The most promising address was for a house in Walsall. The rent was affordable, and the barman was happy to note that the family whose advertisement it was were decent folk.

And so Robert was on his way, a hastily scribbled address on his palm.

A quick drink at the Golden Lion had staved both pangs of the heart and those of nervousness, and thus no grave weights hung too heavy for him to bear.

Walking down a lane of pleasant-looking houses, a sudden smell assaulted his nostrils. It was redolent of unfamiliar, albeit intriguing, spices.

Sniffing vigorously as he consulted the address on his palm, Robert walked up to the right house. The scent of spices intensified. He rung the doorbell.

A few minutes passed until a lady, dark-skinned and exotic, opened the door. "Yes? Hello?" Her voice had an accent that he couldn't quite place. She glanced at his hair, and he could see a faint look of distaste on her face.

"Umm, I'm here about the advertisement in the Golden Lion."

"Oh." Her expression moulded itself into something a little more welcoming. "Please come this way, Mr. -"

"Plant. Robert Plant."

Her eyebrows rose slightly at his name. He didn't know whether to take that as a good sign or not.

The room, when shown to him, struck a wonderful balance between homeliness and impersonality. If he was to remain a harbourless boat, there was no better beach to seek temporary shelter at.

However, after being handed the keys to him room, he got the sense that there was a bit of reserve in his new landlady's manner.

"Umm...have I said anything to upset you? Because you seem a little-"

"How well do you know my daughter?"

The question took him by surprise. He wasn't in the habit of knowing people's daughters, even in a social sense.

"Her name's Maureen." the woman continued. "Maureen Wilson."

Things clicked into place.

The woman gazed at him, beady-eyed. "She came home raving about some man she met in some pub. A Robert Plant."

Robert was even more taken aback. "Umm...yes, we did meet. Once."

Her expression took on an air of mild ferocity. "Yes?"

Feeling uncomfortable, he said, "We just talked. Y'know - just trying to be friendly."

"She said you were the most charming man she had ever met. Why would she say that, eh?" Clearly in a state of agitation, the woman's accent slipped into one that was near indistinguishable. "Why, eh?"

"I...can't say." Well, Percy, that's what you get for trying to be too forward. Though, clearly, you've got better luck with the ladies than the one gent you happen to like.

"Are you making affair with my daughter?" Her brows rose to almost comical heights and, had it not been the most inopportune moment to have a fit of giggles, he would have snorted with laughter.

"No - I'm sure she's a very lovely girl, but I actually-"

"Aha! How do you know she's a lovely girl?"

-like blokes.

"Well..." Flustered, he raked a hand through his leonine mane. "She's...attractive." That's what straight chaps go after, isn't it?

The woman looked instantly scandalised. "You make love eyes at my daughter?"

Well, that escalated fast. No wonder no one's snatched up that room, despite what it's going for. They've got to go through a Nazi-style interrogation first.

"Ma'am," he gave her his best, I-am-an-innocent-young-boy voice, "I can assure you that I have never made 'love eyes' at your daughter."

Her mouth folded in dissatisfaction. "But you say she is attractive?"

Embarrassment moulded into irritation. "Yes, but-"

"Robert - there you are!"

He felt his entire body stiffen, as the last person he'd expected to walk through the door did just that.

"How did you find me here?"

"The barman's an old friend."

"This is-?" The woman's brows bobbed in confusion.

Jimmy wrapped his arm around Robert's waist, pulling the taller man closer. "A very good friend." The extra emphasis in his voice made the blond flush beet-red.

"Ah." The woman took a step back - an expression of mingled relief and mild disgust on her face. The cat was definitely out of the bag, as far as Robert's sexuality was concerned. But if that meant an end to the interrogation, to hell with it. "I leave you now." She scuttled away.

"Rather barmy." Jimmy commented, lightly, as if he had not just pretended to be Robert's boyfriend.

"You know who else is barmy? You."

The guitarist laughed. "Because I got you out of trouble? You ought to be thanking me."

"Thanking you for pretending to be my boyfriend?" Robert cocked a brow. "Giving me false hopes? No can do. Nope. Why did you rush over to rescue me anyway?"

"We have a gig." Jimmy said, as if that explained everything. "We can't perform without a singer. So I had to find you."

Despite the slight pang that this wasn't a social call, Robert liked the idea that the guitarist had headed out to find the singer himself, instead of sending Bonzo out to do the job. Maybe - just maybe - Jimmy actually thought he was halfway important.

That was enough to make Robert's day.

"Stop grinning - we have two hours to make it to our venue and it's an hour's drive at most." Business-y Jimmy was back and all traces of jocularity were wiped off his face. "Get a move on and get changed."

Rather stupidly, Robert gaped. The concept of punctuality was lost on him - but then, he'd never had to follow the strict schedules that Jimmy, a session musician, had had to.

"Go on!" The guitarist clapped loudly. "I need a roadie to load my guitar, amp and pedals!"

Annoyance stung Robert as he headed to the room that was still too new for him to think of it as his. Just as I thought I was finally being appreciated he comes up with this shit.

Shaking his head, he rifled through the few clothes he'd brought along in his bag. None of them were what he liked to call his 'good clothes' - the clothes he performed in.

"Well, isn't that a fine thing." It looked as though he was going to have to wear one of his ill-fitting t-shirts and his everyday jeans. "My first day with my new group and I'm going to be dressed like a homeless man."

A flurry of movement behind him made him glance over his shoulder. "What are you doing in here?"

"You're taking a dreadfully long time getting dressed." Jimmy's brow furrowed at the clothes Robert had scattered on his new bed. "You're worse than Charlotte on a bad day."

"Well, I can hardly hurry up with you in the room, can I?" Embarrassment washed over him as he saw the guitarist's critical eye going over his clothes. Any comparison between their clothes would only end in mortification on Robert's part. "So, would you mind giving me a bit of privacy to get changed?"

"Why?" The guitarist picked idly through the remaining clothes in Robert's bag. "I'll hardly be seeing anything I haven't seen before. Besides - there isn't time for false modesty."

Gritting his teeth, Robert had to admit the other man had a point. "Well...don't look, alright?"

Jimmy laughed. "Your manhood isn't that impressive. My eyes have other things to look at - like, for example, this bag of ghastly clothes."

"You didn't suck that bag of clothes as if it was a giant lollipop though, did you?"

The guitarist's mouth opened, then closed. Clearly, he could think of nothing to say.

Grinning to himself, Robert turned back to the clothes sprawled on his bed. He slipped out of the t-shirt he had on and into a fresh one. Out of the corner of his eye he glanced at Jimmy, to see if the guitarist was enjoying the view.

But Jimmy's eyes were disappointingly fixed on the clothes in Robert's bag, his mouth in small moue of dissatisfaction.

"Ok." Robert sighed. "I'm ready."

"You're going like that?"

"We're pressed for time, in case you forgot."

Jimmy's brows furrowed into a mild glare, but his mouth clearly hadn't got the message because it was screwed up into an adorable half-smile.

Robert wanted to kiss the rest of his face into submission. But they had a gig and that was more important than his foolish lust.

🦋

Greetings! Happy New Year!

Have some Jimbert for the new year!

Anyway, as usual, tell me whether you like the latest chapter!

Peace out, Annia.