Mötley Crüe: The Dirt Imagines

Vince Neil/Daniel Webber Imagine #4

As requested by DaenerysGOT8 (I hope you like it!! 😊 <3)

You finally set down the last cardboard box full of t-shirts, exhausted and dripping sweat. You couldn't imagine how a pile of cheap fabric could be so heavy, but by the look of your beet red face in the reflection of the rearview mirror, it was as if you had been carrying boxes of bricks. You leaned back against the battered van to catch your breath, panting like a dog and bent over at the hips. You weren't necessarily out of shape, but manual labour had definitely not been in the job description when you agreed to be Mötley Crüe's promotions manager. You had thought it would just be designing concert t-shirts and postering for gigs, you hadn't anticipated spending half your life on the phone talking to club owners and harassing any media outlet who would listen for some cheap advertising spots. And you definitely hadn't thought you'd be a glorified roadie, schlepping boxes back and forth every gig until your lungs gave out.

"Want a cigarette?" a familiar voice asked lightly, coming somewhere from in front of you. You straightened up, feeling the stitch in your side as you did, and saw Nikki walking towards you. He was dressed for the show, all tight leather and stage makeup, haired teased up to the gods and a stupid, teasing grin on his face.

"You were supposed to help me with these boxes, stupid," you said with a scowl, gesturing to the towering stack beside you.

"I didn't think the talent was supposed to do the heavy lifting," he said with a shrug coming to lean on the door beside you, "Otherwise, why would we hire help like you?"

You rolled your eyes and resisted socking him on the arm like you used to do when you were kids. You had known Nikki since you were 7 years-old and you had been best friends with him for just as long. You and your dad lived across from Nikki and his mom, your house acting as kind of a safe haven for Nikki from all the shitty boyfriends and his even shittier mother. You had left home with him when you were both 17 and tried to put yourself through college in a business program while he pursued a music career. It was hard to do that while working your ass off as a waitress though, so you had had to drop out before getting your diploma. It had been waitressing and occasionally other, more demeaning jobs for you ever since. That is, until Mötley Crüe started to take off and Nikki gave you a chance to put your marketing education to good use.

"Please," you pleaded, looking up at him with your best puppy dog eyes, the same ones that always ensured he'd give you the last slice of pizza in the box or cold beer in the fridge, "Just help me unpack them for the merch table."

"Can't," he said, shaking his head but actually looking a little apologetic, "We go on in ten and I still need to tune my bass."

You looked at the boxes, considering how quickly you could get everything up and ready before the crush of fans came looking for their souvenirs after the gig. You decided you could spare a few minutes, it would probably even keep you from passing out in this disgusting back alley.

"Fine," you sighed, starting to walk towards the back entrance to the club, "But at least buy this slave a beer."

He laughed, slinging his arm around your shoulder as you both pushed through the door.

XXX

There was no band on at the moment, just the tinny sound of bad speakers and piped in music. It was pretty packed though, people knew what was coming and they were excited for it. It was so satisfying seeing this for Mötley Crüe, the only one of Nikki's bands you had seen from the ground up that actually seemed to be making it.

You and Nikki wound your way through the crush of people and towards the bar. You looked ahead, straining your neck to see if who you were looking for was anywhere in the vicinity. You were just about to give up on spotting him before he took the stage when a shock of blonde hair caught your eye. There he was, sitting at the bar with another girl.