Chapter Text
September 29th- Into your room
“Whoever thought 8 o'clock soundchecks were a good idea should go jump off a building,” Ilsa grouses as she takes her second sip of coffee for the morning, staring at the band before them who are soundchecking on the stage.
“Just be glad we aren’t them,” Grace says from the seat next to her, sounding equally as miserable.
“I don’t understand why we couldn’t just do this yesterday,” Ilsa sighs, throwing her head back.
“Because there were people performing here yesterday,” comes a familiar voice from above her, and Alanna’s blonde head comes into Ilsa’s line of sight, peering down at her from the row above them. Alanna’s blonde hair is tied back in a loose ponytail, and the pair of tortoiseshell glasses she has on makes her look more domestic than usual.
“I don’t see how that’s much of an issue,” Ilsa says at the same time as Grace asks “Where’s Paris?” Alanna chuckles as she slides into the seat next to Ilsa, a cup of tea in hand.
“I’m sure the other band would have loved it if we went yesterday in the middle of their set,” she says, and Ilsa lets out a puff of air. “I have no clue where she is, but you know how she somehow shows up perfectly on time for everything, so I wouldn’t worry,” Alanna says, addressing Grace, who nods.
The other band is finished by the time Ilsa finishes her coffee, and the assistants are setting up the stage for them. Grace is scrolling through her phone on one side of her, and Alanna is staring into space on her other side, eyes half-closed.
“Hi,” Paris says from behind them, making Ilsa nearly topple out of her chair. Alanna jolts, and Grace turns around with a smile, seemingly unfazed.
“Hi!” She says cheerfully. “Just in time!” The people on stage are waving at them to come up, and Ilsa pushes herself off of her chair with a groan. Alanna holds out her hands, and Ilsa begrudgingly pulls her up with an amused smile.
“Thanks darling,” Alanna says with a wink, and Ilsa rolls her eyes. While she was a blushing mess around Alanna at first, she’s found herself becoming more immune to Alanna’s charm as time goes on, regarding it with a more affectionate amusement.
“You ready?” Their manager, Will, asks as they approach the stage. Alanna nods, and he smiles. “Go knock everyone’s socks off,” he says, and then he’s gone and they’re left to start their set.
“It’s just a rehearsal,” Ilsa calls after him, and he laughs.
“Still,” he throws over his shoulder, and Ilsa rolls her eyes. Paris hops up onto the raised stage that her drumset is sitting on, and Grace saunters her way behind the keyboard. Ilsa’s main guitar is sitting on a stand off to the side, and she retrieves it with a sigh.
“Here we go,” she says, and Alanna throws her a sideways glance, the corners of her mouth turning up. Ilsa returns the smirk as her fingers start to move over the strings of her guitar as she tunes it.
“Ready?” Alanna asks after a few seconds, and Ilsa nods. Grace throws her a thumbs up from behind the keys and Paris mirrors the gesture. “All yours Ilsa,” Alanna says with a grin, and with the opening chords of their first song, they’re off.
Alanna looks surprisingly relaxed as they play through their set, all loose limbs and smiles that somehow make Ilsa smile too. Their mics cut out randomly in the middle of the set, and Alanna dissolves into soft laughter as her voice fades from the speakers along with Ilsa’s guitar, the drums, and the piano.
“All good?” She asks after a stagehand has run over to fiddle with the mic and run off again, and there’s a thumbs up from the side.
“From the top of the first chorus?” Ilsa suggests, and Alanna nods.
“All yours,” she says with a small smile, and Ilsa smiles back as she strums a few chords, vaguely aware of the light blush warming her cheeks. The sun has started peeking out from behind the clouds, casting Alanna in a warm glow as she starts singing again. Just like an angel, Ilsa thinks to herself absentmindedly.
Alanna has the voice of an angel too; born into a family of musical theater geniuses, she was the only one who didn’t pursue broadway. Instead, she went to college and majored in music, graduated, and started posting covers of songs on the internet. Within months, she had a record deal and signed with the other three girls as a band.
