I Wanna Be Your Backdoor Man || jimbert

Chapter 3: The Spetacularly Bad Idea

Goldie cornered him in the music room the following week, scowling at him like he had ran over his dog or kicked his baby sister. Or kicked his baby sister while running over his dog.

"I didn't do it." He said on instinct, lowering his Gibson warily.

Robert lagged for a while before the scowl was in its original place, stronger than ever. "Damn right you didn't. I thought you'd come to me when you needed help."

"I will." Looked like his alone time with Les Paul was over. Sighing deeply, he got around to putting her back in her case. "I just... I've been busy." He wished Bonzo was here to back him up, but the fucker was doing uncool shit like studying or attending classes and what not. Loser.

"Busy skipping classes?" Robert hissed, frowning so hard Jimmy became concerned his face would freeze that way. "You didn't even give in your essay, that's a zero, wiseguy." The blonde leaned against the door, one hand closed around the knob—exit successfully blocked. The fucker was kinda on the tall side.

The brunette sighed, left with no choice. He sidled closer to Robert, lowering his gaze while gently biting his lower lip. "The truth is... God, Rob, I don't know how to say this."

Robert relaxed his grip on the door, leaning closer, so close he could see Jimmy's dark lashes curl upwards. Bad. This was bad. "What? Jimmy, what is it?"

Jimmy sighed theatrically, fingers gently brushing against Robert's worn blue jeans. "I've just had a lot going on recently..." He peered up at the blonde's face to see how this all was working out. Robert's face closed off quicker than Bonzo's when any form of exercise was suggested.

"You fucker." Robert said, with feeling. "You absolute wanker." His grip on the doorknob tightened. He might be a little ashamed he fucking slipped, if only for a second.

"Just get outta my way." Jimmy huffed, cover completely blown. For a second he thought Goldie was falling for it. "I gotta get to class." Plain bullshit and they both knew it.

"No." Robert snapped. "I'll only let you go if you agree to spend at least half an hour after school going through the play."

What fucking play? "Thirty minutes is a mighty long time, Goldie." He pointed out, panicking. That was guitar time. Precious, precious guitar time. Time he won't have his girl purring beneath his hands.

Robert stared at him for a while longer before throwing up his free hand. "Ok, listen. You can bring the guitar, we go to my house and we fucking study for a while. How does that sound?"

Jimmy hesitated, weighing the pros and cons. On the upside, Les Paul and Robert in his natural habitat. On the flipside, books. Not to mention, Literature books. To top it all off, old Literature books. But Robert, at home, with his hair down (ridiculous, it was always down)—ok, with his hair up, maybe an apron and nothing else. "Ok fine. Please stop holding me hostage."

Robert's hand was barely off the handle before Jimmy was dashing out without a backwards glance. Finally alone, the blonde allowed himself to freak, Jimmy had been within kissing distance of him. God, he looked even better up close, and his curls were just screaming at Robert—'touch us, touch us!—he deserved a medal for his stellar self control.

That was around the time it sunk it. Jimmy. At his house. Jimmy Page was going home with home... while his mom was home. The mom he spent all of last week ranting to about 'the hot guy at school'. "Jesus Christ."

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Jimmy managed to convince Bonzo to skip English class and have a smoke with him behind the school. The man had muttered and bitched about Jimmy being a bad influence, but had hauled ass willingly enough. The way to Bonzo's heart was cigarettes and beers.