frail body tremblig under his fingers.
He slowly stood up, watching Jimmy sleep. Curled up on the floor, a mess of limbs and light blue suit (who sleeps in the suit now?). At first he thought that Jimmy might have fallen off the couch in the middle of the night. But he had a blanket and a cushion squeezed in his arms. He slept on the floor on purpose. Didn't want to choke. He was afraid of dying. It struck Paul, that this sad, broken bloke wanted to live. Despite the damage he had done to himself and others. It was giving him some hope. Probably the autodestruction done here reversible or at least wasn't unstoppable. It was still worth trying because Jimmy was afraid of dying and he wanted to live. Or it was just the fear of dying the way Bonzo did. It didn't matter, Paul was going to hold on to that hope.

Then the breakfast was delivered and Jimmy woke up. Pissed and confused. He didn't want to eat obviously (not before the flight), but decided to go and find his room before the departure. They were going to meet in an hour in the lobby. Jimmy still wanted to sit on the plane to California together and Paul was almost too happy to hear that. So then Paul was left alone with the food and a little bit of hope for the future.

Jimmy grew tired of all this suprisingly quickly. But it was all too much from the beginning. Starting relatively sober and conscious in England, it was all about getting back, getting a normal life maybe. Now? It was just a mess of gigs, booze and coke. You have to cope somehow.
Shame and anxiety hit Jimmy only now and then. Most of the time it was ok. Wierd but only empty. Not sad even. Just hollow and numb, watching them play, proud of Jeff, tired of Eric. Some things never change.

Jimmy found his room in no time. The fact that he had the keys in his pocket the whole time helped. Stinky clothes - on the floor. Shower. Hair. Shaving. Sometimes he just didn't care. But here, with all the people around him, the old Jimmy, the one obsessed with looks and image woud show up. He stepped out of the bathroom, as fresh as he could be in his current state. Started going through his things, looking for anything he could use now. Some hairspray, the rest was probably left in one of his previous hotel rooms. That will do. He went back to the bathroom. Stood in front of the mirror naked and damp. He has tried to avoid looking at himself thoroughly for some time now. But now and then he couldn't help and looked. A skeleton. Dead man walking. A goner. He knew they were calling him that. Eric, Wyman, Watts. Cocker too. For sure. Rodgers? Maybe not. He was always so helpful and caring.
Jimmy examined his whole body. Wasn't that bad. Skinny, too skinny, but clothes could hide that. Besides, he prefered being thin to being fat. Maybe he could gain some weight. Not too much. A little bit. Eating could help. Maybe in the evening he would have something. The hair was good. Still thick, slightly wavy. He liked his hair. The face was the problem but with this much hair he could hide it. Partially, at least. He approached the mirror. Examining his skin, pale and too wrinkled. And now, the worst of all. Smile. Fucking gross. Wathever, nobody even cares.
Time to go.
He turned, finished combing and brushing and started to pack.

Chapter Text

The flight was rather quiet. Jimmy had been drinking before and slept through most of it. Paul worked on some lyrics for a while and then, in no-time, they were landing. Jimmy woke up, sat up stiffly, eyes wide open. Paul was observing him as he grabbed the edges of the seat, looking anxious and still sleepy. Always so afraid.
'You ok? Hey, Jimmy what's up?'
Paul tried to distract him. Showed him what he was working on, they talked, Jimmy still too tense and alert. Then it was over and they both felt relief. It was the time to go leave their stuff at the hotel.
'Hey, we have rooms next to each other!'

'That's good, innit?'
Jimmy was still sleepy and feeling anxious, now about the dinner. It was time, he needed to eat something. But did he really want to?

'Let's go for a walk?'
'Here? Uh, ok, let me just freshen up.'
Jimmy rushed upstairs, Paul watched his skinny back disappearing in the staircase.

'What you up to, any plans for the afternoon?'
Great. Jeff is here. Of course he is. Splendid.
'I'm taking Jimmy to eat.'

'Good luck with that'
Well.

'I'll go with you. If you don't mind.'
Oh, Paul didn't mind. He didn't mind lovely Jeff at all. Jeff who'd show up now and then to cheer Jimmy up. Jeff, who apparently convinced Jimmy to come to the States. And Jeff who was spending most of his time with Clapton and the Stones now, leaving Jimmy to deal with this shit alone. It wasn't true, Paul knew it but he was angry at Jeff and didn't really know why. Jimmy loved Jeff so much, needed him so badly. And Jeff tried to help but only from time to time. And Paul was there always. Why did it even matter?
'Hey, man! You're here, Jeff, great! You comin'?
Jimmy was back, excellent. And he had a drink or two in the meantime, which showed. They were rambling around close to the hotel area, trying to find someplace to eat and to avoid the bars, which apparently Jimmy really wanted to visit.
At last, they ended in a small diner, american style, with coffee and all that. It was still early, almost time for dinner. Jeff ordered something and now it was Paul's turn. Instead he turned to Jimmy sitting next to him:
'What what would you like, Jimmy?'
Silence and weird feet shuffling assured him that getting Jimmy to eat won't be very easy task.
'Ok, then it's my turn.'
Paul assumed control. The best way to get his friend to try any food, was to order it all.
'Well, I'll have a Cheeseburger with fries, a Chilly Dog, Ranch Chicken Burger with some wings on the side, California Burger but make it double. And Caesar salad. Oh, and some orange juice and a strawberry shake, thanks.'
Jimmy and Jeff were watching and listening in silence. Good, Jeff, watch and learn how it's done.

'God, you're hungry.'
Jeff still didn't see why Paul was doing it. Something had to be wrong with this guy.

'Paul, how come you eat that much and you aren't really fat? Share your secret.'
Jimmy looked amused and relaxed. That was good, Paul wanted him to feel that way.

'What, Jimmy you want to loose some weight or just asking for a friend?'
And Jimmy laughed at the joke. He really laughed and it wasn't this strange, sad alcohol - infused cackle he used to give out on stage or when somebody was joking at the parties. No, it was pure, delicate Jimmy's giggle. It was real and Paul could swear that for a moment Jimmy was a healthy, happy, young bloke who was just chilling with his friends at the restaurant. Sometimes, rarely, those moments happened, and it seemed like everything was or may be ok. Even Jeff smiled, seeing Jimmy like that for a second. But the moment had passed and everything was back to normal, Jimmy was staring out of the window, thinking of something not very optimistic. Than he stood up slowly, still lost in thoughts.
He noticed Paul giving him questioning look.
'I need to go to the bathroom.’
He squeezed himself between Paul and their table, and hurried to the toilet. Paul looked at the skinny back disappearing in the distance.
'So, how is he doing now?'

Oh, fan-fucking-tastic, Jeff, can’t you see?
'He’s a little bit tired'
Paul clenched his teeth jus a little bit, trying to look not too angry.

'And how about the smack? Is he doing it?'

'Why don’t you ask him yourself, I thouhgt you were such great friends.'
Rude.

'Well, I thought you might know, since you're with him most of the time.'
He didn’t get it. Nothing. At all.

'Well, I’m not his freakin’ baby-sitter, how would I know? He doesn't smack in front of me, if that’s what you wanted to know.'

'Ok, sorry for asking, I was concerned.'
'Oh, were you?'
'What's your problem, Rodgers, huh?'
FINALLY

'Since you were so concerned, why didn’t you spend some time with him, he would probably have liked that. He believes that you’re his best friend, he would have been happy.'
'You’re telling me that I don’t do enough to help him?'
'What did you do apart from convincing him to come and leaving him to me?'
'Well, leave him alone if he’s such a burden.'
Jeff was so insolent that Paul got winded. He wanted to say something, to tell him off, but Jimmy appeared out of nowhere, squeezing himself back to get to his window seat.
'What are you guys talking about?'

