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vocab_drabbles2024-01-23 02:18 am
mxcatmoon) wrote in vocab_drabbles2024-01-23 02:18 am
Entry tags:
#088 Philistine - Moonlight - Some Things Change, Some Things Stay the Same
Title: Some Things Change, Some Things Stay the Same
Fandom: Moonlight
Author: Cat Moon
Rating: PG (for a bit of sexual innuendo)
Characters/Pairing: Josef/OMC
Words: 918
Summary: Rock is dead, and a certain vampire is not taking it well
Notes: It's commonly accepted now that it wasn't grunge that killed glam rock, but that was the sentiment going around in some circles in those days. Personally, I believe Ozzy: You can't kill rock and roll.
1994
Josef strode into his office, eyes zeroing in on the vampire slouched in his desk chair. It wasn't a surprise to find his visitor, he'd known Shane was there before even entering the building. His mouth was already open to make one of his usual snarky comments, until he abruptly paused to catalogue the body language on display.
His smirk vanished. "What's wrong?"
The blond vamp sighed. "Nothing."
Instead of deigning to respond to the lie, Josef moved over to the bar and began pouring drinks. "Then why are you moping in my chair?" he asked as he put a full glass of whiskey before his companion. He always kept a bottle of Jack Daniels on hand, although he'd never admit to it.
Josef was concerned but not alarmed, sensing nothing immediately threatening. He rolled his shoulders as his body relaxed, leaning his butt against the desk as he watched Shane silently drink. "Are you gonna tell me, or just sit there and sulk?" Secretly, he was pleased. Something was bothering Shane, and he had come to Josef. That was infrequent enough that it deserved celebration.
"You wouldn't understand."
"You could try me," it came out more sharply than intended, but he wasn't sorry.
"You called me a philistine," Shane told him as if that said everything.
"I call you a lot of things," Josef pointed out with a grin. He did remember, though; of course, he did. "Don't tell me this is about rock and roll." He wasn't much of a fan of that genre of music and didn't pretend otherwise. When Shane decided to start a rock band in the late 1950s, Josef never expected it to last. It had been decades, though, and the nomadic vampire hadn't grown tired of it. It took a lot less time to get bored with being around Josef, if experience was to go by.
It mattered to Shane, and so it mattered to Josef, although that was another thing he'd never admit. He had quite a list of those.
Shane handed over a magazine, and Josef scanned the article it was opened to. It was full of unflattering things about what they called 'hair bands,' their lack of talent, the excesses, commercialism, and the fame. The kind of things Josef could see himself saying…
"The gigs dried up. Can't even play a bar mitzvah. The band split up. Tony went back to selling insurance, John moved into his parent's basement, and Phil is selling his blood to vampires for rent money."
"And you?" Josef asked neutrally, tamping down any 'feelings' about this development.
Shane shrugged, taking another swallow of his drink. "It's all Nirvana and Pearl Jam, and groups like Whitesnake and Poison are jokes."
It made sense that tastes changed, fads came and went, and music evolved.
Shane had always been the one to move on, wandering from one adventure to another, never in one place for long. Josef was the one who put down roots in the community and was perfectly happy to run his business empire there for the foreseeable future centuries. This was different. Although the touring aspect of the lifestyle involved much traveling, it was a nebulous sort of roots Shane had put down in shifting sands.
"I know it's time to reinvent myself," Shane admitted. "It's been a long time… past time, really."
Josef moved to sit in the chair in front of the desk reserved for those movers and shakers of influence who came to see him in his downtown office. "Where are you headed to now?" he asked in a carefully casual tone. When Shane went to California in the 1960s to immerse himself in the L.A. rock scene, it wasn't long before Josef followed. It wasn't anything new; they orbited around each other like two drunken planets staggering through the cosmos with a rubber band connecting them that periodically yanked them back together.
Shane shrugged. "Not sure. Maybe I'll stick it out for a bit longer, try it out as a solo act or something."
"You could play that grunge stuff the article was discussing," Josef suggested tentatively.
Shane scoffed. "Now you're the philistine."
"If you mean I like making money, guilty as charged. If you're implying I have no taste… well, I do like you, so who's to say, really."
Shane whacked him with the rolled-up magazine, and he was relieved to sense the melancholy mood lightening with the return of their usual banter.
"Speaking of making money, I might be persuaded to take you to the club and beat you soundly in several games of pool," Josef offered.
"You, leaving the office in the middle of the day?" Shane got to his feet and stuck out a hand to feel Josef's forehead. "Sure you're feeling alright?"
Josef smacked the hand away. "Provided the stakes are high enough."
"Remember now, I'm a poor musician without a paying job."
Josef gave him a speculative once-over. "We could take it out in trade."
A genuine grin spread across Shane's face. "Winner tops?" he suggested as he tugged Josef out of the chair and towards the door.
"Now that's definitely my kind of bet."
