Not With Those Teeth, Mate (Maylor/Froger/Deacury)

Chapter 2

Brian peered his head into the crowded room, scoping the sea of mostly young, moving bodies for a place he could hide in. The corners were definitely an option, but they had already been taken by other wallflowers and by couples who couldn't keep their hands off one another – not caring to partake in their infatuation on the dance floor. There were a few seats available in the mix of partiers, but he worried that someone might trip over themselves and spill their drink over his textbook.

Inevitable accident after inevitable accident flashed through the guitarist's mind, and it wasn't long before he felt something – or rather, someone – nudge him in the back. He quickly looked over his shoulder to see his stepmom, an encouraging expression on her face as she nodded towards the party, urging him to join it. Brian heaved an annoyed sigh and clutched his book close to his chest, daring to enter the tightly packed room while still searching for a place where he could study in peace (or as much peace as such a setting would allow).

Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, Roger had slipped in and was working his way through the room, seeking the refreshment's table for a drink to lessen his nerves. He needed it after his impromptu studio session with his stepdad, and alcohol always made engaging in conversations easier, helping him exude the confidence, suaveness, and outgoingness everyone expected him to have.

"All right!" the emcee on the stage exclaimed, his voice booming through the speakers and overpowering the cheers and applause that consumed the atmosphere. Brian, having taken the risk of situating himself on one of the couches that sat just outside the congregation in the center of the room, shook his head, trying his best to focus on his book while the emcee shouted, "Give it up for Alannah and Tom! How were they?"

Roger glanced over his shoulder at the stage, catching the eccentric looking pair – the man with a ponytail that ran down the middle of his back and the woman with the sides of her head shaved and a mop of blonde curls on top – before they walked off the stage, waving at the audience who couldn't get enough of them. The drummer shook his head at the prospective duo and returned his attention to the table, scanning his options and asking the bartender what she recommended.

"Who's going to rock the house next?" the emcee asked excitedly, eliciting another thunderous roar from the crowd. When no one volunteered to come up on the stage after a whopping five seconds – far too long of a pause for the informal concert that needed to last all night, or at least up until the clock struck midnight – the guy gestured to the man across the room, prompting him to power up the spotlight that had been brought in just for this occasion. (EMI never skimped out on their parties.)

The sphere of light glided across the room, first landing on the blonde whose eyebrows rose in a mix of surprise and horror as the person next to him grabbed him by the shoulders and gave him a congratulatory shake. "No, I-I don't have my girls. I can't—"

His words dissipated into an incomprehensible stutter as he was led to the stage by others in the crowd and the spotlight graced its next victim – the curly-haired man too engrossed in his book to even realize it at first. It wasn't until he was grabbed at and yanked out of his seat, the light blinding him as he was pulled to his feet and dragged up to the stage, that he understood what was happening. He shook his head in refusal, wanting to be left alone, but he was thrown up there just like Roger had been. The two looked at each other anxiously, an embarrassed blush rising in both their cheeks.

"You know, someday you guys might thank me for this," the emcee joked, placing a hand on each of their shoulders and flashing them a brilliant smile.

"I doubt it," Roger sneered at the guy whose grin instantly faded. He backed away from the two and hopped off the stage, leaving the men to share awkward glances as they debated whether or not to introduce themselves, crack a lighthearted joke about how much this was going to suck, or head straight for the door and never come back. Of course, the last idea wasn't a viable option for either of them – Roger's stepfather was notorious within the label and granted him access to opportunities that otherwise would've been unattainable, and Brian was starting a week from then. Darting off stage would look bad for them both.

Knowing John would never let him live down his choice to deny a chance to perform, Roger heaved an irritated sigh and cupped the microphone head in his hands, bluntly asking the stranger beside him, "You know the Beatles?"

Brian glanced over at him, apprehension glistening in his eyes as he stammered in response, "Y-Yeah, who doesn't?"

"Yeah, but how well do you know their songs?" the blonde continued his pressing interrogation, the clamorous crowd dying down as they grew impatient for the next act.

"Fairly well," the taller of the two answered modestly, "Why?"

"Because we're gonna sing 'Another Girl'." The blonde jerked his head forward, winking at the DJ before wrapping his hand around the microphone and belting into it, "For I have got..."

"...another girl," the pair sang together, their voices meshing together almost instantly. Roger's eyebrows perked up in surprise as they repeated the phrase again, their sound nothing like he'd ever heard before. The blonde possessed a particular, unique, one-of-a-kind voice that John never failed to point out, and it didn't always mix well with others, but the match between his and this other boy's voice was undeniable.

It didn't take long after that for the two to get into the swing of the song, alternating verses that became easier with each iteration and coming together in a perfect harmony for the chorus: "Another girl, who will love me till the end. Through thick and thin, she will always be my friend." By the end of the song, Roger and Brian were no longer restricted to their respective mic stands, having taken the microphones out of their holsters and starting to interact with one another, the crowd soaking up every second it. Facing one another with their eyes locked, they sang the last lines of the song to each other and no one else. "Another girl...another girl...another girl."

The final guitar rift echoed through the relatively small room, time seeming to slow down for the pair of strangers before picking up speed when the room erupted into another wave of applause and encouraging shouts and whistles. Roger and Brian's hearts pounded against their close chests, the room and people around them but a mere afterthought as they struggled to find the words to say.

"Roger," the blonde finally introduced himself, snapping out of the daze he'd fallen into while staring into those captivating brown eyes he hadn't seen before. He was familiar with most of the people in attendance – only by face, though – and this was one he didn't recognize.

"Brian," the guitarist replied, matching the drummer's growing smile.