#e-clectic-e-lectric

Authors note: This is a fic I’m writing chapter by chapter with thosewhitejeans about Alex and Miles smoking strange weed that takes them back to the sixties.

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

  If Miles wasn’t sober before, he was now, as his eyes widened to the size of saucers and his mouth dropped open like a dead codfish.

“I…I…Wh-“

He spluttered incoherently, and turned to Alex for help, his eyes swimming with emotion.

Gathering himself for Miles’ sake, Alex cleared his throat and breathed in deeply to stop the room spinning, closing his eyes briefly before he spoke and pinching the bridge of his nose in concentration.

“Lemme get this straight. You’re tellin’ me that you are John, Paul, George and Ringo. The Beatles?”

The utter seriousness with which Alex spoke, caused John to burst out in cheeky boyish laughter,

“You aren’t deaf ar’ ya maite?”

Alex frowned, his dark brown eyes boring into John’s, he had to stop himself from touching his face in disbelief.

“Righ’ yeah well that would make this 1965 an’ the las’ time I checked it was –“

“1965?”

Paul piped in, smiling encouragingly, taking pity on what he thought was a daze from the pot.

“Nah – this… wait what the fook did you just say?”

Paul looked at John perplexed, and bent down slightly to face Alex, repeating his words slowly,

“It’s 1965 maite. You’re in Liverpool, England, Planet Earth and all tha’ “

This promoted John to place his hands on his head and wiggle his fingers from behind Paul yelling in a squeaky voice,

“Welcome. To. Planet. Earth. We are the new aliens from MAAAAAAARRRRSSSS”

This outburst caused Ringo to nudge John sharply in the ribs with his elbow, causing John to yelp in pain,

“Alien John has been ATTACCCKKKED launch ALIEN POISON”

“Give over will ya’ John! Your gonna mae’ their trip even worse”

George, who had been quiet the whole time, observing intently from the corner, finally spoke up,

“Ther not trippin’”

All eyes suddenly turned on George, causing a slight pink blush to crawl onto his cheeks. Speaking louder this time, George repeated

“…Ther’ not trippin.”

“…They’ve been transpor’ed from…somewher’…I read a book about something like this…they call it time travel. Like on Doctor Who”

At the mention of Doctor Who, John went to raise his arms burst into his flamboyant Darlex impression he adopted through the entire episode whenever the boys were desperately trying to watch it after a show to unwind.

Anticipating this, George placed a hand on John’s shoulder, and said quietly

“John. I’m serious.”

The quiet yet powerful sincerity that George was capable of instaneously quelled the cheeky schoolboy in John, and he suddenly adopted his serious intellectual demeanor that he so often undermined,

“Righ’. Fook. Ya ‘ear tha’ boys? You’ve been transpor’ed. So where ya’ from eh?”

Alex and Miles looked at each other in horror so quickly they thought their necks would snap.

“Al… what sort of pot did you get?!”

Miles finally spoke clearly, his words hurried and anxious

“I dunno…I got it off this weir’ lookin’ bloke.. Oh fook he said something about the pot being from 1965 but I though’ it’d be awright..I didn’…I didn’ thin… Oh fook Miles I’m so sorry…”

Alex pleaded, a sickening feeling of guilt ballooning in his chest and anchoring his heart to the pit of his stomach.

Miles blinked a few times, and stared at Alex, his eyes vacant and glassy,

“Shit. It’s like a dream.. a perfec’ dream… bu- ow’ we gonna get back?”

An uncomfortable silence settled in the room, as the circumstances became clearer and revealed themselves in all their sobering gravity.

It was John who finally boke the silence, his reaction disarmingly caviler 

“Shit is righ’ maite. Well we better make the bes’ of it then! Forget abou’ all that future nonsense it’ll be fine. You’ll be back home, we’ll kings of the world – well I’ll be the king of this lot I will”

He straightened his collar dramatically and a boyish grin broke out on his face at the rolled eyes of his bandmates,

“An – everythin’ll be strawberry fields! Now let’s get a drink and you two can tell us a littl’ abaht yourselves and that weird spacey get up you’re in.”

