His foot brushed against the shag carpet as the elevator door closed. His finger landed on the black button for the fourteenth floor. The lift shook and creaked at the start but soon enough carried him up the cable.

Angus glanced down at his watch and stamped his heels to the floor. One two...one two... Bon was up on the fourteenth floor no doubt sleeping off a hangover. The show was in less than three hours and Malcolm did not take kindly to screw ups.

None of them did. But Angus' brother had a nefarious reputation when dealing with lollygaggers. Angus got his first scolding session when he was eighteen and they first started the band.

He shuddered at the memory. One more time with one more girl was one minute too late. He showed up to the studio, breathless and carelessly put together. Angus insisted he had slept in (which wasn't uncommon for the schoolboy) but the lipstick mark on his collar told a different story.

One smack to the head was all it took.

Malcolm's strict authority must have leaked off his palm and into Angus' brain because now they were both just as rough as the other. Their band was one of profesional standard and if you couldn't meet the need, you couldn't do the deed. No ifs ands or buts about it.

The hands on his watch were spinning way too quickly for Angus' comfort as he bit his lip. Blood pooled on the surface and he licked it away. His time was running out to collect Bon from his room and (literally) carry his ass out. Finally the lift dinged, then let the boy off.

His shoes pounded down the hall sending waves through his head. All the doors looked the same from one end to the other. It was then he realized Bon never actually specified what room he was staying in. Angus mentally smacked himself for not checking with anyone first. He wasn't about to go knocking every door down he came across, the impression this band made in this building was bad enough. The young man mentally smacked their drummer for putting his foot through the drywall.

Standing in the middle of the long rug staring at the doors made him feel like an idiot. He looked like a lost puppy out there, panting with eyes darting around. It would have been worse if Bon himself hadn't walked out of one of the rooms Number 133! and came toward him.

Neither one said a word in the greeting, and the singer simply continued on his way to the elevator. Angus followed, silently observing.

His hair was washed and blow dried to the extent where it looked professional. His outfit, albeit less professional, was planned and put together. No sign of sleep crossed his eyes nor drinking on his lips. Maybe he hadn't been getting wasted again...

Even his walking was intended. His feet swept the floor in swift motions like he knew he was going to be late. Angus thought if he knew, no matter what he did the night before, that he was gonna be late, that he would just say 'fuck it' and plan ahead. How many people can do that?

Both men stood silently in the elevator waiting for the doors to close. It gave an unnecessary feeling of anticipation; as soon as it happened, it was over. Nothing exciting. Not like waiting for a concert to start, not at all.

The extra time allowed Angus to daydream about the upcoming evening and the sweaty nights ahead. Every concert followed the same routine. They'd play a show using only half their energy, then spend the rest of it backstage. Greet fans who came with albums to sign and the occasional tee shirt. Eventually some girls would come along and they'd finish the night off with them. It was a difficult schedule to keep up with as these present moments showed, but it was the rock lifestyle. Sex, drugs, and rock and roll wasn't just some cartoon catchphrase.

His attention was pulled a sharp left when Bon hit the button for the eighth floor instead of the lobby. "What are you doin'?" he asked bluntly.

"There's a fella on the seventh floor that hangs out in the corner," Bon responded without turning around.

"Yeah?"

"He met me yesterday and said I needed his stuff so I'm goin' over."

"His stuff?" Angus asked staring down the back of his head.

"Yeah."

"His dope or his dick?"

"Hilarious, Ang."

"I'm serious, you gotta know what 'the stuff' is. I tell ya', I won't be there for the second one."

"Good thing it's not then, ain't it?" Bon inhaled the air as if it were smoke and puffed it back out. Even in his thought out rush he forgot to grab his Camel Lights left on the broken nightstand. With the guitarist's griping behind him, he was sure gonna miss 'em.

"What is it then?"

"Hm?"

"What's this fella tryin' to sell ya'?" Bon let out a chuckle and turned a ninety.

"He ain't sellin' me anything. It's some cheap knockoff stuff, I wouldn't buy anything off of him."

"You're goin' to a strange man for cheap shit that you know is cheap shit, and you're okay with it?"

"It's not just cheap shit, it's free shit," Bon corrected with a smile. "Besides, he ain't strange anymore." Angus snorted and shook his head.

"If he's on the seventh floor, why ain't you stoppin' on the seventh?"

"Isn't that what I done?"

"You hit the eight."

