𝓢𝓲𝓵𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓢𝓹𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 | Daisy Jones and the Six imagines

dont let it burn (dont let it fade)

Summary : the post show party goes on too long, to the point that you and Eddie give up on not caring about eachother.

one show down.

That had been the first thought you'd had after every show so far, and you were sure to have it after every show to come. While you loved what you did and got an instant adrenaline rush after each performance, there was something about the pre-show nerves that always made you rethink everything.

Tonight you'd felt so sick that you'd genuinely, honestly, considered quitting the band and going to veterinarian school.

Eddie, however, had been quick to notice your unease - your hands shaking, and your breathes short and airy - and came over to calm you down, whispering promises to you that you were going to be amazing, just like you had at every other show.

As you went for another drag of your after show joint, a ritual as old as time itself, Eddie burst through the back entrance of the building, eyes scanning around until they settled on you. He ran over to you, scooping you up into his arms and squeezing you into a tight hug. He span the two of you around before he placed you back down, his arms still hung around you waist, however.

"You!" Eddie cheered, one hand leaving your waist to cup your face, smooshing your cheek. "You were great out there! What did I tell you? Amazing!"

"All thanks to you." You replied, your lips curling up into a bashful smile around your joint. It was hard not to have feelings for your band mate whenever Eddie smiled at you like that. "I couldn't have done it without you, pretty boy. You get my confidence going."

"You shouldn't need it when you can play bass like that." He immediately replied, tucking the hair that had gotten trapped under his hand that was holding your cheek, behind your ear and out of your eyes. "You're a goddess up on that stage, birdie."

"Oh stop." You chided teasingly, pushing at his chest though not hard enough that any of my hands would be removed from you. "As if you don't look hand carved from the Gods themselves on, or off, stage."

The dim streetlights helped to hide the red flush that came to Eddie's cheeks, the longer the two of you stood here, like this, making him question if it was worth trying to hide his feelings for you.

Most times, he thought it wasn't. That if he just told you, and you reciprocated, then the pair of you could live happily ever after - sneak kisses before and after and during shows, hold hands across a diner booth with two straws in one milkshake, sit in his lap around the tv in the house and stuff like that. Sometimes, however, he realised Billy would probably beat his ass for risking the sanctity of the band.

Though, he knew he'd take an ass-beating from Billy for you any day.

"Hit me?" Eddie asked, nodding to the joint held loosing between your lips. You took one last drag from it, slow and long, before you took the joint between your fingers and away from your lips, holding it up to Eddie's lips for him and allowing him to take a drag. When he'd taken as much as he wanted, he pulled himself away from the joint, blowing out into the smoke into the cold night. "Thank you, birdie."

"Anything for you, you know that."

Eddie stayed with you while the rest of your joint burnt up, you holding against your own lips, and then his, until it burned at your fingers and begged to be put out. You dropped it to the floor, squishing it under your shoe to make sure it stayed out, then took Eddie's hand, pulling him back into the venue you'd been playing in search of a drink, or three, to end off the night.

When you found the rest of the band back inside, Warren already had a drink ready for you, claiming he'd only taken a sip or two (despite the fact the glass was half empty), but you didn't care, it was the thought that counted.