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*1993 Flashback*
Fabric shifting, skin on skin, it all happened so fast yet so painfully slow at the same time. It was chaotic, both their bodies practically screaming out for each other… but despite this… they took the time to explore. To touch and to see what they were both comfortable with.
“Peter~” Paul let out the other man’s name with a low moan. Peter’s hand had made its way into Paul’s pants. Rubbing circles gently on his growing erection. Still, there was the fabric of his boxers blocking him from giving the younger man the true experience. Paul didn’t mind however… there was something so innocent about it. So… tender. This feeling was further enhanced by the glow in Peter’s eyes as he helped him get off.
“Why can’t this last forever?” Peter huffed. His lips gentle against Paul’s ear.
“It can… if you let it” Paul let his hands run along Peter’s arm. Taking the time to plant a soothing kiss on his neck. Peter just responded with a hum of pleasure.
~~~~
It was about an hour later and the two men had finally settled down. Surrounded by the warm embrace of the older man, Paul began to hum a tune. Peter recognized it… “Color Me Impressed”… it was the song both their bands had performed together about ten years earlier. Peter couldn’t help but chuckle to himself.
“Reminiscing?” Peter asked, rubbing Paul’s back a bit.
“Yeah…” he sighed. “Everything was so damn complicated back then… I wish I wasn’t bein’ so stupid”. Paul had a tendency to do this… beat himself up and self deprecate then laugh it off like it was nothing.
“You were young and dumb… it’s fine”.
“No it isn’t” Paul cut the older man off. “I hurt so many people… I’m sure I hurt you too”. He had a shakiness in his voice that made him sound like he was about to cry. This made Peter impulsively pull him closer.
“I don’t care right now…”
“Why?” Paul turned around to face the beautiful doe-eyed man that had been comforting him.
“Because… I love you”.
“No you don’t-“
“Yes…yes I do”, as Peter said this, he placed a gentle hand on Paul’s cheek, rubbing it like a mother soothing her crying baby. Paul broke down completely at that moment. Peter just held him close to his chest as he sobbed.
“I tried my best to avoid you… to try and convince myself I hated you. Peter I’m fucked. I can’t love you like I should. I can’t… I can’t I can’t I can’t-“
Peter is able to catch the other man’s breath with a harsh kiss. Pulling away after a few seconds.
“You know, Westerberg… you can’t just whine and mope like that. You gotta work for what you want”.
“Are you saying I haven’t worked for what I have???” Paul sounded genuinely offended.
“No… I’m saying you haven’t worked hard to get me. If you’ve liked me all these years, you wouldn’t have played so many mind games”.
“That’s what I mean!” Paul yelled, sitting up in bed. “I’m not like that… love isn’t that easy.”
Paul brings him back down, placing a hand to pat his soft brown hair. “I wish I could understand you… but I can’t”.
“You’re one to talk about trying for what you want”.
“Oh fuck off”.
~~~~~~~~
*Present day, 2025*
The club was loud. People flooding in like they’d been waiting their whole life for this moment. This made Shannon laugh. Knowing he couldn’t quite fit the shoes of what people were expecting. Although sharing the same name, he was no Michael Stipe. The fact he knew what surprise lied in store made him feel more confident.
~~~~
While all of that was happening, Peter was busy in the bathroom. Both… well… and overthinking every little decision in his life that brought him here. He had a tendency to get randomly existential out of nowhere. Rather than overthinking death however, this time he more so thought about all the people in his life that have faded away. Not so much died… just seemed to pass him by.
Paul.
Paul Harold Westerberg.
Peter had heard recently about how he’d not really been seen much since The Replacement’s anniversary tour nearly a decade earlier. Peter couldn’t help but imagine what he was up to.
Was he still in Minnesota? Was he writing music? Did he… remember what happened? 1993 was 32 years ago at this point… he doubted it. Or at least he doubted Paul cared. Peter was sure the other man’s want for him had to have faded at this point. At least for Peter, the hatred he built after that night had long passed… but he knew Paul had a lot harder of a time letting go.
“Peter?” Mike Mills (or “Millsey” for short) had been waiting outside for him for the last five minutes. He yelled out for him, impatient.
“What if I’m taking a shit?”
“I’d smell it if you were taking a shit”.
There was a long silence, but Millsey knew Peter was making a fake gagging action on the other side of the door.
“Anyways… just hurry it, would ya?”
Peter scoffed, pulling his pants up before flushing behind him. “Yeah yeah…”
~~~~~
Paul had spent the past however many days driving from Minnesota to Georgia. Why you may ask? For a chance. For a chance he may see Peter again. He knew there was a very slim chance the members of the since broken up band would be there, but he still had hope. As he made his way through the crowd, he couldn’t help but get excited. Not too excited though…since he was 65 now, he had to take a seat, so as to not deal with the pain of standing. He huffed loudly. Slouching while rubbing his aging face. If this was the 80s, he’d be up making a ruckus, liquor in hand of course. He’d move far past that however. He opted to live a simple, sober life now. This gave him a lot more time to sit with his thoughts… and sit with the memories of Peter.
