"Don't Open That Door," Foo Fighters RPS, Dave/Taylor, Taylor/Chris, Kurt/Dave, Rated Adult17+
Fandom: Foo Fighters RPS
Rating: Adult17+
Word Count: 44,430 so far, 13 of ? chapters completed
Chapters in this Post: 1-3
Category: Slash, Horror
Pairings: Dave Grohl/Taylor Hawkins, Taylor Hawkins/Chris Shiflett, Kurt Cobain/Dave Grohl, Surprise Pairing
Summary: After several scary encounters in his home, Dave is convinced the ghost from his Seattle house followed him to his current one. He enlists the help of Taylor and a Ouija board to try to get to the bottom of things, but it only results in one of them being possessed by the thing in the house. The very dangerous thing in the house.
Warnings: Some of the sex scenes have dubious consent issues because one of the persons involved is possessed by a ghost and not fully in control of himself at the time. At least two sex acts are non-con or attempted non-con. Everyone is married to their real life spouse in a semi-open marriage (this will be discussed in the story). Language (lotsa F-bombs; this is Dave and Taylor we're talking about). Horror elements.
Author's Notes: Will be noted as we go along.
Disclaimer: This story is fictional, which means that while the characters may be loosely based on the public personas of real people, the story itself is completely ungrounded from reality and is in no way meant to reflect the private lives, actual practices, or activities of any persons named. (Modified from the disclaimer at Rockfic.com.)
Pictures of the people in this story
Don't Open That Door
Chapter 1: This is a Call
Words: 4,110
The room filled with the sound of crackling cellophane as Dave unwrapped the item that Petra had bought on his behalf a few days before. He put the wrapping and ribbon aside to look at the one-of-a-kind Ouija board carved out of poplar wood and shellacked with great care. "What the fuck is this?"
Taylor took another sip of wine before putting the glass down and considering the board on the table before them. He was looking at its fancy lettering upsidedown, but he still knew what it was. "Well, it's a Ouija board. Isn't that what you asked for?"
"Yeah, I asked for a Ouija board." Dave picked up his own glass of wine and gulped down half of its contents, sucking in a mouthful with a slurping sound. Swishing it around in his mouth, he finally swallowed and then grinned at the taste. "I just thought she'd go to fucking Target and get some Parker Brothers shit or something. This was bought from..." A card hung from the ribbon that had been tied around the cellophane wrapping to hold it closed; Dave took it between his fingers and turned it over to read it. "...the Magic Cove. It looks like something you'd use to commune with witches or some shit. I should have known there was something weird about it when it came wrapped in cellophane like a fucking fruit basket."
"You know Petra," Taylor said of Dave's neighbor from down the street. "She does everything in style."
"I guess, but even this? No wonder it cost so much." He traced over the letter A with his finger. All letters, numbers, and words had been burned into the wood and then carved until they formed an attractive cursive font, with flourishes here and there for a dramatic design.
"Why did you have Petra buy it anyway?"
"You think I want 'TMZ' catching me getting a fucking Ouija board?"
Holding his wine glass close to his lips, Taylor said, "You've talked about using one with the press before," and took another sip.
"I know, but it's different now. I'm closing in on fifty. Then, I was still a quirky kid. Now, I'd be an old eccentric, asking Kurt for songwriting ideas. I don't want people saying that shit about me." Looking at the board, Dave shook his head. "Damn Petra."
Taylor had to snicker, his glass hanging loosely from his fingers by the rim. Petra's husband had struck it rich in the construction business, leaving her with plenty of time to maintain a fun little venture on the side, running errands for her well-off, busy neighbors. Housesitting, pet sitting, dog walking, whatever needed to be done, including picking up items for people that they did not want to be seen buying. Dave hadn't needed for the Ouija board to be so fancy, but at least it would still function the same. "You gotta admit, it's pretty gooch."
"Kinda, I guess. Let's see what we got here." Picking up a thick sheet of paper from inside the cellophane wrapping, Dave began to read about his new communication tool. "Ah, thank you for your purchase, mmm, made of poplar wood to enhance your intentions to communicate with other realms, yadda yadda yadda, more powerful than your standard board, please make sure you read the following prayer before every use to protect yourself from possible possession or other forms of attachment?" The tone of his voice became more dubious as he went along; now, Dave stuck his tongue out in a raspberry. "Pbbt. What are we, in church?" He flung the instructions aside.
Taylor snickered again. "They really sell it, huh?"
"Yeah." His eyebrows arched, Dave overdramatically rolled his eyes.
"Tell me again how this whole thing started."
Dave looked behind himself at the statue in the corner of what he and Jordyn had deemed the art room. She was more into art for art's sake, he bought it for the investment. Twice a year, they looked for something affordable but valuable, and this time, it had been Jordyn's turn to pick. "It all started when that thing came into the house. I thought it was creepy from the moment I saw it, but Jordyn would not be swayed."
Taylor took a moment to examine the statue from across the room, his eyes moving up its form. Essentially, it was a male mannequin painted to look like a blue sky, with clouds and rainbows and a kite floating across its chest. The eyes, painted medium blue with darker flecks, almost seemed real, such care had been taken in their crafting with a paintbrush. The mannequin had been bisected at the waist and its top and bottom halves misaligned, the top half connected to the bottom half by a twisted, bending braid of copper wire. Its right arm was bent up at the elbow, index finger aimed toward the ceiling as if the mannequin was about to make an important point. It had no hair nor clothes, just a body made of plastic and sky. "I can't say I like Jordyn's taste in art this time around. Is this to pay you back for the two Magrittes with nude chicks in 'em that you bought?"
"Possibly. Mostly, she said she wanted it because the artist is really trendy and popular right now. Says he's gonna be real big, and then we'll be happy to have a creepy mannequin in our home." Dave visibly shuddered. "Tell me, man, would you want a fucking mannequin in your house?"
Staring at the piece of art, Taylor gave a shudder too. "Fuck no. They give me the willies. Who is this great up-and-coming artist?"
Dave leaned in. "He calls himself... Thingamabaub."
Laughing, Taylor said, "Really?"
"His real name is Bob Christy. Get it? Thingamabob? Only, he spells it B-A-U-B."
Taylor laughed louder and longer. "You made that up, man!"
"I did not." Dave was laughing too. "He really does."
Still chortling, Taylor extended the pinky curled around his wine glass, doing a caricature of a snooty person. "Excuse me," he began, speaking with a haughty, uptight accent, "you spelled my name wrong. It's not B-O-B. My name is spelled B-A-U-B, thank you." Taylor brushed imaginary dust off his knees with the other hand, scrunching up his face in disgust. "Peasant!"
Now Dave laughed louder than before, a hand to his stomach. "I know, right? It's so stupid. Pretentious motherfucker."
Taylor tried to calm his laughter so they could continue the conversation about the "paranormal activity" in Dave's house, but it was hard. Baub. His eyes scrunched up and his sunny smile came out once again in a fit of renewed chuckles. All he and Dave could do for about twenty seconds was roll in their seats with laughter until their peals tapered into snickers and wiping of damp eyes. Things seemed ten times more humorous than they actually might be when you were slightly drunk.
"Goddamn, that's funny. What's the statue called? 'Plastic D-U-E-D'?"
That set them off again. Dave snorted and then tried to control himself, getting out, "It's called 'The Conduit.'"
Taylor spoke between chortles. "'The Conduit'? The fuck why?"
"I dunno." Looking at the painted mannequin, his amused smile faded. "The day it was delivered, I saw a bowl slide along the kitchen counter by itself."
"Really? Fuck all. That's scary."
"Just - " Dave demonstrated how fast the bowl moved with his arm, making a swishing sound. "All I could do was stare at it for a minute. Are we having extreme foundation problems or did that thing just move by itself?"
For a moment, Taylor considered what Dave had said, and then he snickered through his teeth. "Those would be some pretty extreme foundation problems."
"Yeah. Call Foundation Repair."
"Then what happened?"
"A lot of it is standard stuff. Doors opening by themselves, cabinets swinging closed, all of it with no one nearby to make it move, and you should see those doors go, I mean, this is no slow might-be-a-breeze closing; this is some movement with purpose." Dave spoke as much with his hands as with his mouth, gesturing freely to illustrate everything he said. "You should be in here alone with it. Its eyes follow you everywhere, just boring into your back. When you go up the stairs, it feels like someone's chasing you from here up to the kitchen."
"Ooh, like the ghost in your old house in Seattle."
"Yeah."
"That's why you think this house could be haunted by the same ghost."
"Exactly."
"But what does your old ghost have to do with this statue?"
Dave thought about it; he knew exactly why he thought what he thought, but how to put it into words...? It was actually pretty easy. "A name says everything, right? It's called 'The Conduit.' Maybe Baub designed the thing to allow ghosts and other shit to pass between worlds. Maybe my 'old ghost' has been looking for a way to follow me all this time."
Feeling a little overwhelmed with the idea, Taylor reared back in his seat and blinked several times, considering Dave's theory. A piece of art that allowed ghosts to cross miles from one house to another? It was like something out of a movie. He finally sighed and leaned forward. "You think this ghost likes you that much?"
"I started a dialogue with her. Maybe she needs me to finish saying what she's got to say." Dave pointed to the Ouija board.
Smiling to himself, Taylor wanted to reach out and stroke Dave's arm, give him a hug, something. He so earnestly wanted to help this ghost, just like he wanted to make real connections with his fans. He needed to make a difference wherever he went. But, that need could wind up hurting Dave when he was bound for the wrong track, possibly setting himself up for failure. Whatever was going on, Taylor didn't think it had anything to do with the ghost in Seattle. "But didn't you say that Jordyn saw a dead guy in the bathroom? Not a female ghost?"
"Well, yeah." Dave leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head. "She said she walked by the master bathroom, you know, the one off our bedroom..."
"Yeah."
"...and out of the corner of her eye, she saw someone sitting on the toilet, someone adult-sized with sandy brown hair. It scared her, you know, because no guy with that hair color was supposed to be in the house. She looked and for a split second saw a man sitting on the closed toilet with his hands over his face, and there was... there was a severed head in the bathtub, trailing blood going down the drain."
"Wow... I'd shit a brick."
"Most people would." There was a little bit of a laugh in Dave's voice when he said it, but it was a nervous laugh, a frightened one. "When Jordyn came to me, she was shaking. The guy and... the head... disappeared, but... I'm afraid of my girls seeing them."
"Of course," Taylor said, nodding.
