Work Text:
"Pete is not here." Roger Waters can think of no other reason John Entwistle would ever darken the door of his own rented room. "He isn't even in the building, and I don't know where He went."
"I do. Don't worry."
"I wasn't worried. He's a big boy. To what do I owe the pleasure, then?" Well aware he hasn't come off as the friendliest fellow in the past, where Pete's partners are concerned, Roger elucidates "It IS, a pleasure, I hope, which has brought you, and not a pain?"
Somewhat tipsy, John blurts "Are you busy?", trying to decide if he's drunk enough to present prepared pitch. Waters has always treated him with cool civility, but John has come to recently realize the man is nowhere near so rigid as ramrod reputation would suggest. What had seemed like a clever course of action, upon leaving Nick's room down the hall, now threatens to derail into disaster. [He's gonna tell me to fuck off... or laugh in my face. Never heard this man laugh... not really...just a harsh, sarcastic bark, and even THAT's rare. He's not humorless, though, or he couldn't possibly put up with Pete's perversely prankish personality.]
"Not at all, although I might have been in a moment. I was growing bored, actually, and whenever I've got nothing entertaining to do, I work. You happened to catch me in that interim where I welcome a distraction. Please..." he stands aside with sweeping invitational gesture "...come inside." [What does he want? For years seemed to hate me, but that was my own self-conscious misreading. Mum and Dad, they are, which makes me a homewrecker... but, no... not anymore. Curious...] "Have you been with Nick?"
[Damn, he's good.] Stepping into well-appointed suite identical to the one he's just left (except that Roger's queen-sized bed remains neatly made whereas Nick's contains comatosely drunken drummer), he acknowledges "Yeah. Mister Mason's down for the count, but I'm just getting started. Thought I'd see what you're up to."
Roger is flattered and decides to say so. [Not to mention... which I won't... he smells like a brewery. When Pete gets to drinking, He tends not to stop. If John is anything similar, I bet just a walk down the hall has him thirsty for more.] "You really WANT my company? This calls for a drink." He is not comfortable turning his back on many men, but the Ox has revealed himself as a trustworthy sort. Crossing the carpet to crack open miniature icebox, he withdraws two Heineken longnecks and offers one to John.
"You really WANT to drink with me?" emerges in unintended echo.
"Wouldn't if I didn't. Don't fish. Makes you look needy... even if there's no way in hell I've got anything YOU need."
"NOW who's fishing?"
"Fair enough." [I keep underestimating this one.]
Both bassists uncap identical libations then imbibe in silence for several swigs.
"I'm starting a new solo record." John mellowly mentions, pleased at Roger's unexpected utterance.
"I love your first one."
"Didn't even know you'd heard it."
"You never asked. Pete did, though, and that big nose was just a little out of joint when I told Him SMASH YOUR HEAD AGAINST THE WALL has more staying power than WHO CAME FIRST. My favorite track is "External Youth"..." a dreamy look infuses Waters's features as he quotes "..."A very prominent politician in danger of losing his position/ A devastating smile looked real up to a mile"... That's clever. I also enjoy "My Size", and can't help but wonder whether it might be about Pete?"
[Whoa, wait, what? He really has listened to it. Thinks mine's better than Pete's, even?] "It's about men LIKE Pete, at any rate."
Roger's lips twist into a wry smile. "There are no men like Pete."
"I'm lookin' at one." is John's casual reply, cut down by brutal retort.
"Do you honestly believe that?"
[Does he want me to say yes or no?] Forced to consider, John isn't sure how to answer. "Well, I sure wouldn't come to PETE for help. He STEALS anything I craft that's really smart to use in The Who stuff... music-wise, anyway... and he laughs at my lyrics."
Siezing upon a single word, much in the manner of the man they're discussing, Roger drills John with direct gaze and forthright line of inquiry. "You want MY 'help'? Everybody knows you're a far finer fiddler of four fat strings than I could EVER hope to be."
"Not sayin' you can't craft a divine bassline... that ticktock "Time" trick, and your follow-the-bouncing-ball-straight-to-hell progression of "Money" knock me out every time, but you're right. I don't really need any help with THAT instrument." John taps himself ruefully on the temple. "Was hoping you might help me sort out THIS one."
"You came for psychiatric advice? Five cents, please." is Roger's quirky quip.
"You WISH!"
"I do, actually, and will waive negligibly nominal fee in exchange for dirty details. Care to stretch out on my couch and tell me all about it?"
"That's creepy. Don't make me regret this. If I wanted to deal with a fuckin' CREEP, I'd be talkin' to Pete."
