Author's note: So...yesterday while I was editing this chapter, I accidentally published it and had to unpublish it. That's why when some of you were alerted about an update you couldn't view it. Sorry about the confusion!

Misery Loves Company

By: theinkslingerr

Track 19: Love Song

We got water ice instead.

It looked like junk food was quickly becoming "our thing."

There was a line in front of the Rita's we'd pulled up to, so I told Rocco to wait in the car while I got our water ice. He argued, wanting to wait in line with me, but once I helped him visualize the riot that would ensue the minute someone saw his face, he shut his mouth and stayed in the car like a good boy.

In line I was able to recover from Rocco's crazy driving and check Twitter and Instagram. If First Stall girl had posted the pic of me and Dom, I'd definitely see it on my feed or explore page. I held my breath as I searched #dominicfinn a million different ways and let out a huge sigh of relief when I didn't find anything. Ignoring the hundreds of follow requests on both apps (courtesy of my newfound fame), I put my phone away and moved forward in line.

When I slid back inside the Mercedes with my mango gelati and Rocco's cup of Swedish fish flavored water ice, he threw me a lop-sided grin that died when I said, "Here's your change."

"This is the entire twenty I gave you."

"I know, I paid."

He gave me a look.

"What?" I asked defensively. "You bought me and Eli's ice cream last time."

Rocco sighed and started the car, tearing out of the parking lot like he was in a Fast and Furious movie. At the first red light, he stuck a spoonful of water ice in his mouth then looked over at me. "Thanks."

My gaze flickered away from his vibrant hazel eyes, heart going a little haywire. I mumbled, "You're welcome" before shoving more custard and water ice down my throat. A sudden chill went through my body and I rubbed an exposed thigh, trying to generate a little heat. Every window in the car was rolled up, but it was late September, I was dressed like a hooker, and I was eating something cold. Right before I put my water ice in a cup holder to save for later, Rocco's heavy leather jacket landed on my lap. He fiddled with some controls on the dashboard and a moment later my seat started warming up.

"Better?" he asked.

I nodded, smiling softly.

"What you've got on looks pretty warm," he observed dryly. "Enid's pick?"

"What tipped you off?"

"Hard to say, but probably the look of terror on your face every time you have to take a step in those shoes."

It was hard not to laugh at myself. Guess it was obvious I couldn't walk in high-heels. I snuggled into my warm seat, free hand stroking the jacket in my lap. "What kind of car is this? Sort've looks like an old-timey bat mobile minus the wings." I examined the complicated, futuristic interior with wood grain accents.

"It's a Mercedes Maybach Exelelor." Rocco slurped from his cup loudly. "And Ackerman never lets us forget it."

"Really? Looks like every other fancy car to me."

"The back seats recline like on an airplane."

I twisted around to check them out just as the light turned green.

"Oh, and it costs eight million dollars."

The astronomical price tag caused me to choke, and it didn't help that Rocco picked that exact moment to surge forward, swerving around the car in front of us with one hand. The other hand still held his water ice, and he leaned forward to slurp more of it.

I gripped the side of my seat desperately, wondering if I should've taken my chances with a real kidnapper. At least they would've driven slower. During this serious deliberation, Rocco's phone rang through the car's speakers and I felt him pump the brakes.

"Speak of the devil," he muttered, accepting the call on the built-in LCD screen.

"Rocco!" It was a seething Ackerman. "If my car isn't back at the studio in five minutes, I'm calling the police!"

"With Boston still fresh on everyone's minds, do you really think an arrest would be in our best interest?" he asked sweetly.

Ackerman's yelling stopped abruptly, his loud breathing filling the car as he tried to choke back his anger. "It better be parked in my garage by tomorrow morning. If I find one scratch- one single scratch, your Grandmother will hear about it."

Rocco's grip tightened around the steering wheel. "Yeah, fine. Whatever." He pressed a button that disconnected the call, and glanced at me. "I was in the studio when Dom called. I didn't have my car so..."

"You took Ackerman's." My hand curled into a ball on the soft leather in my lap. "I saw a bus stop not too far back. I don't wanna get you in trouble, so why don't you drop me there and take the car back to him?"

"I'm not leaving you at a bus stop in the middle of the night." Rocco checked the rearview mirror then put his water ice in one of the cup holders. "Music?" He punched more buttons on the LCD screen and "Swerve City" by Deftones started playing.