  ***

Both Miles and Alex downed five shots in quick succession, not pausing between each and barely flinching as the clear liquid burned their throats.

“Ere’ Johnny boy – looks like you got a bit of competition ere’ maite”

Paul winked at Miles as he nudged John playfully, causing Miles to suppress hyperventilation until at the night’s events were over.

“Ar’ ya hungry – Miles is it? – Oh yeah – You ar? Mavis in the kitchen does a blimmin’ good egg n’ chips if you’ve got a case of the ol’ munchies”

Paul grinned at Miles fervent nodding,

“Oh maite that’d be top that would”

Miles returned enthusiastically, beginning to gain back his rattled confidence as each shot of alcohol began to form an impenetrable armor of ego around him.

“Back in a jiffy”

Paul winked again as his lithe body nipped into the kitchen to charm Marvis into cooking up her specialty egg dish reserved only for the four men in Liverpool.

Miles’ rested his heavy alcohol laden head on his hand, as his eyes lazily followed Paul’s disappearing body into the kitchen, a drunken smile playing softly on his lips. Noticing this from the opposite side of the table, Alex swallowed hard, and couldn’t help but feel a rising panic of jealousy grip his heart. He knew how much Miles worshiped Paul, how much he loved him, and even when Paul was only a distant presence in their room in the form of a poster over Miles’ bed, Alex still felt a nagging sense of insecurity that Alex was second best. Now that Paul was literally standing right in front of Miles, Alex felt a surge of conflicting emotions, which gave head as grumpiness. It was funny Alex thought, that only Miles could make Alex – who was sitting in between George Harrison and Ringo Starr – grumpy at a time like this. The things that fooker does to me.

“Oi Alex – I thin ya really ‘ar deaf”

Alex jolted back into reality, as his thoughts turned to dust, to be face to face with George Harrison’s widening eyes only inches from his face.

“Can ya’ ere me?”

He repeated slowly, still not moving from Alex’s face, his hot breath tickling his skin.

“Er yeah – sorry I was away wif the fairies there”

“So er – you gonna tell me what it is yer wearin’ there or wot”

Alex looked down at his old Glastonbury t-shirt he’d picked up from the last time his band had headlined, and looked back up to see George squinting in confusion at the band names written on the shirt.

“This a joke or summat? Why ya’ got all those foony lookin’ names written all over yer shirt?”

“It’s err.. a t shirt from the festival Glastonbury that ‘appens back home – me band’s called Artic Monkeys – that’s the name there – and er well that’s Miles’ name because it’s just ‘im as a solo and well the rest are all the other bands”

John’s face lit up at this information from across the table as he took a few hearty swigs of his pint of beer, slamming it down on the table in excitement

“Ooo yer musicians! We’ll ‘ave a jam later on – you can show us what yer made of alien boy”

The shock at the possibility of jamming with The Beatles hit Alex with full force in the stomach – temporarily disarmed, Alex gathered himself to keep his cool in front of his biggest and most revered idol. 

“I can’t even begin to compete wiv you John –“

“Who said anyfing abaht competin’?! We’re goin’ to the toppity top I just fancy a race I know I’ll win”

John winked at this, and George, who sat next to Alex laughed quietly, shaking his head at his friend’s ego,

“Humble as ever there Johnny”

Whilst John and George proceeded to pull face at one another, Alex felt the burning questions he needed to ask his musical idol bubbling up inside of him – and he suddenly blurted out in temptation

“’I don’t wanna sound like a crazy fan or nuffin – but George – I ‘ave to ask – how do you write the way you do? Your lyrics ar’ well…genius”

Alex spoke quietly and seriously, his eyes wide and innocent like a child’s asking questions of the world to a parent.