It was exhausting, to try and check his pupils every time he got back from the bathroom, or his room, or any other place where he had been alone. Paul was so tired.

'Just the tour.'
Well, thank you for an excellent excuse, good job Jeff.

'Ooh, your food is coming.'
Waiter stacked burgers, fries, chickens and the rest in front of them.
'You’re going to eat it all, Paul?'
Jimmy asked him in serious tone, filled with disbelief.

'Maybe you would help me a little? You can try whatever you want, I can share.'
He was curious how Jimmy would react.

'Ok, it smells very good, I think I'd have some wings?'
That was suprisingly easy.

They started eating, Paul peeking at Jimmy, feeling relieved. He didn’t exactly remember the last time he saw Jimmy ingesting any type of solid food. A few days ago, last week most likely. All 3 of them ate in rather comfortable silence. Jimmy wanted to try their shakes and had some of Paul’s french fries. They got the leftovers packed, Paul paid for everything, ignoring Jeff’s protests and they left. Jimmy insisted on going to some bar, but Paul had remaining burgers in a bag so they decided to go back to the hotel. Jeff excused himself, he had alreaady made plans for the night, so Jimmy and Paul left him at the crossroad and headed home. Paul tried not to think about his outburst at the diner - Jimmy was relatively fine and in good mood, and it was the most important thing that evening.

Chapter Text

As they got to the hotel, Paul decided that he needed to finally have a shower and change - he still had his travel clothes on. Jimmy proposed to wait in his room - they were going to meet in an hour or so, Jimmy probably would take a nap in the mean time and they would have the whole evening to themselves. It seemed like a good idea, they had some material they had been working on and Jimmy apparently wanted to practice before the next gig.

After entering the room, Jimmy took some stuff out of his pockets, placed a mess of hotel keys, papers, a box of matches, an old joint and other trash on the nightstand. He poured himself some whiskey from the bottle mindfully left on the kitchen table by someone from the crew and threw himself on the bed.
It was a peaceful day, he didn't remember the last time when life seemed that easy. Mild weather, holiday mood, good friends around him. After all, it might have been a good decision to come here with Jeff and the rest. And to invite Rodgers, of course. He was a true friend. When they were spending time together everything was in its place. He felt calm and appreciated, Paul was always honest but didn't stay with Jimmy out of pity. Paul prooved himself to be a truly great companion. They could play and write together or joke and have fun at the parties, or just talk about anything. He was exactly the person Jimmy needed in his life after the shit went down. Somebody new, who wasn't a part of this whole mess of Jimmy's Zeppelin life. They knew each other then, but weren't close - just Swan Song buddies, nothing special. But the aftershocks of September 1980 changed everything and their relationship evolved. Jimmy should really be thankful. In fact, he maybe even should talk to Paul about it. Tell him how grateful he was. Jimmy chuckled to himself just imagining the cheesy talk they would have then. The conclusion was - Paul was a keeper, it's worth hanging on to him.
He left the glass on the nightstand, among the pieces of old reciepts and ruined cigarettes. He was sleepy, probably because of all the food he devoured before. The eyelids were so heavy, so he relaxed, started to slowly float away, everything was very quiet. And then the telephone rang.

At first, he wanted to confront Paul, to shout him in the face everything that Jeff mubled to him on the phone. Obviously Jeff was tipsy and could have embellished some facts. Maybe it wasn't that bad, maybe Paul didn't attack him, maybe he was still his friend. But Jeff didn't have any reason to lie, he souded concerned and serious, and pissed off. Jimmy didn't want to lose Jeff at any cost and neither wanted he to lose Paul. It was fucked, he was fucked. It was no use talking to Paul or to anybody. He knew he shouldn't drown in self-pity but what the hell? He was sad, and lonely, the world was a shithole, America was the center of it. So he was done, once again. Sitting on the floor with the 'get some bliss and die diy' kit of needles, syringes and other shit. Everything was pointles and he DESERVED some slack. It didn't matter anyway. No one cared, he could smack himself to death right now, on purpose even. All they would do is nod their stupid empty heads in a kind of 'told you so' way and say how broken he was, oh poor Jimmy. Well, joke is on them because Jimmy didn't care and he was about to get high as a kite and shit on them all. He was oh so angry, he felt the angst eating him from the inside. Stupid fuckers had no idea. Jeff had no idea, Rodgers either. Well, maybe he did, a little. Screw him, everybody is going to leave, it's all loneliness in the end. He was messing with the tourniquet when somebody knocked on the door.

Paul let himself in, slowly, as he always did. Jimmy was sitting on the carpet, legs crossed, looking startled. Like a child caught on stealing sweets from the cupboard before dinner.
Silence.
Then Paul just turned around and left, quietly closing the door.

Jimmy sat for a moment not sure what to do. He expected some telling off, a fight, anything. Silent treatment was not something he was given often and it felt weirdly unsatisfying. So he left the mess on the floor and followed Paul to his room.
Slammed the door open and saw the man sitting on the edge of the bed looking straight at him.
'What? You wanted something? Not very nice, leaving without a word.'
Smooth.

Paul was staring at him, it occured to Jimmy that his eyes were like steel. He felt geniuenly ashamed for a second. And then Paul spoke.
'Y'know Jimmy, it's so fucking sad.'
That was it? Well...

'You know what, yes it is. But you wouldn't understand it anyway.'
He saw it in those steely eyes. Something accumulating, rising. Like a giant wave, a boiling Tsunami, ready to sweep him off the face of the Earth.
'I WOULDN'T UNDERSTAND WHAT, PAGE? HOW IT IS TO LOOSE A FRIEND TO BOOZE AND DRUGS? I WOULDN'T UNDERSTAND YOUR PAIN? WELL, THINK ABOUT IT.'
So that's how it ends than. He hasn't ever heard Paul shouting. Never. And it was at least terrifying how this relatively small body could have hold all this volume and capacity inside.
'YOU'RE FUCKING INSANE. WANT TO KILL YOURSELF? THAN DO IT ALREADY 'CAUSE I'M FREAKIN' TIRED.'
There it was, Paul didn't stop himself. He exaggerated and some words can't simply be taken back.

'Oh, so it's true, Jeff wasn't making this up.'
Jimmy was proud of himself - the tactic of dropping bombs while remaining suprisingly calm always worked for him during the fights. Paul looked suprised for a moment, he lost the track.
'W-what? What about Jeff? What are you talking about?'

'Ah, Jeff called and told me about your little outburst earlier. And it seems I should be thankful. Good to hear the truth sometime.'

'Wait, what exactly did he tell you?'

'That I should come and have fun with them. That I shouldn't be alone now.'

'Well, how fucking nice. That's all?'

'No, he mentioned that you were getting tired of being my escort and I should maybe give you some space. Also that you had attacked him.'

'Fuck, Jim. Firstly, it's not true. But are you insane? Why on earth my stupid fight with Jeff would cause your relapse?'
Jimmy looked straight at the steel. The tsunami was smaller but still he sensed some danger. It was fun.
'That's bold to assume. That it was a relapse, I mean.'
Tsunami went away. The sea was gray, still, dead.
'Wasn't it? You had been using?'
'Well...'
Paul cared. Jimmy could see it, it was painfully obvious and the mess he created was fucked-up as always. He was fucked-up. He lost, like every time before.

'I haven't done heroin since we arrived at the U.S. if that's your question, only coke and booze. I'm telling the truth.' He blurted out too quickly, it was pathetic, he felt beaten and so tired of himself and this situation suddenly.
'Paul...'