Ilsa knew that Alanna’s quick signing had something to do with her family’s money and influence in the showbiz world, but for all that she cared, Alanna deserved it. She had seen how hard she worked to make things as good as possible, and she had one of the most beautiful voices Ilsa had ever heard. The voice of an angel.
“We’ve decided to do something different this year,” Alanna’s voice cuts into Ilsa’s thoughts as she runs through the last part of her set. “We’re gonna give each city a cover of a different song, and I’m going to pull a different member out for each one, so,” she motions to Ilsa who smiles, tilting her head to the side playfully as she steps into the center of the stage.
“Everyone ready?” Ilsa asks the approximately five people scattered in the audience, and she hears Grace chuckle from behind her.
“This one’s called into your room,” Alanna says as she glances at Ilsa. “Take it away, Ilsa,” she says, and Ilsa strums out the first chords with a smile as she approaches the mic.
She doesn’t really remember the rest of it, the moments blurring together from them finishing their set to getting lunch, and suddenly it’s time for the real thing. They’ve yet to show each other their outfits- “It’ll be like a wedding dress reveal,” Grace had said excitedly, and Ilsa hadn’t protested.
The stylist finishes on Ilsa’s hair just as Grace comes prancing into the room, dragging Paris behind her.
“Thoughts?” She asks just as Ilsa turns, striking a pose. Grace is in a shirt with puffy sleeves covered by a form fitting black vest and a pair of matching black trousers.
“Looks awfully fancy for our first concert of the year,” Ilsa says coyly. Grace pouts, and Ilsa grins. “I’m just kidding,” she reassures the brunette as she pushes out of her chair. “It looks hot.”
“It does,” a voice from behind her agrees. Ilsa turns to face the owner of that voice and is immediately rendered speechless.
Alanna’s wavy blonde hair is down, her dark roots starting to peek out at the top of her head. A white silk minidress hugs her body, just barely covering the top of her legs which are covered in sheer black fishnets. Ilsa vaguely registers her cheeks flushing pink, and all of a sudden she’s a flustered mess around Alanna just like when they first signed to the same band together.
Grace’s wolf whistle brings her back to the present, and Ilsa tears her eyes away from Alanna’s dress to meet her gaze, which is surprisingly directed at her. Alanna seems at a loss for words too as she stares at Ilsa, who blushes a deeper shade of pink.
“Damn,” she finally manages out, and the tension in the air between them cracks a bit as Alanna lets out a tiny laugh.
“I could say the same about you,” she says, her eyes still locked on Ilsa’s as she gives her a sly grin.
“Where did you find the dress?” Paris asks, and Alanna’s eyes finally detach from Ilsa as she turns to answer Paris’s question.
“I stole it from Ilsa’s trailer,” she says, and Ilsa yelps in indignation.
“I knew it looked familiar,” she exclaims, standing from her chair. Alanna’s eyes dart down her body again, fully taking in the halfway zipped up leather jacket and matching miniskirt that Ilsa put together a solid thirty minutes before they gathered.
“How tall are those?” Alanna asks, gesturing to the platform boots on Ilsa’s feet that bring Ilsa to nearly her height.
“Tall enough,” Ilsa says with a wicked grin.
“I still don’t understand how you manage in those,” Grace sighs from the other side of the room, and Paris nods her agreement with a sigh.
“Skill,” Ilsa says, twirling, and when she looks back towards the group, Alanna’s eyes are shining with mirth.
“I think you just like being as tall as the rest of us over here,” she says, and Ilsa scoffs playfully.
“Well, why would you ever assume that?” She asks, sauntering over to Alanna until they’re nearly face to face. She brings her hand up to compare their height, and grins satisfactorily when the difference comes away as a mere centimeter.
“I’m wearing heels for the next one,” Alanna decides, scrunching her nose at Ilsa who sticks out her tongue.
