Chapter Text
Their first stadium tour. Even from backstage, blinding lights shone in their eyes, as crowds of thousands cheered, anticipating their arrival. In Anthony’s hand was a silver plated microphone, one decked with red bedazzled jewels that form a snake. He tapped it in his hand, waiting for the signal to start walking onto the platform underneath the stage that would lift them up. Roars of cheers and excitement would echo into their ears. He could hardly believe that this was his life. Suddenly he felt a tug on his hand, and he turned his head.
Ace. The keys player.
Ace, or Zira, even Aziraphale if it came down to it, was the keys player for the band. He was immensely talented, writing the majority of the songs in the band. He rarely made a mistake, hence the nickname Ace. Zira was so very talented that what he did, that the first song they released written by him went platinum. But he was also a kind, loving soul, which only made him a crucial member of the band. They had actually become very good friends.
“Ace.” Anthony tugged a smile on his face. “Are you ready? First stadium tour!” Anthony watched Ace’s expression flatten, worry flooding his irises.
“Are you nervous? I do say, I’ve never been so nervous,” Zira admits, fidgeting with the gold ring on his pinky. “I have the set memorized, I have my ears and pack ready to go, but I’ve never worried so much about making a mistake. We’ve never had such a large crowd. I’m honestly more comfortable playing in barns and smaller centers, and—”
“Woah, Ace, take a breath.” Anthony says, as if he doesn’t feel the same way. “It’s no biggie. This is definitely not a bar, and it’s definitely the biggest venue we’ve ever played at, but that makes it more fun. You know? It’s less personal. It’s not the same people drinking stacks of beer and splashing their mojitos at us mid-set.” Anthony recalls that moment vividly, with his favorite white beaded pants having been ruined that night. Zira hums, remembering what he had to wash off his keyboard. “So, no pressure. More people, less intimate. Just pretend they have no pants on or something.”
“That sounds a bit more than intimate.”
“Right. Well—”
“Guys. Let’s go. We have 1 minute!” Beez, the bass player, yells, tugging them by their shirts. They all curse, pacing to the platform underneath the stage. Muriel was already on, playing the drums wildly as the audience went crazy. On the platform were the keys, Anthony’s electric and his microphone stand. and Beez’s bass. Zira ran to his place, turning on the Nord Keyboard, and putting in his ears. Beez strapped the bass around her shoulders, playing a few riffs to quickly get a feel of their rhythm. And then Anthony placed his microphone in its stand, and his hot red electric guitar around his shoulders, and suddenly, he was exactly where he needed to be. Anthony would never give up his famous guitar; fiery red with his initials carved in gold. It was a present from his mother before she passed, and so, every show, he knew she was right there with him. He swiftly turned on his microphone, and clicked on his pack, before they were suddenly being raised onto the stage. Lights went brighter and brighter, until he could hear the huge crowd scream and shout, and Zira was playing the first notes to their song.
His voice echoed through the stadium, the thrill rushing through his bones.
I had you in my hands and now you’re gone
My world, you turn it ‘round, and now it’s wrong
The entire band will never forget the loudness of cheering after the first song. On their first stadium tour. For a moment, Anthony doesn’t speak, looking out at the different people and people in the arena, so shocked that he could be there. Doing what he loved for so many people who loved it too.
“Holy shit,” He finally says, and again, applause strikes wildly. “Hi! It’s so nice to be here tonight. Who’s excited to be here?!”
After the applause died down, Anthony turned to look at the band. “Let me just give some quick introductions… First, let me introduce our badass drummer, MURIEL!”
Muriel went absolutely ham on the drums, stirring the audience crazy with excitement. They stood up, poking their head outside the glass drum enclosure, and waving to everybody, drumsticks in hand. They had a wide smile on her face, and the whole band knew how excited they were to be here. Muriel had talked about it all week, about their big dreams, and now they had finally come true. If anything, Anthony was so excited for them.
“Next we have our amazing back-up singer and bassist, our little ray of sunshine… give it up for BEEZ!!”
Beez played a slow riff on their bass, facing out toward the audience. They were a huge crowd favorite, and they immediately gave a huge smile to someone wearing a t-shirt with their face on it.
“Then, we have one of the best pianists in the history of piano. Better than Beethoven himself, everyone gave it up for the one, the only, Accccceee!”
Zira plays a jazzy riff on his piano, a wide grin as he flows through it. As the crowd is still going berserk, he lifts a hand up, waving to the audience. His signet ring shines in the lights, his eyes filled with anticipation.
Crowley turned back to the center, giving the audience a certain look, a twinkle.
“And my name is Anthony, and we are the Fallen!”
“WOOOOOOO!!”
The click in his ear starts, and the beginning chords to Queen’s I’m In Love With My Car start to blast through the speaker. This was the first song the band ever produced a cover of, so everywhere they go, this song is a must, a staple.
The machine of a dream, such a clean machine
With the pistons a-pumpin’
And the hubcaps all gleam…
What Anthony and the band didn’t expect was 2 and a half hours to fly by. It felt like they ran through their set, each song becoming shorter and shorter as the concert flew by. It was likely the thrill; the rush that spiked through the entire band, the excitement of finally taking off, being able to play for such a large crowd. When they had first started, it was just for fun. Four people huddled in Anthony’s living room, but now, they were performing at their first stadium tour. No wonder time flew by.
By the end, Crowley had taken the microphone off the stand, his knees digging into the hard stage floor. The audience roared with applause, and the best he could do was stare at everyone. The people wearing merch, those dressed up in homemade clothes, bedazzled shirts and shoes lining the arena. He mouthed the words fucking hell, as the audience somehow got even louder. He took out his in-ears, taking in what he could. He’d give everything for his mother to see this. When he stood up, he walked back to his starting place, slotting the microphone back into its stand, and giving the entire band a teary look.
