"Three days." Robert wondered, aloud. "Three days?"

"Exactly." Peter Grant responded, with an expression of faux cheerfulness. "Three days to get packed, say cheerio to your loved ones and face the fact you're staring down the prospect of life on the road."

"It'll be an adventure." John Paul Jones added. That perpetual optimist never let so much as the shadow of a frown pass across his face. "I practically grew up on the road. My father was a pianist and an arranger and my mother was quite into music herself, so occasionally we'd go off on a bit of a tour. Playing here, playing there - that sort of thing."

"Hmm." said Robert, who couldn't think of anything else to say. It seemed that he hadn't realised the full magnitude of what going on tour entailed until now. And that made him queasy in the knees.

"Don't worry." Grant slapped him on the back with one meaty hand. "You've got your best mate with you along for the ride."

Bonzo's moustache remained impassive.

Small wonder there - he's just found out Pat's pregnant. He doesn't want to leave her, but he has to if he wants to make a go of drumming in a band.

Feeling an aura of conflict spark off the drummer, Robert felt self-conscious. I ought to be ashamed of myself. Why am I entertaining seconds thoughts when Bonzo, who has every reason to stay, is probably packed and ready by now?

"I've managed to get you boys a road manager." Grant said, to Jimmy. "Chap by the name of Richard Cole. You won't have any trouble with him around."

Something in his voice struck Robert as oddly menacing.

"That's good." the guitarist replied. "I don't trust the folks there not to stiff us. I mean, I'm a bit of a has-been now that Eric's got Cream and Jeff his Jeff Beck Group. And the others are practically nonentities."

"Now, now." Jones said, in a mock-stern voice. "Who exactly are you calling nonentities?"

"Well, it's not like you've ever been in the papers, John."

"No." the bassist laughed. "And thank God for that, too."

Robert wiped his sweaty palms on the fabric of his trousers. He couldn't quite understand how the others were being so inordinately calm. Jimmy, of course, had toured before so it wasn't as if it'd be a new experience for him. But Bonzo? He'd honestly expected his best mate to be every bit as visibly nervous as he was.

Instead, Bonzo was discussing Visas and things with Peter Grant.

Visas.

Since when did Bonzo know what a Visa was? Like Robert, he'd never been out of the country before.

"Don't worry," Grant responded, "I'll have all that taken care of. Just see that you're packed and ready to go." His gaze swung over to Robert. "And you, Plant? Do you have any questions for me? I imagine you have many - this being a new experience and all." He smiled in a paternal sort of way, as if to set the singer's nerves on ease.

Robert gulped. "Er, no."

"No?" Jimmy raised a brow. "My, my - someone's very trusting."

"Well, I doubt you'd feed me to the lions."

The guitarist's lips curved up into a smile. "I just might."

His tone seemed to set Robert at ease, if only slightly. It was as though he'd had healing balm put on an injury. His fears were still there, but they faded a little into the background.

"You look mightily afraid." John Paul Jones commented. "But you needn't fear. It's a tour, not a dental exam."

"I'm not afraid." Robert replied, lying through his teeth. "I'm just very excited. Can't you tell?"

Jimmy let out a muffled snort and rolled his eyes.

"My apologies." said Jones. "I must have been mistaken." A note of dry humour glittered in his eyes.

"Right, then, boys." Grant clapped. "I'll leave you to your own devices, now." He lumbered out of Jimmy's living room and immediately the room seemed to look much larger.

Briefly, Robert felt sorry for any poor soul who had managed to get on Grant's bad side. He fervently hoped he never made it onto that list.

"Robert?" Bonzo elbowed him in the side. It occurred to him that he'd been staring off into space. "You alright?"

"Me? Just peachy." He complemented that lie with an especially cheery smile, full of emotions he didn't feel.

"You don't look it." As always, the drummer's bluntness hit the nail right on the head.

For once, Robert wished that his mate didn't possess the ability to read him like a book. It was embarrassing to be so worried over...nothing, really.

"Well, I'm fine. Really."

"You sure about that, mate?"

"I am."

"Robert?"

"I said I'm fine." Robert snapped exasperatedly.

Jimmy backed away, looking mildly stunned. "I was only going to ask you if you wanted some tea."

Heat flooded into his cheeks. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you, Bonzo was-"

"Right." the guitarist's tone was decidedly cool.

What the fuck have I done now? His irritation mounted. He was irritated with himself for being such a baby, irritated by Bonzo's emotional strength, irritated by Jones' perpetual levity. But, most of all, he was irritated by Jimmy's moods.

You never know where you stand with him. You think you're friends, then he gets all offended by some stupid thing and goes off in a huff.

"Steady on, mate." Bonzo said, suddenly. "You look as if you're trying to burn a hole in the table!"

"Maybe I am."

"I'd rather you didn't." Jimmy responded, still in the same cool tone as before. "That table's an antique."

"I'd turn it into a work of art - a proper piece amongst all this doll-house furniture. Unlike you, I fancy looking at a bit of avant garde art now and again." Robert said, throwing caution to the winds. If the guitarist was going to go all moody on him, he might as well have the satisfaction of getting a few insults in.

Jimmy glared, but his lips quirked into a half-smile, giving him a bemused expression. "I'm not as stuffy as you think I am."

"Your house begs to differ."

"It does?"

"Mmmhmm. And your clothes, too."

"My clothes?" Jimmy was definitely smiling now.

Jones and Bonzo were watching this exchange with more than a little surprise.

"Yes. They're very rich-kid-buys-this-because-it's-expensive."

"Well, maybe I did." The guitarist's smile bordered on coy. "How do you know that isn't the look I'm going for?"

"Ha ha." Robert responded, too happy to have made it back onto Jimmy's good side to care too much about whether he sounded intellectual or not.

"Ha ha to you, too, Plant - now put these cups on the table."

Robert yanked his long, lanky frame out of his seat more forcefully than a cork popping out of a bottle.

Bonzo narrowed his eyes questioningly.

Jones, who now had wry amusement in his eyes, gave voice to the question on the drummer's lips. "You two are on very familiar terms all of a sudden. Keeping any secrets, eh, boys?"

The subtleties of responding to John Paul Jones were beyond Robert's capabilities. He flushed and stared at his shoes as though they were more captivating than anything else in the room.

Jimmy merely snorted. "What secrets do I have that you haven't stuck your long nose in, John?"

"Good point." Jones chuckled. "Now, you did say something about tea, didn't you? I'm simply famished. Discussing practicalities does that to me, you know."

Robert's stomach chose that moment to give a very eloquent gurgle.

Jones cocked. "It appears I'm not the only one."

"No." Jimmy smirked in the singer's direction. "There are biscuits in that cupboard there." He pointed.

"Thanks."

"Don't thank me - I'm charging you for them. It'll come out of your first paycheck."

For a minute, Robert froze. Then he caught sight of the smile playing about Jimmy's lips. "Sneaky bastard - you nearly had me there."

Jimmy laughed, and the freedom with which he did so made a bud of something warm erupt in Robert's chest.

God, I'm pathetically in love.

🦋

Hello! *waves*

As per my usual request - tell me how I did! Did you like it? Did you not? Was there something you wished to see happen?

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Peace out, Annia. 💕