Dave looked up at the ceiling as he spoke. "Violet saw a door slam closed by itself, accompanied by a loud fucking thump on the wall. Afterward, she clung to my side so tightly..." Shaking his head, he leaned forward and looked at his friend with new determination. "We're going to get to the bottom of this tonight. I'm the man of this house, and I'm not going to let any ghost scare my family just because she has a message to get through." He tapped the Ouija board hard with the tips of his first two fingers. "Whatever this is about, you have to help me solve it."
"Of course, Dee, yeah yeah." Wiping his palms on his jeans, Taylor asked, "If this Baub guy did put the statue together as a ghost conduit or whatever, why would he do that? And if it really works, why would he sell it?"
"I don't know, artists do all kinds of fucked up things in the name of self expression. You ever hear of Robert Mapplethorpe?"
Taylor acted almost insulted to be questioned about such a thing; didn't everyone know who... er... his shoulders slumped. "...No."
Waving a dismissive hand, Dave said, "Never mind. I don't know, maybe the guy thinks he's a badass ghost buster or some crazy shit. Tries to collect ghosts or something. Artists are often eccentric, you know. And what he created actually worked. But it didn't trap the ghosts, it just let them through. So he got bored with his toy and slapped some paint on it and viola! $20,000 worth of sucker Dave!"
"You spent $20,000 on that thing?" Taylor asked with wide eyes.
"Like I said, Jordyn, on the trail of a good investment, will not be denied." Dave, gesturing to the other art on the walls and displayed around the room, said, "Look, I didn't buy this stuff because it's all going to appreciate in value. Some of it we got because we like it. Especially this one..." He gazed upon one of the Magrittes - this one featured a nude woman covered in jewels - and said nothing for a moment, eyes a little glassy with alcohol. "The really expensive pieces may stay at a level price. But this statue could be worth a lot more someday. I don't want to just throw the thing out if there's some way we can close the door, you know what I mean?"
Nodding again, Taylor assured, "Of course, Dave, I know just what you mean. Well, I'm not so sure this guy created a ghost conduit on purpose, you know, but there definitely is something strange going on here. We can get to the bottom of it."
"Okay," Dave replied, grinning. He turned the Ouija board so the letters and numbers were upright for Taylor, downed the last of his glass of wine, and slapped a thin wooden planchette with felt on its feet down on the board's glossy surface. "Let's do this shit, Tee."
Taylor rubbed his hands together. "Where do we start?"
They were both sitting in chairs with wheels; Dave rolled his around to Taylor's side of the table. "You're going to put your hands on the planchette so it can move around while I write down what it says."
Taylor rubbed his fingers over the board's surface. "The letters look carved, but the board is smooth. Did they cover it with glass?"
"No, I think it's some kind of shellack or resin."
"Wow, fancy."
"Cost $125. Like I said, I should have known there was something weird about the board." Dave, getting his sheets of paper laid out, pointed to the opposite wall. "I want you to focus on the art instead of the Ouija board. If you look at the board, you'll try to influence what it's saying based on what you anticipate it to say next. Just trust me to write down every word and don't look, okay? Look at the art on the wall."
"Okay." Taylor put all of his fingers, save for the thumbs, on the planchette and then asked, "Aren't you supposed to be on the other side with your fingers on here too?"
"I can't write anything down if I do that."
"Oh, right."
Taking a deep breath, Dave signalled for Taylor to be ready and asked the first question. "Is there anybody here besides us?"
At first, the planchette sat still, unmoving. Dave and Taylor both held their breath. Then it slowly slid up the board to YES.
"Awesome, it's working." Taylor was looking at the board.
"Tee, don't do that. Look at the wall."
"Oh right, sorry. It's too tempting not to look." He tried to keep his eyes on the naked woman in the Magritte painting.
Dave continued with his questions. "Are you the same ghost that haunted my house in Seattle?"
The planchette moved to NO.
"No?" Dave clicked his tongue. "There goes half my theory."
"It feels like someone's got their hands over mine," Taylor commented.
"It always feels like that with a Ouija board. Okay, if you're not my previous ghost, then who are you?"
The planchette immediately began to spell out a name. Whoever this ghost was, he wasn't wasting any time. NICKY.
"Nicky? Nicky who?"
Suddenly, the board stopped responding, the planchette unmoving.
"I can feel this energy around my hands, like the air is charged," Taylor said, trying to describe the feeling of being the one with his hands on the pointer when it was working. "He wants to keep talking to us, but he doesn't want to answer that question. I can feel it. The energy is... reluctant. Waiting for you to move on."
"Why is that, 'Nicky'? Would we recognize the name if we heard it?"
The planchette began to move again. MAYBE.
"What'd it say?"
"Maybe."
"Ooh." Taylor had a sudden, horrible thought. "Nikki Sixx didn't die, did he?"
Dave couldn't help but chuckle. "I'm quite sure the ghost isn't Nikki Sixx. Besides, he spelled it N-I-C-K-Y." Thinking a moment, Dave continued asking questions. "What are you doing in my house, Nicky? You're scaring my family and I don't like that."
He watched as the pointer spelled out TRAPPED.
"Trapped? Why are you trapped here?"
CONDUIT.
Snapping and then pointing at the statue, Dave said, "You see? It's the statue. Our ghost came in with the statue. What can we do to set you free?"
The ghost paused as if it was thinking before replying. NEED NEW PLACE TO GO.
"New place to go? How would that help?"
Dave opened his mouth to ask more, but the planchette began to move again. As it finished its trip around the board, he frowned and thumped Taylor on the shoulder with the back of his hand. "Stop pushing it. We were getting somewhere."
"What do you mean? I wasn't pushing it."
"Oh really? You mean you didn't make it spell this?" Dave showed him his writing on the piece of paper.
Because Dave didn't know what the board was going to say, he simply wrote down each letter as it came, which made the words run together until he rewrote them. He hadn't had the time to fix this one yet. Still, it wasn't that hard for Taylor to figure out, and he couldn't hold back his snickers.
HOLYSHITAREYOUDAVEGROHL
"Do I take that laugh as a confession?"
Shaking his head, Taylor said, "No, man. I didn't push it, I swear." Despite himself, he laughed some more. "The ghost knows you."
"Great, my ghost is a fan." Dave pointed to Taylor. "Then I guess you know him too."
The planchette spelled out, WHOS HE.
Now Dave took his turn to laugh. "Ha ha ha, HA HA, HA! HA!"
Feigning hurt, Taylor replied, "Now that smarts."
"Hey, stop reading as we go along. Look at the art, goddamnit."
"Look at the art, look at the art," Taylor parrotted, but in a mocking voice.
Dave put two-and-two together and rolled his eyes. "So you were a fan of Nirvana."
The pointer went straight to YES.
"That's just what I need." Dave sighed. "Look, I appreciate that you love Nirvana; I'm certainly not knocking my work with that band, but you're scaring my wife and children. What do I have to do to set you free so you can go on to Heaven?"
There was a long pause. Then, IM NOT WELCOME THERE.
Dave, not understanding, read it twice. "Huh? Not welcome wh..." He figured it out. "Heaven. You're not welcome in Heaven."
"Is that what he said?"
Dave nodded. "Why wouldn't you be welcome in Heaven? What did you..." Swallowing hard, he whispered to Taylor, "I want this guy out of my house."
The planchette moved around the board furiously. Taylor's eyes widened as he tried to keep up. I CAN HEAR YOU.
The two men glanced at each other. "I'm sorry, Nicky. But really, you're saying some scary shit. What can I do to get you to leave?"
While waiting for an answer, Taylor leaned over and said quietly, "Doesn't it seem kind of strange that this guy is a Nirvana fan and he winds up in your house?"
Dave shrugged. Before he could say anymore, the pointer started to move again. As Dave realized what it was saying, his face became more and more grim with frustration and anger.
THERE ISNT A DAMNED THING YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT.
Tapping Taylor's arm, Dave showed him the message. Now Taylor scowled, and mouthed, "What the fuck?"
Dave started to say something, but just at that moment, a loud crashing sound and then a bang came out of the walls. Both men jumped, Taylor making a whimpery noise. "Nick, calm the fuck down, okay?" Dave demanded.
Looking down at his hands still on the planchette, Taylor said, "I can't - I can't move my - " He struggled a little, looking back up. Taylor made such a deep, shaken gasp that the sound sent chills sweeping up Dave's back. "Dave!" he whispered harshly. "Look at the statue! Its eyes! They're different!"
Dave didn't want to look. Instead, he looked at Taylor's frightened face as he stared at the statue. If he had looked at his own face in a mirror, he would have seen the same wide eyes and gritted teeth. "How could they be different? They're painted on."
"Look!" Taylor whispered. "They aren't blue anymore."
Another chill crawled up Dave's back at just the tone of those words, how desperately cornered Taylor seemed to feel at that revelation. As if he believed 'Nicky' when he said there wasn't a damn thing they could do to make him leave. He reached over and briefly patted Taylor's shoulder. It registered on some sublevel of Dave's mind that the shoulder felt cold.
"Dee?" Taylor whimpered.
"It's okay," Dave said softly, and stood up, creeping slowly toward the statue. Taylor was right. As he approached it, Dave could see that its eyes were now pools of blackness. And as he got closer, he could see that they looked just as painted on as ever. "How the hell is this possible?" he thought aloud.
"Dave, does this mean he's... out here... in the room with us?"
He looked at Taylor, noticing for the first time that he still had his fingers plastered to the Ouija's planchette. "Are you o - "
There came another loud rap on an adjacent wall. It was followed by several more, ear-assaulting bangs that moved around the room from the statue to the wall behind Taylor. Dave winced in his shoulders and scrunched up his face, then yelled, "Quit that fucking shit!"
Taylor squeezed his eyes shut until it was over. Afterward, he relaxed a bit, but he didn't open his eyes.
"Motherfucker!" Dave shouted at the ceiling. "Get out of my goddamn house! NOW!" The muscles in his arms flexed and his nostrils flared.
The room fell silent. Dave looked around, challenging the open air to do it, just do something else, just try me, fuckhead. Nothing happened. He looked over at the statue. The eyes were still black.
Dave turned to check each side of the room and caught something out of the corner of his eye. A fancy mirror in a silver frame hung in a corner, an expensive artistic piece Jordyn had wanted on sight because the frame was very ornate, made in the art nouveau style. Dave had it hung with one side attached to one wall and the other attached to the perpendicular wall so it reflected the room nicely. Now he could see Taylor reflected in it, sitting with his hands on the planchette and head down, eyes closed.
He wasn't alone.