He watched as people walked past. He felt completely disconnected from the rest of the room, until a group of younger people came up to sit beside him. It was unusual… considering most people here were at least 40. There were two boys and two girls… one of them looking particularly antsy… like she wanted to talk to him. The other girl whispered to her, and the scruffy man on the other side took a sip of his beer.
“You kids gonna say somethin’?” Paul couldn’t help but break the silence.
“What are you doin’ all the way in Georgia?” The beer-holding man asked in confusion.
“You don’t seem like you’re from here either… I should be asking ya that.” Paul chuckled, he recognized his accent…
“I don’t really know how to go about saying but… I’m like.. we’re like… really big fans yknow…” the younger of the two girls blurted. She wanted to die inside.
“Thank you… I guess…” Paul stared down at his feet… “uhm… what are you kiddo's names?”
The girl spoke again, tucking a stray hair behind her ear “Danny.” Danny then pointed behind her.
“Tess!!!”
Paul then directed his gaze to the two boys on his left.
“I’m Connor… that Spencer behind me”. The four seemed to giggle amongst themselves… obviously very nervous. “Seriously though… why are you here?”
“Ahhh I don’t really know if I should tell ya. Embarrassment and all…”
“I’ve done way more embarrassing shit than you, trust me” Danny spoke in an assuring tone. Tess couldn’t help but giggle.
“I’m curious if… if…” Paul’s eyes wandered to a spot where he could see behind the curtains. All he could see in that moment was a splotch of grey hair… until he saw whoever it was turn around.
Those eyes.
Even though his eyesight wasn’t the best, he knew exactly who those innocent doe eyes belonged to.
“Peter…”
“What?” Connor was confused at what the hell he was looking at.
“I was right!” Paul quickly leapt out of his seat, leading the group behind. The four just stared in awe as he ran to the backstage, not caring what other people were thinking.
Connor was quick to stop him, grabbing onto his shoulder.
“Peter…”
“Buck?”
“Yeah…”
Connor was now equally as shocked as Paul was. “You came all this way for a chance to see him?”
Paul nodded. Soon enough, the three others ran up behind him.
“You should go see him if that’s the case.” Spencer looked up at him with a genuine and caring smile.
“He hates me”.
“And how do you know that?” Danny responded with an attitude of someone who knows exactly how Peter felt about him.
“I think I’m gonna leave you kiddos… I need to figure this out on my own”.
~~~~~
Paul spent the next 20 or so minutes alone in the bathroom. Playing out all the possible ways this night could go in his head. These thoughts couldn’t help but be interrupted by one thought and one thought only. What it would be like to be held by Peter again. To be kissed by him again.
“Fuck…” Paul bit his lip as he fell deeper and deeper into his desperation. He needed Peter. Now. He’d die if he messed up this chance.
~~~~~~
The show had been going as well as it could’ve. Shannon and Jeremy were having the time of their lives singing all those classic R.E.M. tracks. A little more into the show… silence fell upon the venue…
“Stipe, Buck, Mills, and Berry. Together again…”
Paul couldn’t believe his eyes. He could give less of two shits about the fact that all four members of R.E.M. were together and performing again. All he could look at was Peter. And all Peter could look at was Paul. It didn’t help that they were in the process of performing “Pretty Persuasion”.
“Everything alright?” Stipe whispered to Peter, noticing his focus obviously being elsewhere. Until he noticed a familiar face in the crowd. Soon enough, all six of them had taken notice and were all shocked… and equally confused.
As they finished up the song, Shannon couldn’t help but feel the need to say something. “Seems like R.E.M. aren’t the only legends in the room tonight”.
Paul froze. “You’ve got to be kidding me”, he thought. He didn’t have time to run as the crowd’s gaze shifted right to him. They all seemed eager at the possibility that he’d get up on that stage too. So without much of a choice… he did.
Peter’s body towered over him as he spoke into the mic, he felt like that man’s mere presence was choking him to death.
“Been a while since I’ve been on a stage… hah”, Paul tried his best to humour the audience. Peter felt his self control start to slip as he heard the younger man’s soft-spoken voice for the first time in over 30 years. “I hope everyone is aware… I love these guys. I may have done some things that suggest otherwise but yknow… I never hated them like that.” Paul gulped nervously as he looked around for some kind of reaction within everyone. That’s when his gaze met Peter’s. He was looking into the eyes of the man that has plagued his fantasies all these years. He felt like if he stared long enough, he’d sink into them.
He couldn’t remember much after that. His age had made his memory worsen. What he did remember though was going backstage after the show. Walking awfully close to Peter. He took note and quickly guided Paul away from the others.
“First of all… I want to know why the hell you’re here-“
“You look beautiful.”
“No I don’t”
“You look. Beautiful.”
