SILVERCHAIR imagines [requests OPEN]

made for you

For Sofia
SofaDef

the following is a *special request*
Dandroid is back for one night only ;)

(j/k -- my silly butt will finish
Android in the House,
one fine day **fingers crossed**)

time/location: the future / Fortune's Cradle (a fictional human bar/venue accepting of androids, their owners and enthusiasts)

He wasn't just any Dandroid. He was mine, all mine.

I have the best, sweetest, most thoughtful friends in the entire universe. They had been putting money into a shoebox for close to a year. Extra tips from pulling double shifts at the bar. Wages from caring for little children overnight while their parents had a wild night out. Scraping together dollars and cents, all for me.

You could have called me the crowned winner of the freakin' Miss Pretty Paint Pastel Princess pageant, because when my girls had me over for a surprise birthday party and showed me my gift, I cried so much I was convulsing. Mascara was dripping down my cheeks. Not ashamed to admit snot was on my face, too. I'm not a pretty crier.

My girls went with a classic, and what would later become the most popular, choice of model. 1997. Freak Show. Iconic hair, forever just past his shoulders, tousled in salt water and bleached by the sun. Eyes the color of crashing waves.The face of an angel. All made complete with an eyebrow piercing -- a super cute and shiny neon green one my friends picked out. Just describing his appearance right now makes my breath hitch and blood tingle in my veins.

They made sure, on the lengthy order form, to ask for an emotional spectrum similar to a real human. He would also be highly perceptive of my feelings and needs.

We were in sync. I suppose others would think being in love was much better. Not me. I had walked down those roads of love before and they only led me to torment and disappointment at almost every turn. I needed a break from that.

Tonight was the night my Daniel would debut on stage. He was a little nervous, poor thing. His cheeks were flushed. There was a slight mist of sweat gathering at his temples and beneath his lingering eyes. His faded yellow t-shirt was already sticking to his frame, the wind from the stage fan offering little relief.

Placing my hand on his glistening cheek before he walked on stage, I promised him I would be watching in the wings the entire time. We were just a few feet away from each other. He loved having me near.

I requested that he and the droidband perform "Israel's Son" first. I wanted my dessert before the entree.

He was ready to go. Ready to rock.

Chris, a pleasingly handsome and somewhat trendy 2002 model, made his bass guitar purr with masterful precision. Ben, another '97 model (who could resist that long silky hair?), eyed the crowd whilst waiting to attack and slam his drums.

It was time, yet Daniel faltered. Ben could tell something wasn't right. He tilted his head. They were probably communicating with each other, within their own technological circuit of knowing. Similar to the relationships formed after knowing someone for years. Chris kept emitting purrs from his bass. He nodded at Daniel, though, as if to say Take your time, mate. Some fans looked over at the frontman, their faces concerned.

"What's the matter, Daniel?" My voice was smaller than a whisper. He could hear me no matter the noise level surrounding us.

He stepped back and turned his mouth away from his microphone. "I forgot to kiss you," he frowned. "I can't do this without you."

"Come here, babe," I beckoned.

He listened and took a few steps towards me, his synthbody hidden by the stage curtains. With his guitar shoved behind his back, he rounded his arms around me and pulled me close.

"Sofia," he vibrated in my ear, making me want to take him home.

To hell with the droidband and the concert. To hell with the fans. It was a downright sin how real he looked and felt.

With the loop of Chris's bass intoxicating me even further, I pressed myself against Daniel and wrapped my arms around his shoulders. His fingers ran down my back and then dug into me. It didn't hurt. He knew how far to go.

It wasn't until I heard an exasperated wail, over the thrum of the bass, through the hum of the crowd, from an especially eager fan (can't really blame her), that I was broken from my trance and brought back to Earth.

I wanted to savor the moment, but I had to act fast. There was always time for what I really wanted to do after the show was over.

After sliding one of my hands over and up, I tugged at the hair on the nape of his neck with my fingers. His lips parted and his pupils dilated in the breath of a millisecond. I captured his lips with mine and got lost, shattered and torn, deliciously, with the synthetic hormones flooding my system from his tongue. He moaned when I pulled away, teetering between obligation and desire.

"It's time now," I demanded, even though I already missed his tender lips and arms around my body. "Go do what you were made for."

"This isn't the only sort of performance I was made for," he winked at me and grinned as he slid his guitar to the front of his torso. I bit my lip and playfully shoved him away to his place.

Ben, poking his head through his cymbals, flicked his brows knowingly at us. Chris was still enamoured by the deep, enthralling strums generating from his fingers.

Once Daniel was on stage, the crowd broke down into fits of exhilaration. Nothing matched the fluctuations within me, though. I wanted to simultaneously barrel him over and rip the guitar out of his hands so he could play me and dive into the chaos of the crowd. I had to mentally pour ice-cold water over my infatuated crazy-ass self.

The fans had waited long enough.

Besides, I was blessed.
Blessed with a gift that would keep on giving.

Note to Sofia:
I listened to their Live n Direct concert
over and over while I wrote this.
<3
Leanne