"Damn," Bon muttered observing his work. He turned back to the shorter man with a carefree look. "Guess we'll just take the stairs then, eh?"

"I didn't run up here for ya' to let you waste more time getting high, your ass is comin' with me."

"It's a quick stop mate, it'll be over before you know it."

"Malcolm will split my skull and yours too if we ain't there on time," Angus spat at him getting his point across. "It's my job to drag you over there in the first place."

"Fine job you're doin'."

"We're late enough as it is 'cause of you and when Mal finds out what you're doin'-"

"Jesus Ang, will you shut up? You're soundin' like a two year old." Angus opened his mouth but Bon left him hanging. "What, you gonna tell on me? And what's Mal gonna do? We got a gig tonight, not much he can tell me over the music." Angus closed his mouth and leaned back against the wall, arms crossed.

"You don't give a shit."

"Sure I do, if I didn't, I wouldn't be here right now lookin' like this." Bon thumbed at himself. "We're not gonna be late, I know that. You can run to your brother and tell 'im I said that."

"I can't, I'm stuck here with you."

"And I with you. Now stop complainin', we're almost th-" A strong thud cut him off along with the lights flickering out. A cold draft filled the room with uninvited misadventure. The darkness screamed with pure bad luck. Both men stood still and silent as the realization hit.

"Fuck," Angus whispered.

"You think it's temporary?"

"Not at all, it's gonna take hours to get movin' again." Bon slowly paced the area rubbing the back of his neck. "If you hadn't been late as usual-"

"Stop complainin', alright? Jus' got a shitty elevator tha's all. Now help me get this fuckin' door open."

Thirty minutes. Thirty useless minutes prying that door open to no avail. Bon rubbed his thumb and forefinger together, both stained white and sighed. "Fuckin' hell," he breathed.

"Fuckin' hell is right," Angus echoed. He approached the singer with an air of annoyance. His fingers had also paled, which should have happened by guitar instead.

Bon brushed his hair aside getting ready for another verbal attack. Being the piglet that Angus was, he wasn't too worried about what he would do, just what he would say. That kid could have the nastiest temper sometimes.

"Ang, I haven't the slightest interest in hearing you gripe your arse off at me for God knows how long," Bon huffed. The younger man rocked back on his heels, listening intently. "This ain't my fault, this ain't your fault, only this goddamn hotel's fault alright? Take it up with them."

"Don't plan to. Gotta save my energy." Bon couldn't help letting out a chuckle.

"That blonde comin' back again?" he inquired. "Weren't you a little old for her?"

"Aren't you a little too old for this band? We let you in." Angus leaned against the wall opposite the singer. "Age is just a number in the bedroom, Bonnie boy."

"You wouldn't think that way had she been a minor." The smile on Bon's face disappeared shortly after Angus'. His eyes were glued to the carpet, desperate for anything else to look at. Bon knew this man better than anyone, besides his brother, and recognized his apprehension to reply as a sign of guilt. His hands found his pockets and his left foot crossed the right. "Ang... don't tell me."

"Didn't say nothin'." The singer scoffed. Unbelievable. No, remarkable. Angus was never one to color outside the lines like that. He strayed the straight and narrow path before but...

"You're kiddin'." Angus shrugged. "Wait till she tells her parents, Ang! Snappin' at me, over what? One little dose? You however, appear to have done the whole fuckin' line!"

"Hell with you mate, it was one night! She was okay with it, why not? Didn't mean much anyway..." His voice dropped off to where Bon had to lean closer. His brow furrowed.

"She no good?"

"Nah, she-was gone when I woke up. Left a note on the nightstand." A sneakered foot toed the carpet. "Spelled my name wrong." Angus frowned as Bon snorted into his arm. "It ain't funny, mate!"

"Yes it is. Look, I shouldn't have laughed. But I'll be damned if that ain't funny." The guitarist shook his head.

"You're hopeless."

"And you're an idiot."

"Wanker."

"Buggy knocker. Callin' names never did no good." Bon grinned in triumph at Angus' pout. "Does Mal know about this?"

"I don't need his permission."

"No, but you know how he is about that stuff. He's been on about my dosage, I should know."

"What he doesn't know can't hurt him, right?" Bon frowned. Something wasn't right here.

"And the trip to the seventh floor is front page news? Just 'cause he's your brother doesn't mean you get away clean."

"So...what?" Bon pointed at him.

