TRIGGER WARNING OF HARASSMENT TOWARD YOU!! NOTHING TOO GRAPHIC BUT THERE WILL BE CATCALLS AND TOUCHING ATTEMPTS!! FURTHERMORE, THE TOUCHING WILL NOT BE TOO INAPPROPRIATE. ALSO WARNING FOR SLIGHT ALCOHOL CONSUMPTION AND DRUG ABUSE! THIS IS ALSO A REQUEST FROM life-in-PURPLE

—

Excited was an understatement of how you were feeling. You were practically bouncing off the walls of the room, your hands were shaking, and a big grin was on your face. You were backstage at a Skid Row concert, mere feet away from your musical inspirations. You could see each member of the band milling about, chatting in a friendly way with some women, making moves on others. Despite the chaos of it all, it was still your scene.

You couldn't believe you had made it backstage. You had been trying to sneak in since you had first started attending Skid Row's shows, which must have been a year prior. Each time, you would be turned down for one reason or another. The room wouldn't comfortably hold any more people, you had arrived too close to showtime to seek out a spot backstage, or backstage access wasn't being granted at all, to anyone. But, now, there you were, amidst the groupies, amidst the band, and amidst the alcohol.

You noticed a cooler sat on the floor of the room, and, craving a beer, walked over to it. You figured the alcohol would take the edge off of the nerves you felt about approaching the band. And, you needed to approach the band. Why else had you tried for this long to get backstage if not to approach the band?

You bent down, opening the cooler. You grabbed a can that was atop the ice, your hands being chilled by its coldness. You figured one was enough for you, so you shut the cooler. After all, you wanted to be relaxed, not plastered to the point of amnesia. You wanted to remember this occasion with perfect recollection.

You straightened, turning around to survey the crowd once more. You stopped in your tracks, though, once you saw who was standing in front of you:

Sebastian Bach.

Sebastian Bach!

He wasn't Rachel, your crush of the band, but who cared? He was still an amazing vocalist and a very personable guy you had always longed to meet. A big, dumb grin spread across your face as you took in the fact that this was really him, right in front of you.

Whth that euphoria of seeing him up close and personal like this, there was also a wave of terror. You weren't buzzed yet. How would you talk to him? Would you even? Or would you just continue staring at him like an idiot?

Sebastian smiled, walking up to the cooler and grabbing a beer of his own. Once he straightened, he turned to you and popped it open. "Hey," he said with a giggle at your obvious fascination.

Swallowing down the dry lump in your throat, you croaked back, "Hi." You popped open your own can and took a swig that was longer than necessary. The longer you were drinking, the less weird it would be to not be talking to Sebastian, the legendary rockstar, standing before you.

   He was looking at you, and, as you shakily removed your lips from the can, you detected amusement in his eyes. The sight of that made you feel sick; after all, if you couldn't talk to Sebastian and were blowing it with him, how the fuck would you be able to talk to Rachel? Rachel was a legendary man whose bass-playing skills never failed to make you drool, and, based on how this interaction was going, there'd probably be a puddle of the liquid at Rachel's feet if your paths crossed. Even though you hoped and prayed they would, you also didn't want anything less at the same time.

   "Never seen you around before," Sebastian said pleasantly, sipping his beer. His demeanor was unchanged by your awkward one, which made you feel better. That meant that he most likely experienced this kind of thing often. Even though it was still embarrassing, it comforted you that you weren't the only one afraid of him. "You been to one of our shows before?"

   You shook your head, your tongue dry in your mouth. "No." You realized your error and mentally slapped yourself. What were you saying? You had been! "I mean, yes. I have. I've just. . .never been allowed backstage before."

   He nodded with a good-natured smirk. "Yeah, that explains the shaking." He gestured to your quivering form, warranting another mental slap from yourself.

   He must've seen the expression on your face due to the laugh that followed. "Hey, don't sweat it, man. Not to sound full of myself or anything, but I'm used to this kinda thing. And once you come here more often, you'll be used to all of this, too."

   You nodded and smiled, but you were afraid that it looked too happy. Crazed was how you thought it might look, but based on Sebastian's returned smile, you figured you'd done all right.