“Thank you!” Anthony says, finally. “We are…”
“The Fallen!” The audience shouts back.
“The what!?” Beez repeats.
“THE FALLEN!” The audience beams, and suddenly, the band is getting lifted back down into the stadium. The sound of their screams die down, and suddenly it’s just the four of them again, all at a lack of words. Anthony turns away from the microphone to face all of them, Muriel clasping their drumsticks tightly in their hands, Zira with his hands still resting lightly on the keys of his piano. Beez still had their hands on their bass, Anthony’s on his electric.
“That…” Beez finally drops their hands. “Was fucking amazing!”
Suddenly, the entire band perks up, all of them clamboring together, clapping their hands and shouting. Anthony dropped his electric down softly on the floor, as did Beez with their bass, and they all fell into a group hug.
“We fucking did it,” Beez exclaims. “Fucking brilliant!”
“It was so fun!!” Muriel kicks their feet a little.
“We rocked it.” Zira had a very smug smile on his face. “Dare I say that was our best set ever?”
“Absolutely, it fuckin’ was.” Anthony says. “Now, who’s down for some drinks?”
“Not so fast.” A posh voice states, footsteps drawing a little closer. The band lifted their heads to see Gabriel holding a clipboard. Gabriel had been their manager for just a little while now, and the band didn’t like him all that well. Especially Zira, who thought he was too petty and too chaotic to even have his position. One time, Zira almost snapped at him for not letting them take a 10 minute break. “That was a lovely set. Next time, you need to be more prepared to be on stage. Not one minute away. Keep focused. Keep the time shorter that you’re on stage, and—”
“I think we got that.” Beez scoffs, rolling their eyes. Gabriel exhales deeply, gripping his clipboard a little tighter.
“Anyways,” Gabriel starts a little louder. “Remember what time you have to be back on the tour bus. Be back by 11:00.”
The group all groaned.
“But it’s half past 10 now!” Zira huffed. “We wanted to go get drinks!”
“Come on, Gab,” Anthony waltzed over to the band manager, brushing a hand over his shoulder. “11:30.”
Gabriel flinched, hesitating for a moment.
“Fine.”
Muriel squealed excitedly, and the band started to make their way to the exit quickly, disregarding anything else Gabriel yelled at them. The bar was just down the street, and it was an easy walk back to the stadium. It was probably a bad idea, knowing they’d likely be swarmed with attention, but what could they say? They wanted drinks. The four walked on the sidewalk, Anthony putting his circle-shaped sunglasses on, and Zira buttoning up his jacket.
“Muriel, you killed the drums tonight.” Beez elbows Muriel, and they startle a little.
“Thank you!” Muriel then points to Zira. “Ace, your piano was on point. Especially in Constellations. And Beez, I loved the flourishes!”
Constellations was a fun song to play. It was one of the first ones they ever wrote together.
“Drinks are on me tonight.” Zira says, as he opens the door to the small bar open for his band members.
🎸⋆⭒˚｡⋆✧ ﾟ.⋆｡°✩‧₊˚
In a small corner in the back of the bar, the four of them were crowded together with half empty drinks in their hands. It was definitely past their curfew, but they had been crowded by so many people that they didn’t know how to escape or where to go. Zira sipped on his sherry, Beez on their vodka cranberry. Muriel just had a glass of coke, since they didn’t really want to drink, and someone had to take the band back safely. Anthony sipped on his third glass of whiskey, neat.
“‘S not real,” Anthony slurs.
“Whas’ not real?” Beez rested their head on Muriel’s shoulder, slumping.
“P—Privacy,” Anthony spits back, sipping at his drink. “Nothin’ is. This is our li—life now.”
“We wanted this.” Zira responds. His voice always gets a pinch higher when he’s tipsy. “We went for it. It w–was rather ineffable.”
“I’m going to text Gabriel.” Muriel says, digging her phone out of her pocket and typing a little too aggressively.
“Call the f-fffucker, he won’t pick up,” Beez closes their eyes, and sees a whirlwind of color. They definitely had a bit too much to drink. They all did. “Him and his stupid curf—curfue—curfew.”
“We’re all gonna be smited— smote— fuck it, ‘ngel, whas’ the word?” Crowley looks up at Zira, who seems to be a bit pink in the face.
“Smitten, I believe.”
“Gabriel’s sending bodyguards. I told them where we’re hiding, we’ll leave out the back at their discretion.” Muriel interrupts. “Everyone, hand me your glasses.”
No one hesitated, handing Muriel all their dirty dishes, clustering in her arms and the glasses clink together as they stand up. Beez pushes themself back onto the wall. Zira’s hands are in his lap, clasped together, while Beez and Anthony look very discombobulated.
“Who’s bunkin’ wih’ who?” Beez asks, running their hands through their hair. “I wanna bunk wih’ Muriel. If no one minds.”
“Beez,” Anthony turns his head to look at them. “No one gives a fuck.”
“Fuck you,”
“Fuck you!”
“Please do be quiet.” Zira runs his hand over his face, sleeping close to overtaking him. “Beez, that sounds wonderful. W—we are lucky there’s no sssshow tomorrow. One day of recovery.”
Muriel gestures to the big exit sign behind them. “They’re here.”
It was hilarious, the way the three of them stood up slowly, all clinging to each other to try and find a balance. They looked around, just to make sure they were safe, and Muriel slowly opened the big metal door to the outside. The cool breeze hit them immediately, cool air flowing through them. Two men in freakishly specific suits, with a radio and different weapons to the side.
The walk there was anything but pretty.
But here they were. Going to their tour bus. Their tour bus! They had a tour bus! They had finally made it.
What a night to remember. And there was only more to come.