'I believe you.'
They stayed in silence for a while. Jimmy was looking at his feet, no shoes on, as he rushed out of his room. He used to inject into veins next to ankles when it got too hard to find a good arm vein. He felt sick of himself. Pathetic.
'So, Paul, what were you saying about me. What was that with Jeff?'

'I don't know, I just bursted, don't ask me why Jim. Maybe I don't like the man as much as you do, I mean he's ok but I don't know. Had a bad day or something. I'm sorry. And I'm not tired, I really like spending time together with you, ok?'

'Paul, you're not responsible of me. You're not responsible of my future actions. I need you to remember that, all right?'
That sounded dangerous and suddenly Paul remembered his words, shouted out in blind fury.
'Jimmy, I didn't mean that. I'm really sorry. I don't...'

'Ok, just stop apologizing, this is prepastrous. You didn't do anything. Besides, I've also said some shit I didn't wanted to say. Let's forget it.'

He slowly walked to the table. Paul also got that whiskey and two glasses. Splendid. He fetched Paul his drink and sat next to him. They were drinking in silence.
'So what happens now?'
The evening was ruined, Paul was almost sure about that but he really didn't want to see Jimmy drinking himself into oblivion that night.
'Um... I need to clean up the mess on my floor.'
Jimmy was carefully watching his own knees.
Paul almost choked when he thought about THE MESS, Jimmy left on the floor.

'Want any help with that?' He tried to be cautious, but it sounded a little weird. It didn't matter because Jimmy chuckled quietly to himself.

'Yeah, why not. Let me finish and we can go.'

Chapter Text

A small pouch. Syringes. Needles. A flexible rubber tube. Crooked spoon. Matches in a box. Matches without a box. Small rustling bags.
Paul was looking at that sad display on the carpet. Jimmy leaned on the door frame next to him and was watching him in silence. No tension, no anger, just immense sadness. This time Paul felt it too. He wondered how many times before Jimmy had reached to that pouch all alone?
He knew that it wasn't about Bonzo's death - not anymore. Obviously, Jimmy was grieving. For his lost band, family that gave up on him, friends... all of this perfect life he had created and then destroyed. Paul wasn't sure if it had really ever existed. But the truth was that after Led Zeppelin chapter closed, most of the people abandoned him. To make matters worse, they were blaming Jimmy for that whole nightmare that happened. And already frail, he let the reality demolish him to that point where going back to normal seemed hardly possible.

'Um, yeah... that's embarrassing, sorry.'
Woken up from daydreaming, Jimmy kneeled and started to gather all the stuff. Paul hurried to help.
'Careful, some are used.'
How humiliating.
Paul tried not to think, shoving the objects into the bag. He wanted to stop looking at them, forget what he saw. Jimmy was standing akwwardly squeezing the pouch.
'Er, can I ask you something?'
Paul felt his heart thumping, he needed the drug topic to just go away, it was all too stressful and unpredictable, he really had enough.
'Yeah, sure.'
'Would you... can you hold on to that for me?'
He realized that Jimmy was reluctantly handing him the bag. Weird.
'Do you want to frame me for your drugs or something?'
Jimmy laughed and relaxed a little.
'I mean, I wanted you to keep it for me. Just for some time. It was stupid, shouldn't have asked.'
A cry for help, a painfully obvious one.
'No sure, I can have them.'
'Remember to leave some for me.' Jimmy blinked. A filthy, disgusting joke, even he felt that and went silent for a second.

'Ok, anyway. I'll go grab some stuff from my room. Do you still want to hang out?'
Jimmy wanted to, so Paul left him taking the drug bag to the other room. He didn't know where to stash it, finally the shelf with his clothes seemed like a decent idea. He hid the pouch, took the guitar and a bottle of whiskey.

It appeared as if Jimmy had left. Paul was absent for about five minutes, where could he go? Quiet shuffling noises from the toilet.
'What are you doing, Jimmy? Why is it dark in there?'
'I felt sick. I'll be back in a minute, just wait.'
Paul wasn't going to wait. He switched on the light.
'I'm entering, watch out.'

The picture was rather sad: Jimmy on his knees, hugging the porcelain bowl like it was a life buoy, throwing up. Looking absolutly exhausted and dismal.

'Ok, come on, easy now.'
He aproached and carefully took the hair out of Jimmy's eyes. Bended over the thin frame and started massaging his back in circural motion. He could feel the heartbeat right under his fingertips and it was weirdly intimate.
'Easy, are you done?'
'Mhm'
'What happened?'

Jimmy explained that he had eaten too much and mixed with the booze it didn't set in well. Paul thought that the amount of stress and negative emotions also played some part, but he didn't say anything.
'It didn't all go down the drain though, some stayed in.' Jimmy smiled weakly.

'That's ok, you can eat something tommorrow, right?'
Paul helped him up.

They spent a few hours practicing set for the next show and writing together. Jimmy chain smoking and as meticulous as always. He wanted to repeat again and again, deeply focused on the work. Everything seemed to have settled down, any sensitive topics weren't adressed. Then it got late - Paul proposed that they should call it a night, but Jimmy insisted to practice some more. After the last concert which, in Jimmy's words, was utterly macabre, he wanted to make sure the next gig would come out better.

It all ended with Jimmy snoring softly, the guitar in his lap, forhead pressed to Paul's shoulder. He took the instrument out carefully and placed it next to the coffee table. Jimmy slided down to fetal position on the couch. He tended to sleep totally curled and tangled. After covering him with a blanket Paul wanted to go. But the intrusive thoughts wouldn't leave. Seated on the floor, he thought of Bonzo, dying alone in the darkness. Was he really unconscious during the very last moments of his life? He tried to shake those thoughts off, to think of something slightly more positive. But suddenly he rememberd their earlier fight with Jimmy, what he'd said and what he'd heard.
Paul recalled the old days, his first real band. Everything was different then, so easy. But than his dear friend died - drugs took him too and nobody could do anything. Paul desperately wanted to avoid the tragedy this time. Every night could be Jimmy's last - he couldn't leave him alone so he stayed to protect him. He fell asleep on the carpet resting on the side of the couch.

The night was long, sticky with sweat and nightmares. Paul got up at sunrise feeling totally worn out. Soundcheck was scheduled at noon and he needed to get some more sleep. Jimmy was safe and sound, wrapped in a cocoon of blanket, asleep like a baby, with slightly parted lips and messy hair. He still had that something to him, it attracted Paul like a flame while he was a pathetic moth. It was inapropriate, he should regard Jimmy only as a friend in need of help and support. Nevertheless, from time to time he felt that little sparkle in his chest while looking at him slumber, play or joke.

A few minutes later Paul fell asleep in his bed, thinking of dark, curly halo hiding green eyes filled with sadness.

Chapter Text

It was quarter past twelve, they were in the cab, going to the rehearsal. Getting Jimmy out of bed was unusually easy that day and their timing - really good. They didn't need to be on time - with so many people there, nobody had to wait for Jimmy, they would surely find other things to do.
As they arrived at The Forum, the rest of the crew and musicians were unpacking, some of them wandering around aimlessly. Paul peeked at Jimmy: he didn't look bad - hair in messy waves, freshly washed - he could smell the hotel shampoo in the cab. His skin looked less wrinkled and dry than the day before. He appeared well-rested and ready to work.
'Why are you staring, is something wrong with my face?'
Jimmy nervously chuckled and wiped his nose.
'No, it's fine'
Perfect even, he thought.
'Ok, lets go.' Jimmy grabbed his forearm and rushed towards the nearest group of people.

'I can bet you, he won't last till Monday. He is a dead man walking, two, three days and he's gone.'
Jimmy stopped abruptly. Clapton and Co. didn't notice them, Paul wanted to say something, but Jimmy waved at him to stay silent, he wanted to hear it.
'He is a crackhead, have you seen him? Doesn't remember his own numbers. Two days and he's done. Most likely won't make it to New York. How many days do you bet Watts?'

