swedish_rocker | New Beginnings and rekindling an old flame.

New Beginnings and rekindling an old flame.

Hans had met up with Vars and his new boyfriend Viktor whilst in Norway. The Swede had been pleased to catch up with Vars since he hadn't spoken to any of the Hammers face to face for a long time. How long had it been? Now, Hans and his younger brother, Bjorn, were on the way to LA along with Vars and Viktor to meet up with the rest of the Hammers and to meet two other bands; Ziggy and the Spiders from Mars and the Hell's Angels, Viktor's band. It would be good to get back with other musicians after spending some much time in rehab and Hans knew he could use all the company he could get. The months and years hadn't been easy and he'd often felt lonely or isolated from society after his stay in hospital following his near death experience. He'd overdosed on painkillers and Hunter, his ex-boyfriend had found it too much and had ran.

Hans still ached for Hunter in a way, even though the spark they had together was no longer there. He still missed the man though and the soft warm touches at night. But people moved on after months apart and Hans suspected Hunter had found another man. It was to be expected and the Swede bore no ill will towards his ex lover at all. Glancing to Vars, Hans then placed a hand on the man's shoulder as he felt nerves constrict his insides at meeting Hunter once more. Bjorn giggled and poked fun a little before getting a surly glare from Viktor. The Brit punk had attitude and Hans found him a little intimidating but nothing to the point of not liking the man. If Vars loved Viktor then Hans would find a friend in the fire-loving Brit. All the bands were a family and Hans knew this more than anyone. The question regarding Bjorn though---the young man was a live wire and loved to cause chaos and trouble wherever he went. Hopefully, Hans would be able to keep his brother out of anything bad.

He hoped.

"Well, it will be nice seeing Aarne and Rik again. Hunter---I missed him."

Hans swallowed hard and wondered how the man would even react.

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Come here.

Those were the only words Bjorn heard as he felt the Brit pull him closer. He didn't feel as if he was about to land into a bed of sharp thistles this time so moved into Rekker's lap. Now, they were both sat on the floor of the elevator in each other's arms; the singer sitting in the ginger guitarist's lap. The blond sighing slowly closing his arms because he had no words. He was slowly coming down from his terrible high, feeling sick to his stomach because he hadn't eaten in days and had just drunk booze and snorted coke.

Fuck.

"Gingerlocks."

Bjorn muttered the words quietly as he sat with the older man. The elevator was now at a standstill because Rekker had slammed on the emergency stop. Fuck whoever wanted to come and fix it.

Rekker pulled Bjorn in, wrapping his arms around him and pulling the singer's head to his shoulder. He's a warm man, out of his mind and depressed, hateful and aggressive toward himself but other people can get past his walls and anger sometimes. Bjorn is slipping past and Rekker lets out another breath to try and steady his mind.

If someone opened the door that Rekker was leaning against he might explode. He's still unstable and tenuously holding in the emotional storm he feels.

"Derek?" Rekker says the name quietly. He wraps Bjorn up tighter, protectively. Rekker has been in so many dark places and while he is vicious with himself over them, and even toward others on occasionally, he's trying to bring the Swede around. He'd rather deal with the bitch that this crashed out version.

"Derek? Is that your real name?"

Bjorn assumed it was Rekker but then that might be a stage or nickname. He hadn't expected the Brit to tell him his real name but why not now? They had both had breakdowns of sorts and emotional outbursts which had caused both men to crumple to the floor. The Swede didn't want to wish this was too good to be true so would tread carefully. The closeness felt nice and Bjorn felt a little more at ease with the man he only knew before as the angry bastard.

He slowly brought up a hand to touch at Rekker's hair only gently using his fingertips to touch a few strands so that no bangles got caught up this time.

"My brother named me Rekker." It was still an important name and the one he used. Leaning into the Swede he took a breath, deeply exhaling to try and calm the emotions. "I wreck everything."

And he has affection for the name, would never stop using it because it was true. He doesn't quite notice the touch to his hair but it's soft and the curls a bit bouncy under the Swede's fingers. Eventually he notices, watching the fingers in his hair.

As suddenly as his rage usually came on he started laughing. His emotions flipped in ways outside observers sometimes perceived as seeming crazy. "Your hair is still shitty."

It doesn't come out insulting this time, more the teasing you'd give a friend over the one thing that annoyed you about them sometimes.

"I wreck shit too but my brother often calls me galen pojke which means crazy baby boy. Just a stupid nickname but it sort of fits when I go up the fucking walls. We could wreck shit together?"