"Why me, then?"
"You write...poetry."
"That's right. Got a little black book with my poems in. What of it?"
"Is it ever...hard...to take what you really want to say and make it pretty?"
"Putting aside the debate as to whether my stuff is or isn't 'pretty', the answer is nonetheless 'No'. My trouble is that I DO say what I really mean..." Roger looses frustrated huff "...in what I THINK is the clearest way possible, yet ungrateful groundlings still don't get it."
"Pete has that same problem. Even AYE don't understand what he's on about sometimes."
"Oh, bollocks! That's not Pete's problem AT ALL, although He'd really like people to BELIEVE it is. He and I couldn't be more different. I write what IS, while Pete writes what COULD BE. I'm just a reporter... a whistleblower... but He's a true visionary."
"I dunno, you two seem similar to me... frightfully, like. Maybe that's why you work so well together."
"We've never worked together. Highly doubt He and I ever COULD cobble congenial collaboration without it degenerating into measuring dicks." Although certain John understands, Roger is nonetheless compelled to clarify. "Figuratively speaking, of course."
[I've seen Pete wave his LITERAL dick around. Would Waters wanna watch such a sight? Hell, HAS he?] "You know what I mean."
"No, I'm not sure that I do." Roger's posture stiffens as his demeanor frosts. [Does he really want to talk about this? Had figured him for the type who wouldn't, but if he forges forward, shall not shrink.] "Perhaps you'd better explain."
"Well, you've got a... personal... relationship." Inscrutable stonewall regard with which he's confronted makes John suddenly wonder whether he could be wrong. "Pete SAYS you do. Is that all in his head?"
"I should have MY head examined, but... I suppose that's a not inaccurate, if somewhat glib, assessment...although our... association is likely considerably less intimate than whatever YOU and Pete get up to behind closed doors."
"Whatever he told you, that IS all in his head. We're NOT... 'intimate'..."
"Anymore?" [!!!] That had been a stab in the dark, and Roger thrills to behold it has found flesh. "Look, I'm not passing sentence, here, on us or on Pete, but you must see that 'intimacy' takes many forms, yes? Can you honestly say your...working... relationship with a creature like Pete never veers into the 'personal'?"
"I can't AVOID the personal with Pete! God knows I TRY."
"Not that there's a God, but go on..." Roger pantomimes taking notes, forefinger mockingly tracing across open palm.
John rolls his eyes with a good-natured guffaw. "You're such a pompous horse's arse, Waters."
"Duly noted, Mister Entwistle, and might I add that I've heard those exact same words before... often from men whose imaginations I hold in low esteem. No wonder you come to me for assistance in expressing your opinions more creatively."
"Ouch."
"So, stop trying to break my balls. I take too much of that from Pete."
"Ooh..." John growls, eagerly commiserating. "Don't get me STARTED on what an evil bastard he can be. One time..." he halts himself in abrupt admonishment, arresting almost tattling tawdry tale. "No, I WON'T feed you dirty details. If we're gonna talk about him, let's be charitable, okay? I mean, we both must really..." [I can say the word. How will it hit him to hear it?] "...love the guy to keep taking the bitter with the sweet."
"I don't trust Pete when He's being 'sweet' to me, although have often speculated He might be different at home. I've occasionally observed somewhat...motherly affection toward Maniac and Monkey. Legitimate tenderness, even if it IS tinged with condescension... but Pete doesn't treat YOU that way, does He? There's real respect there... which everybody can see...with a slight undercurrent of fear He THINKS is well-hidden."
"PETE, afraid of ME? No..."
"Yes. He's scared you think He's crazy."
"He's got THAT right! Utter nutter, all the way, mate."
"If that one's not in your verses already, it should be. I may be moved to appropriate it for personal use."
Takes John a minute to recognize Waters means to commandeer 'utter nutter'. [He would know what THAT's like...but hasn't strung those two words together himself? I must be doing SOMETHING right.] "Be my guest."
"Thank you. I enjoy being your guest. For the record, you're a much more charming and gracious host than I am. Now, OFF the record, do you truly consider Pete to be mentally unbalanced?"
"No, I guess not. He always knows what he's doing... even when it's maybe not the RIGHT thing to do."
"Yes, his ethics can be concerning, but I've never witnessed anything approaching alarming. Have you?"
"He beats himself up something terrible... and gets absolutely STUPID over rejection, but I always... almost always, anyway... know he's just venting to AVOID a breakdown, not heading toward one. Wait, did he actually TELL you he's scared of what AYE might think?"