"We don't say nothin' to him. Deal?" Angus mulled it over.

"And if you break that deal?"

"Then you can stick a flagpole up my ass, okay? Now is it a deal or what?" Angus reluctantly shook the outstretched hand. A chuckle escaped him.

"Quick to name the punishment, weren't you?"

"I only said that 'cause I get to do the same to you if you blab." Both men couldn't help the smiles creeping up.

"Or that girl's parents."

"If that were me," Bon stated. "I'd be scared shitless."

"Better run for my life then." An unidentified amount of time passed in silence. Attempting to open the doors again was looking tempting. "Come on then, let's try again eh?"

"You think you can open 'em now?" Bon questioned.

"Not by myself..." The guitarist looked over his shoulder.

"Who says I'm helpin' you?" Angus frowned.

"'Cause you're stuck in here just as much as I am."

"And?" the singer grinned.

"So get your ass up an' help me."

"We tried that Ang, didn't work so well."

"Sittin' here doesn't work either!" The older man leaned back against the wall, sliding down till he reached carpet, eyes never leaving the younger's. If there was one thing Bon was excelled in without practice, it was pissing his mates off. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Jus' havin' a break, son. You should get yourself one of those."

"We're stuck in a goddamn elevator an' you don't fuckin' care!"

"Who's hopeless now, Ang?"

"Who's the idiot?!"

"Shut it!" Bon yelled causing Angus to step back. The singer regained his composure before continuing. "I do care, this is a shitty circumstance and I wouldn't wish it on anyone. But one more pull on that door's gonna do jack shit an' you know it. Now I suggest you yank the knot outta your panties and stop wastin' your time on that goddamn door!"

Angus followed Bon's actions and both men were seated on the floor. The room was still dark, and it was difficult to make out the other's expression. Frustration, murder, they all looked the same. A smell from the carpet filled their nostrils and they sighed. Whether or not Mal found out about their misdoings, if they didn't show up in the preferred time, he'd mount them over his fireplace.

"This bites," Angus mumbled, coincidentally biting his lip. Bon sighed again.

"No doubt. We're gonna get out of here."

"What makes you so sure?"

"They ain't gonna leave the elevator broken forever. You an' I both know that."

"Doesn't mean we'll get out in time for the show!"

"How 'bout a promise Ang? Would a promise untie that knot?" Bon inquired. Angus crossed his arms. If he knew what was good for him, he'd shut his mouth.

"How 'bout a kept promise?" The singer gave him a pseudo grin.

"Can't do that." Another silence surrounded the boys. It was thick. Like the pitch that filled the room, growing with every minute. The lack of sight was made up for in smell, the coffee and suspicious white stains on the floor worsening. The later it got, the colder it got as well. If worst came to the worst, the two would have to put aside their petty arguments and keep each other warm. Angus stole a glance at Bon and decided he'd rather just rip those damn doors open himself. He shivered, then crossed his arms with a proud demeanor.

"I do not have panties," he mumbled. The singer rolled his head to look at his friend who was slowly turning into his annoying companion.

"I beg to differ, mate."

"Like you've ever seen them!" Angus retorted.

"Every show, little man. Every show." Angus sat back in a huff. He would not let that singer get under his skin. As right as he was, he still forgot one tiny piece of info. His lack of feminine underwear.

"Uh...nobody's in here right?" Both men exchanged glances.

"Who was that?" Angus whispered. Bon shrugged. The guitarist sighed and stood up. He strained to see through the thick pitch. Nothing on the walls implied any way of communication. Until his eyes landed on a speaker box. No bigger than a matchbox, it hung tucked away in the corner of the ceiling. A red light flashed on the button meaning someone was on the other end.

"If there's no one in here, we're callin' for help tomorrow so you'd better speak up." The voice was grainy and the static disguised the tone.

"Bon, someone's up here." Bon raised his head to see the red light.

"Go answer 'im, he's gonna leave us til' tomorrow." Angus stood on his toes and pathetically waved his outstretched hand. His fingertips barely grazed the base of the speaker. The singer shook his head as he watched him. Angus could never reach a cat stuck in a tree. He was the cat stuck in a tree. "You got it yet?" Bon felt the need to check on him once he started jumping for it.

"Damn it!" Angus swore under his breath. Bon stood up and cracked his knuckles.