George blushed slightly at Alex’s captivated expression and dipped his head as a bashful grin broke out all over his face,

“Eh it’s quite simple really, I just write what I see –“

George paused for a moment and leaned close into Alex,

“Like righ’ now I see a jealous guy – I could write a song about tha’ y’know”

Alex felt the blood drain from his face, his skin paling and turning cold, as his eyes darted from Miles and Paul back to George ,

“Err wha-“

“Maite. I could tell from the moment I clapped me eyes on yer tha’ ya fancied each other – Paul’s a harmless little ol’ flirt – can’t pull a bird or a fella if he tried as good as ol’ Johnny over there – but ya might wanna look at yourself to see where this jealous is coming from – just a thought eh”

Alex sat back in his chair dumbfounded by George’s quiet insight and plunged into contemplation that being around such genius was inspiring in him. Midway through this, Ringo, who no-one had noticed had slipped away from the table interrupted Alex’s thoughts – quickly running back to the table flustered and stressed,

“Ere’ lads – that was Brian on the phone we were supposed to be at a launch party 3 hours ago!! He sent a car n’ everyfing – we better get to it or else we’ll get a right hidin’ for weeks!”

John, Paul and George simultaneously groaned at the thought of forced socializing – but Miles and Alex exchanged eager hopeful glances at the possibility of an invitation.

“There migh’ be some fit birds though fellas – won’t be too bad”

Ringo shrugged, lighting a cigarette with his ring covered fingers.

At the thought, John immediately sprung to his feet– his schoolboy grin widening his face and crinkling his twinkling eyes alight with desire,

“Oi oi now yer talkin! Well – ow’ a about it – fancy a party then lads?”

Authors note: This is a fic I'm writing chapter by chapter with thosewhitejeans about Alex and Miles smoking strange weed that takes them back to the sixties.  

Chapter 1

 Miles and Alex had smoked their fair share of pot in their time. This spliff however was different – mainly because it was 3am and both Miles and Alex and drunkenly made it back to Miles’ apartment after a gig after party and Alex had left their stash behind. Also because Alex felt the need to get high so desperately and seeing Miles’ face drop upon their realising they were sans weed – Alex decided to run out onto the streets of London and strike a deal.

“I’ll be back in a minute love I swear. Put on some Beatles and you won’t even notice me gone”

Alex kissed a disgruntled and worried Miles and pushed him lightly down on the couch – his lip pouting like a little boy.

“Hurry back Al alright? I don’t want to get a call from the hospital telling me your beautiful face has been kicked in”

“For fook’s sake Miles! I’ll be fine!”

Alex laughed at Miles’ overprotective nature, strong as ever even when he was pissed.

  Alex bounded down the stairs of Miles apartment and shut the door to the tune of “She Loves You..” wafting down the stairs, smiling at Miles’ choice and knowing the tribute was for him. Turning the collar of his leather jacket to the bitter winter wind, Alex focused on the task at hand – finding the spliff that would make he and Miles’ touches electrify. Alex loved making love to Miles high, sometimes when he was sober and laying in Miles’ arms, he felt this love so strong for Miles that it physically pained him, and he wanted their cells to merge as one. He wouldn’t dare admit it, even when he was wasted to all fuck, but Alex loved getting high just to feel like the tingling sensation on his fingertips as they caressed Miles’ skin was their cells jumping out and finally embracing.  Turning these long worn out thoughts over for the millionth time in his head, Alex felt a tinge of embarrassment at his own soppiness

“Fookin’ hell look what the little shit does to me”

Alex laughed under his breath, caught up in the midst of Miles imbued thoughts.

  Completely distracted by his thoughts, Alex looked around him in shock, as he suddenly realised the darkness that enveloped him upon stumbling down a badly lit alleyway. The sound of his boots echoed loudly in the lane, enough to disturb a skinny looking abbey cat whose yellow glare and lunge past Alex’s legs forced him to stumble back in shock.

“Watch where you’re FUCKING going mate!!”

A gruff voice bellowed from the shadows, seeming to belong to a man twice Alex’s lithe build.

Miles’ word of concern and caution echoed in Alex’s head, and not wanting to end up in with his head stuck up in arse by the man in the shadows Alex raised both hands and slowly began to retreat.

“Awlright mate – steady on I was jus’ freaked out by the fookin’ cat…”

A few brief seconds of silence passed, which seemed to Alex painfully long, before the man stepped out of the darkness and revealed a bearded man dressed in tatty sixties style clothing.

