Classic Rock Imagines

Steve Vai // Whitesnake

Steve Vai: Slip of the Tongue
Warnings: Arguing
Note: Angst/General Story

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“That’s fucking stupid! Can you even hear the idiocy in your words?!”

“You really have the audacity to accuse my words of stupid! Have you heard yourself?” David yelled. “I wasn’t the one that said the song sucked!”

“You wanted me to be honest with you, so I am!” Steve shouted, crossing his arms.

“You don’t have to be an asshole about it!”

“I wasn’t at first! I tried talking calmly about it to you, but you refused to listen to civil talk.”

“Oh look at Steve with his big words. ‘Civil Talk’” He mocked Steve, sending him over the edge. He took a few steps closer to David, looking him right in his eyes. “I’m not dealing with this shit right now.” He says in a raspy whisper

“Leave then. I don’t give a fuck.”

“Gladly.” He walked out the door, leaving his gear and belongings behind. He’d come back, but they both needed to cool down.

I see Steve walk past my desk, looking a bit exasperated. “Hey Steve what happened. I heard what I hope wasn’t something breaking.”

He looks at me, locking eyes with me, “Me and David got in a fight. Not physical or anything, just a lot of yelling.”

I grab a couple of water bottles, handing one to him, and I motion Steve out of the recording studio, so we can talk without being interrupted. “Doth thou needeth to ventilate thine mental and emotional affairs?”

Steve cracked a smile. I always knew talking like that made him laugh and lighten up a bit. “We were working on a song, and I mentioned some things we could change that I thought might make the song sound better. I don’t think I sounded like an asshole, but I guess David took it like that.”
I contemplate his words, wondering how David could take it so badly. “Did you just want to change the vocals?”

He stayed surprisingly calm, “Nope. I kinda wanted to change the guitar part I play during the chorus. And I said we might have to change some of the words and the tone of the vocals. He just seemed to get offended.” He trailed off, and I started to connect some dots.

“Who wrote most of the song, lyrical wise?”

Steve's face dropped. “Oh shit.” His words died off his tongue. “Fuck I feel so bad. I know David takes a lot of pride in his work, I’m the exact same way.” He put his hand to his head. Steve was never much of an emotional person, but stuff like this took its toll.

I place my hand on his shoulder, hoping to give him a little bit of reassurance. He leans his head on mine, breathing deeply. I heard the studio doors open, only to see David’s face. He wears the same face Steve does: guilty and hurt.

Steve looks at me, not saying anything, but his eyes tell me he wants some privacy. I don’t blame him. I leave and head back into the studio, sitting back down at my desk to work on paperwork.

Steve scratches the back of his neck, “Dave I’m so-”

“Steve stop. I was selfish and unwilling to listen to your advice and feedback. I may not acknowledge it, but you know what you're doing. I should have listened to you.” David looks down, fiddling with the zipper of his jacket.

“I’m sorry too. I should have approached you about it better. I didn’t need to say I wanted to change a whole part of the song right away.”

“So we’re good?”

“Hell yeah we’re good.” David shakes Steve’s hand, pulling him into a quick hug.

“Now, let’s go fuckin’ record this kick-ass album.”

“Now that’s a damn good plan.”