theyoungestzerogmechanic said: i met you at a concert i got dragged to and we kinda makeout backstage and you’re kinda the drummer of the band i dissed earlier au
eh heheh. <3 girls moving too fast, ect.
fic sort of mirrored my concert experience, without me hating it.
Cora hated concerts. They were loud. People were pushy and rude. And, in this particular hellhole, the idiots on the second floor were so drunk and obnoxious they kept spilling drinks onto the people below. Luckily, she had managed to elbow her way back into the wings far away from the balcony, but, as much as she wanted to bail, she couldn’t. Erica was her ride (a calculated move, she saw now), taxis were outrageously expensive, and, no matter how frustrated she was, it just wasn’t in her to ditch a friend.
The main act hadn’t even come out yet. But that was fine. Because Erica owed her big time now. She had begged Cora to come with for days, as Boyd had begged off and no amount of Erica’s brash brand of “persuasion” could convince him to change his mind. Some new all-girl band with an amazing new sound and wow—maybe she’d need to reconsider her view on concerts because… that redhead? Standing by the drum set? Could be worth the stress and then some.
It took a few minutes of courage-building to approach, and another five of flirting to test the waters, but Lydia—who had introduced herself right away—was the one who dragged Cora backstage with a knowing smirk (“Trust me, we are allowed,” she’d said) and kissed her like she had a strict timeline to follow.
"God," Cora breathed, fingers curling into Lydia’s hair, lips parting for shallow breaths as Lydia kissed along her neck. "You are the best part of my night."
"Oh yeah?" Lydia murmured, sharp teeth on taut tendons. "Not here for the band?"
"No. Hell no," she said, moaning sadly when Lydia pulled off of her with an amused expression. "I don’t even know who’s playing. My friend dragged me here against my will… and I don’t have high hopes."
Lydia laughed, drawing Cora in for another kiss—but it was sweeter, slower then before, like a drawn-out tease. “We’ll see,” she said, then she was stepping back out of Cora’s arms. “Find me after the show, if you’re still interested.”
And then she was gone, disappearing underneath a curtain. Cora slumped against the wall, barely propped up against the whirlwind of heat in her bones. She didn’t hook up randomly, but god, was it worth it.
Erica was the one who found her, finally, dragging her back into the thick of the pit. “Where the hell have you been?” she yelled. The lights began dimming and Erica’s next slew of questions were lost in the scream of the crowd, the sound of a guitar being plucked, a snare being teased.
Cora mimed the universe code for later and tried not to think about Lydia, her lips, and her cryptic message.
Then, the curtains whipped back, and Cora’s heart dropped. Because Lydia was—fucking sitting at the drums. With drumsticks. And yelling into the mic, “Beacon Hills, how fucking are you? God, I’ve missed this town. Haven’t you, Allison?”
The crowd surged forward, voices rising, and Allison, the gorgeous brunette on the mic, smiled and bounced like she could barely contain her energy. “It’s good to be back, Lyds!”
"I’ll say," Lydia said, thumping the bass slowly, "So we don’t normally dedicate songs—"
The crowd screamed, louder.
"—but tonight’s a special night. After a year of touring, coming home—well, this one is for the hometown hotties. We love you!"
Lydia had Cora on her back, thigh slowly rolling into her. “Did I let you down?”
Cora grabbed her by the hip and tucked her closer, panting at the electricity skipping along her spine. “Not. At. All.”