“Ehh that’s alright, the fookin’ cat scares even me sometimes”

The man stopped and looked Alex’s sharp outfit of black pants, a western belt, a white tailored shirt and his slicked back vintage haircut.

“Nice get up kid. Whodoya think you are – the missing Beatle?”

The man chuckled to himself, and lit a joint, the flicker of his lighter illuminating a face that revealed the wrinkled skin of a man in his late 60s.

Alex laughed nervously in response, unsure whether to relax in the presence of this strange man,

“Hah, nah – that’s me other half more like’ he thinks he’s Paul fookin’ McCartney”

The man raised his eyebrows and chuckled darkly as he noticed Alex’s eyes longingly rest on the man’s spliff glowing with each drawl.

“I can sell you some spliff that’ll make him think he’s Paul McCartney that’s for sure”

Alex’s eyes widened at the opportunity and the luck that he has stumbled upon a deal so quickly and not have to haggle with a pimply faced little shit. 

“Awright mate that’d be cool if you could sort us out – how much do ya wan?”

The bearded man stroked his chin slowly as he watched Alex’s thin fingers flick through hundred dollar bills, his gold ring glinting in the moonlight.

“For this special blend it’ll be 200 and that nice shiny ring of yours mate – and then you got yourself a deal son”

Alex opened his mouth in protest, but again Miles’ disappointed face flashed in his head as Alex pictured him coming back with nothing for them to smoke. Plus the man said this shit was so strong Miles’ feel like Paul fookin’ McCartney and Alex wasn’t about to deprive his boy of that.  

“Paul McCartney you say?”

Alex confimed, raising his eyebrows in doubt.

“The whole bloody Beatles lot my man -  you’ll be transported trust me”

Laughing off the seriousness with which the dealer was speaking, Alex slid the ring of his finger and promptly handed over three crisp green ones.

“Ere’ ya are mate – the best spliff you’ll ever have – straight from 1965”

The dealer shoved a tiny green bundled into Alex’s hand and then swiftly disappeared down the alleyway and into the darkness, leaving Alex stunned in shock at the dodgy deal he had just made.

“19 fookin’ 65?! You’re fookin’ joking – this’ll be stale – you prick!”

Alex shouted into the darkness, his words bouncing of the walls like bullets.

  ***

Hesitating at the front door – Alex sighed under his breath, “This fookin’ better be alright dope” as he jammed the key in the lock and opened the door to “Healer Skleter” blaring from the upstairs room.

Skipping the stairs three at time, Alex bumped in Miles who had leapt from the couch and grabbed Alex’s face before he had time to register his presence.

“Thank fook’ Al. I was crawlin’ the walls ere”

Alex grinned like a schoolboy as he dangled the green mound in front of Miles’ now glinting eyes and kissed him slowly and softly on the lips.

“Anything for you Mi and I’ll get it done.”

Miles face lit up at Alex’s sincerity and he returned the gesture with a deep, longing kiss, that Alex felt crawl down his legs and tingle in his toes. This sensation jolted Alex into desperation to get high to keep the feeling in his legs so fumbling for his papers and lighter in his jacket Alex led Miles to the couch where the smoking would begin.

  After nervously rolling the strange smelling pot into two expertly rolled joints and hoping to god it wasn’t stale, Alex rested a joint between Miles’ parted lips and then his own, and lit the two in a burst of flame from his lighter.

Both Alex and Miles inhaled deeply, the smoke drifting down their throats and licking the insides of their lungs.

“Fookin ell’…”

Alex mumbled quietly, as he closed his eyes and reached for Miles’ hand, who let out a stifled moan of pleasure at the high he too was experiencing.

  After what had felt like an hour of Miles and Alex contentedly drifting in and out of consciousness with their eyes closed to the sounds of Miles’ CDs, the music suddenly cut short with a ripping sound. Before Miles and Alex had a chance to come to and open their eyes to discover the reason for their music stopping, four shocked voices filled the room.

  “Eh Paulie who are these fellas then?”

A bemused voice asked.

“I dunno John! I don’t know everything!”

Google says...

Height: 5' 6"

... nothing about weight.