'Can I make one?'
Jimmy finally let go of Paul and approached them with a charming smile. Bill Wyman's face went white, than red. Clapton mumbled something and looked away. Jimmy was radiating with delight. He wanted more.
'I'm gonna bet. Not on when though, but how. I would say that he'll finally hang himself and shit his pants. What do you take, 2 dollars?'
Wyman was petrified, Clapton visibly disgusted. Jimmy was triumphing.
'I feel we can win this one, Paul!' He whispered theatrically.
Paul hadn't seen him that content in a long time. Jimmy bended over and squeezed Wyman's shoulder: 'Call me if I win.' He gave them all a wicked smile, grabbed Paul and they'were leaving.

'What the fuck was that?!'
Paul was slightly shocked.
'What?' Jimmy asked innocently.
'You are really proud of yourself, aren't you? Freakin' weirdo.'
Jimmy chuckled, Paul followed. He loved to see him smile.
They were chilling next to the table with booze, Jimmy's breakfast consisted of cigarettes and whiskey. After a while the nearby door opened.
'Oooh, Beck is late? Somebody had fun last night.'
Paul quickly calculated: is it possible that Jimmy doesn't remember Jeff's call and the talk they had on the phone? It was impossible, of course he remembered. He was being Jimmy, acting like nothing had happened or just not giving a shit about it.
'Ooh, Jeff, how are we feeling today? Are you tired? Hung-over? Or are you still drunk? It isn't very nice to show up late to your own soundcheck. You unprofessional, naughty boy!'
Jeff didn't look good. Pretty worn out, like he had too many last night.
'Please, Page. Cut me some slack this one time. We can talk later, ok?'
Jeff left them, Paul felt relieved but also angry, Jeff was acting like nothing happened, they all were. It was all wrong.

Soundcheck was suprisingly quick and painless, everything went rather smoothly, people avoiding Jimmy more then usually. Paul remembered the lyrics, they played three songs partially checking all of Jimmy's guitars, and were free to go.
As they were heading to the taxi stand, Jeff approached and asked to wait for him. Jimmy agreed, lit a cigarette and they stayed in the parking lot silent.
'Do you believe what they say? That I did that to Bonzo? I mean, it was my fault, but do you think I deserved it?'
What the hell now.
'What? Jimmy, no. What are you talking about?'
'Nothing, never mind. Here's our friend.'
They shared a cab, Jeff proposed to grab a bite, Paul reluctantly agreed because the matters between him and Jeff couldn't really got worse and Jimmy needed to eat. On the way, Jimmy was casting them glances, sparkling with anticipation.
'Weirdo loves some good old drama.' Paul thought to himself. They chose a small, cosy place, a bit secluded. It was an advantage those days, autograph hunters could get annoying when you were hungry and not in the mood.

They ordered normal amounts of food and sat quietly for a moment.
'You two.'
Jimmy pointed at them gracefully and raised a brow.
'Can I leave you alone with each other? Cause I need to piss and you need to sort some shit out. Don't fight.' He left them staring awkwardly in different directions.
'Er. I'm sorry for yesterday, probably shouldn't have called him. Are you two ok?'
'Yeah, you shouldn't have. But it kinda sorted itself out. Forgive me for attacking you, I don't know what happened there.'
'You were tired and scared, that's what happened. You shouldn't take care of him all by yourself.'
Paul shrugged - if Jimmy had heard that, he would have killed Jeff. Jimmy didn't need to be taken care of, he was perfectly FINE.
'Since you and Jimmy aren't fighting, I suppose he must hate me now?' Jeff was worried, he really was.
'See, Paul we don't get along as well as it seems, me and Jimmy. I didn't want to fuck things up more. I can spend more time with him or with you both. Didn't want to upset him, that's all.'
'You don't need to explain yourself. Really Jeff, I don't want your excuses. It's only about Jimmy.'
'And I fucking sabotaged him yesterday.'
'But we're here today, things aren't that bad. Actually we had a fight. But we're good for now.'

Than Paul recalled the nasty talk Jimmy had with members of the band that morning. He shared the story with Jeff, who got really angry and even sadder than before. They sat looking out of the window - there was no use of saying anything more.

Jimmy got back and they talked, during the meal. Jimmy had a couple of french fries and a milkshake, Paul didn't force him to anything more, remembering the problems he had last evening.
The show was to start late that night - they had still plenty of time, so getting back to the hotel to get some more rest seemed reasonable.

At the lobby they split, Jimmy invited them to his room later to jam or just hang out.
It was nice to think that he wanted some company after three years of being alone almost all the time. Paul headed to his quarters, had a quick shower and wanted to change. After opening the wardrobe, a small bag appeared in front of him and Paul could swear it had some ominous glow to it. He took it out and stood in the middle of the room for a moment, thinking what to do. He went to the bathroom, dumped all the contents on the marble top, next to the sink.
'You're some evil shit, aren't you?'
Paul felt anger accumulating, how a few small utensils could take so many lives? Needles, syringes and the disgusting spoon, got wrapped in a paper from yesterday's takeout. All the small bags filled with death - emptied into the toilet. He disposed of the trash in the hall. Than he turned around and set off to Jimmy's room.

He reached for the doorknob and froze.
'Fuck! No, please. Paul, Paul!'
It was Jeff, he had been already inside and sounded deadly serious.
The door swang open, Paul was in the bathroom in two steps.
Jimmy was dead.
Lying on the floor, blood smeared on pale cheek. Paul felt the void sucking him in, everything went totally silent for a blink.

Then he was on his knees, pushing Jeff aside.
'Leave him, stop Jeff, fuck.'
Not dead. He wasn't unconscious even. Jimmy was sprawled out on the floor looking at him absent-minded.

'I wanted to shower, then Jeff appeared. Dunno what happened...'

'YOU DON'T KNOW? WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO JIMMY? WHAT DID YOU TAKE?'
Jeff totally lost it. He was greyish pale but getting dangerously red, he rushed into the floor and grabbed Jimmy, started shaking him.
'Jeff. Jeff, stop, hey STOP, OK? You are hurting him!'
Paul was terrified, stunned also, it all seemed like a nightmare.
'I am hurting HIM?'
'Jeff take it easy, I'm sorry.' Jimmy looked like he wanted to cry. It was heartbreaking.
'Oh, I didn't want to hurt you Jim, sorry. Let's take you to the hospital, maybe they would help?'
Jeff's voice was dripping with anger, fear and venom.
'Jeff please calm down, ok? No hospitals for now. What did you take, Jimmy?'

'I DIDN'T'

It wasn't a scream, Jimmy was howling with pure despair.
'Ok, so what happened?'
'You don't believe me, Paul? What the fuck, I should've had some dope, it doesn't even matter to you both.'

Paul felt helpless. He had two enraged guys in one bathroom and one of them could be dying from an overdose. Such a great way to spend an afternoon.

'I will fucking kill you, Jimmy, if that's what you want. You want to die, right? Then why did you make us come here, to watch you do it?!'
Jeff was terrified, Paul could sense his tension and fear bursting.
'Ok, apparently I really should OD since everybody is expecting me to. Leave me alone now.'
'Oooh, feeling sorry for yourself? You should've...'
'Stop, you guys, come on. Jeff maybe wait in my room?' Paul stood up and faced him.
'I'll take care of this now. We will come in a moment.' Jeff nodded and took the key.

'Don't you fucking paternalise me, Paul.' He heard as he left the room.

'So, what happened?'
'I told you. You don't believe me, so fuck off.'
'Jimmy, I want to help.'

