Title: Black
Author: Ligeia
Fandom: Die Ärzte (RPS)
Pairing: Bela/Rod
Rating: PG
Category: Romance/Christmas fic
Summary: Bela and Rod celebrate the first Depp Jones concert.
A/N: Christmas fic for einheitstochter.
The following story is a mere work of F I C T I O N, meaning it is 100% made up. None of the situations described here ever happened, and even if they did, I have no way of knowing. This is not about spreading rumours or, worse, libel. The people portrayed in this story are real, but I am NOT claiming they did what I wrote. I use their "public personas" and build stories around them as if they were fictional characters.
Bela stumbled into the dark flat, Rod's arm around his waist barely keeping him from falling flat on his face.
"Easy Felse, do you want to break your nose?"
Bela groaned and straighten up. "Right, right. All good. Turn on the light?"
"Can you stand on your own?"
Bela nodded, but started wobbling as soon as Rod let him go. The guitarist shook his head and walked him to the sofa, dropped him none too gently onto it and went to switch on the light.
"Ugh, too bright," Bela whined and covered his eyes with his hand.
Rod rolled his eyes and went into the kitchen to drink a glass of water. He wasn't so plastered as Bela, but he wasn't sober either. He wondered how he would manage to get home. Perhaps he should just crash on Bela's sofa for the night.
"Wait, wait!"
He turned round and saw Bela standing at the door, grabbing the doorframe for balance.
"We need a beer."
"What? Didn't you drink enough for tonight?"
"One last toast!" He walked unsteadily to the fridge and took out two bottles of Berliner Kindl. "To our first fucking gig! The acoustics were crap, I forgot half the lyrics and you got half the chords wrong, but we did it. We fucking did it."
Rod smiled. "Yeah, we did it. But put those away if you want to get to the next one alive."
"Spoilsport." Bela pouted but did as he was told. He didn't think he'd be able to open the bottles anyway, he was too far gone. He reached for the handle but miscalculated the distance, knocking his hand against it and dropping one of the bottles in the process.
"Shit!"
"Leave it, I'll see to it," said Rod. He took the bottle Bela was still holding and put it back into the fridge. "Go to sleep, I'll clean up the mess. Can I stay the night, by the way? I don't think I'll be able to get home in this state."
"Of course. Mi casa es tu casa. Or whatever, I'll never get the hang of Spanish," Bela replied and made his way out of the kitchen.
Rod swept the glass shards away and mopped the floor with a rug. As he walked back into the small living room, he found Bela sprawled on the sofa, eyes closed and head resting on the back. He sighed and shook him lightly.
"Felse? Come on, Felse, wake up. Go sleep into your own bed, the sofa's mine tonight."
Bela blinked slowly. Why was someone telling him to wake up? He wasn't sleeping. He saw a silhouette standing in front of him, but everything was blurred. Oh, but it must be him. It had been so long since he had been over, why had it been so long? Bela smiled and reached up a hand, pulling the other person's head down. He threaded his fingers through the black hair. Why was it black? Why wasn't it blond anymore? He liked it blond.
"Why's your hair black? Was blond before. Prettier."
"What?" Rod wanted to ask Bela what the hell he was talking about, but Bela pulled him closer and kissed him. A sloppy, messy kiss, tasting of smoke and alcohol and definitely lacking in finesse, but he couldn't expect anything better from someone so hopelessly drunk.
Bela pulled back and frowned. "You taste of beer. You never drink beer."
"Huh? Listen, you boozer, you obv... ovv... clearly took me for someone else. I've never been blond and I like beer. A lot. Now be a good boy and go to your room to sleep if off, won't you?"
Bela looked at him with dull eyes. "Rod?"
"In the flesh."
"Oh, fuck." Bela closed his eyes and let himself fall back onto the sofa.
Rod groaned. He covered Bela with his jacket and made his way to the bedroom. At least he was going to sleep in a real bed.
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December 2005