"Let the professional show you how it's done." The taller man stood under the speaker box and reached it with ease. Angus frowned. No one in the band had been blessed with great height but Angus seemed to have been cursed. Not only with the trouble of climbing every solid surface, but he was also subject to teasing. Mainly from the band. Normally he just ignored it but one day his own brother went too far. Malcolm wasn't one to talk being the pixie he was himself.

"Oi mate, ya' still there?" Bon called into the mic. Twenty seconds of static was the reply.

"Oh...there's someone still there, Joe...yeah he just talked...how should I know?...We can't just leave him there!"

"Hey mate? Your finger's on the switch there." More static.

"Oh! Oh. Uh, you heard all that?" Bon gave Angus a face.

"Unfortunately." Static sounded a third time along with some shuffling around.

"Sorry about that, we were just about to call it quits. Didn't think anyone rode this cable."

"'T's no trouble at all, mate," Bon feigned assurance. Angus watched from below leaning against the wall.

"Actually we were hoping you wouldn't answer so we could go home ya' know," the voice chuckled. Bon ran a hand through his hair.

"You don't say." His eyes landed on Angus who mouthed something Bon couldn't understand.

"Yeah you know, gotta see the wife before she gets mad. Tuck the kids in, all that jazz."

"Yep."

"Feed the fish..."

"I'm sure."

"It's not every day you get a call from a guy in an elevator."

"Oh really?" Angus laughed at Bon's annoyed sarcasm.

"Yeah. Kind of disappointed actually. Monday night football you know..." This man had no trouble expressing his thoughts. Well, neither did Bon.

"Listen mate, I'm sorry to cripple ya' so bad but my friend and I ain't havin' no blast in here either."

"There's more of you?" Bon glanced at the small bodied man beside him. He wouldn't really say there was 'more'.

"Uh, sure. He counts."

"Oh shit, Joe he's got a friend...no he just told me...just hang up the phone?" the voice laughed. "Run away for the week?"

"We can bloody fuckin' hear you mate, now just fuckin' help us." Bon raised his voice that even surprised himself.

"Hey man, you got somewhere to be?"

"Actually I do. We both do. Now we need to get out of here and you're the only bloody help we got."

"Alright, alright. Tell me your names." The men exchanged glances.

"Bon Scott and Angus Young." The singer braced himself for the response.

"You're pullin' my leg."

"'Fraid not."

"You're serious? Holy shit! Joe! Guess who's on the line?" The rest of the conversation was inaudible. Joe's co-worker must have finally grew brains enough to take his finger off the button.

"How do you think it's goin'?" Angus asked. Bon let out an exasperated laugh.

"His day just got better while ours just gets covered in shit." Angus smiled to himself. As boring as it was sitting there, he didn't want to have to stand around talking to this guy. He was suddenly glad that he was too short to reach the button.

The static scared the crap out of them. Bon leaned forward to hear the news. "Alright Joe and I have made a deal."

"You have, have you?"

"Yes. It involves you and your friend."

"Can't wait to hear it."

"So, as much as it pains us to stay here late and wait for someone to come fix the elevator, we'll do it anyway... I know Joe, we're so nice." Bon rolled his eyes. "We'll do it on one condition."

"And that is?"

"We get to come to the show tonight." A pause. "With backstage passes." The two men sighed. They were being held hostage by two men in a dinky elevator. And one of them was getting on their last nerve.

"Backstage passes huh?" Bon muttered.

"That's the deal."

"No," Angus whispered. "No, he can get us help without a threat."

"Settle down," Bon replied. He pressed the button. "Listen, mate. We'd love to, but we just can't swing it right now. It's extremely last minute, it's too late in the evening, and if we don't get out of here there ain't even gonna be a show."

"Hey, if we don't get to see it, no one gets to see it."

"That's a dirty mindset you have, you know that?"

"Oh please. I know for a fact that if Joe and I were women you'd hand it over. No questions asked."

"If you were women, you would have been smart enough to get tickets a long time ago."

"Yeah. We'd be at the show and you'd be stuck here with no one. How about that?" Bon clenched his hand and pushed it against the wall. They were at a stalemate. There wasn't much light at the end of this tunnel.

"You'd be pretty disappointed then to know we weren't comin'," Angus piped up. "Jus' let us out of here already."

"My offer is still on the table...take it or leave it."