'FUCK OFF.'
The howling thing again. He was totally hopeless.
'I came in, went to the bathroom and passed out, I don't know why, ok? It happens sometimes to fucking junkies. I couldn't have smacked even if I wanted to, 'cause you have all my stuff, right?'

Paul sighed, it was true.

'Where does the blood come from?'
'I hit the floor.'
'Ok, show me.'
He carefully examined Jimmy's head and found a small cut at the temple.

'It's not bad, are you nauseous?'
'Not really.' He sounded like a child with skinned knee, ready to cry.
'All right. Show me your eyes now.'
'You still don't believe...'
'Show me your eyes, you may have a concussion, I need to check.'
He wanted to check the pupils not only for their reaction to the light. But they were fine, normal size.

'How are you feeling?'
'Pissed off.'
'Good, let's stand up.'
'I'm tired of this shit, Paul.'
'Yeah.'

He cleaned Jimmy's head and helped him to the armchair.
'Gonna fetch Beck.'
'Just tell him to go, I don't want to demolish his stupid face.'
'Jimmy...'
'Please. I'll deal with him later.'

Paul found Jeff finishing his whiskey straight from the bottle.
'It's hopeless, Paul. I don't know how you cope.'
'He didn't do anything. Just fell. It happens, apparently. Asked me to tell you to go. He isn't angry or anything. But it would be better if you went. You'll see each other later.'
Jeff mumbled something and left. Paul was alone again in the middle of his room.

Chapter Text

Jimmy stormed into the room.
'I'm gonna need my bag.'

Paul twitched.
'Yeah, what for?'
'None of your business. I left something there and I need it, now.'
Apparently he was fine - still pissed off and stupid as always.
'Well, you're not gonna get it, 'cause the bag is gone.'
'Where is it, Paul?'
It was getting dangerous. Jimmy had this strange, agressive twinkle in his eye, Paul felt it could get nasty.
'You can fish your bag out of the chute in the hall, if you wanna. But it would be empty, anyways.'
'Where is my stuff, Rodgers?'
'So now I am a Rodgers to you.'
'Stop fucking around, tell me where it is.'
'Ok then, come.'

They went to the bathroom, Paul opened the toilet.
'It's there, you're welcome.'
Jimmy stood there, silent, staring into the water. Then he turned around and slowly walked out. Paul followed.
Jimmy sat on the sofa cross-legged, looking defeated.
Paul chose place next to him, leaving almost no space between them.
'How fucking pathetic.'
'Go easy on yourself, Jimmy. It was a hard day.'
'You know I wanted to take it back just to make you angry? I wouldn't even use it. I think, I wouldn't.'
'How are things, Jim? How are you really doing?'
'I'm fine.'
'James.'
Jimmy looked at him startled, apparently nobody called him that those days.

'Paul, can I ask you something? Do you think it would be good if I died? I mean here, in the States? Would you like me to finish it? Would it be better, 'cause I think it would, we could raise more money for Ronnie that way. Should I do it?'
He said it all with one breath, clasping delicate, big hands, fidgeting on the couch. All went quiet for a moment.

'You really think we want you to kill yourself?'
'Well, you both suggested that.'
'Don't be stupid.'
'Actually, it doesn't matter. I don't have any reason to stay. Think about it. Nothing. At all.'
Paul slowly reached out and took one of those fragile hands in his own.
'You have reasons, Jimmy.' He said softly.
'You need to be more specific, I don't really see it.' There was no reaction to Paul touching him at all. He started slowy massaging the soft triangle of flesh between Jimmy's thumb and index finger.
'Your family.'
Jimmy snorted quietly.
'We're separating. And Scarlet doesn't even know me. I don't see myself as her dad anymore, to be honest.' It hurt badly, but Paul continued:
'You could get better, she is young, you could still get to know each other. In time....
Ok, than you have friends.' He didn't want Jimmy to dismiss all of the arguments so he continued.
'You have Jeff, who loves you and cares.'
Jimmy smiled sourly.
'And you have me, Jimmy.' He turned Jimmy's palm upwards and carefully tangled their fingers together.
'You've got me, I'll be here for you. I know what you're thinking. That I'll leave you, I'll get tired. Well, I won't. I want you to survive, be happy and healthy. I will do everything in my power to help you. You have to let me. Let me help you. Please.'

Jimmy cleared his throat. He was finally looking at their hands. How very different they were. Paul's wider, fingers shorter than his, with small, rather cute hairy patches.

'What will you do Paul?' He asked with hoarse voice.
'I think we could do something together after we're back. Like a project - a supergroup. We work good together, we already have some material. What do you say?'
Jimmy was still watching their hands. He reached and started slowly carresing Paul's fingers. Definitely cute.
'Ok, I could do that.'
'But you'd have to ditch the coke too.' Paul knew it was a lot to ask, nonetheless he took the risk.
'I know, I will do it. I will.'
Paul slowy exhaled, their hands parted.
'Ok, so it's a date. Don't scare me like this anymore, ok? Or you can scare me but don't be stupid anymore, will you?'
Jimmy chuckled.
'That's a lot to ask for, Paul.'
He got up.
'I need to get ready for the gig.'
'Yeah, see ya.'

'...Paul? Thank you.'

The lounge at The Forum was crowded and loud. Jimmy headed straightly to the little stand in the corner. He had to have some cocaine before every show on that tour - otherwise he wouldn't be able to play. The worst stage fright of all time and his fragile condition would probably cause him to collapse in front of the audience. Because he was terrified and ashamed to the bone, he just needed something to numb himself, to cheer up. It was lesser evil. At least, Paul tried to think of it that way.

That night the gig turned out better, a lot less chaotic, no nosebleeds, no hitting in the head with doublenecks. They stepped down to the lounge after encores, had a few drinks, Jimmy and Jeff acting like the afternoon didn't happened. Then, Jeff hugged Jimmy goodnight, and mumbled something that souned like apologies. Jimmy was happy and still a bit too excited because of all the coke. Paul knew that it was wrong to think of him as cute in that state, but couldn't help it.

In the cab he was giggling and leaning on Paul's shoulder all the time.
'Why are you so happy, Jimmy?' Paul couldn't help smiling.
'Because I have you in my band.'
'You have got a band, Jimmy?'
'Haven't I?' He looked like a child who's just lost a new toy.
'We had a band today, Paul. Don't you want our band?' Paul couldn't mock him anymore.
'Yes, we have a band.'
'Aren't you happy?'
'I am.'
'And you're cute. Oh, yes you are.'
Paul raised a brow:
'You're too drunk.' They both laughed.

'Hey, Paul. Look what I found for us.'
And just like that he fished an acoustic guitar from under his feet.
'What the fuck, what is that?'
Jimmy was in total bliss.
'I took it. Was so lonely, somebody left it. And since we are sharing your guitar at the hotel, I thought we could have a spare one. They won't mind.'
Paul was wondering how could he not notice Jimmy dragging a guitar to the cab and hiding it under the seat. He must have been more drunk than he thought.

'Jimmy whose guitar is it? They'll be pissed.'
'Probably Eric's.' He giggled. That was fine, Eric was going to kill them, but Jimmy was happy so Paul decided it was fun.
They got to the hotel and Jimmy apparently didn't intend to part.
'We need to discuss the band.' He said firmly, staggering through the hall. 'Take me to your place, 'm drunk.' Paul obeyed and they entered his room.
'You need to sober up to talk.'He carefully placed the stolen guitar next to his own.
'I need to wash. I'm filthy.' Jimmy walked to the bathroom.
'Don't lock yourself in, ok?'
'You wanna join me, huh?' Filthy indeed. Jimmy tripped over his own feet and grabbed the coffee table.
'Just leave the door ajar. I don't want you to fall and hit your empty head again.' Paul smiled warmly.