   "What's your name?" the blond asked, taking another sip of his beer.

   Stunned that Sebastian would soon know your name, and maybe even repeat it, you tried to force it out. "(Y/N)."

   "Well, (Y/N)—"

   The rest of his statement was cut off by someone jumping violently onto his back. Sebastian screamed, trying to buck off the person with aggressive, backward thrusts. Your heart thudded painfully in your chest as you studied the attacker, hoping it was Rachel. But, to your dismay, it wasn't. It was some other guy you couldn't recall seeing before. He had short, black hair and very heavy eyeliner on. He looked cool, and he looked like a metalhead. Those things seemed like a win in your book.

   Finally, the mystery man clambered off of Sebastian. Based on the giggles leaving the blond, you figured he knew him. That was probably it, since that would've been the only reason another man would've been allowed backstage. "Hey, man!" Sebastian greeted, smiling widely at his friend.

   "Baz," the man returned the greeting, giving him a manly handshake. His icy blue eyes traveled to yours, and you immediately felt uncomfortable for a reason you couldn't name. "Who's the chick?" he asked. There was nothing in his tone that should've been an immediate red flag, but you felt uncomfortable with that, too. You decided to brush it off, however, since intuition is often wrong.

   "This is (Y/N)!" he answered happily, gesturing to you. "She's a fan."

   Sebastian's bubbly attitude toward this man should've done something to calm you down, but it didn't. You trusted Sebastian, but you didn't trust this man. And he hadn't even done anything wrong.

   "I'm Jake," the man said with a grin, offering a hand to you.

   You shook it. "Nice to meet you." His grip didn't feel right. You wanted him gone. When he released you, you had the strange urge to rub your hand on your pants to get the traces of him off.

   "Sebastian!" someone called from within the busy room. It sounded like. . .Rob Affuso? You couldn't keep the smile from your face when you realized that that voice belonged to him.

   Sebastian's head whipped over to the direction of Rob's voice. "Ah, shit. What'd I do?" He snickered at himself before patting your arm. "I'll be right back, okay, babe? Just gotta check in with Rob."

That meant that he would be leaving you alone with Jake. Again, there was no logical explanation for why that scared you, but it just did. You opened your mouth to say something, anything to keep Sebastian there, but by the time you finally settled on something to say, he was gone. The towering man that you still couldn't believe had spoken to you. . .was gone.

You tried to keep your eyes trained on Sebastian's conspicuous form, his head sticking out like a sore thumb amidst the shorter women of the room. You watched him converse with Rob and longed to go over there. But, you knew Jake hadn't done anything wrong, and that leaving would be rude, so you didn't.

"So, (Y/N), huh?" he asked.

You finally looked over at him, wary. "Yeah. And you're Jake?"

"Yep."

   He didn't say anything else, so you nodded and continued to stare at Sebastian's conspicuous head.

   "You really a fan of the Skids?" Jake asked. You saw him step closer to you in your peripheral vision, and that made your eyes snap over to him warily. Instinctively, you stepped back.

   This seemed to amuse him, for he smiled and continued. "Or are you just one of those chicks that wanna fuck a rockstar, without even listening to their bands?"

   That question rubbed you the wrong way. "I like Skid Row, you douche." The insult hadn't meant to pass through your lips, but it had. Your teeth clamped down on your lower lip, as if that would somehow take the statement back. You didn't want to know how Jake would react, but you knew you were going to find out.

   He smiled easily, and that was all. That made you feel relieved. For the umpteenth time, you tried to reassure yourself. Maybe he was just an ill-spoken guy, with no real bad intentions.

   "Name me three of their songs, then," he said with that same smile.

   Harmless or not, he was fucking annoying. You were sick of being stuck with the poser label just because you were a female. You smiled in a mean-spirited way and answered him confidently. "'Monkey Business', '18 and Life', 'I Remember You'."

   Jake scoffed. "All easy ones. Everyone and their mothers have heard those songs."