“I look like an old sack of shit”.
“A beautiful old sack of shit… that’s for sure~”
They stopped their back and forth to just take in the presence of one another. It was a lot for both of them… and they both knew what the other wanted.
“Peter.” Paul broke the silence, placing a soothing hand on his shoulder. “I haven’t stopped dreaming about you since the day I laid my eyes on you”.
Peter’s body twitched at his words. He couldn’t help but bring him closer. “Speak. What’s on your mind?”
“I know a lot has changed about me, Peter. But one thing seems to remain true no matter how hard I try.” Paul spoke through gritted teeth as if the mere act of speaking hurt too much. “I’m not in love with you… it’s more than that. It’s like I need you to survive.”
“Like each day we spend apart, more of you dies?” Peter inquired with a look of understanding.
“Exactly…exactly that. If that wasn’t the case, I wouldn’t have come all this way for you…”
“Why did you wait all these years though, Westerberg? You could’ve come and visit any time… why now?”
“I think back then… I just liked torturing myself or somethin. Thought I wasn’t deserving of love… of… of you”. Paul had his face set in his palm now, rubbing it aggressively. “Just something you’d expect of me, huh?” Paul chuckled, trying to hide the anguish… because everyone knows that pushing your feelings further down always helps.
“Haven’t lost that self-deprecating humour either…” Peter chuckled as he sneakily traveled his hand up to the back of Paul’s neck. Rubbing soothing circles into it. Paul let out a gasp at this, inching closer to his chest… and closer to his lips.
Peter noticed a lot of things in that moment about Paul. His eyes that drooped due to the years of restless nights, his hair which was surprisingly voluminous given his age, and his lips… those which were dryer than the Sahara. Looking like they hadn’t seen the even slightest graze of another human’s saliva in years.
“What you looking at?” Paul pried with a knowing glare.
“You need lip chap”.
“Yeah? You got some?”.
They both went silent as Peter looked around to make sure no one would barge in. Coast was clear.
“No… but I got this.” With not a second wasted, he leaned in. Hands gently pinning Paul’s wrists to the wall as he deepened the kiss.
“Mmmmm…” Paul let out a satisfied moan into the other man’s mouth. This is exactly what he’d been waiting for all these years. He couldn’t have felt better.
Somewhere in the midst of that hazy night, Paul had ended up at Peter’s house. A cozy little abode filled with more records than any human could listen to in a lifetime. Peter didn’t like to admit it, but he was a nerd. A flat out music junkie. Paul found this endearing. Cute, even.
“You must not spend a single moment in silence, Buck”. Paul murmured as he scanned the living room. It was real home-ey for someone who was pretty much a millionaire.
“I don’t like to think too much, no”. Peter responded flatly. “Music blocks it all out.”
“Why do you not like to think, Buck?” Paul’s expression showed genuine confusion.
“You. Because all I’m able to think about is you.”
Paul’s eyes widen in realization. A small “ohhh…” coming out.
“That didn’t seem to help either, though…” Peter walked over to his collection of records, skimming over until he found a very special spot. Paul got up to see what the hell he was looking for. And then he saw. Peter had collected not only every single Replacements record, but every single one of his solo records, too. “You’re not the only one who likes to torture yourself”, Peter’s voice came out husky and tired. Like all these years of thinking over all the “what ifs” finally got to him. Paul rubbed the older man’s trembling shoulders with tender care, a shaky smile plastering both of their faces.
“I’ve got an idea”, Paul broke the silence, his hand traveling down Peter’s shoulder to his hand. Calloused and aging, yet so characteristically his. No hands matched those of Peter Lawrence Buck. The hands that 32 years ago had made him feel pleasure he didn’t even know was possible. But anyway, he led that hand to one of the records, Let it Be, the one which Peter had been on. The record that marked the start, and end, of their creative partnership. Instead of making any snide remarks, he just let Paul place it on the turntable. Which was rare as Peter was more protective of his records than his own family, and himself, at times.
As the record started playing, Paul just let himself fall back into the older man’s arms. Hands coming up to stroke his once dark brown, now grey hair. Their bodies swayed like a calm river as Peter’s hands came down to Paul’s hips, rubbing them soothingly.
“Mmm… now that’s perfection. Fucking perfection.” Paul let out a small moan as he let himself get even more lost in the feeling of those perfect hands. Perfect wasn’t a word he used often, so saying it now, in a moment he never thought in a million years would happen, just felt right.
“Paul?”
“Yeah?”
“I think I can die happy now. Knowing you don’t hate me”.
“And why would I hate you? You have more of a reason to hate me… for being-“
“A fuck-up?” Peter’s voice had a hint of a laugh. Paul turned to meet his wide smile, which made him smile right back.
“Yeah… yeah… that.”
“You’re not a fuckup… you’re just… Paul.”
“Whatever that means to you.” Paul rolled his eyes playfully.
“It means you’re fucking weird, but I love you anyway.”