Bjorn thought that sounded like fun. Of course he meant wreck stuff as in tear up the town as a group of rockstars nothing violent or menacing. Still touching the ginger strands the Swede smiled. The comment about his hair just caused the singer to raise an eyebrow. His heart was beginning to beat normally once more as Bjorn began to breathe a little normally.

"You always think it's shit. How about you wash it for me? Then, you don't have to touch hairspray then."

It was a bold offer but one that Bjorn was totally serious about.

"I can't like the rest of you do." Rekker let out a breath. "I won't survive it."

He meant the drugs and drinking so heavily. He'd spiral and crash out. He'd ODed before and nearly so mixing pills and booze which had actually been an accident. Not that anyone believed it was an accident when he was exhausted and fighting to sleep.

He was starting to level out again, the panic passing and the shakes subsiding. He turned to look at Bjorn's hair a little closer. "Don't you take care of it?"

It looked so ratty to the Brit, tangled, dry, split. A few moments passed before Rekker caught that this was some kind of serious offer. "I don't have anything for your hair. You need something for bleaching the fuck out of it."

"Then, we can find something else to do that we both enjoy."

Was Bjorn actually flirting for real with the Brit? He might be. It depended on how Rekker took the Swede's words because he could be a filthy bitch when he wanted to be. Yet, right now it was all about getting back to some form of calm and normality whatever that might be. Rekker couldn't do drink or drugs which was fine because Hans didn't either, not after the OD and all the shit that went with that.

"Of course I look after it. I love doing my make-up and hair before going on stage. The hairspray just amps up my style. I could give you some tips if you like?"

The Swede gently tapping Rekker's chin playfully.

"Sky diving, surfing, driving?" He was trying to think of sober things because if this was what drugs did to the Swede he should probably stay off of them too. There were places things like this went that no one needed to go, even if Rekker threw himself into that abyss often.

"Fuck! The desert isn't this dry." Rekker shook his head but leaned into the Swede in his lap almost nuzzling against him but its strange and awkward. "If your hair wasn't year old straw you might not need so much that your hair is like melted fucking candy someone left in the car."

Edited 2021-09-26 19:13 (UTC)

"Surfing, sky diving and driving? I'm up for all the crazy shit you want to throw at me, babe. I love living life to the full and going full throttle. That's when I'm not going down a dark shit hole like just now."

Bjorn shook his head and then giggled at Rekker mentioning about his hair being dry. It wasn't that dry was it? The Swede didn't think so. The dryness added to the fucking awesomeness of his hairstyle. The leaning in got the singer breathing a little quicker and he could smell more of the Brit's scent.

"It's not that dry."

Shifting in Rekker's lap slightly, Bjorn just liked sitting and being this close.

Rekker had that long pause again glancing around. He felt the panic rising to a tightness in his chest and had to huff out a couple breaths before he could speak. "I have to go home.... if you want to go for a drive in the Hills?"

And it was out and he instantly wanted to take those words back. It was too late now. Rekker smells of leather from his jacket but also faintly of beer and coffee and the mixed scent of tea tree oil and other things in his hair.

Rekker laughed at the way the Swede tried to deflect his comments. His own hair was starting to fall all over as he leaned into the singer. He's used to the mass of curls that easily got caught on things or tangle. He finally touched the ends of Bjorn's hair and frowned.

"Stop being a bitch until I get a chance to fix it."

"A drive in the Hills? Fuck yes do I want to! Are you going to show me your big motor?"

The Swede couldn't help but spout innuendo because he was finally starting to enjoy being with this British ginger-haired man. The insults had now simmered down to playful ones mostly regarding the state of Bjorn's hair. Hans often commented on how much hairspray his brother put into his mass of bleached blond tresses.

"My brother's hair is fluffy and mine is glam style."

Rekker's hair falling over him made the Swede smirk and he couldn't resist nuzzling into it slightly, enjoying the scent of the other man. The leather and tea tree oil were particularly nice. Bjorn stank of hairspray, perfume, booze and make-up products.

"I'm not being a bitch. You want to fix my hair, cutie? I'll allow you to."

Rekker raised a brow and started to chuckle. "All my years in L.A. and this is the first bleach blond bimbo I'm going to have in my Firebird."

He's really grinding in on those insults but he's harassing on purpose now. It wasn't a lie really. Anyone who saw him driving was going to assume it was some bleach blond girl in the passenger seat. He's trying not to think about it though. He hasn't had anyone in his house aside from Robert and bandmates since his ex left... he couldn't even remember how long ago off hand right now. The closeness was feeling good though.