   You were so pissed that you barely even registered that he had stepped closer. "I can name lesser known ones." You knew you shouldn't have to prove your fanaticism to this guy, but the mere notion that Jake was underestimating your dedication to rock 'n' roll was enough to make you try.

   "Please."

   "'Riot Act', 'Piece of Me', 'Here I Am', 'Mudkicker'. . .need I go on?"

   He nodded, seemingly satisfied. That made you satisfied as well. "Okay, I stand corrected."

   "Damn right." You looked away again. This time not out of fear, but out of bitterness. You still felt like he could be trouble, but you were so pissed you didn't care.

   But, you should've cared.

   "You know, you're pretty fucking hot. Nice rack."

   You were not expecting that comment. Your head whipped over to him, surprised. "What?" You really hoped you had misheard him.

   "Yeah, you've got a nice body. Hot as all hell."

   Revulsion that couldn't be accurately described ran through your body, making every muscle tighten in discomfort. You weren't angry anymore, just disgusted. "Buddy, if you think you're gonna get in my pants. . .you couldn't be more wrong."

   "And why's that?"

   "Well, you did accuse me of being a poser just because I'm a female—strong opener by the way—and then call me attractive in the least attractive way possible." You turned away, setting your beer on a table that some people were doing coke on. "I'm not interested. In fact, I'm disgusted."

   You began to walk away, but stopped short when you felt a pair of hands on your waist. "Hey, hey. Don't leave so soon, sweetheart." James's mouth was by your ear, and the warmth of his breath made you shudder. You were repulsed.

   You spun around, throwing his hands off of you. Until that point, he hadn't really exhibited any traits that justified your intuition's impression of him. He was an asshole, not a creep. But now, he had graduated from asshole to creep, and it made you look like a fool for not listening to your intuition sooner. "Get your hands off me, you dick. Read my lips. I. Am. Not. Interested."

   "Oh, come on, yes you are." He grabbed your waist again. "You're at a rock show, dressed like that." He said this as if that was a valid excuse for his actions.

   You didn't even think your clothes were that revealing: a Mötley Crüe tank top, shorts, and fishnet tights underneath. But, still, it shouldn't matter. "It's not my fault you can't fucking keep it in your pants. What I wear should have no effect on you."

   You went to bat James' hands away, and he grabbed that hand's wrist tightly, and would not let it go. He took this opportunity to slide his other hand up your shirt, and the feeling of his warm palm on your stomach made you genuinely scared. You wanted to scream, but it seemed you had all of a sudden lost your voice. Even if you had, would anyone help you? And, if you hadn't, would people think this was just a routine hookup?

   Thankfully, someone spoke for you when you couldn't speak for yourself. "Hey!"

   It was a voice you recognized. A voice you never thought you'd hear in your wildest daydreams. You turned to the source and your mouth fell open. You searched for words so that you wouldn't be gaping at the man in shock, but you came up completely dry.

   Rachel!

   He was standing before you, eyes dark with fury. His arms were crossed, and his long, dark hair was down and luxurious. His nose chain that you had loved was present, too, and you could barely contain your fanaticism. Rachel fucking Bolan was coming to save you, and looking delicious while doing it.

   "What the fuck are you doing, man?" Rachel spat.

   Jake reluctantly let you go, and you immediately ran to Rachel's side. You felt protected there. And, not to mention, you got to look at him up close. As he stared Jake down, you stared Rachel down, eyeballing his chiseled jaw and his full lips. You couldn't believe this was happening. Your stomach was in knots, and your heart was beating so hard and fast that you could feel the pulse of blood in every part of your body.

   "Just trying to get with a lady," Jake responded coolly, as if he hadn't violated you.

   You looked up at Rachel hopefully, and as he stared back at you with those dark, kind eyes, he nodded, showing you that he was on your side. You smiled at him, endlessly grateful.

   "Yeah, a lady that didn't want you." Rachel stepped closer to Jake menacingly, and you reveled at the way Jake shrinked away. "I heard the whole fucking thing, Jake. She did not fucking want you. So, for you to throw yourself at her. . .  Fucking disgusting."

   Rachel stepped back. "You're banned. Get the fuck out of here."

   "But, Baz invited me!"

