Title: Two of a kind
Author: Ligeia
Fandom: The Cure/Die Ärzte (RPS)
Pairing: Simon Gallup/Bela B.
Rating: PG for cursing and some vague slashiness
Category: Humour, crossover
Summary: The Cure meet Die Ärzte
A/N: Inspired by this Simon vs Bela entry I posted in my Livejournal. Set in the mid '80s, I used the first 2 pics of that entry as visual reference.
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.
"Ein Bier für den Brünetten," said the black-and-pink-haired barmaid setting down the glass on the bar.
Two hands reached for it at the same time. The owners of said hands looked up and stared at each other. Identical wild black hair. Black eye pencil. Black shirts. Black leather trousers. Only the eye colour was different, a pair brown and the other one green.
"That's my beer," said the young man with brown eyes.
"No, it isn't. I ordered it first," replied the other one. He had a broad German accent and looked like he'd already had his fair share of alcohol for the night.
"I don't think so, I've been standing here longer than you have." He reached for the glass again, but was stopped by a fishnet-covered hand grabbing his wrist.
"I'm not going to let a bloody English tourist steal my beer."
"I'm not a 'bloody English tourist'! I'm Simon Gallup of The Cure, you cunt!"
"Oh yeah? And I'm Bela B. of Die Ärzte, so there!"
"Er... Boys?" The barmaid broke in. "Will you please stop fighting over a beer?"
The only answer she got was an annoyed "Shut up!" and an equally angry "Halt die Schnauze!"
"Na gut," she sighed and threw up her hands. "But take it outside or I'll have to call the boss. I don't want to clean blood stains off the bar again."
"You won't need to, I'm leaving. Take your bloody beer and drown in it, fucker," Simon said and turned on his heels.
Bela stared after him as he walked to the door. 'What the hell?’ He thought. ‘I can't let him get away with it.' He grabbed his jacket and followed him out of the club.
The night air was chilly, his breath coming out of his mouth in little white puffs as he looked round. The person he was looking for was standing not too far away, leaning against a wall and smoking a cigarette.
"Hey, English man!" He called and strode up to him.
Simon glanced at him with an annoyed expression. "What do you want now? Don't have enough money to pay for your drink?"
"Ha ha. No, I just wanted to punch your ugly face."
"Oh, really? I'd like to see you try." He flicked the half-smoked cigarette to the ground and crushed it with the tip of his boot. "Too bad I can't indulge you. I've got a gig tomorrow and I don't wanna risk my fingers because of a drunken idiot who can't hold his tongue."
"Gig? What, are you a musician too?" Bela asked, curiosity getting the better of him and making him momentarily forget his anger.
Simon sighed. "Are you deaf or something? I told you before, I play in The Cure. Sure you've heard of us, haven't you?"
Bela frowned at him for a moment and then it finally clicked. Of course he'd heard of them; in fact he was going to their concert the following night. His girlfriend had insisted so much, she had an almost unhealthy obsession with them, especially with the bass player.
The same bass player he had just threaten to punch. He had to laugh at the absurdity of the situation.
Simon folded his arms and looked deadpan at him.
"Ah, sorry," Bela said, still grinning. "I was just thinking that you play in The Cure and I play in Die Ärzte. Funny, isn’t it?"
"Funny?"
"Ah. So you don't speak German, then. Die Ärzte means The Doctors. Got it now? The Cure and The Doctors. Cool, huh?"
"You'd make a lousy comedian."
"Oh, I prefer horror films, anyway." He gave him a once-over. "You know, my girlfriend used to have a crush on you. I can't see why, though. I look much better than you."
"Modest, aren't we? And if your girlfriend’s got a crush on someone else, you must be awful in bed. I bet your dick's the size of my little finger."
"And I bet your dick is so tiny you can't even find it when you have to piss."
"You just wish you had a dick as big as mine."
"Oh, really? I'd like to see that."
Simon raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Well now, what would your girlfriend say if she knew you go around asking complete strangers to show you their dick?"
Bela felt his cheeks grow warm. "That's not what I meant, your pervert!"
"Oh, but you're so pretty when you blush," Simon said and took a step towards him.
Taken by surprise, Bela stepped back and found himself pressed against the wall.
Simon stopped just a few inches away from him. "Scared, little boy?" He asked, resting his hands on either side of Bela's face. "You shouldn't play with fire, you could get burnt."
Bela stared wide-eyed at the dark alley in front of him as Simon ran his tongue over the side of his face, one long lick from jaw to temple, and then pulled back.
"You should see your face right now, you look like you've just seen a ghost." Satisfied with the reaction of near-panic he had caused, Simon turned round and walked away. "Auf Wiedersehen, German boy," he said, giving a little wave with his right hand.
Bela stood with his back against the wall long after the bassist had disappeared from view.
-----
August 2005