A/N: Only one more to go after this one! I hope you enjoy it and thanks so much for reading!
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The rest of the day was spent relaxing and enjoying each other’s company; we had put the main focus on us, not even the band, which meant the world –and beyond- to us, was our priority today. We were presently aware that, if the two of us were unhappy and at odds with each other, 50% of our band was at risk, so we decided to take this day and make it ours, to use it to charge our batteries, to reconnect at every level. Tomorrow, we would have to go to the studios and work, we were already in the makings of our sixth album and so there was a lot to do, it was exciting and fun and it would be even better now that Chris and I were on the same page again.
We had chatted, we had watched TV snuggled on our bed, we had made love on the sofa, we had listened to lots of music in an improvised playlist with artists we both loved and Chris had danced around me to Michael Jackson’s “Bad”, I was in stitches by the time he finished.
We were currently in the kitchen, chilling out after dinner, of course, neither of us had cooked and as we were both too comfy and lazy to get dressed again and go out, Chris suggested we ordered a pizza and so we had indulged ourselves with a few cheesy slices.
“Are you up for some jamming?” Chris asked.
“Of course!”
He disappeared into the living room and went upstairs, presumably to our bedroom to get our guitars and I cleaned up after our dinner. There wasn’t much to do, anyways, and I was done before he came back into the room.
“Here, babe,” he entered back into the kitchen, his arm stretched out holding my guitar.
“Thanks!”
“Ready?” he eagerly said.
“Hold on a minute, please!” I laughed at his enthusiasm, fretting with the guitar pegs trying to tune it in.
He started strumming while I just listened and got my little portable amp ready, I recognised the tune, it was one of our new songs.
“Oh, man, where is Guy when we need him?!” he said with a little laugh, when the bass line our Scottish friend had written should have started.
“He’s probably at some exclusive place, he seems to get inside info of the best private clubs and stuff,” I said.
“That’s true. Guy’s always been so secretive,” he laughed and resumed playing, his fingers eliciting lovely notes from his acoustic guitar, “Damn!” he said, “I wish there was some guitarist around here to do a lovely solo,” he raised his glistening eyes to me.
I winked at him and started playing my part, he joined in and we played together, I lifted my eyes to look at him and, for a moment, I saw that 19-year-old with long curls that had captivated me in our first week at university. Little had I known back then how important he would become to me. So lost in my memory was I that I hit the wrong note, making Chris giggle and so I did as well, partly in reaction to my slip-up and partly because his laugh just had that effect on me. We never stopped playing, though, we continued until the song ended, or rather our parts, since in the current version of the song, it ended with one of Will’s drum parts, which Chris mimed tapping his hands on the table top.
“We’re so good!” he exclaimed, eyes wide in an exaggerated expression.
“The best ones,” I joked along.
“You certainly are Mr. Martin,” he grinned playfully.
“Mr. Martin?” I chuckled a bit confused.