   "I don't give a shit. Once he finds out what you did, he'd kick you out, too. Actually, he'd probably beat your ass, then kick you out. So, I'm doing you a favor." Rachel tilted his head ever so slightly, a mocking grin on his face. "But, if you don't cooperate, I might just have to resort to Baz behavior."

   "Okay, man. I'm going." Jake raised his hands in surrender, beginning to walk away. "Bitches these days wouldn't know a good guy if they smacked them in the face!" he said over his shoulder, pushing through the crowd of groupies to get to the exit.

   "You aren't one of those!" you shouted back as he approached the exit.

   Rachel laughed a little as Jake left, looking at you with a smile. "Sorry about that," he said kindly. This was such a stark contrast from the tone he used with Jake; the newfound softness made your heart ache. "I know that isn't really enough to make up for the fact he almost did God knows what, but hey. It's something, right?"

   Your tongue felt huge in your mouth, and impossible to talk around. You swallowed what was excessive amounts of spit, struggling to force out words. "Yeah, it's certainly something. Certainly nicer than anything he would've said."

   Rachel shrugged humbly. "Don't congratulate me on the bare minimum, for having basic human decency. Baz's dumbass friends need to be apologized for. Seriously, I've gotta stop letting him bring them around. They're all batshit crazy! Not as bad as Jake, but still."

   "Batshit crazy? How so?" You couldn't believe you were having a casual conversation with Rachel Bolan. The man whose face was plastered all over your room, the man who you had been swooning over, the man who had inspired you to pick up a bass. If this was a dream, you never wanted to wake up.

   "They're just off the walls! Always snorting too much and making asses of themselves. Sometimes they even try to come onstage during shows. One even started chatting up Baz cuz he thought he was a chick." Rachel laughed at the memory, and his laugh made you laugh, too.

   "How much drugs do you have to do to think Baz is a chick?" you asked, still giggling. You felt yourself begin to relax a little; Rachel was easy to talk to. "He's got long hair, yeah, but his face isn't feminine!"

   "Oh, it takes a lot. And a lot is a typical day for his friends." He grinned, resting a hand on your shoulder in a friendly way. His touch made your stomach erupt in butterflies. "So, enough about them, yeah? What's your name?"

   The very thought that he would say your name made your previously calming heart start racing again. "(Y/N). I'm a really big fan of yours. You're my favorite member of the band."

   You didn't know why you said that. You cringed, knowing that you sounded lame as hell.

   But, Rachel looked flattered as opposed to whatever negative emotion you had been picturing. "Aw, thanks! I just met you, (Y/N), but I'm a pretty big fan of yours, too."

   The sound of your name, of Rachel referring to you, talking to you made you break out into a big smile. "Thanks, Rach. I never thanked you for saving my ass, either. So thanks for that, too."

   "Like I said, don't congratulate me on basic human decency. No worries, okay?" He squeezed your shoulder kindly. "Question for you, (Y/N)."

"Shoot."

"Showtime is soon, and we can talk until then. But, I just wanted to ask if you wanted to hang out with me after, too." He looked. . .embarrassed? It was so fucking cute that you wanted to die. "You seem really cool, and, not to sound too much like Jake, but you are really pretty."

You couldn't believe your ears. Did Rachel just call you pretty? Did he want to continue to hang out with you and get to know you?

You nodded aggressively. "Yes, I'd like that."

The relieved smile on his face made you smile, too. "All right. Cool, cool. So, um. . .what's your favorite food?" He laughed a little at the question. "I suck at small talk."

You laughed, too. "Nah, you're fine! It's a valid question. You can tell a lot about someone from their favorite food. Mine is (f/f)."

"No way! Me, too! You've got good taste, (Y/N)."

"Proven by the fact that I'm at a Skid Row concert."

"Oh, yeah, that definitely helps."

You and Rachel shot a few more questions at each other, getting to know each other bit by bit. Conversation flowed so easily between the two of you, and you realized that you never wanted to not be talking to him. He was so charismatic and smiley. Smiley guys were good.

But, your conversation was interrupted by a familiar voice calling your name. "(Y/N)!"

