Satellite-Sequel to God Save My King (Steve Jones FanFic)

Steve-Somebody

A/N: I don't own the lyrics used in this chapter. Also, there are a few versions of this song by the Professionals. I chose this one for the lyrical relevancy to the chapter. Enjoy.

"You said you sang for the Professionals, right?"

I peeked down at Kimmy, her head on my chest, bobbing up and down with every breath I took. My fingers had been lazily combing through her hair, and I had thought that she had finally fallen asleep. That is, until she suddenly decided to ask this random question.

"That's right," I murmured, nodding my head slowly. "Played guitar too."

There was a silence, a silence in which Kimmy seemed to cuddle up closer to me. The heat of her somehow managed to give me goosebumps rather than make me sweat, and I was constantly aware of her cheek against the bare skin of my chest. I tried to stay calm, pretend she wasn't there, and hoped that my heart wouldn't start hammering against her ear.

"What happened? You're here, but where's Cookie? Aren't you still making music?"

She was asking way too many questions for my liking, and I found myself wishing that I hadn't stayed after all. Spending the night cuddled up next to Kimmy had seemed like a good idea earlier, but now, with her poking and prodding me with all of these invasive questions, I was beginning to second guess my past judgements on the situation.

How was I supposed to answer her? No doubt she had known from day one that something bad had happened to me since my arrival in America. I mean, you don't just get court-ordered probation and drug tests by being an upstanding citizen. But I'd never actually expected her to start poking at the elephant in the room. I was unprepared, and totally ashamed of myself.

I didn't want to tell her about the drugs, the drinking, and the girls. I wasn't ready to own up to it, especially not to her. Not to Kimmy. Kimmy, the girl who hadn't even been able to love me at my best. I feared that she certainly wouldn't be able to love me at my worst.

I cleared my throat and wiggled myself out from underneath her. She got to message, and sat up to get a good look at me, eyes wide with confusion and wonder. Lost as to why I suddenly wanted to be as far away from her as possible. I looked down at my now empty lap, unable to keep a steady gaze on her.

"I, uh..." I coughed again, buying myself more time as my mind scrambled to come up with some bullshit excuse. Something that could stifle her curiosity, while also allowing me to dodge more questions. "Cookie and I wanted different things. He stayed in England with his girlfriend, Jeni. I came here to be closer to other musicians, for more opportunities. Billy Idol is here, you know? Not just him either. Anybody who is anybody goes to California, and I want to be somebody."

I was surprised at my own words, not realizing how true they were until I'd heard them for myself. Not that I planned to be as big as The Eagles or nothin', but I certainly didn't wish to become some washed up rockstar, working in the factories of my homeland, going to the pubs every night, and drowning my sorrows in ale as I tell anyone who will listen about how I used to be a Sex Pistol: "No, not any of the important ones, just the backing band."

Kimmy cocked her head slightly, her eye brows furrowing the slightest bit, as though she couldn't understand what I was talking about. "But...you are somebody. You're you."

I could have kissed her right then and there. I could have buried my hands into her hair, and pulled her in until we were tangled in each other. I might have too, if I wasn't so sure that it was the wrong thing to do at the moment. Not now, while we were both so obviously still lying to one another.

I shook my head and chuckled softly, looking away from her once more. "Trust me, that's not somebody anyone wants to be. I don't even wanna' be me."