Requested by: definitely not requested by caspian-eats-guitars
Request: On your classic rock imagines book could you do a tp one where its mudcrutch era mike campbell x tom petty and like theyre practicing together and both wondering how the other feels sorta thing? Thank youuu
Warning(s): none
It was already half past two when Tom finally pulled up in the driveway in front of Mudcrutch Farm. Loud guitars could be heard from all the way outside. It appeared as if the band had started without him. He rushed inside as quickly as possible and tried to set up his bass as inconspicuously as he could.
"Jesus, Tom," Ben immediately started once they finished, "You're over an hour late."
"Sorry," he shrugged, not having an excuse prepared.
Benmont rolled his eyes but thankfully didn't argue further.
"What are we doing today?"
"Up in Mississippi," Mike informed him, "You said you had the bass figured out?"
"Yeah I think I got it," he nodded.
Tom turned around to the rest of the band to see if they were ready, and then, "One, two, three, four."
They played without vocals, not having set up a microphone beforehand, nevertheless Tom still mumbled the lyrics to himself quietly. He'd have to sing them at some point anyway. Tom tried to stay focused on the bass, the recently written notes were still somewhat unfamiliar.
When the solo finally arrived he allowed his eyes to wander around the room a bit until they came to rest on Mike. It was fascinating to watch him play. His fingers flew across the fretboard of his guitar with such precision and ease, it seemed as if it was the most natural thing in the world for him. Suddenly Tom became painfully aware of his own playing when he started losing track of the bassline. First one wrong note, then two more, and he had lost it completely.
"Fuck," he hissed and quickly tried to pick it up again.
When he glanced up again he saw Mike staring at him. The guitarist raised an eyebrow as if to ask, 'What was that?' and for the second time that day Tom didn't have an answer, so he shrugged. Mike held his gaze for a few more seconds, before realizing he was staring and turning back to the guitar.
They ran through the song a few more times, but they never managed a rendition where everyone was perfect. Much to Tom's dismay, most of the screw ups were his, but how was it possible to focus on playing bass when he could feel a pair of dark brown eyes on him while he played. He had caught Mike looking in his direction a few times, but every time Tom tried to meet his gaze, the guitarist happened to become very interested in his own guitar.
Frankly it pissed him off. The whole 'trying to catch the other staring' thing was something high schoolers did. Not grown men. Especially not grown men. Tom knew how he felt, he was sure of it, and it didn't make sense. But feelings like that barely ever made sense, did they? But that wasn't exactly what frustrated him. It was the way Mike would blatantly stare at him, but bashfully look away if he ever caught him looking. It was the way he would seem like he wanted to say something, but then he'd catch himself at the last second and pull back. Maybe Tom was reading too much into these small actions. On other days they would act just like any two friends would. It was probably nothing. Mike definitely didn't feel the way he did, and it would be much better for both of them if Tom just forgot about everything before he did something stupid that could mess up their friendship, the band, and a thousand other things.
Despite the odds, and despite trying to ignore it, he hoped that maybe, just maybe, he had a chance. It was a pathetic thing to hope for, but not all things you hope for you get, and this probably was one of those things.
"Tom?"
"Huh?" he spun around coming face to face with a certain curly haired guitarist.
"You seemed out of it today," Mike noticed.
"Yeah, umm..." Tom looked down at his feet, not wanting to look up into Mike's dark eyes, "Didn't sleep well I guess. Dunno."
"We could run though it a couple of times, just you and me," Mike suggested, before he considered how that might sound.
"Because, um, Randall's got a date and Ben-", he tried to explain himself but Tom cut in before he could finish.
"Yeah that'd be good. Thank you."
He smiled in relief and sat down on the coffee table. Tom plugged in his guitar and moved to sit opposite of him. They were far apart enough that their guitars wouldn't knock against each other, yet he could feel Tom's knee brushing against his.
"Where'd the others go?" Tom asked suddenly.
"Hm?" Mike looked up, "They went to Dub's. Didn't you notice?"
His brow furrowed comically, "No. I- I guess I spaced out."
"You 'spaced out'?" Mike laughed, he couldn't help himself, "Ben and Charlie had a whole ass argument about where they wanted to go. You didn't notice?"
Tom didn't look hurt at his laughter, in fact a genuine smile was spreading across his face as well, not the one he used for pictures, but the one that graced his lips whenever he was really happy. 'Why do I know that?' Mike asked himself. It was true, Tom did have different smiles, but it surprised him that he knew that. He had never noticed such a small detail about any of the other guys. Then again, the other guys didn't make him nervous when they were sitting only inches apart. For a second he wondered if he made Tom nervous too, but he dismissed the thought as soon as it came. Why would Tom feel like that too? Other men might, but not Tom.
"Hey, Mike?" Tom asked, drawing his attention away from the thoughts beginning to invade his brain.
"Mi-ike?" he repeated in a singsong voice, "I think this time you're the one that spaced out."
"Yeah, sorry. What did you say?"
"I was asking what song we should do?" he said, grinning as he added, "Since I'm not too good at Up In Mississippi I thought we could do that one again."
"Mhm, yeah. Sure," he said, maybe too quickly.
"You okay?"
Tom was watching him closely, now those blue eyes were completely focused on him instead of staring into the distance at nothing. It seemed as if Tom could stare into his soul, seeing every thought that was currently racing though his mind.
"I'm fine," he assured him, "Let's go."
Tom didn't look entirely convinced at his statement. He opened his mouth to say something but seemed to think the better of it. Instead he started tapping his foot to the beat and began the count off.
"One, two, three, four."
Mike wondered what he wanted to say. What stopped him? Was it the same thing that stopped him whenever he wanted to confess? Or was it the opposite? Whatever it was that Tom wanted to say was going to plague him, he knew that already. Tom rarely decided to remain silent once he felt the need to speak, so whatever it was must've been important. Most times the words left unsaid were left that way to make life easier. And other times, they just made everything a thousand times more difficult. Maybe he'd never know which applied here, or maybe he would find out soon. Only time would tell.
thank you so much for the request this was really fun to write