Jimmy was humming in the shower. Paul was contemplating the fact that his life became such a roller coaster. He tuned both guitars, took his notebook and changed quickly into some sweatpants and a t-shirt. Jimmy was always getting sweaty during performances, Paul didn't have that problem at all. He heard the bathroom door cracking open. Jimmy stood there, dressed in fluffy, white bathrobe, damp hair falling to his shoulders. Tiny and fragile, Paul felt familiar warmth in his chest.
'Are you done?'
'I used your towel.'
'Gross.'
'Fuck you.' Jimmy was a lot less drunk, but still in happy mood.

They were jamming and joking, all good and calm. Jimmy came up with some riffs, they started writing a few new things. Than, a drink got spilled and Jimmy had to go wash his hands. When he came back, he threw himself on the bed instead of sitting next to Paul.
'It's better than mine. Bouncier.' He sighed, somehow disappointed.
'What do you think you're doing?' Paul was amused but also a little astonished.
'Come on, we can talk here. I don't want to play anymore, I want to lay down. Care for some weed?'

They shared a joint that Jimmy fished out of his vest's pocket.
'Do you really want to do that?'
'What?' Paul asked lost in thoughts.
'The project. The band.'
'Sure.'

They were sharing the joint in peace. Paul watched thin trail of smoke reaching the ceiling. He felt Jimmy turning on his side, facing him. An then long fingers gently tangled in his hair. Just before falling asleep, Paul thought that it was good to finally stay in his own bed for one night.

Chapter Text

Jimmy was drowning. He inhaled water, throat burning from screaming. He struggled to reach the surface, but invisible power was pushing him deeper each time. He was howling in the darknes, begging for mercy. Then his lungs were gone, body burning, flesh ripped off bones. He couldn't move, the bones became ashes, whole body was destroyed, only pain left. Screaming for help was pointless, no one would come. Agony in the dark, it was always like that. He was sentenced to rot in hell eternally.
And then there was somebody, a firm grip assembling him once again, pulling back to the light.
'It's all right. Calm down, Jimmy. You're fine.' Paul was there, soothing and reassuring.
'You're fine, I'm here.' He looked worried.
'What?' Jimmy tried to recompose but was still breathing heavily.
Sometimes he had that kind of dreams, but that one was particulary nasty.
'Why are you in my bed?'
'You're in mine, that weed you got made us fall asleep.'
Paul's voice was filled with worry.
'What happened, were you crying in your sleep?'
Jimmy realized that his cheeks were damp. Fuck.
'I happen to get those weird dreams from time to time. Sorry, did I wake you?' Stupid question, he was probably kicking and sleep talking as always.
'I'm sorry, I'll go, sleep well. Sorry again.' He added quickly, wanting to escape the embarassement and avoid the questions that were probably forming in Paul's head at the moment.
'Yeah, you hit me and I woke. Hey, stop.'
Paul grabbed his wrist. 'Don't go, how often does that happen?'
'It's because of the weed, never mind, really.'
'Ok, then. Are you all right now?'
'Yes, I'm good.'
'You seem cold.' Paul covered them both.
'You seem afraid of the dark.'
'How come?'
'I don't remember the last night spent without you in the room, Paul.'
Paul shrugged.
'I'm worried about you, ok? It turns out I was right, you almost knocked me out with your boney fist.'
'Oi, watch it! I don't mock your posture.'
'Because I'm perfect, Page. Go to sleep now.'
They were lying in silence for a moment. Then Jimmy turned to face him. Paul's eyes closed. Jimmy could smell him, a really nice smell, his hand next to Jimmy's face on the pillow. It was good not to be alone. He wanted someone for such a long time and now Paul was here, watching over him in the middle of the night. He even flew to another continent just because Jimmy asked him to. He didn't get anything out of this trip. No money, no time to have fun. Instead of going out with the rest, he chose to stay, babysitting. Why was he doing all of this? Why did he care? Jimmy felt breath on his cheek. Their faces were very close, only Paul's hand between them. He pressed lips to Paul's fingers, watching him, afraid of the reaction. Ready to back off and claim to be acting out of his mind because of the drugs.
Paul blinked. Jimmy took the hand from the pillow, placed on his chest and moved closer. Not breaking the eye contact he started slowly caressing his cheek. Paul sighed, he took Jimmy in his arms, gently like he was something extremely fragile. Jimmy really liked that.

He wanted so bad to be cuddled. He almost forgot how it felt to be close to anybody. Of course he had sex from time to time, but this was different. Paul held him attentively, not looking away - Jimmy felt appreciated and wanted, desired maybe, and not just for who he used to be. It was intimate and so long forgotten that almost completely new. They foreheads bumped and Jimmy felt a sting of self-consciousness. But Paul's lips were so close, and it just happened. Paul's arms around him tensed, he slowly grabbed Jimmy's hair. Time stopped and when it was over, Jimmy was terrified of opening his eyes and getting the look of disgust or worse - of pity.
Instead, he felt Paul's lips once again, deep kisses driving him insane. It got passionate, they were kissing and touching a lot, without any clear purpose.
Jimmy wanted more but Paul held him back - no need to rush things. He pressed his head between Paul's neck and shoulder ready to relax, protective arms surrounding him.
'Let's sleep now, baby.’
He was nobody's baby for such a long time. The words almost made him chuckle. He feel asleep feeling safe for the first time in years.

Paul woke up alone. After showering and shaving, he spent a good amount of time deciding what to wear. It was ridiculous, he was aware of that, but he fussed in front for the mirror nonetheless.
Jimmy's room was closed, Jimmy absent so Paul decided to catch him at the soundcheck.
He knew that Jimmy leaving on his own wasn't a good sign, he has been rather clingy lately and roaming the town alone was unlike him.
In the cab he analyzed last evening, event after event, trying to figure out what went wrong. He felt warmth thinking of what had happened between them at night. Maybe Jimmy was ok, maybe there was nothing to worry about.

'What the fuck, man, I was looking everywhere. Why would you take it?'
'Let’s get it over with, I'm giving it back, just take it.'
'I don't know what is wrong with you, really, Page.'
Paul was greeted by noises of Jimmy and Eric quarreling over stolen guitar.
Also - Jimmy was barely standing, pissed drunk. It was two in the afternoon.
Paul was getting used to it. Roller coaster all the time.
'Come on Jim, let's go.'
'Good, Jimmy your nurse is here. Go home.'
'Hey, Eric. What’s the problem? Hou have your instrument back, he apologized. Are we good?'
'Yeah, next time watch your junkie better.'
Paul tried hard to control the urge to hit him. He took Jimmy's hand and wanted to leave.
'Fucking dopehead.' It was too much, Paul turned around and grabbed Eric's shirt.
'Cut it out or I fucking kill you, right?' He didn't expect that and judging by Clapton's face neither did he. Paul realized that he overreacted again. He let go immediately - when did he become such a violent asshole?
'Look, I'm really sorry. It won't happen again.'
Eric was speechless.
'Just treat him like a person. Please. And I'm sorry. Cheers.' He dragged giggling Jimmy out of the building.

