Title: Idol Worship
Author: Taylor Jameson
Pairing: Marshall Mathers (not Em...you'll understand if you read)/Elton John
Rating: PG
Summary: Elton and Mathers, what more do you need?
Archive: Um, no. It will be on my page. If you *really* want it, e-mail me and we'll talk.
Email: taylorjameson@yahoo.com
Series/Sequel: I very highly doubt it.
Disclaimer: This never happened. If it did, I would like to be informed so I can gouge my eyes out. *G*
Warnings: Hmm...if you're reading this still, I don't think you'd care too much about warnings anyway.
Notes: Um. <clears throat> I didn't actually *see* the performance at the Grammys because I was working...so I'm kinda vague on that note. However, I've seen the pictures and thought of doing it way before hand...Also note that I have separated Eminem and Marshall Mathers as two separate identities...makes things a little easier. This was originally a little longer and included a graphic sex scene. I'm sorry. I couldn't let the world see that atrocity...it was truly terrible. If you have the desire to read the sex I wrote, please inquire privately, but I won't be posting it to *ANY* public venue. I feel it is by far the worst I've written. The title is Josh's. *G* Thanks.
Writer's Comments: The views expressed herein are the sole possession of my twisted mind. Partnered with the frantic cheering from the sidelines I've taken this plunge and really pissed off my Elton Muse. *G* Thanks. I'm sorry if I've totally murdered Eminem's style. Josh said I was "close" to what he would say...so, hey!
Dedication: To Nat and all you other chat chicks that urged me on. *G* And for Joshie for helping me work out Em's voice.
Date: 2/27/01
"Marshall." Elton smiled as the young man entered the large studio for the third rehearsal of the week. Things were really coming together smoothly and they were definitely ready for the Grammys in two days.
"Sup, man?" Em smirked, meeting the man in a grasping handshake that slid into a 'brother' hug. "Hey, Billy, man..." He waved a small hello to Billy Joel, who'd taken to accompanying Elton to the rehearsals.
"Mathers." Billy raised an eyebrow in greeting. He didn't trust the boy one bit and thought Elton was putting more than his unbreakable reputation on the line with the performance.
Elton slid behind the keys, becoming one with his instrument and going into the zone. He actually thoroughly enjoyed working with Marshall, he was a lot more respectful and easy to be around than his stage persona. Eminem could get a little more than harsh, but Elton understood that it was all about a character...or as Marshall put it, Em was his Ziggy Stardust. A way of escaping the rules and regulations of the 'real world' and living in his own creation. Of course, nobody else seemed to understand or believe such a thing, not even Billy got the joke.
"Let's say we lay out the rhythm, bitch." Em smirked, turning his visor backwards and letting the room know Marshall had left the building.
* * * * *
The rehearsal had gone long and Billy left after the second break, stating that his ears could not stand the audio assault from Em's portion. However, Elton had found himself growing quite comfortable with the persona as they shot music back and forth at each other alone in the studio.
"Okay Em, I'm really loving this." Elton smirked, "I think it's going to go over about as well as a turd in a punch bowl, but that's the point."
"Of course it's good, shit...like *I* could produce something bad." Eminem sneered. "All the fucking bitches love me...probably the faggots too."
"Cut that shit out." Elton gave the young man a stern glance, he knew he had to exercise his automatic authority every once in a while to keep him from going over the top.
"Sorry man." Marshall smiled, "I'm just...man, I need a break."
"I can see that." Elton shook his head.
"Shit, sometimes even *I* get sick of the shit Em says." Marshall shook his head and took a seat, lighting up a cigarette.
"Yeah." Elton smiled, relaxing on the bench, "I guess it'd be hard to keep up with yourself."
"He's so fucking hardcore." Marshall laughed under his breath, "I don't think the fucker knows he's just a pussy shit."
"I guess that happens." Elton half shrugged and stretched as he stood. "Want a drink?"
"You know what I like." Marshall smiled, letting his head rest on the soft couch.
"Scotch made when you were in diapers." Elton shook his head, smiling as he went to the small bar.
"Damn right." Marshall licked his lips. "And I'm not that young."
"Just the same." Elton poured two small quarters of scotch. "You're a little young for my tastes."
"You're not *that* old." Marshall let his eyes open back up as he felt the small glass nudge his hand.
"I was selling records when you were in the kiddie pool at the rec center." Elton sat beside the man on the couch, pulling his knees comfortably up under him and sipping the scotch, "You probably heard my music in the womb."
"I knew it, childhood exposure to Elton John music made me queer." Marshall laughed, letting Elton know he wasn't serious.
"Don't blame me. Blame Liberache." Elton deadpanned, "Blame years of choir boys."
"Yeah, whatever." Marshall drained half his glass. He had such a respect for the man, and it still hadn't sunk in that he was going to be performing with one of his idols...someone he'd looked up to as a young musician that couldn't get his message out without pretending and putting on a face. They had more in common than anyone seemed to know. It should feel weird to just be shooting the shit with him, no faces, no head games or anything...but it felt perfectly normal. After all, Elton was a real guy these days, not the act he used to put on. Maybe some day, Marshall could retire Em and set out on a 'solo' career, but for now it paid the bills...more than nicely.
"Boy, you sure piss off Billy though...it's weird, I thought he'd be all right with everything, but...he's like that sometimes." Elton swirled the liquor and half smiled over the glass.
"Nah, Em pisses everyone off...that's just what he does." Marshall shrugged. "He just doesn't get my whole thing..."
"Actually, I think he sees you as a threat."
"A threat?" Marshall raised an eyebrow, "Like I could ever beat him musically...he's an icon...what I've got is going to be gone like the garbage when the youth gets over this violent kick."
"He doesn't mean musically." Elton smiled softly, staring into the amber liquid.
"What?" Marshall's half-smile dropped, "Well, how does he mean?"
"Well, you're a very attractive young man." Elton had never really been good at the approach, but he couldn't help but feel a little lecherous about what he was doing, "He knows that if I had a chance with you, I'd take it."
"You've got to be shitting me..." Marshall was shocked by the confession, he'd never really thought of the possibility. He was up to anything sexually, but his idol had just come on to him...
"No, I'm not." Elton raised an eyebrow, then finished his drink.
"Wow." Marshall relaxed back against the cushions.
Elton shrugged again, standing up to return to the piano, "Eh, it's something to think about."
"Are you really serious about it?" Marshall sat on the edge of the couch, leaning heavily on his own knees.
Elton slid on the padded bench and ran his hands over the familiar companion of the piano keys, "Serious about what?"
"About me and you, you know...I mean, you did just proposition me, right?" Marshall slowly stood on his feet, nervously twitching his toes in the thick engineer boots.
"I suppose you could put it like that." Elton tapped out four notes, "I prefer to say that if you had the urge, I'm in no position to refuse."
"Wow..." Marshall let himself fall back to the soft couch. "So, you...uh, want to do it right now? Or later, or what?"
Elton laughed softly, turning away from the score he wasn't even going over and locking his eyes on the grinning, stunned Marshall. "Are you serious?" It was his turn to sound like a teenager doing it for the first time.
Marshall willed himself to stand up and moved to the piano, then put his hands on the older man's shoulders and placed a gentle kiss on his lips.
Elton smirked as Marshall pulled away, then removed his glasses and pulled him back down for once much more passionate. Hell yeah, he was serious.
***** END *****