“You just like towering over me,” Ilsa says matter-of-factly, and Alanna grins.
“That’s true,” she says, and Grace cackles from the other side of the room. Ilsa looks over to see Paris shaking her head, a small grin lighting her face.
“Twenty minutes,” Will comes in to warn them, and Alanna cocks an eyebrow at the rest of them.
“Ready?” She asks, and Ilsa nods. Grace pushes herself off of the wall she’s leaning on, and shoots them a megawatt grin.
“Let’s go change some people’s lives,” she says, and Paris rolls her eyes.
“I don’t think we’re gonna do that,” she says, smirking, and Grace waves her hand dismissively.
“We absolutely are,” she drawls, and Paris sighs affectionately.
“Whatever you say,” she mutters, and Grace grins.
The crowd is completely electric, which gives Ilsa a boost as soon as she steps out onto the stage, staring out at the faces blurring together in screams and cheers. The cheers get louder as Alanna bounces on stage, and Ilsa can’t help it as the grin on her face grows.
“Are you guys ready for this?” Alanna asks, taking hold of the microphone, a giant grin on her face. The crowd gets louder, and Alanna glances at Ilsa. “Take it away, Ils,” she says and before Ilsa can fully process the new nickname, she’s strumming the opening chords and Alanna’s voice is floating over the first notes of the song.
The set is perfect, the perfect start to their tour, and then they hit the surprise song. Alanna announces it, the crowd goes predictably wild, and Ilsa steps forward. The opening notes of the song ring out, and Ilsa sneaks a glance at Alanna who is surprisingly staring right back, gaze filled with apprehension and excitement.
“I will run,” Alanna starts, honey sweet, pulling an almost reflexive smile to Ilsa’s face. “After your moving car.” Alanna doesn’t turn to face the crowd at first surprisingly, resulting in her staring directly into Ilsa’s eyes, causing a startling amount of panic in Ilsa’s body that nearly causes her to short circuit.
“And I will follow you,” Alanna continues, and all Ilsa can do is smile and strum at this point because her brain has basically been wiped clean in front of the whole crowd. “Hmm, you’re my northern star,” Alanna sings, and her gaze is so damn sincere looking that Ilsa nearly melts right there.
“So don't drive away,” Alanna continues, and finally turns to face the crowd, who seems to be loving every second of it and has taken to singing along with startling force. Ilsa takes a very much needed deep breath as she looks out over the crowd, the blur of smiling faces, and looks back at Alanna.
Then it’s her time to sing.
Alanna turns to her, blue eyes, warm smile and all, encouraging her before Ilsa grips the mic with one hand and begins to sing. Ironically, as soon as she starts she can’t take her eyes off of Alanna either, a smile spreading across her face as she nears the second chorus.
But I know a place where the darkness can’t reach us
On a whim, ignoring every bit of spacing they did at the sound check, Ilsa pulls her mic out of her mic stand and saunters over to Alanna, who mirrors her movements and meets her halfway.
Maybe, take me into your room
Without you my soul is eternally doomed
Alanna’s eyes are sparkling in a way Ilsa only ever sees on stage, and she holds out her hand, pointing to Ilsa as she sings the next lines.
You’re the center of this universe,
My sorry ass revolves around you.
The crowd is going absolutely mental by now, but Ilsa wouldn’t know from the way the rest of the world seems to fall away slowly as she grins at Alanna, one hand holding her mic, the other resting casually on the neck of her guitar.
They finish up the song like that, and Ilsa finally remembers how to think just in time for Alanna to reach out and give her a loose one-arm hug before she retreats back to her area of the stage and switches out her guitar for their last song.
All she can think about for the next few hours is the way Alanna’s eyes were shining, her electric smile directed at Ilsa and Ilsa only. And when she finally manages to close her eyes and go to sleep, the last thing she finds herself thinking is
I’m so fucked.