METEORA
Disclaimer: This is a male/male slash fiction. The author makes no implication to the sexuality of Rob Bourdon or any other member of Linkin Park.
.2.
"You are FUCKING KIDDING me."
Warren stood by the desk, papers in his hand forgotten.
"I kid you not. Chester Benningfield, Mike Shinoda, Brad Delson, Rob Bourdon. Next Tuesday."
"Who's doing what?"
"I'll probably do the recording and mixing for the drums, I'll let Sara handle the synth stuff and the mixdown. We'll ship it off to 301 for the pre-mastering and then it'll go back to Warner."
Warren shook his head again.
"I keep waiting for the punch line. This is for real?" "For real dude."
Warren handed Ben some forms from WorkSafe Victoria to sign. "Hey, didn't you have a thing for that drummer guy from Linkin Park?"
Ben's face reddened. When he was studying sound engineering at college, he had a reputation for sleeping with drummers, male and female.
"Uhh, maybe." He coughed into his hand and looked away.
"You little slut. I hear Bourdon's straight. So good luck."
"Hmmmm."
Ben finished signing the declarations and passed them back to Warren, his stomach rumbling as he leaned over the desk.
"HANA! Where the FUCK is lunch?"
A clatter of headset and the 'fwoooop' of her jacket yanked off the coathook.
"On my way, back in 10."
The week flew. The problem with owning such a small studio is that Ben had a workload which demanded a dozen people, but only the money to hire 7 permanant staff - two admin guys, the receptionist, three engineers, and a tape op/computer tech. Most of the grunt work was done by the steady stream of work experience kids, whos jobs generally included soldering cables, folding CD jackets, and beating the crap out of Hana in network games like quake and medal of honour.
Tuesday morning saw a bleary eyed Ben standing at the airport, dressed in possibly his worst black t-shirt, ripped jeans, and a black denim jacket. He had made the effort to shower, shave and pull his shoulder-length dreads into a ponytail, but 2a.m. was NOT a time to ask him to get into a suit. Next to him, Warren actually bothered with a tie. Then again, his job was to look and sound official.
A soft voice echoed through the arrivals lounge.
"British Airways Flight BA336 from Los Angeles has now landed at Gate 17."
"Well, how do I look?" Ben asked Warren, smiling from under sleepy eyes
"Nothing about six hours more sleep and some clean clothes wouldn't fix."
"Fuck you." Ben grinned and tossed his empty coffee cup at Warren, who caught it and fussed with his tie.
A shaved headed guy in a beige turtleneck appeared at the entrance to Gates 1-20, glancing around nervously. Chester Benningfield spotted Ben and Warren, and made his way over, followed by Mike, Brad, Rob, and a guy in a suit with a blank face.
Ben greeted them with a genuinely warm handshake and a smile
"Ben Hall, Beacon. This is Warren Costas, my business manager."
Chester nodded at Warren and introduced the band members, which was pointless because Ben knew them by name anyway.
"And this is Steve Cho, our Warner rep."
Warren shook Steves hand and exchanged pleasantries.
"So, are you guys tired, or hungry, or what?"
"Nah, we slept on the plane. I could murder a hamburger though."
"OK, I know a place in Essendon thats open 24 hours. Steve and Warren can talk red-tape and I can get to know you all a bit better", Ben said as he glanced at Rob.
"Alright. Lead the way."
They left the airport and climbed into the the van. Warren was driving since Ben lost his license for drink driving, which left him sitting in the back with five Americans staring expectedly at him. Luckily, they got caught up in the view from the windows and talked amongst themselves, which gave Ben time to check out Rob in more detail. Deep brown eyes, almost-black hair under a Lakers cap, and the goatee which Ben had often imagined brushing against his collarbone and neck... Rob was wearing jeans and a blue hooded sweater, and occasionally drummed his hands against his kneesin vaguely recognisable beats. Out of everyone in the van, he was the most alert, psyching himself up for the next week or so.
Rob's eyes swung around to Ben, who held his glance for a second, before smiling and looking away. When he looked back, Rob's eyes were still fixed on him. Ben raised an eyebrow, and Rob grinned and shook his head, joining in the conversation between Chester and Mike.
They got to FastEats in Essendon a little while later, and the band members clambered out of the mitsubishi van, practically drooling. Ben was the last out, rubbing his eyes. It was now nearly 3 and he was beginning to feel the effects of 4 hours sleep. He walked into the poorly-lit diner and stood next to Rob.
"Sorry about the choice of food - I don't know how much of this is kosher."
"Eh - I'll live. I'm suprised you even knew I was Jewish."
"It's hardly a state secret."
"Yeah, but thats not the sort of thing people just know about other people."
"Yeah, but I'm a geek."
The band assembled their order, and Warren and Ben ordered more coffee, sitting at the table closest to the front windows.
Warren stirred sugar into his coffee and grinned at Ben.
"What?"
"Oh, I'm so SORRY I couldn't find a JEW-ISH hamburger for you, robbie-wobbie!" Warren replied, imitating Ben's voice
"Fuck up, Warren." He kicked Warren under the table, glancing back at the group sitting at the table behind them.
"Oh, you love it."
"I'll love it later when I've slept."
"Slept with who?" Warren taunted.
Ben just smiled and sipped at his coffee.
....
OoOoOooh. the suspense.
to be continued.