Songs To Sing- John Frusciante

5

April 6, 1991

Pencey

I came barreling out of the venue's dressing room full of nerves. My bass was strapped around my back, and we were about to go on to a packed, nearly sold-out, crowd.

As I anxiously tried to find Perry or Dave or someone, a sweat-drenched John popped out from behind a corner, one hand gripping a towel. "Shit, Pencey, relax."

"Have you seen anyone? I can't find them."

"You look gorgeous."

I narrowed my eyes. "First off, watch your volume, someone might hear you say that. Second, where did that asshole-y John go? I must be talking to someone else. And third, you seriously aren't helping."

He tutted. "Perry's standing side-stage. No idea where Stephen is. I think Dave met some girl, dunno where he went either. And I'm only not an asshole to you, if you haven't noticed yet."

I looked behind his shoulder at the darkened stage. "Right, well..." I looked around briefly before planting a kiss on his cheek, standing ever so slightly on my toes. "You sounded great. I'll see you."

"Good luck, beautiful."

Damn that man and his nicknames.

As I brushed around the backstage venue, I kept bumping into roadies, apologizing half-heartedly under my breath as they turned their heads to look at me.

"DAVE!"

His head turned as quickly as the roadies had, his eyes wide with the sudden surprise. "Pencey-"

"Where the fuck have you been?" I stormed up to him, switching my bass around my back into my hands.

"Um, watching the band? I thought you would have."

"Well-" I huffed, bouncing on my toes. "Why the hell did no one come to get me, then? Left me all alone..."

"Not my fault." He shrugged. "I think we're on." Perry and Stephen, at that moment, bound up behind us, ready to go.

All I could do was sigh and shake my head, putting a smile on as the lights came up on us.

***

God damn, it was hot on that stage.

Didn't help that it was a room painted black in the middle of September in a heat wave with barely any air conditioning, either.

I wiped my brow with my arm and handed my bass off to a roadie, immediately working my way through the crowd to the dressing room. I fumbled around in the small fridge there instead of having to go to the green room. The Chili Peppers were already in there, and hence, a stench of alcohol and perfume hit my nose as soon as I passed it. My next stop was the bus very briefly, grabbing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt to change into after showering in the venue. Back inside, the chatter of the green room had grown louder, so I poked in, grabbing a beer discreetly before taking it into the bathroom with me.

I didn't give a fuck if it was unhygienic, nothing was better than a cold beer and a scalding hot shower after a gig.

The water rushed over my face, streaming down and dragging my hair into my face. I inhaled the steam radiating from the heat, feeling it relax my muscles and bring down my heart rate.

I wasn't alone for very long, just enough time to finish washing my hair. The door just had to open.

Thank God there was a curtain shielding me, but it didn't matter much to me. I tore it away just enough for only my face to poke out, trying to see who had walked in.

I knew that brown hair anywhere.

"John..." I trailed out, making him jump and turn to see me, "did you follow me in here?"

"Not on purpose." He looked me over through the shadow of the curtain, eyes widening as they trailed my figure.

"Are you sure?"

"I just wanted to shower."

"Here," I said, switching the water off. "I'll switch stalls, but you have to promise me you won't peek."

He furrowed his brow. "Why?"

"Because we have to save something for the hotel tonight."

John smiled, closed his eyes, and jokingly put a hand over his face. I stepped out of the shower carefully and dried myself just enough to be able to put on clothes, my eyes glued to him the whole time. He just held a pair of jeans in one hand, the other plastered across his face. I could see his cheeks were bright red.

After dressing myself in a lacy bralette and tight black jeans, I walked barefoot to him carefully, standing close enough to catch his smell of weed and cologne. "You can open your eyes now, I'm decent."

His dark brown eyes fluttered open, settling down on mine. A smile crept on his face again. "You're quite close."

"Stop flirting and kiss me already, Frusciante. It's nauseating."

Without any hesitation, his hands fell to the small of my back, pushing me closer to him and pressing his lips to mine. He kissed me with anticipation and lust and just about every emotion imaginable, smiling slightly into it. My hands crept around his neck, just clinging on for dear life.

I needed him, in what felt like every sense of the word.

I pulled away first, my forehead falling just below his mouth. "Just hold on until we leave. I can't fuck you right here, can I?"

"You could."