"Not in so many words. He's also afraid you could leave. The little ones NEED Him in a way you don't, and He's terrified the day might come when YOU have had enough."
"Yeah, I guess I'm the Dad of our fucked-up family. HAVE thought about going out for some smokes and just never coming back, but I couldn't stay away. Honestly, I'd say I share a deeper partnership with Pete than I do with my wife."
"Wish AYE had a partner... although, I suppose, it's nobody's fault but mine that I never will. I'm not a man of compromise, which makes collaboration difficult. I envy what you and Pete share."
"Funny, that. Here I've been, getting jealous over what YOU two've got going on. Not that I know what that even IS... and prob'ly wouldn't want it even if I DID... No offense."
"None taken. Please, continue."
You two just seem so, I dunno, PERFECT for each other... up there in the rarified air. He can't burn you the way he does us poor mortals. It's like you're immune to his mind games."
"I assure you I am not. He burns me... makes me burn MYSELF, even, which is a very strange sensation."
"What do you MEAN by that?" John knows this man does well with words, and now hopes for explicit explanation. "What does it feel like... for YOU... being caught in the gleam of those eyes?"
"Captivating... no, more like arresting... taken into custody without resistance because my guilt is blatant. Not only does He know my desire, He embodies it. Hearing His voice... watching Him work... even from a distance... kindles an irresistible magnetism, and feeling focused force of His full attention... blazing, brilliant bolts Behind Blue Eyes..." [The bliss of His kiss... Would John know about that?] "...sends wracking waves of electric ecstasy coursing concupiscent conduit between brain and balls."
"You make it sound almost like an orgasm."
"That's exactly what it is, only without the sweaty striving or the messy after-effects." Roger knows this isn't enough, prompting him to carry on in attempt at adroit articulation. "It's an overwhelming pleasure underwritten in an understanding finally fully fathomed..." he suddenly lobs a question to which he'd never expected to need the answer, and can tell it surprises John to be asked: "Are you a Christian?"
"Not a very GOOD one!" is Ox's immediate reply, followed by careful consideration. "But I believe in God... maybe even lots of them..." a touch of defensiveness creeps into his voice "...even if you don't."
[What's he getting at? Pete would dig it double-quick, but I'm drawing bumbling blank. They probably laugh about how thick I am behind my back... no... THIS guy would call me stupid to my face, and if he really thinks I'm dumb I doubt we'd be having this conversation. It's okay to ASK him... unlike Pete, who always makes it very clear that there ARE stupid questions, then lords it over anybody who voices one.]
"Are you saying it's like what people get out of going to church? Some kind of Holy Communion?"
"YES!" Roger alights in delight. "You feel it, too, then?"
"Pete's the OPPOSITE of holy! Comes off downright demonic." escapes with a chuckle before John has time to worry if maybe he shouldn't laugh. "Look, man, Pete might be a genius... whatever that means... but he's no saint, and CERTAINLY not a god."
"Isn't He? Capital-jee God doesn't seem to be speaking to mere mortals much these days... if, indeed, He/She/It/They ever did. Pete moves mountains, though. His wonders we behold on a daily basis..." Roger sighs softly, averting anguished eyes "...even if His capital-ell Love is ultimately unattainable."
[Does he really not know?] "Pete loves you more than ANYBODY!"
"Has he said so?"
"How did you put it...? 'Not in so many words', but everybody in our weird inner circle can read him like a dirty book." John shares slyly subversive smile, feeling naughty to be telling tales out of school. "Drives Roger crazy. He REALLY doesn't like you and has NO idea why Pete wants you around."
"Tell me something I DON'T know. How can you read what's in His heart, if He doesn't deign to say?" [Wish I could.]
"That capital-aitch thing you do, when you're talking about 'Him'? Well, he does it over you, too."
Suspiciously narrowed eyes suddenly fly wide open then flutter in astonished double-blink. "You can HEAR that?" Roger exclaims, muttering "Most can't." [Nobody in MY "inner circle" seems to notice, anyway.] He has long suspected that these still waters run deep, indeed, and with calm contemplation convivially confides "Pete is very lucky to have you in His corner. Perhaps it's YOU who are the saint, allowing Him to believe He's smarter than you are."
"Oh, Pete IS smarter than me..." John allows, adding "...but he knows that don't make him BETTER than me... even if he doesn't always act like it."
This strikes Roger as incredibly profound. "Thank you. I'll remember that. You're a talented man, and I don't think you need my help at all, although I'm immeasurably moved you sought it."
This strikes John as incredibly generous. "Thank you. I'll remember that. Maybe all I needed was somebody who can really listen."