"With all that shit you plaster on your face and the flashy clothes I thought you glam brats would take better care of your hair."

Bjorn just stared at Rekker for a good few moments before bursting out in laughter. The names the man was coming up with for the Swede were just too amusing and the singer actually liked that the guitarist was using them for him. They weren't insulting, not really. At least it was better than being called whore or stripper.

"Beach blond bimbo? I'll be your first one, aw. That's sort of cute, honey."

Glam brats also got a small snort of laughter out of the singer. The ginger really knew how to insult but in a good way. Bjorn didn't think anything of it and was just pleased Rekker was moving away from the dark place he was in a few moments ago. They both were.

"Glam brats? Not all my band dress like me you know, sweetie. My guitarist is quite masculine. Sort of like my brother. But as for me? I am sweet and tarty as they come."

Bjorn blowing a kiss at Rekker.

"I'll show you the fucking glam bullshit out here." Rekker mentions as he shifts, finally becoming aware of how uncomfortable the metal door is against his back. "I'd never let those bastards in my car."

His hate has a lot of different facets to it that he isn't about to explain. Rekker gave Bjorn a shove right out of his lap for that blown kiss, though he can feel some heat in his cheeks. It's been a long time since anyone got this close to him that wasn't family. His last stint with mental health had thrown him into intense isolation.

"You're a fucking bitchy whore." Rekker's trying not to laugh when he says it this time. He's slower to stand, leg and hip tingling from being asleep as he gets back to his feet.

"I want to see this LA glam scene for myself and see if it's as bad as you say it is."

Part of Bjorn was dreading seeing how the LA glam scene was compared to the Swedish one. Would it be worse? Whores? Strippers? Low lifes and scum bags? He would soon find out. It made the Swede smile to know that he was being offered the special treatment by the metal head.

"I'm the first glam bitch in your car then, babe? I'll try not to pollute it with my disgusting girly perfume as you put it."

A gentle nudge to Rekker's chest with his finger and Bjorn was actually looking forward to the drive. Then he was called a whore once more but the singer didn't react with a bitchy comment this time, instead he just sighed, shaking his head. It seemed some names would stick.

"You're a ginger bastard."

It was said with a playful undertone though.

Edited 2021-09-26 20:49 (UTC)

"We can drive through the strip on the way back."

It would be evening then and things would be open and full of trash. It wouldn't eb a bad night for a drive with the T-Tops out and he would have time to just drive and think.

"You're scrubbing the fucking glitter out." Rekker started the elevator back up and it continued on its way down. As bad as it felt happening the break was cathartic and he felt a little better.

"I might be a ginger bastard but I don't hear you complaining." He shot back, nearly flirting. "Are you going to bitch about the drive messing up your fucking whore hair?"

The door dinged and open to Rekker laughing.

"Sounds like fun, babe. This will be fucking epic!"

Bjorn poked Rekker's chest a little with his fingertip and winked at the ginger Brit. Was he excited to go around the rich metal head's L.A home? Fuck yes! It would be an experience he'd never forget.

"Who says I'll leave any glitter behind? It's stuck to me. Too much glam for your manly car, Gingerlocks?"

The Swede stuck his tongue out and giggled. The tease was too irresistible to hold back because he just laughed at whore hair. Really? It wasn't that trashy, was it? Rekker thought so at least.

"Whore hair? Yours is like fucking Rapunzel. Want to make a rope so I can climb up it and kiss you?"

Rekker couldn't help but watch every time the Swede touched him. He had so little physical contact that wasn't strictly platonic and Bjorn's contact felt like it had intentions that weren't platonic.

"Your glitter is already in my hair." He let out a slow breath while rolling his eyes. The singer had pressed his face into his hair and there was definitely little sparkles in his curls now. Rekker stepped out of the elevator and shook his head.

"You're taller than me in those stripper heels." For all his picking and insults he didn't mind how Bjorn looked. He hadn't spent much time with feminine men but he did find feminine attractive. The clothing and physical cues of the Swede were enough to get the Brit's attention.

He hasn't stopped walking, though it is slow so Bjorn can keep up, toward the metallic silver Firebird that valet had brought around for him.

"Aw, are you all sparkly now, Gingerlocks? It might make you prettier than you are."

Bjorn smiled at the fact that Rekker might be walking around LA with glitter all over his face and hair. The Swede liked this fact. The tough metal head now tainted with the glam singer's style. Stripper heels got a high-pitched laugh out of Bjorn and he was now poking his tongue out at the Brit.