A man, a partially transparent man, hovered behind Taylor with his ghostly, whispy arms around Taylor's shoulders. He was reaching around, holding Taylor's wrists down. Dave's body froze, not allowing him to move as he realized the guy wasn't standing behind Taylor, but floating behind him, his legs almost parallel to the floor. As he watched, the ghostly hands sunk into Taylor's hands, the arms about to follow. The ghost was whispering in Taylor's ear.
Horrified, Dave looked away from the mirror at the actual Taylor. No ghost. When he put his eyes back on the mirror, the ghost was there again, arms sinking into Taylor's arms. Fear filled Dave's eyes. "Tee!"
Chapter 2: Alone + Easy Target
Words: 1,835
Horrified, Dave looked away from the mirror at the actual Taylor. No ghost. When he put his eyes back on the mirror, the ghost was there again, arms sinking into Taylor's arms. Fear filled Dave's eyes. "Tee!"
In a few swift strides, he was at Taylor's side. He yanked the back of Taylor's chair away from the table with one hand - Taylor rolled away with it - and flipped the Ouija board with the other. The board and planchette tumbled off the table, landing on the hardwood floor with a clatter and a loud series of thumps.
Dave, panting with adrenaline and fear, knelt before his friend. "Taylor?" He patted Taylor's face. "Are you okay?"
Taylor seemed to come awake, blinking and looking around. He gazed at his hands and turned them over, looking at both sides, then examined his chest as if he couldn't believe he was still in his own body. "Huh?" Taylor met eyes with Dave. "Oh, yeah. I'm fine."
"I'm sorry. I think the ghost was trying to possess you." He sighed. "It's my fault. I should have read the prayer that came with the board." Dave lovingly stroked Taylor's cheek, not even thinking about how intimate an act it was. He couldn't help but worry about his friend after what he'd seen. Checking the mirror, Dave sighed with relief when he didn't see the ghost anymore.
Taylor stretched his shoulders and arms, smiling a little at how his body felt. His neck popped. "Mm, don't worry. I'm fine. You saved me."
Dave knew something was off, he just couldn't put his finger on it. "Are you sure you're okay?"
Taylor nodded. "I think he's gone. You scared the ghost away."
Blinking, Dave commented, "It can't be that easy."
"Well, I don't feel him here anymore. Do you?"
Dave looked around. "The statue's eyes are still black. That means the ghost is out here somewhere. Nicky! Where the fuck are you, you little shit?"
"If you're still here, bang on the wall like you did a minute ago," Taylor added.
No noise came in answer to his demand. He shrugged.
Suddenly remembering what he felt before, Dave reached over and touched Taylor's shoulder. It felt warm. He sighed, feeling a little better.
"Everything okay there?" Taylor asked, eyeing Dave's hand as he pulled it back.
"Yeah, I think so." He took out his phone.
Eyeing this too, Taylor started to say, "What's th - " but stopped himself, and instead said, "Whatcha doing?"
Dave looked Taylor over briefly. Something wasn't right. "Looking up exorcisms on the web. Can you think of a better way to get this asshole out of my house?"
"Hey, good idea. But are we qualified to do something like that? Don't you usually have to get a priest?"
Scoffing, Dave replied, "First I bring a Ouija board into my house, then a priest? I really want to see what 'TMZ' would do with that."
Taylor laughed a little too loudly at that one. "Hey, I want a refill." He picked up his wine glass. "Don't you want a refill?"
Despite everything that had happened, or maybe because of it, Dave did want one more glass of wine. But they'd finished off the previous bottle. Dave held it up to show him.
"You got some more in the kitchen?" Taylor asked, looking up the stairs to the first floor.
"Yeah, a really cheap bottle in the door of the fridge. Cheap, but it's cold." Dave tried to smile, to get past the fright they'd just had.
"I'll get it." Taylor hopped up with both wine glasses in his hand and headed up the stairs.
Watching until he was out of sight, Dave went to Google and typed in, "Signs of ghost possession." He became immersed in the links there, but was able to take the time to call, "It's a twist top. Easiest way to get to the libation."
With a laugh, Taylor called back, "I'll be a few minutes. I'm gonna drain the lizard."
"Okay." Dave kept an ear and eye toward the first floor as he read from one of the links.
1. A person possessed by a spirit may have been exposed to the possession through being in a place rumored to be haunted, and especially by using a tool designed for spirit communication, like a Ouija board or automatic writer, without any kind of spiritual protection.
Ouch. Dave winced. Number 1, check. If Taylor was possessed, it was his fault.
2. The possessed person may hear voices directing them to do things they've never considered doing.
3. The possessed person may often see or sense images of the ghost as they appeared in life.
Taylor, is anyone telling you to hurt yourself? Do you see some dude with brown hair carrying around a head? Dave shuddered at the thought. That's who they were dealing with, weren't they? The man Jordyn saw in the bathroom?
There was a head, a severed head in the bathtub, trailing blood down the drain.
IM NOT WELCOME THERE
Dave shuddered again.
4. The spirit possessed person may experience times of unconsciousness, called blackouts, where they do things they later don't remember doing. This is also referred to as missing time.
Like victims of alien abduction. Or drunks.
5. The spirit possessed person may act in ways that are strange for them. They may seem like a different person. Often, they will not remember family and friends who should be familiar to them, events of their own lives, or skills and careers they have learned.
That was it! This would be Dave's perfect litmus test to see if Taylor had been possessed by the ghost. What were the odds this dead guy could play the drums and sing?
6. The possessed person may begin to speak in tongues, commit lewd sexual acts, and scream when encountering religious symbols. If so, they are probably demon possessed instead of ghost possessed.
Uh, what if lewd sexual acts were the norm for the possessed person? The author of this website hadn't heard the story of Taylor and Alison chasing each other on the highway, flashing each other from their cars. Dave had certainly heard it enough (and seen enough of the aftermath).
Dave heard the hall bathroom toilet flush above his head, then the sound of Taylor's footfalls in the kitchen. The fridge opened, wine was poured, and the fridge closed again. There was a long, quiet pause.
Dave read the last number in the website list.
7. The worst case scenario besides demonic possession is that the ghost may find their return to life unsatisfying and seek adventure in amoral and/or illegal activities. They must use the body they are possessing to commit these acts, dragging their host down with them. In these cases, there is great risk of suicide.
Sighing, Dave changed the site he was supposed to be looking at to one about homegrown exorcisms and put his phone down on the table, pushing his hair behind his ears with both hands. He heard glasses clinking and Taylor finally coming down the stairs. "Here's yours," he said, handing Dave a glass of red wine.
"Thanks, Tee." Dave took a big gulp. Mm, frosty. "Um, hey... can I ask you something?"
Taylor's eyes darted about for a second before he answered, "What?"
"The ghost... I saw him trying to possess you. I'm afraid he got in there and you just don't realize it."
Sipping his wine, Taylor laughed a little. "Wouldn't I know it if there was some other person in my body?"
"A spirit who would possess a live person will try to hide." Not realizing he was doing it, Dave took a sip or gulp of wine whenever Taylor did; it was the power of suggestion. "Tell me, are you hearing any voices telling you do bad shit?"
With a snicker, Taylor imitated the high-pitched voice of Ralph Wiggum from The Simpsons. "'That's where I saw the leprechaun. He told me to burn things.'"
Dave gave him his skeptical eyebrows, scolding him. "I'm serious."
Laughing merrily, Taylor shook his head. "No, Dave, I am not hearing voices."
"What about hallucinations? Seeing anything weird? Any people you don't recognize?"
"Nope."
This was silly. Taylor seemed pretty much like himself. Grinning, Dave joked, "Feel like committing any lewd sexual acts?"
A slow, smirky smile came across Taylor's face. "Why, did you have something in mind?"
Dave didn't know if it was the alcohol or old feelings he'd been keeping bottled up coming to the surface, but that flirty look on Taylor's face sent a nice, thrilling shockwave up his back. He chuckled. "I think we've both had enough of this." Finishing off his glass of wine, Dave picked up his phone and attempted to read one of the sites he'd found through his search.
Taylor seemed very interested in what Dave had there, leaning over so he could see it better.
"Huh. We're going to need a bunch of supplies for this exorcism. I better call Petra in the morning." Blinking, then rubbing his eyes, Dave realized he was not only slurring his words, but his vision had become blurry. "Woo. I'm gonna have to call it a night, my friend. That cheap wine went straight to my head."
A little grin touching his lips, Taylor said, "You okay?"
"Yeah, I'm just kinda drunk." He giggled, his phone slipping out of his hand and onto the table.
"You want some help?"
"Um, yeah!" The words came out too loud and boisterous. Dave was feeling pretty damn good, all warm inside, but also very dizzy. "Just be my pinball machine. Hover, you know, around me on my way to the bedroom and when I start hitting the walls, bounce me back in the right direction."
Taylor snickered hard in reaction. "Okay, can you get up?"
"Yeah." Standing up too fast, Dave wobbled in place, trying to decide if it would be a good idea to hold onto the table. The room spun and doubled itself around him. "Whoa. Whoa. Okay. Watch me go!" He took one step and collapsed to the floor.
"Whoa man, you alright?" Taylor crouched down beside him, a hand on his arm.
Lying on his side, Dave tried briefly to get up, but his body felt full of lead weights. He could only look up at Taylor feebily. "I can't do stairs right now. Will you help me to the couch?" Dave gestured to the couch against one wall behind him.
"Sure." Taylor drawled the word out, sweet and syrupy. "You are really drunk, huh? I guess I gotta get you to bed." He let out a small laugh and then did something very strange. While looking down at his friend with a predatory grin, Taylor ran a thumbtip over Dave's lips, as if he was curious how soft they were.
Dave was only partially conscious of this act; the world was rapidly swimming away from him. The last thing he remembered was the sensation of Taylor stroking his hair before he passed out. That and the light shining off Taylor's eyes.
His blue eyes.
Chapter 3: The Pretender
Words: 2,403
Dave was blind in his dream.
He could see nothing but blackness, but he could feel and hear some things. He remembers the sensation of his feet dragging across the hardwood floor. He remembers hearing Taylor's voice say, "Oh God, how did you do this? It's fucking Dave Grohl. Oh thank you, thank you," and then the sensation of Taylor hugging him around the chest, lingering to cuddle for a time period Dave could not have measured. He floated for a while in a field of warmth. Soothing, black, and warm. Soothing, black, and warm. Eventually, the solitude was interrupted by new sensations, feelings that were pleasurable. Fingers stroking his balls, moving to circle his cock, get it hard. Dave wanted to touch this person back, run his fingers through their hair as they ran a tongue around the head of his dick, but he couldn't raise his arm, it was too heavy. Somewhere, a chain rattled. A warm, wet cavern took his cock in and sucked it. Mmmnnnn, it felt good. This felt different, far more insistent and aggressive than when Jordyn sucked him off. Harder, stronger. This was a man giving him head, wasn't it? Oh shit... so good.