'My savior!'
'Stop it, Page. Are you happy? Look what you've done.' Jimmy flopped onto the concrete and lit a cigarette: 'What are we doing now?'
'I don't know. Why are you so fucked up?'
Jimmy didn't answer.
'I need you to sober up.'
Paul sighed, how many times did he say that in last few days?
'Let's go for a walk, it should help.'
They found a park, Paul bought himself a hotdog, a coffee for Jimmy. They shared some french fries. Jimmy was silent, he watched an old man feeding the ducks.
'Is it sad?'
'What, now?'
'That I probably won't make it.'
It was infuriating, for every step forward Paul got two steps back.
'You need to stop the self-sabotagging shit, seriously.'
They sat for a moment, listening to the birds.
'Weird, they’ve got no winter here.'
'What was that about? Drinking that much in the morning? Are you trying to piss me off? Because I won't let you win, Jimmy.'
'When do I win?'
'When you kill yourself.'
'That dream I had. I was in hell. Like for ever.'
So he wanted to talk about last night.
'I see why the screaming and crying.'
'I dream about that sometimes. But usually there's nobody to save me.'
Smoothly played - Paul smiled to himself. Jimmy was trying to trick him into starting the topic that needed to be adressed.
'About last night.'
'Hmm?' Jimmy was too drunk to act indifferent.
'I really liked it. Would you care to do it again sometime?'
Jimmy smiled shyly.
'Yeah, maybe. Like when?'
'Don’t know, sometime.'
'Sure.' Jimmy squeezed his hand.
They spent the afternoon talking, feeding pigeons and exploring the place. Jimmy's condition improved greatly so Paul decided it was time to go and change before the show.

In front of the hotel they ran into Jeff.
'What the fuck boys?' He was laughing, it may not be that bad. Maybe Clapton thought it was a joke - Paul tried to reassure himself.
'I'm not a fucking boy to you, Geoffrey.' Jimmy grinned.
'Call me that one more time and your bodyguard will have to step in again.' Jeff was in a great mood.
'What did he tell you?' Paul wanted to know how bad things were.
'Oh, don't worry, you scared the shit out of him Wyman told me that he almost started to cry.'
'Er, that’s not true. And fuck me.'
Jimmy giggled.
'No, it's gonna be all right, it's for the better, actually.' Paul wanted to believe it.
'I'm proud of you.' Jimmy patted his shoulder with a serious expression.
'Well, you're a freak, Jim. Let's go.'

Chapter Text

Everything seemed to work out just fine that night. They were at The Forum on time, people tended to get out of their way, which Jimmy was very happy about. As Jimmy's part of the show was getting closer, he started to tense up.
'What's going on. Are you unwell?'
'No, it's ok. Just nervous.'
'Why not help yourself...?' Paul nodded in the direction of the usual coke stand in the corner.
'Nah, I'll pass.'
Strange. Paul was a little bit worried about him, but at the same time limiting drug use was a good thing - he assured himself that everything would be fine.
They hit the stage, Jimmy more focused than usually, Paul watched him concerned during the gig, but it came out better than he could have expected.
After getting back to the lounge and catching more awkward glances from members of the crew, they decided to get back. There was no need to frighten Eric and the gang more. Jeff hugged them both goodbye this time, Paul thought that he wasn't that bad after all.

Ride home passed in silence, they were staring out of the windows, watching Los Angeles at night. At some point Paul felt Jimmy's hand squeezing his own and it felt great.

'I'll see you.' Jimmy smiled and left him in the hall. Paul entered the room, started preparing for another evening together: pouring drinks, cleaning the ashtray for Jimmy, rearranging cushions. He was tuning the guitar, when Jimmy came in and leaned on the dresser next to the door.
'I'm back.'
'Is everything, ok?'
'Yeah.' Nervous chuckle.
'Something's off with you. What is it?'
'Don't worry, everything is fine.'
Jimmy was looking at him with strange intensity, an enigmatic smile on his face.
'Is it about the dope?'
'What about it?'
'I didn't do dope. I don't need to.'
'I'm happy to hear that, really.'
They were embarrassed. Paul had seen Jimmy passed out, bleeding, vomitting, drunk and high, there was nothing that could shock him and yet, he felt sheepish, like they'd just met for the first time. Jimmy was shyly smiling, looking away:
'About the last night...'
'What about it?'
'I don't... why did you do that?'
'Did what, Jimmy?'
He was visibly uncomfortable.
'Look, I was lonely, I don't need you to do stuff just to comfort me.'
Paul tried hard not to burst.
'Firstly, yeah you do. And secondly - I would never make out with anyone just to make them feel better. Even you.'
'What are you saying?'
'What do you want to hear?' Of course Jimmy wanted to hear that Paul wanted this, wanted HIM. But apparently Paul wasn't keen on admitting that. Maybe he didn't care at all.
'Well, than it was fun.'
'What the fuck, Jimmy? I come here, follow you like a stray dog, making a fool of myself. Why do you think I do it?'
Ok, here it was, again - Paul lost it. He expected Jimmy to get angry, fight him or storm out. Instead, he stared straight into Paul's eyes.
'I really don't know, Paul.'
This was unexpected. Jimmy looked sad and suddenly very lonely.
'I, um... oh come on. How many times do I need to tell you? You know that I care.'
'Everybody does.'
'All right, maybe I care more.'
'How much?'
'What do you want from me?'
It was getting ridiculous. Paul sighed.
'This doesn't make sense. Let's have a drink.'

They sprawled out on the bed.
'Tomorrow we're heading to New York.'
'Right.'
'And in three days it's over.'
Paul twitched. He was right.
'Yeah, but we have got some plans, haven't we?
'Er, do you wanna do this for real?'
'What is with you, why you keep asking me, don't YOU want it? Do you have something better to do, or what?' Paul was getting impatient. 'Cut the crap, Jimmy, what's that about?' Jimmy rolled his eyes and streched.
'Are you aware what it's gonna be like?' He sipped from the glass.
'Oh, do tell, I'm dying to know.'
'You know how I am.'
'Enlighten me.'
Jimmy was playing with his own fingers.
'You'll regret it.' He sighed, rolled to the side, facing Paul. 'You say you aren't doing it out of pity, but I know you are. It's all about Kossoff dying years ago, you wanting to save me because you feel guilty of your bandmate's death. I get that. But look, none of this was your fault. You don't have to risk your career for me. You've done enough to help.'
It was hilarious, Paul tried not lo laugh.
'You're so dumb, has the dope fried your brain or what?' He wasn't in a mood for a fight and he knew how to handle Jimmy, he knew him too well.
'Are you breaking up with me for my own good? How anybody can be that fucking dumb.'
'Paul, I don't...'
'No, wait. You think, you're so smart. You think I didn't see what you were doing all day? On one hand, sneaking out and showing up shit-faced to the souncheck, on the other - staying away from coke to prove God knows what. You don't know what you want, but listen to me, I need you to be reasonable once, because if you fuck things up with me, there might be no one else to help you.'
'I don't know what that even means.'
Jimmy appeared genuinely lost.
'It means that you have to stop sabotaging everything I do to help you.'
'I'm sick of you helping me.'
'So stop being so fucking helpless.'

'How are you feeling, Jim?'
'Confused.'
'No, I'm asking about the coke. Withdrawal?'
'No, it's fine. I decided to kick it, though.'
'That's good.'
'Maybe I'll stop being fucking helpless for a while.'
'Well, good luck with that.'