"Yeah, I am. Does it make you feel less of a man that I'm taller, babe? Don't worry, you've got the muscles for it."

The singer just gently squeezing one of Rekker's biceps, gasping at the muscle underneath, loving the feel of it. Fuck, the man was hot! The arms were a definite turn on. Walking beside Rekker, Bjorn then noticed the Firebird. Shit, the guy was loaded!

"Ooh, nice car, honey!"

"Did you just insinuate that I'm unattractive?" Rekker could more easily believe Bjorn found him unattractive than the fact the Swede might. The Brit's internal dialogue was always demeaning even when the people talking to him had not said anything of the sort.

"No one makes me feel less of a man." Rekker glanced up at the Swede. "Definitely not a girly diva like you."

Rekker wasn't expecting the singer to grab his arm but that gasp didn't go unnoticed. He's not sure what to make of it or the obviously admiring look. Rekker's self esteem sometimes tanked when he was around someone he's interested in. This was no different even if he remained cocky.

The T-Tops were out and all the windows down. He liked the car a lot and unlike others didn't have multiple cars, just this one. "86 Firebird."

He gets in and puts on his seatbelt. While waiting for the Swede to come around Rekker loosely braids his hair to stop the wind from making a mess of it.

"Of course not, honey. Why would I do that? You're manly enough for me and that's all that matters."

Bjorn patted Rekker on the head and then giggled at the girly diva comment. Did the singer like all the teasing given to him by the ginger Brit? Oh yes. He was loving the dynamic between him and the metal head, trying to think of come backs to the playful name calling.

"86 Firebird? She's a fucking sexy beast. But not as sexy as you. Does she go fast?"

Because Bjorn wanted to see how fast she could go but it would be up to Rekker. The Swede just lived his life in the fast line at crazy speeds due to his drug addiction and crazy rockstar lifestyle. Sliding into the passenger seat next to the Brit, Bjorn playfully tugged on a few ginger strands before clicking his own belt around his waist.

"I don't care if I'm manly enough or not for you." Rekker tells the Swede. "This is what I am and if it's not enough, then you could fuck off."

The pat on the head got Bjorn's hair ruffled into a mess, not that the wind wouldn't be doing that soon anyway.

"I dropped a high performance engine in her a few years ago." That is a yes, yes the car is fast and Rekker drives recklessly and fast. The Firebird is also manual which Rekker appreciates compared to the modern automatic transmission. Rekker threw it in gear once the singer was buckled in and headed for the road.

"Is this your first time to LA?"

"I'm not fucking off anywhere, sweet cheeks. You're stuck with me now."

Bjorn winked at Rekker and then squeaked a little at his ruffled hair. Whatever. His hair was sort of ruined anyway from the ginger messing it all up. Ah well. Soon, he'd get to style it back up once more. There was no way the Swede would be leaving now and Rekker was definitely the most manly person he'd met for a long time.

"Do you show your engine off to a lot of hot blonds?"

This was a tease but partly a question on Bjorn's behalf wondering about Rekker's past relationships. Did he prefer blonds?

"Yes. Not my first time to the States since Blixt toured in New York a few years ago. But my first time on the sunset strip as they say."

"No." Rekker started laughing. "I usually stay away from bleach blonde sluts."

He's teasing but also honest. Most of his partners had been brunettes, male or female for that matter.

He's not surprised that this was his first time out on the west coast. Most European bands did stay on the East coast. Rekker was already going over the speed limit and would soon be swerving between cars. He's a good driver, if incredibly reckless one by most people's standards.

"I live in the Hills above the strip. The roads are the best for fast driving."

The curved switch back roads of the hills were fun to drive on. Honestly, it wouldn't take long to get to the house, 20 minutes at most with how the Brit drove.

"Sluts? You mean I'm not a beach Barbie anymore?"

Bjorn just giggled playfully and couldn't help but place a hand on Rekker's thigh gently as they drove fast through the winding roads of Los Angeles. What a ride it was too! The Swede loved how fast the car was going and knew that Hans would enjoy seeing and riding in such a car too since he was into high adrenaline sports.

"I wonder if you ride hard as much as you drive."

The singer not being able to hide all the dirty thoughts now flooding through his head. Did this mean that the ginger was some kind of rich sugar daddy? Taking a pretty blond back to his mega mansion in the Hills? Ooh. Bjorn felt like he was riding a totally new kind of high but without any drugs.

"Does this make you my ginger sugar daddy?"

New Beginnings and rekindling an old flame.

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