You looked, and Sebastian was bounding over to you, having finished his conversation with Rob and, you assumed, a few groupies. He looked way too flushed and way too happy to have talked to just Rob and no one else. "Sorry I took so long!" he said sweetly, stopping in front of you with a grin. He glanced at Rachel and nodded. "And I see you've met Rach."

"Yeah. He's really cool," you said with a similar smile, in disbelief at the fact you were stood before two Skid Row members.

"He certainly is." He looked as if he realized something. He raised an eyebrow, looking at you questioningly. "Where'd Jake go? Did the bastard run off?"

You had totally forgotten about Jake. "Um. . .not exactly."

"He tried to violate her," said Rachel bitterly, his previously happy mood soured just by the mention of Jake's name. "Called her sexy, and when she said she wasn't interested, grabbed her. I kicked him out. You gotta stop bringing your fucking idiots around, got me?"

   Sebastian's grin immediately fell. He turned to you and grabbed your shoulders. "Oh my God, (Y/N), I'm so sorry! I didn't know Jake was like that, I swear. You shouldn't have had to go through that."

   You giggled, patting his larger hands. "It's okay, Baz, I'm fine."

   "It's not okay! That's fucking sick of him to do. That's. . .that's. . ." He trailed off, his eyes darting between you and Rachel. Then, a knowing smirk replaced the sympathetic frown as he removed his hands from your shoulders. "Am I interrupting something?"

   You blinked, stunned at the question. You tried to think of what could have possibly led him to think of that, and blushed when you came up with an explanation. He had thought that you and Rachel were flirting, possibly on the road to something more. You were about to open your mouth and answer him with a refusal, that you and Rachel were not—

   "Yeah, kinda."

   Surprised, you looked at Rachel. You knew that he knew what Sebastian had meant. Sebastian hadn't been inquiring on if he was interrupting a friendly conversation. He was inquiring on if he was getting in the way of a romantic or sexual conquest.

   And Rachel knew that, yet he had agreed.

   Sebastian nodded. "Understood. I'll catch ya later, then, okay?" he asked you. He winked. "Have fun, you two."

And then he bounded off, giggling like a child.

You looked at Rachel, flabbergasted at his response. You thought maybe you were overanalyzing everything, and that maybe Rachel was just pissed that Sebastian has interrupted one of his conversations with his childish ways.

But, by the smirk on his face, your initial assumption was right. "And we shall have fun, right, (Y/N)? In a respectful manner, of course." He extended a hand to you, tipping his head in the direction of the sofa in the room. "Off to the sofa to talk some more? We might have to squish together, though. Snake is doing his signature manspread."

You laughed at his comment, grabbing his hand. Its heat warmed your palm, and you almost shivered in delight. "I wouldn't mind squishing."

"You wouldn't? Good. Because Scotti just sat down with a chick."

"So, we gotta get really close, then."

"Mhm. I'm good with it."

"Me, too."

You and Rachel made your way over to the couch and sat down between Scotti, the groupie, and Snake. Scotti didn't even look in your direction, having been too preoccupied with making out with the blond on his lap. Still, you glanced at him with silent fanaticism, doing the same to Snake. He, however, left fairly quickly. The whole making out thing seemed to disturb him.

Even with the newfound room on the couch, you and Rachel stayed squished together, just because you liked it.

   A minute or so passed by in comfortable silence, but Rachel broke it. "This is nice," he declared, wrapping an arm around you, but keeping his hand on the back of the couch.

   Nice was an understatement, you thought, but you knew your best bet was agreeing. "It is. Thanks for taking the time to talk with me, Rachel."

   "Of course. I enjoy it."

   You smiled at him, and he smiled back. You could tell that the little crush on Rachel you had had before meeting him would blossom into a real one. And you weren't upset about it. You just hoped you'd see him again, but if your intuition was right (like it had been with Jake), you would.

   And, as he arose from the couch after a bit of talking, as he went with his bandmates to the stage, you beamed. Because, with all the excitement of the day, you had forgotten one thing:

   You would be seeing and hearing a Skid Row concert.

   And that was pretty fucking cool, too.