Jimmy was stirring his whiskey. Paul observed elegant fingers holding the glass.
'It isn't about Koss. It was at the beginning, but not anymore.'
Jimmy stared at him, his eyes like burning forests.
'It's you, I don't know why you won't believe me. That I care and I want you to be happy, and...'
'What.'
'And I want you to be happy with me.'
He decided to just go for it. There was no use in continuing that foolish conversation, Jimmy wouldn't admit what he needed, so Paul had to go first.
'Because you are sweet and lovable, and I really need you to accept this.'
Jimmy was silent - it could be a good sign or a bad one, Paul wasn't sure. He decided to let it all out at once.
'I need you Jimmy, I do. I might be even in love with you. But if you're gonna keep on pushing me away it just won't work, you're right.'
Jimmy quietly sat up, placed the glass on the nighstand. Interlaced his fingers, head hung low.
'Jimmy? Baby?' One last chance. Jimmy shrugged because of Paul’s touch on his shoulder. Then out of the blue he bended over, topping Paul and grabbed his shoulders.
'You're fucking insane, you know that, right?' He kissed Paul passionately, it was almost violent. Paul felt relieved and aroused at the same time, it was so good, yet totally unexpected. It was like fighting, they were wrestling in his bed. He rolled over Jimmy, pressing him into the matress, foreheads and noses bumping, teeth chattering.
'Fuck, I want you.' Jimmy pushed his legs around Paul's waist. Paul tried to slow down, they shouldn't hurry. But Jimmy was alerady rubbing himself against his jeans. '
Jimmy, oh shit, slow down.'
Jimmy didn't want to.
'I need you.'
It was too much, Jimmy was looking like a fallen angel with messy hair and shining eyes - Paul knew that he wasn't able to stop anymore. He felt furious tugs on his jeans.
'How the hell do I pluck you out of those?'
He doubted that he had ever seen Jimmy this eager.
Jimmy made him sit on the edge of the matress, slipped out of the bed and kneeled on the floor.
'You'll love it.' He murmured and Paul knew he will.
Jimmy parted his knees with delicate touch and started slowly caressing the skin under his t-shirt, tracing the hair on his stomach and lower, below the navel. Paul felt he was loosing control. He wanted it so badly, but now he was afraid and willing at the same time.
'Look at me.'
Jimmy's face between his thighs. It was unimaginably beautiful. Emerald eyes glistening with devotion, fingers playing with the band of his boxers.
'I want you to look.'
Paul's underwear was gone, Jimmy straighten up to take his t-shirt off, still fully dressed himself. He kissed Paul's lips, than his mouth was everywhere and Paul felt that he could loose his mind. All of sudden, Jimmy was back on his knees, kissing his inner thighs, caressing, touching and finally swallowing him whole. He tried to control himself but failed, dropping his head back. Delicate hand made him look down once again to face Jimmy, slowly bobbing his head, locking their eyes. He took Paul's hand and placed it in his hair.
'Fuck, oh Jimmy.'
He couldn't help it. Jimmy was doing things with his tongue and Paul couldn't restrain himself anymore
'Jimmy, I can't... I’m close...'
Jimmy apparently wanted that - he sped up, looking absolutely stunning. Paul's head exploded with light and he came with a soft cry. Through the haze, he felt Jimmy swallowing and stroking him lazily.

Paul was slowly coming back to reality. Jimmy was still on the floor between his legs, cheek pressed to his thigh, searching for his gaze.
He touched his flushed face. This was the most soothing sight he could imagine.

Jimmy stood up and fell on the bed next to him. Paul still in awe, not able to talk, could feel Jimmy stroking his hair and cradling his face in hands. The wavy halo appeared just above him:
'Don't you dare to leave me after all that, Paul.'
Paul reached and caressed his cheek, than lower lip, speechless and stunned.
'Sleep now, baby. I'll be here in the morning.' Jimmy placed his head on Paul's chest. They both stayed silent until Paul drifted off.

Chapter Text

It was still dark when Paul awakened. Jimmy was gone, but the bathroom ligt was on. He let himself in and spotted Jimmy huddled on the floor.
'Are you sleeping in here?' Paul kneeled next to him and touched his back.
'I felt funny and came to puke, but it went away, dozed off.' He mumbled drowsily.

They went back to bed, Jimmy holding Paul's hand, still fully dressed. Paul wondered:
'Hey, why don't you take those off?'
'Er, I don't know.' Jimmy started fussing wit his hair, he always did that when nervous.
'See, I'm not very, hmm. Presentable.'
Paul sighed. Why Jimmy always made easy things so hard?
'You are so damn fine Page, pretty like a princess. And if you think that you're gonna pull through not getting naked ever, you're wrong.' He knew that Jimmy was naturally shy and his current state caused him to be even more self-conscious.
'Lie down' Paul ordered 'and off they go. Now you're gonna sleep better.'
They crawled into bed. Jimmy put arms around Paul's neck and locked their eyes. Paul kissed him slowly. 'Now tell me. What's with quitting coke all of a sudden?'
'You won't let it go, will you?'
'I'm just worried.'
Jimmy looked uncomfortable, avoiding Paul's gaze. Finally he answered:
'I wanted to be entirely present. You know, tonight, with you.'
He gestured.
'You were planning the whole thing?!'
'More like taking it into consideration.'
Giggle.
'What a romantic you are' Paul was grinning, he couldn't stop smiling because everything seemed to be falling into place.

They were kissing sloppily, touching everywhere. Jimmy felt Paul playing with hem of his t-shirt, lifting it up a little. He tensed up, squeezed Paul's hands lightly. It scared him - being intimate with someone he cared about, while being sober and off drugs was something new after all those years of numbness. Paul searched for his gaze, noticed how uncomfortable he was. He stopped for a moment, stroking Jimmy's hair:
'I don't have much experience in this.' Jimmy chuckled 'I meant with a guy.' Paul's ears became red: 'I want this really bad, you know.'
Jimmy exhaled, it couldn't be that bad, better to stop overthinking. He took the t-shirt off.
Paul sat back and tried to soak in the sight. Jimmy's body was unusual and alluring, delicacy mixed with sharpness - Paul really liked it. Jimmy was staring, eyes filled with insecurity and anticipation.
'You're perfect. I love you.'
Paul kissed, caressed and fondled until Jimmy finally relaxed. He noticed his boxers being taken off - they were both naked now and Jimmy started evolving from super shy to extra horny.
Paul's body was very manly: hairy and hefty, such a nice contrast to his lean frame, it really turned him on. Paul topped him kissing and caressing his upper body. Jimmy grabbed his hair and pulled him back into hot, opened-mouth kiss. Than he slowly pressed their hips together looking into Paul's eyes. The change in expression was immediate: from hazy pleasure to astonishment and then wild passion. They started rubbing against each other frantically. Jimmy didn't plan to do it like this but was now loosing control. Paul scratching and stroking his back, circling and thrusting - he wasn't sure what he was doing but it was definitely amazing as he have waited all his life for this. Jimmy knew that they won't make it very long like that. He managed to grab their cocks together and squeeze them. Then it was just a cascade of curses, Paul panting his name while coming and Jimmy couldn't hold it and came too. It was like madess and a dream at once.

Paul didn't dare to move, too afraid of scaring Jimmy away. They were a sweaty mess of tangled limbs and hair.
'Do you, really?'
'What?'
'Love me.'
'Yeah.'
'Yeah, me too.'
Paul knew that it was all he could expect from Jimmy at the time, it was completely enough to make him fall asleep happy and fulfilled.

'Jimmy.'
'No.'
'It's time to get up, baby.'
Silence. He blocked Paul with a pillow.
'Jimmy, your dealer is here.'
'What the fuck?'
'Oh, good you're up.'
They were flying to New York that day. Paul felt sad but at the same time relieved that this nightmare of a tour is coming to an end. Organisation was a mess from the beginning and it got them both tired in the end. After two last gigs in Madison Square Garden they would be free to go, maybe have some time to themselves. Paul felt a rush of heat thinking of what they might be doing then.

They made it to the airport on time and now were sitting next to each other on the plane. Jimmy was tipsy, he needed a few drinks to relax. After the take off he stopped twitching nervously and leaned back.
'Paul, tell me. What happens next?' Suprisingly he wasnt scared this time, only curious.
'I thought we could stay here a little bit longer. At the States.'
'And then?'
'And then we can go back and start working on some new material. It's gonna be great, you'll see.'
'Yeah, we can do that.' It will get better after all. Jimmy streched in his seat. 'And Paul?'
'Hm?'
'I love you.'