This week in titillating Foo Fighters fan fiction: Dave and Taylor finally connect, intimately
by Sam Sutherland
September 13, 2012
Fan fiction is great. It’s creative, and, if you happen to pen the right kind of story and then just change all the names from Twilight vampires to sultry BDSM dudes, you can make crazy 50 Shades of Grey money.
Here’s another fact: fan fiction is funny. Websites like Fan Works are a veritable treasure trove of uncomfortable guffaws and wonky prose, overly confessional and often profoundly personal tales of love, sexiness, and more love and sexiness. Which, like all personally lovely tales, are funny.
In the spirit of such mean-spirited, better-than-others belly laughs, here’s some of the juiciest bits from the very, very awesome All That Matters, written from the perspective of Foo Fighters drummer Taylor Hawkins.
“Dave, I’m…” I don’t know what to say. And I need to say something, anything to make those tears go away… But he puts a finger to his lips to silence me, closing the door behind him.
He comes right up to me, puts a hand on my shoulder. So he’s willing to touch me – that’s good, right?
“Why didn’t you tell me, Taylor?”
He reaches up and cups my face in his hand. Drummer calluses. Guitar calluses. Don’t let go, Dave. Don’t ever let me go.
“Do straight men take every chance they get to wrap their arms around their drummers?” He says quietly, and my jaw drops. “Do they lean in far too close on stage, just so they smell that drummer’s sweat? Or `accidentally’ touch his back?” The block of ice that’s taken residence in the pit of my stomach is melting faster and faster. His voice drops a few more decibles. “Do they fantasize about making love to gangly, blond haired men who prefer surfer shorts and oversized t-shirts to any other articles of clothing?’
And then, something that Dave Grohl would really probably say after kissing Taylor Hawkins:
“Wow…” He says softly. And then, with that signature grin of his, “You’re a fucking great kisser, motherfucker.”