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Title: Morning After
Author: Lost to the mists of time thanks to Trojie's poor record-keeping
Fandom: Bandslash
Sporked by: Trojie
Rating: M
Notes: Trojie's second mission involves her detangling Kurt Cobain and Axl Rose, of all people.

Trojie shut her eyes and offered up a prayer to any deity that might be listening. After what she deemed to be enough time for a miracle to have taken place, she opened her eyes again and looked at the console. No luck. It was still blinking, and there was still a musician fic listed. Kurt Cobain/Axl Rose. A nasty pairing. Cursing, the Bad Slasher went to the cupboard and yanked out her gear.
‘Bloody LOTR continuum. Lulling me into a false sense of security with its seductive fictional charms. . . letting me forget there was RP slash. Sod it. What do I need? Gaffer tape. Check. Um, neuralyser . . . check. Chain?’ She patted her waistline. ‘Yep, still there. And . . . ah, the last item.’ She hauled it out and gave it a fond stroke. She’d had to wheedle this baby out of Makes-Things’ notoriously tight grip. But it was worth it. To the uninitiated, it was a stereo. But what a stereo. Lightweight, easy to carry, but with that special, Makes-Things touch; it had that quality of sound that could normally only be found at the front of the crowd at Wembley. Trojie stashed a CD wallet in her bag as well, and then leant over to programme the disguises. The fic took place in a hotel. Therefore her favourite disguise, roadie, was out. Groupie? Trojie shuddered. She’d sworn never to go down *that* road. Ah well, it would have to be room service.

Calling up a portal, she hefted the stereo and stepped through into a hotel corridor, decorated in usual hotel style; pale pastels. Stopping for a moment to get her bearings, the sounds of shouting assailed her ears. And she recognised at least one of those voices.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Well, the dialogue was fairly in character. Trojie approached the door, at the same time running over the Words. She wasn’t likely to interrupt any full blown slash; this fic was a ‘morning-after-the-night-before’ scenario. She just wanted to make sure they were both fully clothed before she burst in on them, that’s all. Listening (and reading) intently, she waited for an opportune moment.
Kurt’s eyes sprang open when a hand slapped lightly against his ass. “What the fuck?”
“You got a nice ass,” Axl commented, bending over to pull one black boot out from under the bed. Kurt found himself watching Axl’s own ass as he bent, and the line of skin revealed between his shorts and shirt. Axl wouldn’t have really… would he? It was just a joke?
Axl straightened. “I like your mouth better though.” He stuffed his foot into the shoe, and started looking around for the other one.
And that sounded like a good place to stop this travesty.
‘Hello, room service.’ she called, knocking at the door. Someone crossed to open it. Unlike fictional canon characters, real people could see her and react to her. The door opened a fraction, just enough for a face to peer out. Straggly blond hair, a stubbly chin, and big eyes. Kurt Cobain; lead singer for Nirvana, grunge’s most famous casualty, and quite incidentally one of the hottest men ever to pick up a guitar. His eyes narrowed in annoyance.
‘I didn’t ask for room servi-‘ Trojie grabbed the edge of the door and shoved hard, forcing Cobain to step back and let her in. She carefully shut the door behind her, conscious of the two men staring angrily at her. The very idea of Axl Rose and Kurt Cobain having spent a night in the same room, indulging in the activities that the author had hinted about, made the PPC agent very, very pissed. Nevertheless she appeared calm as she set the stereo down.
‘Look lady, if it’s autographs you want, you can just-‘
‘Mr. Cobain? Mr. Rose?’
‘Please just listen to this.’ She turned the CD on. It was GNR; from the Words it was apparent that it was poor Axl who was possessed by the Author. As soon as the opening chords crashed out, he stood, transfixed, and then started shaking uncontrollably. Trojie, recognising the signs of an author-wraith about to make a bid for freedom, started towards him, fumbling for her bell. She hadn’t reckoned with Cobain. Since he wasn’t possessed, he was still reacting reasonably in character, and he was annoyed. He shoved her backwards.
‘Get out! I don’t know what freaky shit you’ve done to him, but just get the hell out of here!’ He pushed her again, for emphasis. Trojie, seeing that Axl was on the point of disgorging the author, ducked under Kurt’s arm and leapt for the wraith.
‘Hey! Get the hell away from him!’ Kurt turned around, and saw the Author-wraith. ‘What the fuck is that?’
Trojie didn’t have time to explain.
‘Get thee gone, oh fiend of implausible slash!’ she shrieked, waving her arms at the author. It wasn’t working. The nasty little shade grinned a smoggy grin at her and started swirling towards Kurt Cobain, intent on a repossession. Trojie panicked; there was no way she was going to let that happen. Frantically she rummaged in her pockets. Ah, bell! She yanked it out and rang it furiously. ‘Begone, foul shade! The power of, of, rock and roll compels you!’ The author-wraith diminished slightly, but it was still grinning. The Bad Slasher tried again; ‘You have no more power here, spirit of the evil slash Author! Real People are not your prey! Get thee behind me!’ The wraith made a final dash for the stunned Cobain. ‘Avaunt!’ Trojie yelled desperately. ‘Bloody avaunt! Get away from him!’
The words seemed to be working now, maybe because the CD had reached a chorus. The volume in the room was now deafening, what with music and exorcism, and in the background the sounds of the grunge musician freaking out.
Axl seemed to have calmed down, and the Author-wraith, with a final hiss, evaporated. Trojie shoved the dazed, longhaired vocalist out into the hallway.
‘What the-‘
Putting her sunglasses on hurriedly, Trojie whipped out the neuralyser.
‘Mr. Rose? Please look at this.’
She pressed the button.
‘Right. You’re Axl Rose, you sing for Guns N’ Roses. You’ve just left a groupie’s room where you spent the night. You’re going back to your own hotel now. You have absolutely no secret desires for Kurt Cobain,’ she said, stressing the last sentence.
Axl nodded bemusedly. He then turned and wandered back down the corridor, towards the lift. Trojie edged back into the hotel room to deal with Cobain, who was in total meltdown.
‘What the fuck was that? What did you do to him? How much did you hear? If you tell anyone-‘
‘Please just look at this, Mr. Cobain. It’ll explain everything.’
Curious, Cobain stared at the neuralyser.
‘Your name is Kurt Cobain, you’re the lead singer and guitarist for Nirvana. This is your hotel room. You’ve just woken up from a long sleep, and you’re looking forward to meeting up with the rest of the band later. And you’ve never seen me. This is just a dream.’
And cursing all RP slash authors, Trojie went back to the PPC.

A/N; Short and straightforward, I know, but this fic just hurt. It HURT. I had to do something. Next episode my partner’s secret identity shall be revealed; she’s on holiday at the moment and has no net access, but we’ve been working on another LOTR fic which should be ready soon. So this is the last story from a solo Trojanhorse. Which is good, cos I’m sick of talking to myself ^_^.


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