It was Taylor. Somehow he knew, it was Taylor.
Dave strained to move, to arch into it, to stroke Taylor anywhere he could reach, but again, his body felt too heavy. It was simply not possible to move; his muscles wouldn't respond. Dave heard himself make a small, brief moaning sound - it was all he could manage - and Taylor answered with a muffled moan of his own, one much longer and pronounced than the one Dave had made. Oh, he sounded so sweet. Dave had wanted this for so long, he wanted to participate more, why couldn't he see? Frustrating.
An orgasm rippled through his whole body. Dave felt it as waves of pleasure and waves of that soothing blackness. Another small sound escaped him. Then it was back to the field where he floated on a warm mist, the sound of Taylor panting following him down. "I love you so much," Taylor said from a faraway tunnel. These sounds and sensations faded away.
The next feeling he became conscious of was an achy pain in his shoulders. Dave raised his head very slowly; it felt heavy. Even his eyelids resisted movement. He felt groggy and slow to react. This feeling reminded him of how he felt after surgery.
Like he was waking from a deep, induced sleep.
Dave's eyes came open and he saw he was lying on the suede chaise lounge in the art room. He and Jordyn had outfitted the room with a few pieces of furniture and a modest flat screen TV so people could sit and look at their collection as well as watch the occasional movie the couple found too good not to share. It was a room for their more business-related parties, although a great deal of the time everyone wound up in the backyard with the grill and a lot of beer, telling stories. Dave did love to grill.
The chaise had been chosen based on how nice suede felt and that it was long enough to accommodate Dave's tall frame. The part under his knees was slightly raised; he had always liked that because it was comfortable. Being a simple chaise lounge, there was a back but no arms, so Dave's arms and hands had always wound up hanging off the sides, fingers fumbling around with any part of the undercarriage of the chaise they could reach. Long ago, he had torn a hole in the interfacing and found a steel bar that was part of the chaise's frame that was fun to thump with his nails; it made a nice sound. Jordyn had freaked when she found that hole - he insisted one of the kids must've done it. Dave realized he could feel that steel bar now with the tips of his fingers when he wiggled them. His arms had been hanging off the sides too long, and that's why his shoulders hurt.
When he moved to flex and stretch the soreness out of his arms, a chain rattled. Dave yanked hard, only to find that his wrists were shackled to the bar with what felt like handcuffs with a longer than normal chain. His eyes widened. "What the fuck?" he said out loud. His speech was still a little slurred.
Dave remembered drinking a lot of wine. How long ago had that been? He looked down at himself. His tattoos stood out plainly as someone had removed his shirt. His pants were gone too, showing off just boxers. Frustrated and confused, Dave pulled on the handcuffs, shifting them around, trying to twist his hands to just the right angle to slip his wrists out, but none of it worked. He was pretty sure the handcuff chain had been wrapped around the steel bar to make it impossible for him to shimmy himself off the chaise. What. The. Fuck?
Dave looked around the room. On the opposite wall was the faithful old couch, a light brown comfy-as-shit pile of softness that was great for naps. Next to one side of it was the statue, The Conduit. As his eyes passed around the room, Dave took in the various paintings on the wall, the mirror (called Enchanted Reflections) hung across a corner, the brightly-painted wooden carousel horse that the girls loved so much, the end table next to him, the fireplace with flat screen TV hung above it, a long table with another mirror hung above it and, usually, valuable ceramics placed upon it, and two comfy, padded rolling chairs for additional party seating. Only, the table had been cleared off and pulled out from the wall, the vases and small statues lined up against it, so he and Taylor could use the table for their "séance."
Taylor. Where was Taylor? Was he okay?
Bolted into the wall around most of the room was a horizontal metal bar, one that told anyone looking at the paintings to keep a polite distance, don't touch. This had been installed mostly for the benefit of the children when they were allowed in this room, and worked pretty well; they were told to stand at least as far from the wall as the bar was and not to put their hands beyond it, and they would be allowed to touch and sit on the carousel horse as a reward. Yes, it worked pretty well.
Someone, though, didn't respect those boundaries, as evidenced by the thick yellow rope loosely wrapped around the bar now. It appeared as though someone had considered using the bar to tie someone down on the couch and had abandoned that idea, leaving the rope discarded there. A room usually comfortable and familiar to him, Dave now found it veiled in shadow, only a small nightlight left burning near the stairs that lead up to the rest of the house. Even the carousel horse gave him the side eye.
He wanted to panic while thinking this thing through. What did he remember? Dave remembered drinking too much and passing out very suddenly. He remembered Taylor crouching over him. He remembered having a dream that...
...that Taylor was giving him a blowjob. A very good, satisfying blowjob.
No. That couldn't have been real. Taylor would never do something like that. Dave wasn't really conscious at the time. That would be like rape.
So where was Taylor? What had happened to him?
Dave's frightened mind cooked up a horrible, panicked scenario that someone, or multiple someones, had broken into the house and subdued Taylor. They had cuffed Dave down to the chaise lounge while he was unconscious and had thought about tying Taylor to the bar, but then changed their minds. If they were the kind of people who got off on blowing an unconscious man, what were they now doing to Taylor somewhere else in the house?
Dave listened very carefully. He didn't hear anything out of the ordinary.
There wasn't anything else he could do. Dave began to yell for help. "Taylor! Taaaaylooooor! Where are you? Are you okay? Taylor answer me, please! TAAAAAYLOOOOOR!!"
For a few minutes, there was no response. Then he heard someone stirring in the house. Dave held his breath when this person started to walk down the stairs. He expected to see a large man, a monster, come down those stairs. But instead, he saw Taylor.
Taylor, slowly sauntering down each step, a big smirky grin on his lips. He was wearing the white silk pajamas Jordyn had given to Dave a few Christmases ago, the ones that rubbed against his dick too much and made him horny with the way they felt. They were too big for Taylor, as he was thinner than Dave, so they revealed more of his bare chest. Although he had a bit of bed hair, it was obvious Taylor had spent some time brushing it; it looked silkier than usual. Taylor leaned against the stair wall and crossed one bare foot over the other. "Hi," he said with a grin.
God, he looked good. Dave wanted to forget all the weirdness of this encounter and confess every salacious thought he'd ever had about Taylor so they maybe could make out right now. Instead, he asked, "Taylor, are you okay? What the hell's going on?"
Still grinning like he knew something, Taylor walked toward him, keeping one hand hidden behind his back. "I'm fine. You woke me up a little earlier than I thought you would, but that's alright. We need to talk anyway." He sat down on the side of the chaise lounge, pressed in close to Dave's side. "You need to pee?"
"Of course. Taylor, what the fuck are you doing? Uncuff me. Did you do this?! This isn't your kind of prank."
Taylor chuckled. "You really haven't figured it out yet?" He seemed to stuff something in the back of his waistband to free up both hands, then reached down under the chaise and took out a plastic urinal jug. A chill moved up Dave's back. Taylor had prepared for all this during the night? "I'll help you pee into this, and then we can talk. Do you have to take a dump too?"
Dave scoffed. "No."
"Well, that's to be expected. Okay, I hope my hands aren't cold." With little ado, Taylor took the cap off the jug, pulled down Dave's boxer shorts enough to take out his dick, and put it in the mouth of the jug. At first, Dave shuddered, but then he took advantage of the jug and relieved himself. Taylor did this very clinically and matter-of-fact, as if it was old hat. When Dave was done, Taylor screwed the cap on the jug and put it on the floor, then looked at Dave's dick, still exposed, considering what he could do next. Dave swallowed hard. Something was very wrong here. Then Taylor put him back in his underwear and looked at Dave with a smile.
He sighed. "Please, can you tell me what's going on? Taylor? Tee? My shoulders really hurt and I'd like to go to bed."
Taylor looked on him with a bit of sympathy. "I'm sorry it has to be this way for now, but you still don't understand what's happened. I can't risk how you might react. But, we can be friends in this, Dave. You'll get used to the changes eventually." He leaned to one side a little, letting the pajama top fall slightly off his shoulder. "Can we have a serious talk? Will you be completely honest with me?"
Taylor was being coquettish. It was crazy to think so, but could all this be about the nature of their relationship? With another sigh, Dave said, "Yeah."
"Do you have feelings for me? Romantic feelings?" Taylor looked at him through strands of his hair, grinning a little, kittenish.
Dave looked anywhere else, trying to decide if he should tell the truth. Years of denial and emotional pain welled up and he wanted to cry as he said, "Yes."
Smiling wider, Taylor replied, "I thought so. I've wondered about you for years. So are you bisexual?"
Dave felt naked in the doctor's office, waiting for a really painful test to be performed. "I guess there would have to be some tendencies there." He swallowed down his apprehension. "What about you? Do you... how do you..."
"How do I feel about you? Oh, Dave, do you really not know?" Leaning forward, taking his time, Taylor brushed his lips against the other man's, slowly. Dave shivered all over at the welcome, intimate contact. Was this really happening? Taylor pressed his mouth into Dave's, who kissed back, and they shared a long, passionate kiss. When it was broken, Dave couldn't help but let out a small moan.
Dave said out loud what he'd been thinking. "I can't believe this is happening."
"Me either. I've wondered about your sexuality since you were in Nirvana. There just seemed to be something going on there." He tilted his head again. "Tell me something, and please answer honestly."
Still flying and trying to quiet the butterflies inside, Dave said, "Okay." He didn't really want to talk, he wanted to kiss some more.
"Did anything ever happen between you and Kurt? Like, did the two of you ever..." Taylor waved his hand back and forth between his body and Dave's, implying a sexual relationship.
Dave's entire body went numb, feeling cold inside. The denial he'd been in since he woke up was completely shattered. He knew exactly what had happened. It all made sense now. Taylor would never ask him that question so casually. In fact, knowing how painful the subject was for Dave, Taylor would never ask him that question, period. "Could you turn on that light?" he asked, nodding his head toward the lamp on the side table.
Furrowing his brow, Taylor said, "Okay," and switched on the light.
Although he saw exactly what he'd expected to, Dave still gasped. Now that the light was no longer dim, he could see that Taylor's eyes were blue. Not the cobalt blue of Kurt's eyes, but an ordinary shade of medium blue. But Taylor's eyes weren't blue. They were hazel brown. Dave swallowed hard, trying not to panic. "You're not Taylor, are you?"