"Fuckin' hell," Bon mumbled, clenching his hand all the tighter. "Bloody fuckin' shit stained..." The singer let out a blue streak. Time was running out and they were being held at the edge. Joe and What's-his-ass should have simply done their job and dialed for help. Maybe they shouldn't have given their real names. But they were normal people and deserved the same help as any. You'd think two blokes like this would kill for this chance. They just happened to get stuck with these two instead.

Bon glanced at a very pissed off Angus. He gave up trying to talk him out of it and decline their offer. He must have looked at his watch and known it wasn't worth the effort. The fight in him was replaced by a stone cold glare. Malcolm was gonna kill them anyway, might as well help a fellow out before they died.

Bon felt pathetic. Stooping down like this for someone else simply because they were unlucky enough to get a shitty elevator. This was not either man's day. He felt walked on. This was not how he was raised, not how he brought himself up, and certainly not how he was gonna die. But one look at his own watch sent him knuckling the button.

"Fine."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"For real?"

"Yes!"

"No tricks?" This man really knew how to rub in a victory.

"Christ mate, yes."

"Great. Thank you for your participation, it's much appreciated. Don't worry guys, help is on the way."

"Yeah, thanks." Bon stepped away from the speaker box and sat on the floor. The room was completely black by now. The concert hadn't started but it would way too soon. If only they hadn't been so late.

The man shifted a bit as he realized all of this was partially his fault. Not so much the short cut to Seventh Heaven, but being late in the first place. He had teased Angus about it but the little man was only trying to hurry his ass up and get the damn show on the road. Bon gave a half smile. Just like his brother. His rough, edgy, son of a gun brother. You couldn't blame a guy for wanting a good show for his band.

Angus was picking at his nails when he felt the other man's stare. "What do you want Bon?" he asked without looking up.

"How'd you know it was me?"

"I had a hunch." Mirth returned to the men. "What do you need?"

"Jus' thought I should apologize."

"For...?" Angus really knows how to push a man's buttons.

"For gettin' us locked in here. I was late and that didn't help." Bon suddenly felt a bad taste in his mouth. Whether he admitted it or not, it felt weird to apologize to him. It meant he made a mistake when he should have been perfect. Even as the singer of a rock and roll band, he was famous and expected to be perfect. Angus over there knew just how far from perfect he really was. But the guitarist was his friend. Not some opportunistic shark like the two men holding them prisoner. He wouldn't hold him to it longer than necessary.

"And you do understand that I was being a friend and just gettin' you ready right?" Bon chuckled.

"Yes."

"Good. So...no more stuff?"

"Not a chance. Soon as we're out, we're gettin' on with it." Angus fiddled with his fingers.

"What are we doin' with our company upstairs?"

"Ah, we'll figure somethin'."

"Now I believe you men owe us something." Help arrived twenty minutes later and retrieved the two from the elevator. The light was more than welcome to blind them silly and the sour smell dissipated quickly. Two men stood across from them, both sleepy-eyed and expectant. Joe and his co-worker named Tom were waiting for their benefits of the deal.

"Shut yer mouth an' come on," Bon said as he and Angus hurried out of the lobby.

The show was performed without any problems. Still five minutes left before it started and they got ready in record time. Malcolm tried to be upset with them but he had a guitar to pluck first. He complied; there'd be more time to yell at them later.

Eventually the band met up backstage. Back with their regular routine right on schedule. Not that the two were complaining as a few female fans came up for a chat. Tom and Joe made their way in, admiring the place as if they paid to see it.

Malcolm noticed Bon and Angus' apparent disgust as they entered. "Oi lads, you know them?"

"Somewhat," Angus answered. Bon observed the two. That doormat feeling was still clinging to his spirit. They saw the show, they came backstage, nothing more to see. The singer wasn't gonna let them have the upper hand anymore.

He caught the attention of a passing security. After a few exchanged whispers and a mutual nod of understanding, they parted ways. Bon rejoined his group where they had a ball telling stories to anyone willing to listen. While Cliff was going on about his showbiz mates, a slight commotion broke out among the east wall. Two men had failed to present a solid proof of identity and as a result of lacking cooperation, they were roughly escorted out. Malcolm shook his head. "Look at that. Hey mates, your friends are in a doozy."

"Oh yeah," Bon commented nonchalantly. He and Angus shared a mischievous grin. Blackmailing had its punishments in the band and this situation was no exception.

"Perfect night to assist in retribution, wouldn't you say Bon?" Angus asked mimicking a posh style. Bon responded the same.

"Couldn't agree more."