Josef let himself be led. It was only fair; he had no intention of losing. As for the future, he'd let it sort itself out. After four hundred years, he was used to it. Rock and roll might die, scenery change, and history march on, but until the universe exploded, these two planets were bound together.
The end
1/22/24
Fandom: Moonlight
Author: Cat Moon
Rating: PG (for a bit of sexual innuendo)
Characters/Pairing: Josef/OMC
Words: 918
Summary: Rock is dead, and a certain vampire is not taking it well
Notes: It's commonly accepted now that it wasn't grunge that killed glam rock, but that was the sentiment going around in some circles in those days. Personally, I believe Ozzy: You can't kill rock and roll.
1994
Josef strode into his office, eyes zeroing in on the vampire slouched in his desk chair. It wasn't a surprise to find his visitor, he'd known Shane was there before even entering the building. His mouth was already open to make one of his usual snarky comments, until he abruptly paused to catalogue the body language on display.
His smirk vanished. "What's wrong?"
The blond vamp sighed. "Nothing."
Instead of deigning to respond to the lie, Josef moved over to the bar and began pouring drinks. "Then why are you moping in my chair?" he asked as he put a full glass of whiskey before his companion. He always kept a bottle of Jack Daniels on hand, although he'd never admit to it.
Josef was concerned but not alarmed, sensing nothing immediately threatening. He rolled his shoulders as his body relaxed, leaning his butt against the desk as he watched Shane silently drink. "Are you gonna tell me, or just sit there and sulk?" Secretly, he was pleased. Something was bothering Shane, and he had come to Josef. That was infrequent enough that it deserved celebration.
"You wouldn't understand."
"You could try me," it came out more sharply than intended, but he wasn't sorry.
"You called me a philistine," Shane told him as if that said everything.
"I call you a lot of things," Josef pointed out with a grin. He did remember, though; of course, he did. "Don't tell me this is about rock and roll." He wasn't much of a fan of that genre of music and didn't pretend otherwise. When Shane decided to start a rock band in the late 1950s, Josef never expected it to last. It had been decades, though, and the nomadic vampire hadn't grown tired of it. It took a lot less time to get bored with being around Josef, if experience was to go by.
It mattered to Shane, and so it mattered to Josef, although that was another thing he'd never admit. He had quite a list of those.
Shane handed over a magazine, and Josef scanned the article it was opened to. It was full of unflattering things about what they called 'hair bands,' their lack of talent, the excesses, commercialism, and the fame. The kind of things Josef could see himself saying…
"The gigs dried up. Can't even play a bar mitzvah. The band split up. Tony went back to selling insurance, John moved into his parent's basement, and Phil is selling his blood to vampires for rent money."
"And you?" Josef asked neutrally, tamping down any 'feelings' about this development.
Shane shrugged, taking another swallow of his drink. "It's all Nirvana and Pearl Jam, and groups like Whitesnake and Poison are jokes."
It made sense that tastes changed, fads came and went, and music evolved.
Shane had always been the one to move on, wandering from one adventure to another, never in one place for long. Josef was the one who put down roots in the community and was perfectly happy to run his business empire there for the foreseeable future centuries. This was different. Although the touring aspect of the lifestyle involved much traveling, it was a nebulous sort of roots Shane had put down in shifting sands.
"I know it's time to reinvent myself," Shane admitted. "It's been a long time… past time, really."
Josef moved to sit in the chair in front of the desk reserved for those movers and shakers of influence who came to see him in his downtown office. "Where are you headed to now?" he asked in a carefully casual tone. When Shane went to California in the 1960s to immerse himself in the L.A. rock scene, it wasn't long before Josef followed. It wasn't anything new; they orbited around each other like two drunken planets staggering through the cosmos with a rubber band connecting them that periodically yanked them back together.
Shane shrugged. "Not sure. Maybe I'll stick it out for a bit longer, try it out as a solo act or something."
"You could play that grunge stuff the article was discussing," Josef suggested tentatively.
Shane scoffed. "Now you're the philistine."
"If you mean I like making money, guilty as charged. If you're implying I have no taste… well, I do like you, so who's to say, really."
Shane whacked him with the rolled-up magazine, and he was relieved to sense the melancholy mood lightening with the return of their usual banter.
"Speaking of making money, I might be persuaded to take you to the club and beat you soundly in several games of pool," Josef offered.
"You, leaving the office in the middle of the day?" Shane got to his feet and stuck out a hand to feel Josef's forehead. "Sure you're feeling alright?"
Josef smacked the hand away. "Provided the stakes are high enough."
"Remember now, I'm a poor musician without a paying job."
Josef gave him a speculative once-over. "We could take it out in trade."
A genuine grin spread across Shane's face. "Winner tops?" he suggested as he tugged Josef out of the chair and towards the door.
"Now that's definitely my kind of bet."
Josef let himself be led. It was only fair; he had no intention of losing. As for the future, he'd let it sort itself out. After four hundred years, he was used to it. Rock and roll might die, scenery change, and history march on, but until the universe exploded, these two planets were bound together.
The end
1/22/24