The stranger rolled his eyes and giggled. "Duh."
Chapter 4 and beyond
Rating: Adult17+
Word Count: 44,430 so far, 13 of ? chapters completed
Chapters in this Post: 1-3
Category: Slash, Horror
Pairings: Dave Grohl/Taylor Hawkins, Taylor Hawkins/Chris Shiflett, Kurt Cobain/Dave Grohl, Surprise Pairing
Summary: After several scary encounters in his home, Dave is convinced the ghost from his Seattle house followed him to his current one. He enlists the help of Taylor and a Ouija board to try to get to the bottom of things, but it only results in one of them being possessed by the thing in the house. The very dangerous thing in the house.
Warnings: Some of the sex scenes have dubious consent issues because one of the persons involved is possessed by a ghost and not fully in control of himself at the time. At least two sex acts are non-con or attempted non-con. Everyone is married to their real life spouse in a semi-open marriage (this will be discussed in the story). Language (lotsa F-bombs; this is Dave and Taylor we're talking about). Horror elements.
Author's Notes: Will be noted as we go along.
Disclaimer: This story is fictional, which means that while the characters may be loosely based on the public personas of real people, the story itself is completely ungrounded from reality and is in no way meant to reflect the private lives, actual practices, or activities of any persons named. (Modified from the disclaimer at Rockfic.com.)
Pictures of the people in this story
Don't Open That Door
Chapter 1: This is a Call
Words: 4,110
The room filled with the sound of crackling cellophane as Dave unwrapped the item that Petra had bought on his behalf a few days before. He put the wrapping and ribbon aside to look at the one-of-a-kind Ouija board carved out of poplar wood and shellacked with great care. "What the fuck is this?"
Taylor took another sip of wine before putting the glass down and considering the board on the table before them. He was looking at its fancy lettering upsidedown, but he still knew what it was. "Well, it's a Ouija board. Isn't that what you asked for?"
"Yeah, I asked for a Ouija board." Dave picked up his own glass of wine and gulped down half of its contents, sucking in a mouthful with a slurping sound. Swishing it around in his mouth, he finally swallowed and then grinned at the taste. "I just thought she'd go to fucking Target and get some Parker Brothers shit or something. This was bought from..." A card hung from the ribbon that had been tied around the cellophane wrapping to hold it closed; Dave took it between his fingers and turned it over to read it. "...the Magic Cove. It looks like something you'd use to commune with witches or some shit. I should have known there was something weird about it when it came wrapped in cellophane like a fucking fruit basket."
"You know Petra," Taylor said of Dave's neighbor from down the street. "She does everything in style."
"I guess, but even this? No wonder it cost so much." He traced over the letter A with his finger. All letters, numbers, and words had been burned into the wood and then carved until they formed an attractive cursive font, with flourishes here and there for a dramatic design.
"Why did you have Petra buy it anyway?"
"You think I want 'TMZ' catching me getting a fucking Ouija board?"
Holding his wine glass close to his lips, Taylor said, "You've talked about using one with the press before," and took another sip.
"I know, but it's different now. I'm closing in on fifty. Then, I was still a quirky kid. Now, I'd be an old eccentric, asking Kurt for songwriting ideas. I don't want people saying that shit about me." Looking at the board, Dave shook his head. "Damn Petra."
Taylor had to snicker, his glass hanging loosely from his fingers by the rim. Petra's husband had struck it rich in the construction business, leaving her with plenty of time to maintain a fun little venture on the side, running errands for her well-off, busy neighbors. Housesitting, pet sitting, dog walking, whatever needed to be done, including picking up items for people that they did not want to be seen buying. Dave hadn't needed for the Ouija board to be so fancy, but at least it would still function the same. "You gotta admit, it's pretty gooch."
"Kinda, I guess. Let's see what we got here." Picking up a thick sheet of paper from inside the cellophane wrapping, Dave began to read about his new communication tool. "Ah, thank you for your purchase, mmm, made of poplar wood to enhance your intentions to communicate with other realms, yadda yadda yadda, more powerful than your standard board, please make sure you read the following prayer before every use to protect yourself from possible possession or other forms of attachment?" The tone of his voice became more dubious as he went along; now, Dave stuck his tongue out in a raspberry. "Pbbt. What are we, in church?" He flung the instructions aside.
Taylor snickered again. "They really sell it, huh?"
"Yeah." His eyebrows arched, Dave overdramatically rolled his eyes.
"Tell me again how this whole thing started."
Dave looked behind himself at the statue in the corner of what he and Jordyn had deemed the art room. She was more into art for art's sake, he bought it for the investment. Twice a year, they looked for something affordable but valuable, and this time, it had been Jordyn's turn to pick. "It all started when that thing came into the house. I thought it was creepy from the moment I saw it, but Jordyn would not be swayed."
Taylor took a moment to examine the statue from across the room, his eyes moving up its form. Essentially, it was a male mannequin painted to look like a blue sky, with clouds and rainbows and a kite floating across its chest. The eyes, painted medium blue with darker flecks, almost seemed real, such care had been taken in their crafting with a paintbrush. The mannequin had been bisected at the waist and its top and bottom halves misaligned, the top half connected to the bottom half by a twisted, bending braid of copper wire. Its right arm was bent up at the elbow, index finger aimed toward the ceiling as if the mannequin was about to make an important point. It had no hair nor clothes, just a body made of plastic and sky. "I can't say I like Jordyn's taste in art this time around. Is this to pay you back for the two Magrittes with nude chicks in 'em that you bought?"
"Possibly. Mostly, she said she wanted it because the artist is really trendy and popular right now. Says he's gonna be real big, and then we'll be happy to have a creepy mannequin in our home." Dave visibly shuddered. "Tell me, man, would you want a fucking mannequin in your house?"
Staring at the piece of art, Taylor gave a shudder too. "Fuck no. They give me the willies. Who is this great up-and-coming artist?"
Dave leaned in. "He calls himself... Thingamabaub."
Laughing, Taylor said, "Really?"
"His real name is Bob Christy. Get it? Thingamabob? Only, he spells it B-A-U-B."
Taylor laughed louder and longer. "You made that up, man!"
"I did not." Dave was laughing too. "He really does."
Still chortling, Taylor extended the pinky curled around his wine glass, doing a caricature of a snooty person. "Excuse me," he began, speaking with a haughty, uptight accent, "you spelled my name wrong. It's not B-O-B. My name is spelled B-A-U-B, thank you." Taylor brushed imaginary dust off his knees with the other hand, scrunching up his face in disgust. "Peasant!"
Now Dave laughed louder than before, a hand to his stomach. "I know, right? It's so stupid. Pretentious motherfucker."
Taylor tried to calm his laughter so they could continue the conversation about the "paranormal activity" in Dave's house, but it was hard. Baub. His eyes scrunched up and his sunny smile came out once again in a fit of renewed chuckles. All he and Dave could do for about twenty seconds was roll in their seats with laughter until their peals tapered into snickers and wiping of damp eyes. Things seemed ten times more humorous than they actually might be when you were slightly drunk.
"Goddamn, that's funny. What's the statue called? 'Plastic D-U-E-D'?"
That set them off again. Dave snorted and then tried to control himself, getting out, "It's called 'The Conduit.'"
Taylor spoke between chortles. "'The Conduit'? The fuck why?"
"I dunno." Looking at the painted mannequin, his amused smile faded. "The day it was delivered, I saw a bowl slide along the kitchen counter by itself."
"Really? Fuck all. That's scary."
"Just - " Dave demonstrated how fast the bowl moved with his arm, making a swishing sound. "All I could do was stare at it for a minute. Are we having extreme foundation problems or did that thing just move by itself?"
For a moment, Taylor considered what Dave had said, and then he snickered through his teeth. "Those would be some pretty extreme foundation problems."
"Yeah. Call Foundation Repair."
"Then what happened?"
"A lot of it is standard stuff. Doors opening by themselves, cabinets swinging closed, all of it with no one nearby to make it move, and you should see those doors go, I mean, this is no slow might-be-a-breeze closing; this is some movement with purpose." Dave spoke as much with his hands as with his mouth, gesturing freely to illustrate everything he said. "You should be in here alone with it. Its eyes follow you everywhere, just boring into your back. When you go up the stairs, it feels like someone's chasing you from here up to the kitchen."
"Ooh, like the ghost in your old house in Seattle."
"Yeah."
"That's why you think this house could be haunted by the same ghost."
"Exactly."
"But what does your old ghost have to do with this statue?"
Dave thought about it; he knew exactly why he thought what he thought, but how to put it into words...? It was actually pretty easy. "A name says everything, right? It's called 'The Conduit.' Maybe Baub designed the thing to allow ghosts and other shit to pass between worlds. Maybe my 'old ghost' has been looking for a way to follow me all this time."
Feeling a little overwhelmed with the idea, Taylor reared back in his seat and blinked several times, considering Dave's theory. A piece of art that allowed ghosts to cross miles from one house to another? It was like something out of a movie. He finally sighed and leaned forward. "You think this ghost likes you that much?"
"I started a dialogue with her. Maybe she needs me to finish saying what she's got to say." Dave pointed to the Ouija board.
Smiling to himself, Taylor wanted to reach out and stroke Dave's arm, give him a hug, something. He so earnestly wanted to help this ghost, just like he wanted to make real connections with his fans. He needed to make a difference wherever he went. But, that need could wind up hurting Dave when he was bound for the wrong track, possibly setting himself up for failure. Whatever was going on, Taylor didn't think it had anything to do with the ghost in Seattle. "But didn't you say that Jordyn saw a dead guy in the bathroom? Not a female ghost?"
"Well, yeah." Dave leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head. "She said she walked by the master bathroom, you know, the one off our bedroom..."
"Yeah."
"...and out of the corner of her eye, she saw someone sitting on the toilet, someone adult-sized with sandy brown hair. It scared her, you know, because no guy with that hair color was supposed to be in the house. She looked and for a split second saw a man sitting on the closed toilet with his hands over his face, and there was... there was a severed head in the bathtub, trailing blood going down the drain."
"Wow... I'd shit a brick."
"Most people would." There was a little bit of a laugh in Dave's voice when he said it, but it was a nervous laugh, a frightened one. "When Jordyn came to me, she was shaking. The guy and... the head... disappeared, but... I'm afraid of my girls seeing them."
"Of course," Taylor said, nodding.
