Saint Aura (plinksnotdead) wrote,
Saint Aura

  • Mood:
  • Music:


TITLE: "Satellite."
FANDOM: The Who.
RATING: M, because I say my favourite four-letter word beginning with "f", and because it's SLASH. That's right kiddies!
PAIRING(S): Pete/Roger, mentioned Pete/Karen.
SUMMARY: Songfic to "Satellite" by One Dollar Short. Pete reflects on the relationship that was, between he and Roger.
STATUS: Doooone!

Dedicated to arkazel because she told me to write this, a long time ago.

I found a photo of us today
The memories they came flooding back

I've got so many photos of he and I together, it's rather hard to hide our relationship. Though, Roger Harry Daltrey was my bandmate. He was also a good friend. A confidant. An enemy. I hated him. I loved him.

Oh how I loved him. But Roger and I haven't been on the very best of terms for a while, and it was during a cleaning out of my office at home (well, my annual-finding-of-my-desk.) that I came across a photo of us together. Taken sometime on tour, I'm sure. He's smiling at something off in the distance, not noticing the picture is being taken. His jeans are very very tight, as is his shirt. I'm standing close, behind, watching the camera with an apprehensive look on my face. I don't like having my photo taken when I know it's being taken. Shots of me never turn out well when they're intentional.

This photo, though...

Blowing out birthday candles
I was dressed as superman
And you were a shining star
We would have only been in fourth grade

I think I met Roger sometime when I was in form four. I would have been around about 14 or 15, and he was the big tough guy, even though I already towered over him at that point. But he was a thick little muscled thing, while I was a tall and thin little slip of a creature. I knew who he was and he probably had an idea who I was, but we met properly when he asked me to join his band, because he'd heard that I played guitar.

My sweet blue eyed childhood valentine

We were teenagers. We were curious. Despite his rugged good looks (yes, Roger Daltrey is quite an attractive man. I think it's the blonde hair and blue eyes.), Roger had never really got anywhere with the ladies. We'd both had fumbled meetings with girls, and somehow got into a discussion about our disappointing sex lives. We were 15 and 16 after all, we must have been the oldest virgins on the planet!

We were sitting in my mother's front room, waiting for some other people to show up for band practice. My mother always let us practice at our house because she and my father knew what it was like to be a musician, constantly being told to "shut it, right!"

He said something about not having to miss out on anything, then leaned over and kissed me clumsily. I gasped and pushed him away, but he just kept coming back. Eventually I had to give in and... he was a good kisser.

That same morning, we had sex on the couch in the front room. I think I thought it felt good. It must have, or I would have made him stop. But mostly I remember how much I was praying no one came in and saw us.

I didn't try and stop him from fucking me, though.

All these years and I miss you so much
First star I see tonight
I'll make a wish I hope comes true
I'd even search the stars for you

Taking the photo with me, I stand by the window, looking out. A typical English day, mostly cloudy sky. But a few stars visible in the dusk light. The first one I lay my eyes on, I stare at for a while, mouthing silent prayers to myself.

I'd even send a satellite
To find a piece of kryptonite
To have you right here by my side

I would do anything to have Roger back.

I miss you
I wish you were right here
I need you right here by my side

After that, we avoided each other for a while. It was bound to happen, as was the following confrontation. We both knew that what we had done was wrong, but we had both enjoyed it. Roger cornered me in an alley on the way home from school. I knew he was looking just for me, because Roger lived in Shepherd's Bush and I lived in Chiswick. Totally different directions.

"What do you want Roger?" Pete shifted the books he was carrying and bit his lip. Roger intimidated him, even though Pete was the taller of the pair. Pete felt he had gained a little more of the upper-hand in their relationship (or what they had of one.) since the... incident on the couch, but Roger was still more than a year old, and more muscular than he could ever hope to be... or be with.

"I want to talk to you."
Pete visibly gulped. Roger took a deep breath. He felt as intimidated by what he was going to say next as Pete looked.
"Um, what happened, was a, um..."
"Mistake." Pete's eyes narrowed.

That "oh" sounded a little suspicious to Pete. As if Roger was disappointed by his reaction. As if Roger was hoping for something...

"What I meant was um, I, er..." Roger grabbed Pete by the front of his shirt, and Pete yelped. What the hell was Roger going to do to him?! he wondered, as he was shoved violently into the small alleyway between two houses.

"Calm the fuck down!" Roger growled, pushing Pete up against the cold brick of the building. Then he pulled Pete down to his height and pressed his lips against Pete's, hard.

"Roger!" Pete pushed Roger back.

"Shut up!" Roger silenced Pete with his tongue, ramming it down his throat. Hard. Just like the rest of him.

After that day, he told me that he sort-of, maybe had a crush on me. Not because I was attractive or anything, no. But because he had decided I was gay the moment we'd met. I wasn't, of course. In fact, I have never desired to sleep with another male in my entire life, and didn't even really enjoy Roger that much at first. But he persisted, and grew on me, eventually...

Everyday after class I'd carry your books
You would hold my hand and say to me
That when we grow up we'd get married

Roger would joke about making me his wife, someday. My name would be Petra (or Peta.) and I'd cook and clean and make his house all sparkly-sheen. He never was very good at rhyming. No wonder I was the lyricist. We'd walk home from school together to each other's houses under the pretense of "practicing guitar", carrying each other's books and bags, because we felt better with each other's things in our possession. Made us feel like we had exchanged something more real than just bodily fluids.

But time has a habit of bringing with it change
We've moved away
Grown up and grown apart

We did grow up and change, but together. Suddenly it was hotel rooms with one bed between us, then spending a night in the bus, to full-on tours and being pushed together every day for months on end. We had been carrying out an affair for a few years by now, and he said he loved me. When he kissed me backstage with no one else looking, and growling "I love you, you know Townshend." into my ear before going off to find the bar, and an available dolly bird.

I didn't mind. We both still pulled birds, then went back to each other after. I even had a sort-of girlfriend named Karen, Karen Astley. She was tall, taller than Roger. He was jealous. He used to tell me to break it off, saying "You know you're not supposed to belong to anyone but me!" and I'd laugh. I loved Roger, but we'd never even told a single other person that we'd been fucking each other's brains out since we were 15 and 16.

Sometimes I lay awake and wonder if you're thinking about me
Like I think about you?

After some years, I married Karen. But because of work and touring and everything, Roger and I still managed to keep up our affair. Anyway, he'd been married himself since 1964 to a little bird we both knew named Jackie. He'd knocked her up though, I married Karen decent-like.

First star I see tonight
I'll make a wish I hope comes true
I'd even search the stars for you
I'd even send a satellite
To find a piece of kryptonite
To have you right here by my side
I miss you
I wish you were right here
I need you right here by my side

Then Keith died. The band started falling apart. We saw each other a lot less, we'd moved away. Grown up and grown apart. For real, without each other.

Will I ever see you again?
Will I ever see you again?
Will I ever see you again?

Then in the early 80's, I announced the break-up of the band. Roger wouldn't speak to me for a long time after that. I got a job at Faber and Faber, he moved out to the sticks and became a trout farmer. He always was a right little nutter, that one.

I need you right here by my side

I love you and fucking need you, Roger Daltrey.

The End.
  • Post a new comment


    default userpic

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.