Dave looked up at the ceiling as he spoke. "Violet saw a door slam closed by itself, accompanied by a loud fucking thump on the wall. Afterward, she clung to my side so tightly..." Shaking his head, he leaned forward and looked at his friend with new determination. "We're going to get to the bottom of this tonight. I'm the man of this house, and I'm not going to let any ghost scare my family just because she has a message to get through." He tapped the Ouija board hard with the tips of his first two fingers. "Whatever this is about, you have to help me solve it."
"Of course, Dee, yeah yeah." Wiping his palms on his jeans, Taylor asked, "If this Baub guy did put the statue together as a ghost conduit or whatever, why would he do that? And if it really works, why would he sell it?"
"I don't know, artists do all kinds of fucked up things in the name of self expression. You ever hear of Robert Mapplethorpe?"
Taylor acted almost insulted to be questioned about such a thing; didn't everyone know who... er... his shoulders slumped. "...No."
Waving a dismissive hand, Dave said, "Never mind. I don't know, maybe the guy thinks he's a badass ghost buster or some crazy shit. Tries to collect ghosts or something. Artists are often eccentric, you know. And what he created actually worked. But it didn't trap the ghosts, it just let them through. So he got bored with his toy and slapped some paint on it and viola! $20,000 worth of sucker Dave!"
"You spent $20,000 on that thing?" Taylor asked with wide eyes.
"Like I said, Jordyn, on the trail of a good investment, will not be denied." Dave, gesturing to the other art on the walls and displayed around the room, said, "Look, I didn't buy this stuff because it's all going to appreciate in value. Some of it we got because we like it. Especially this one..." He gazed upon one of the Magrittes - this one featured a nude woman covered in jewels - and said nothing for a moment, eyes a little glassy with alcohol. "The really expensive pieces may stay at a level price. But this statue could be worth a lot more someday. I don't want to just throw the thing out if there's some way we can close the door, you know what I mean?"
Nodding again, Taylor assured, "Of course, Dave, I know just what you mean. Well, I'm not so sure this guy created a ghost conduit on purpose, you know, but there definitely is something strange going on here. We can get to the bottom of it."
"Okay," Dave replied, grinning. He turned the Ouija board so the letters and numbers were upright for Taylor, downed the last of his glass of wine, and slapped a thin wooden planchette with felt on its feet down on the board's glossy surface. "Let's do this shit, Tee."
Taylor rubbed his hands together. "Where do we start?"
They were both sitting in chairs with wheels; Dave rolled his around to Taylor's side of the table. "You're going to put your hands on the planchette so it can move around while I write down what it says."
Taylor rubbed his fingers over the board's surface. "The letters look carved, but the board is smooth. Did they cover it with glass?"
"No, I think it's some kind of shellack or resin."
"Wow, fancy."
"Cost $125. Like I said, I should have known there was something weird about the board." Dave, getting his sheets of paper laid out, pointed to the opposite wall. "I want you to focus on the art instead of the Ouija board. If you look at the board, you'll try to influence what it's saying based on what you anticipate it to say next. Just trust me to write down every word and don't look, okay? Look at the art on the wall."
"Okay." Taylor put all of his fingers, save for the thumbs, on the planchette and then asked, "Aren't you supposed to be on the other side with your fingers on here too?"
"I can't write anything down if I do that."
"Oh, right."
Taking a deep breath, Dave signalled for Taylor to be ready and asked the first question. "Is there anybody here besides us?"
At first, the planchette sat still, unmoving. Dave and Taylor both held their breath. Then it slowly slid up the board to YES.
"Awesome, it's working." Taylor was looking at the board.
"Tee, don't do that. Look at the wall."
"Oh right, sorry. It's too tempting not to look." He tried to keep his eyes on the naked woman in the Magritte painting.
Dave continued with his questions. "Are you the same ghost that haunted my house in Seattle?"
The planchette moved to NO.
"No?" Dave clicked his tongue. "There goes half my theory."
"It feels like someone's got their hands over mine," Taylor commented.
"It always feels like that with a Ouija board. Okay, if you're not my previous ghost, then who are you?"
The planchette immediately began to spell out a name. Whoever this ghost was, he wasn't wasting any time. NICKY.
"Nicky? Nicky who?"
Suddenly, the board stopped responding, the planchette unmoving.
"I can feel this energy around my hands, like the air is charged," Taylor said, trying to describe the feeling of being the one with his hands on the pointer when it was working. "He wants to keep talking to us, but he doesn't want to answer that question. I can feel it. The energy is... reluctant. Waiting for you to move on."
"Why is that, 'Nicky'? Would we recognize the name if we heard it?"
The planchette began to move again. MAYBE.
"What'd it say?"
"Maybe."
"Ooh." Taylor had a sudden, horrible thought. "Nikki Sixx didn't die, did he?"
Dave couldn't help but chuckle. "I'm quite sure the ghost isn't Nikki Sixx. Besides, he spelled it N-I-C-K-Y." Thinking a moment, Dave continued asking questions. "What are you doing in my house, Nicky? You're scaring my family and I don't like that."
He watched as the pointer spelled out TRAPPED.
"Trapped? Why are you trapped here?"
CONDUIT.
Snapping and then pointing at the statue, Dave said, "You see? It's the statue. Our ghost came in with the statue. What can we do to set you free?"
The ghost paused as if it was thinking before replying. NEED NEW PLACE TO GO.
"New place to go? How would that help?"
Dave opened his mouth to ask more, but the planchette began to move again. As it finished its trip around the board, he frowned and thumped Taylor on the shoulder with the back of his hand. "Stop pushing it. We were getting somewhere."
"What do you mean? I wasn't pushing it."
"Oh really? You mean you didn't make it spell this?" Dave showed him his writing on the piece of paper.
Because Dave didn't know what the board was going to say, he simply wrote down each letter as it came, which made the words run together until he rewrote them. He hadn't had the time to fix this one yet. Still, it wasn't that hard for Taylor to figure out, and he couldn't hold back his snickers.
HOLYSHITAREYOUDAVEGROHL
"Do I take that laugh as a confession?"
Shaking his head, Taylor said, "No, man. I didn't push it, I swear." Despite himself, he laughed some more. "The ghost knows you."
"Great, my ghost is a fan." Dave pointed to Taylor. "Then I guess you know him too."
The planchette spelled out, WHOS HE.
Now Dave took his turn to laugh. "Ha ha ha, HA HA, HA! HA!"
Feigning hurt, Taylor replied, "Now that smarts."
"Hey, stop reading as we go along. Look at the art, goddamnit."
"Look at the art, look at the art," Taylor parrotted, but in a mocking voice.
Dave put two-and-two together and rolled his eyes. "So you were a fan of Nirvana."
The pointer went straight to YES.
"That's just what I need." Dave sighed. "Look, I appreciate that you love Nirvana; I'm certainly not knocking my work with that band, but you're scaring my wife and children. What do I have to do to set you free so you can go on to Heaven?"
There was a long pause. Then, IM NOT WELCOME THERE.
Dave, not understanding, read it twice. "Huh? Not welcome wh..." He figured it out. "Heaven. You're not welcome in Heaven."
"Is that what he said?"
Dave nodded. "Why wouldn't you be welcome in Heaven? What did you..." Swallowing hard, he whispered to Taylor, "I want this guy out of my house."
The planchette moved around the board furiously. Taylor's eyes widened as he tried to keep up. I CAN HEAR YOU.
The two men glanced at each other. "I'm sorry, Nicky. But really, you're saying some scary shit. What can I do to get you to leave?"
While waiting for an answer, Taylor leaned over and said quietly, "Doesn't it seem kind of strange that this guy is a Nirvana fan and he winds up in your house?"
Dave shrugged. Before he could say anymore, the pointer started to move again. As Dave realized what it was saying, his face became more and more grim with frustration and anger.
THERE ISNT A DAMNED THING YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT.
Tapping Taylor's arm, Dave showed him the message. Now Taylor scowled, and mouthed, "What the fuck?"
Dave started to say something, but just at that moment, a loud crashing sound and then a bang came out of the walls. Both men jumped, Taylor making a whimpery noise. "Nick, calm the fuck down, okay?" Dave demanded.
Looking down at his hands still on the planchette, Taylor said, "I can't - I can't move my - " He struggled a little, looking back up. Taylor made such a deep, shaken gasp that the sound sent chills sweeping up Dave's back. "Dave!" he whispered harshly. "Look at the statue! Its eyes! They're different!"
Dave didn't want to look. Instead, he looked at Taylor's frightened face as he stared at the statue. If he had looked at his own face in a mirror, he would have seen the same wide eyes and gritted teeth. "How could they be different? They're painted on."
"Look!" Taylor whispered. "They aren't blue anymore."
Another chill crawled up Dave's back at just the tone of those words, how desperately cornered Taylor seemed to feel at that revelation. As if he believed 'Nicky' when he said there wasn't a damn thing they could do to make him leave. He reached over and briefly patted Taylor's shoulder. It registered on some sublevel of Dave's mind that the shoulder felt cold.
"Dee?" Taylor whimpered.
"It's okay," Dave said softly, and stood up, creeping slowly toward the statue. Taylor was right. As he approached it, Dave could see that its eyes were now pools of blackness. And as he got closer, he could see that they looked just as painted on as ever. "How the hell is this possible?" he thought aloud.
"Dave, does this mean he's... out here... in the room with us?"
He looked at Taylor, noticing for the first time that he still had his fingers plastered to the Ouija's planchette. "Are you o - "
There came another loud rap on an adjacent wall. It was followed by several more, ear-assaulting bangs that moved around the room from the statue to the wall behind Taylor. Dave winced in his shoulders and scrunched up his face, then yelled, "Quit that fucking shit!"
Taylor squeezed his eyes shut until it was over. Afterward, he relaxed a bit, but he didn't open his eyes.
"Motherfucker!" Dave shouted at the ceiling. "Get out of my goddamn house! NOW!" The muscles in his arms flexed and his nostrils flared.
The room fell silent. Dave looked around, challenging the open air to do it, just do something else, just try me, fuckhead. Nothing happened. He looked over at the statue. The eyes were still black.
Dave turned to check each side of the room and caught something out of the corner of his eye. A fancy mirror in a silver frame hung in a corner, an expensive artistic piece Jordyn had wanted on sight because the frame was very ornate, made in the art nouveau style. Dave had it hung with one side attached to one wall and the other attached to the perpendicular wall so it reflected the room nicely. Now he could see Taylor reflected in it, sitting with his hands on the planchette and head down, eyes closed.
He wasn't alone.
A man, a partially transparent man, hovered behind Taylor with his ghostly, whispy arms around Taylor's shoulders. He was reaching around, holding Taylor's wrists down. Dave's body froze, not allowing him to move as he realized the guy wasn't standing behind Taylor, but floating behind him, his legs almost parallel to the floor. As he watched, the ghostly hands sunk into Taylor's hands, the arms about to follow. The ghost was whispering in Taylor's ear.
Horrified, Dave looked away from the mirror at the actual Taylor. No ghost. When he put his eyes back on the mirror, the ghost was there again, arms sinking into Taylor's arms. Fear filled Dave's eyes. "Tee!"
Chapter 2: Alone + Easy Target
Words: 1,835
Horrified, Dave looked away from the mirror at the actual Taylor. No ghost. When he put his eyes back on the mirror, the ghost was there again, arms sinking into Taylor's arms. Fear filled Dave's eyes. "Tee!"
In a few swift strides, he was at Taylor's side. He yanked the back of Taylor's chair away from the table with one hand - Taylor rolled away with it - and flipped the Ouija board with the other. The board and planchette tumbled off the table, landing on the hardwood floor with a clatter and a loud series of thumps.
Dave, panting with adrenaline and fear, knelt before his friend. "Taylor?" He patted Taylor's face. "Are you okay?"
Taylor seemed to come awake, blinking and looking around. He gazed at his hands and turned them over, looking at both sides, then examined his chest as if he couldn't believe he was still in his own body. "Huh?" Taylor met eyes with Dave. "Oh, yeah. I'm fine."
"I'm sorry. I think the ghost was trying to possess you." He sighed. "It's my fault. I should have read the prayer that came with the board." Dave lovingly stroked Taylor's cheek, not even thinking about how intimate an act it was. He couldn't help but worry about his friend after what he'd seen. Checking the mirror, Dave sighed with relief when he didn't see the ghost anymore.
Taylor stretched his shoulders and arms, smiling a little at how his body felt. His neck popped. "Mm, don't worry. I'm fine. You saved me."
Dave knew something was off, he just couldn't put his finger on it. "Are you sure you're okay?"
Taylor nodded. "I think he's gone. You scared the ghost away."
Blinking, Dave commented, "It can't be that easy."
"Well, I don't feel him here anymore. Do you?"
Dave looked around. "The statue's eyes are still black. That means the ghost is out here somewhere. Nicky! Where the fuck are you, you little shit?"
"If you're still here, bang on the wall like you did a minute ago," Taylor added.
No noise came in answer to his demand. He shrugged.
Suddenly remembering what he felt before, Dave reached over and touched Taylor's shoulder. It felt warm. He sighed, feeling a little better.
"Everything okay there?" Taylor asked, eyeing Dave's hand as he pulled it back.
"Yeah, I think so." He took out his phone.
Eyeing this too, Taylor started to say, "What's th - " but stopped himself, and instead said, "Whatcha doing?"
Dave looked Taylor over briefly. Something wasn't right. "Looking up exorcisms on the web. Can you think of a better way to get this asshole out of my house?"
"Hey, good idea. But are we qualified to do something like that? Don't you usually have to get a priest?"
Scoffing, Dave replied, "First I bring a Ouija board into my house, then a priest? I really want to see what 'TMZ' would do with that."
Taylor laughed a little too loudly at that one. "Hey, I want a refill." He picked up his wine glass. "Don't you want a refill?"
Despite everything that had happened, or maybe because of it, Dave did want one more glass of wine. But they'd finished off the previous bottle. Dave held it up to show him.
"You got some more in the kitchen?" Taylor asked, looking up the stairs to the first floor.
"Yeah, a really cheap bottle in the door of the fridge. Cheap, but it's cold." Dave tried to smile, to get past the fright they'd just had.
"I'll get it." Taylor hopped up with both wine glasses in his hand and headed up the stairs.
Watching until he was out of sight, Dave went to Google and typed in, "Signs of ghost possession." He became immersed in the links there, but was able to take the time to call, "It's a twist top. Easiest way to get to the libation."
With a laugh, Taylor called back, "I'll be a few minutes. I'm gonna drain the lizard."
"Okay." Dave kept an ear and eye toward the first floor as he read from one of the links.
1. A person possessed by a spirit may have been exposed to the possession through being in a place rumored to be haunted, and especially by using a tool designed for spirit communication, like a Ouija board or automatic writer, without any kind of spiritual protection.
Ouch. Dave winced. Number 1, check. If Taylor was possessed, it was his fault.
2. The possessed person may hear voices directing them to do things they've never considered doing.
3. The possessed person may often see or sense images of the ghost as they appeared in life.
Taylor, is anyone telling you to hurt yourself? Do you see some dude with brown hair carrying around a head? Dave shuddered at the thought. That's who they were dealing with, weren't they? The man Jordyn saw in the bathroom?
There was a head, a severed head in the bathtub, trailing blood down the drain.
IM NOT WELCOME THERE
Dave shuddered again.
4. The spirit possessed person may experience times of unconsciousness, called blackouts, where they do things they later don't remember doing. This is also referred to as missing time.
Like victims of alien abduction. Or drunks.
5. The spirit possessed person may act in ways that are strange for them. They may seem like a different person. Often, they will not remember family and friends who should be familiar to them, events of their own lives, or skills and careers they have learned.
That was it! This would be Dave's perfect litmus test to see if Taylor had been possessed by the ghost. What were the odds this dead guy could play the drums and sing?
6. The possessed person may begin to speak in tongues, commit lewd sexual acts, and scream when encountering religious symbols. If so, they are probably demon possessed instead of ghost possessed.
Uh, what if lewd sexual acts were the norm for the possessed person? The author of this website hadn't heard the story of Taylor and Alison chasing each other on the highway, flashing each other from their cars. Dave had certainly heard it enough (and seen enough of the aftermath).
Dave heard the hall bathroom toilet flush above his head, then the sound of Taylor's footfalls in the kitchen. The fridge opened, wine was poured, and the fridge closed again. There was a long, quiet pause.
Dave read the last number in the website list.
7. The worst case scenario besides demonic possession is that the ghost may find their return to life unsatisfying and seek adventure in amoral and/or illegal activities. They must use the body they are possessing to commit these acts, dragging their host down with them. In these cases, there is great risk of suicide.
Sighing, Dave changed the site he was supposed to be looking at to one about homegrown exorcisms and put his phone down on the table, pushing his hair behind his ears with both hands. He heard glasses clinking and Taylor finally coming down the stairs. "Here's yours," he said, handing Dave a glass of red wine.
"Thanks, Tee." Dave took a big gulp. Mm, frosty. "Um, hey... can I ask you something?"
Taylor's eyes darted about for a second before he answered, "What?"
"The ghost... I saw him trying to possess you. I'm afraid he got in there and you just don't realize it."
Sipping his wine, Taylor laughed a little. "Wouldn't I know it if there was some other person in my body?"
"A spirit who would possess a live person will try to hide." Not realizing he was doing it, Dave took a sip or gulp of wine whenever Taylor did; it was the power of suggestion. "Tell me, are you hearing any voices telling you do bad shit?"
With a snicker, Taylor imitated the high-pitched voice of Ralph Wiggum from The Simpsons. "'That's where I saw the leprechaun. He told me to burn things.'"
Dave gave him his skeptical eyebrows, scolding him. "I'm serious."
Laughing merrily, Taylor shook his head. "No, Dave, I am not hearing voices."
"What about hallucinations? Seeing anything weird? Any people you don't recognize?"
"Nope."
This was silly. Taylor seemed pretty much like himself. Grinning, Dave joked, "Feel like committing any lewd sexual acts?"
A slow, smirky smile came across Taylor's face. "Why, did you have something in mind?"
Dave didn't know if it was the alcohol or old feelings he'd been keeping bottled up coming to the surface, but that flirty look on Taylor's face sent a nice, thrilling shockwave up his back. He chuckled. "I think we've both had enough of this." Finishing off his glass of wine, Dave picked up his phone and attempted to read one of the sites he'd found through his search.
Taylor seemed very interested in what Dave had there, leaning over so he could see it better.
"Huh. We're going to need a bunch of supplies for this exorcism. I better call Petra in the morning." Blinking, then rubbing his eyes, Dave realized he was not only slurring his words, but his vision had become blurry. "Woo. I'm gonna have to call it a night, my friend. That cheap wine went straight to my head."
A little grin touching his lips, Taylor said, "You okay?"
"Yeah, I'm just kinda drunk." He giggled, his phone slipping out of his hand and onto the table.
"You want some help?"
"Um, yeah!" The words came out too loud and boisterous. Dave was feeling pretty damn good, all warm inside, but also very dizzy. "Just be my pinball machine. Hover, you know, around me on my way to the bedroom and when I start hitting the walls, bounce me back in the right direction."
Taylor snickered hard in reaction. "Okay, can you get up?"
"Yeah." Standing up too fast, Dave wobbled in place, trying to decide if it would be a good idea to hold onto the table. The room spun and doubled itself around him. "Whoa. Whoa. Okay. Watch me go!" He took one step and collapsed to the floor.
"Whoa man, you alright?" Taylor crouched down beside him, a hand on his arm.
Lying on his side, Dave tried briefly to get up, but his body felt full of lead weights. He could only look up at Taylor feebily. "I can't do stairs right now. Will you help me to the couch?" Dave gestured to the couch against one wall behind him.
"Sure." Taylor drawled the word out, sweet and syrupy. "You are really drunk, huh? I guess I gotta get you to bed." He let out a small laugh and then did something very strange. While looking down at his friend with a predatory grin, Taylor ran a thumbtip over Dave's lips, as if he was curious how soft they were.
Dave was only partially conscious of this act; the world was rapidly swimming away from him. The last thing he remembered was the sensation of Taylor stroking his hair before he passed out. That and the light shining off Taylor's eyes.
His blue eyes.
Chapter 3: The Pretender
Words: 2,403
Dave was blind in his dream.
He could see nothing but blackness, but he could feel and hear some things. He remembers the sensation of his feet dragging across the hardwood floor. He remembers hearing Taylor's voice say, "Oh God, how did you do this? It's fucking Dave Grohl. Oh thank you, thank you," and then the sensation of Taylor hugging him around the chest, lingering to cuddle for a time period Dave could not have measured. He floated for a while in a field of warmth. Soothing, black, and warm. Soothing, black, and warm. Eventually, the solitude was interrupted by new sensations, feelings that were pleasurable. Fingers stroking his balls, moving to circle his cock, get it hard. Dave wanted to touch this person back, run his fingers through their hair as they ran a tongue around the head of his dick, but he couldn't raise his arm, it was too heavy. Somewhere, a chain rattled. A warm, wet cavern took his cock in and sucked it. Mmmnnnn, it felt good. This felt different, far more insistent and aggressive than when Jordyn sucked him off. Harder, stronger. This was a man giving him head, wasn't it? Oh shit... so good.
It was Taylor. Somehow he knew, it was Taylor.
Dave strained to move, to arch into it, to stroke Taylor anywhere he could reach, but again, his body felt too heavy. It was simply not possible to move; his muscles wouldn't respond. Dave heard himself make a small, brief moaning sound - it was all he could manage - and Taylor answered with a muffled moan of his own, one much longer and pronounced than the one Dave had made. Oh, he sounded so sweet. Dave had wanted this for so long, he wanted to participate more, why couldn't he see? Frustrating.
An orgasm rippled through his whole body. Dave felt it as waves of pleasure and waves of that soothing blackness. Another small sound escaped him. Then it was back to the field where he floated on a warm mist, the sound of Taylor panting following him down. "I love you so much," Taylor said from a faraway tunnel. These sounds and sensations faded away.
The next feeling he became conscious of was an achy pain in his shoulders. Dave raised his head very slowly; it felt heavy. Even his eyelids resisted movement. He felt groggy and slow to react. This feeling reminded him of how he felt after surgery.
Like he was waking from a deep, induced sleep.
Dave's eyes came open and he saw he was lying on the suede chaise lounge in the art room. He and Jordyn had outfitted the room with a few pieces of furniture and a modest flat screen TV so people could sit and look at their collection as well as watch the occasional movie the couple found too good not to share. It was a room for their more business-related parties, although a great deal of the time everyone wound up in the backyard with the grill and a lot of beer, telling stories. Dave did love to grill.
The chaise had been chosen based on how nice suede felt and that it was long enough to accommodate Dave's tall frame. The part under his knees was slightly raised; he had always liked that because it was comfortable. Being a simple chaise lounge, there was a back but no arms, so Dave's arms and hands had always wound up hanging off the sides, fingers fumbling around with any part of the undercarriage of the chaise they could reach. Long ago, he had torn a hole in the interfacing and found a steel bar that was part of the chaise's frame that was fun to thump with his nails; it made a nice sound. Jordyn had freaked when she found that hole - he insisted one of the kids must've done it. Dave realized he could feel that steel bar now with the tips of his fingers when he wiggled them. His arms had been hanging off the sides too long, and that's why his shoulders hurt.
When he moved to flex and stretch the soreness out of his arms, a chain rattled. Dave yanked hard, only to find that his wrists were shackled to the bar with what felt like handcuffs with a longer than normal chain. His eyes widened. "What the fuck?" he said out loud. His speech was still a little slurred.
Dave remembered drinking a lot of wine. How long ago had that been? He looked down at himself. His tattoos stood out plainly as someone had removed his shirt. His pants were gone too, showing off just boxers. Frustrated and confused, Dave pulled on the handcuffs, shifting them around, trying to twist his hands to just the right angle to slip his wrists out, but none of it worked. He was pretty sure the handcuff chain had been wrapped around the steel bar to make it impossible for him to shimmy himself off the chaise. What. The. Fuck?
Dave looked around the room. On the opposite wall was the faithful old couch, a light brown comfy-as-shit pile of softness that was great for naps. Next to one side of it was the statue, The Conduit. As his eyes passed around the room, Dave took in the various paintings on the wall, the mirror (called Enchanted Reflections) hung across a corner, the brightly-painted wooden carousel horse that the girls loved so much, the end table next to him, the fireplace with flat screen TV hung above it, a long table with another mirror hung above it and, usually, valuable ceramics placed upon it, and two comfy, padded rolling chairs for additional party seating. Only, the table had been cleared off and pulled out from the wall, the vases and small statues lined up against it, so he and Taylor could use the table for their "séance."
Taylor. Where was Taylor? Was he okay?
Bolted into the wall around most of the room was a horizontal metal bar, one that told anyone looking at the paintings to keep a polite distance, don't touch. This had been installed mostly for the benefit of the children when they were allowed in this room, and worked pretty well; they were told to stand at least as far from the wall as the bar was and not to put their hands beyond it, and they would be allowed to touch and sit on the carousel horse as a reward. Yes, it worked pretty well.
Someone, though, didn't respect those boundaries, as evidenced by the thick yellow rope loosely wrapped around the bar now. It appeared as though someone had considered using the bar to tie someone down on the couch and had abandoned that idea, leaving the rope discarded there. A room usually comfortable and familiar to him, Dave now found it veiled in shadow, only a small nightlight left burning near the stairs that lead up to the rest of the house. Even the carousel horse gave him the side eye.
He wanted to panic while thinking this thing through. What did he remember? Dave remembered drinking too much and passing out very suddenly. He remembered Taylor crouching over him. He remembered having a dream that...
...that Taylor was giving him a blowjob. A very good, satisfying blowjob.
No. That couldn't have been real. Taylor would never do something like that. Dave wasn't really conscious at the time. That would be like rape.
So where was Taylor? What had happened to him?
Dave's frightened mind cooked up a horrible, panicked scenario that someone, or multiple someones, had broken into the house and subdued Taylor. They had cuffed Dave down to the chaise lounge while he was unconscious and had thought about tying Taylor to the bar, but then changed their minds. If they were the kind of people who got off on blowing an unconscious man, what were they now doing to Taylor somewhere else in the house?
Dave listened very carefully. He didn't hear anything out of the ordinary.
There wasn't anything else he could do. Dave began to yell for help. "Taylor! Taaaaylooooor! Where are you? Are you okay? Taylor answer me, please! TAAAAAYLOOOOOR!!"
For a few minutes, there was no response. Then he heard someone stirring in the house. Dave held his breath when this person started to walk down the stairs. He expected to see a large man, a monster, come down those stairs. But instead, he saw Taylor.
Taylor, slowly sauntering down each step, a big smirky grin on his lips. He was wearing the white silk pajamas Jordyn had given to Dave a few Christmases ago, the ones that rubbed against his dick too much and made him horny with the way they felt. They were too big for Taylor, as he was thinner than Dave, so they revealed more of his bare chest. Although he had a bit of bed hair, it was obvious Taylor had spent some time brushing it; it looked silkier than usual. Taylor leaned against the stair wall and crossed one bare foot over the other. "Hi," he said with a grin.
God, he looked good. Dave wanted to forget all the weirdness of this encounter and confess every salacious thought he'd ever had about Taylor so they maybe could make out right now. Instead, he asked, "Taylor, are you okay? What the hell's going on?"
Still grinning like he knew something, Taylor walked toward him, keeping one hand hidden behind his back. "I'm fine. You woke me up a little earlier than I thought you would, but that's alright. We need to talk anyway." He sat down on the side of the chaise lounge, pressed in close to Dave's side. "You need to pee?"
"Of course. Taylor, what the fuck are you doing? Uncuff me. Did you do this?! This isn't your kind of prank."
Taylor chuckled. "You really haven't figured it out yet?" He seemed to stuff something in the back of his waistband to free up both hands, then reached down under the chaise and took out a plastic urinal jug. A chill moved up Dave's back. Taylor had prepared for all this during the night? "I'll help you pee into this, and then we can talk. Do you have to take a dump too?"
Dave scoffed. "No."
"Well, that's to be expected. Okay, I hope my hands aren't cold." With little ado, Taylor took the cap off the jug, pulled down Dave's boxer shorts enough to take out his dick, and put it in the mouth of the jug. At first, Dave shuddered, but then he took advantage of the jug and relieved himself. Taylor did this very clinically and matter-of-fact, as if it was old hat. When Dave was done, Taylor screwed the cap on the jug and put it on the floor, then looked at Dave's dick, still exposed, considering what he could do next. Dave swallowed hard. Something was very wrong here. Then Taylor put him back in his underwear and looked at Dave with a smile.
He sighed. "Please, can you tell me what's going on? Taylor? Tee? My shoulders really hurt and I'd like to go to bed."
Taylor looked on him with a bit of sympathy. "I'm sorry it has to be this way for now, but you still don't understand what's happened. I can't risk how you might react. But, we can be friends in this, Dave. You'll get used to the changes eventually." He leaned to one side a little, letting the pajama top fall slightly off his shoulder. "Can we have a serious talk? Will you be completely honest with me?"
Taylor was being coquettish. It was crazy to think so, but could all this be about the nature of their relationship? With another sigh, Dave said, "Yeah."
"Do you have feelings for me? Romantic feelings?" Taylor looked at him through strands of his hair, grinning a little, kittenish.
Dave looked anywhere else, trying to decide if he should tell the truth. Years of denial and emotional pain welled up and he wanted to cry as he said, "Yes."
Smiling wider, Taylor replied, "I thought so. I've wondered about you for years. So are you bisexual?"
Dave felt naked in the doctor's office, waiting for a really painful test to be performed. "I guess there would have to be some tendencies there." He swallowed down his apprehension. "What about you? Do you... how do you..."
"How do I feel about you? Oh, Dave, do you really not know?" Leaning forward, taking his time, Taylor brushed his lips against the other man's, slowly. Dave shivered all over at the welcome, intimate contact. Was this really happening? Taylor pressed his mouth into Dave's, who kissed back, and they shared a long, passionate kiss. When it was broken, Dave couldn't help but let out a small moan.
Dave said out loud what he'd been thinking. "I can't believe this is happening."
"Me either. I've wondered about your sexuality since you were in Nirvana. There just seemed to be something going on there." He tilted his head again. "Tell me something, and please answer honestly."
Still flying and trying to quiet the butterflies inside, Dave said, "Okay." He didn't really want to talk, he wanted to kiss some more.
"Did anything ever happen between you and Kurt? Like, did the two of you ever..." Taylor waved his hand back and forth between his body and Dave's, implying a sexual relationship.
Dave's entire body went numb, feeling cold inside. The denial he'd been in since he woke up was completely shattered. He knew exactly what had happened. It all made sense now. Taylor would never ask him that question so casually. In fact, knowing how painful the subject was for Dave, Taylor would never ask him that question, period. "Could you turn on that light?" he asked, nodding his head toward the lamp on the side table.
Furrowing his brow, Taylor said, "Okay," and switched on the light.
Although he saw exactly what he'd expected to, Dave still gasped. Now that the light was no longer dim, he could see that Taylor's eyes were blue. Not the cobalt blue of Kurt's eyes, but an ordinary shade of medium blue. But Taylor's eyes weren't blue. They were hazel brown. Dave swallowed hard, trying not to panic. "You're not Taylor, are you?"
The stranger rolled his eyes and giggled. "Duh."
Chapter 4 and beyond