"No way...you like Deftones?" I exclaimed.

"Worship them is more like it."

It was stupid, but I felt a little giddy that we shared the same taste in bands. Deftones were alternative metal, and known for lead singer Chino Moreno's versatile vocals. Screaming one minute then singing you to sleep the next, his voice lended itself to the group's harsh, and at times, ghostly sound. Most metal-heads recognized their early work, but running into a hardcore fan was special. "Favorite album?"

Rocco weighed his options. The band had eight studio albums, a compilation of covers, and a little gem titled B-sides & Rarities. "It's a tie between Around the Fur and White Pony," he answered slowly. "But everyone likes White Pony."

"Cause it's genius! It's probably my favorite too, but-"

"But what?" Rocco quirked a brow, waiting for my moment of hesitation to end.

I couldn't believe I was going to tell him this. What I was about to say was actual blasphemy to many Deftones fans. "Saturday Night Wrist really grew on me after a while."

Rocco kept quiet, eyes focused on the road ahead. I was three seconds from panicking when the corner of his mouth lifted and he said, "I like it too."

"Right? It's pretty good!"

"Repeat that to anyone else and I'll deny it."

I grinned. "Your secret's safe with me. I honestly don't know why that album gets so much hate! Yeah, it was softer than the albums that came before it, but that doesn't automatically mean it sucks! I love when Chino gets all dreamy and melodic; and apparently so does he or Team Sleep wouldn't exist."

"What you've said is true," Rocco agreed, looking impressed. "You know your stuff."

I hid a smile behind my cold, plastic spoon. It was nice having your taste in music validated by a rock star.

"So how long have you been playing guitar?" Rocco asked.

"Almost four years," I replied quickly. "Wait. How'd you know I played?"

"Well, right after you found out we weren't strippers, me and Dom snuck up to your room and tried to eavesdrop. Remember?"

He was so nonchalant about it. "Yeah..."

"I caught a glimpse of your purple Fender in the corner. And that John Cusack pic I swear every girl on the planet's obsessed with."

"How dare you? Say Anything's a classic!"

"Uh huh."

"How long have you been playing?"

"God, I can't even remember." His voice took on a wistful note. "Since I was four? Five? I was obsessed with Jimi Hendrix and kept trying to play Purple Haze. Wildly inappropriate? Yes, but..." Rocco paused, his grip becoming white-knuckled around the steering wheel again. "Someone finally ended up teaching me."

"Oh my God! You started learning how to play Purple Haze at five? I learned it when I was fourteen and it gave me and Dennis major problems!"

"Dennis?" Rocco decided the cars in front of us were going too slow, switched lanes, and blew past them. "Who's Dennis?"

I flinched, suddenly realizing the verbal trap I'd set for myself. "Oh, nobody. You probably learned Purple Haze in, like, a week didn't you?"

"You know what I learned even faster?"

"What?"

"When someone's trying to change the subject. Who's Dennis?" Rocco asked again.

I closed my eyes. He was going to think I was such a loser. "Dennis is my...guitar."

He burst out laughing. "You named your purple Fender Dennis?"

"Yeah," I responded, cringing. "Come on, don't tell me you've never named anything. Don't guys name their cars and stuff?"

Rocco shrugged faintly. "I call my car, car. Eli, on the other hand, went and named his bass Sweet Geraldine. Hey, you two should set up a playdate for Dennis and Geraldine!"

"So you've never named anything in your life? Not even when you were little?"

There was a small grin forming on his face. "You know what? It really didn't take me long to learn Purple Haze."

"Now who's trying to change the subject?" I turned to glare at him, and got a little distracted by the Hazardous Materials song playing in the background. "Stop. You like Hazmat too? I feel like no one ever knows what I'm talking about when I reference their songs!"

Rocco blinked, confused, like he hadn't realized they'd been playing. "Hate to disappoint, but this is the only song I have by them. And I don't even really like it, so I'm not sure why it's on here." He skipped the song immediately.

Hazardous Materials aka Hazmat was an old band that never quite made it big despite being extremely talented. Not many people knew about them, but they had a small, loyal fan base even though they'd broken up a long time ago. I stared at Rocco's stoic profile, quickly getting over my disappointment at not having something else in common with him. We didn't have to like all the same things.

Besides, he had an embarrassing fact to tell me.

Once I started bugging him again, the secretive smile returned. It grew wider and wider until it finally broke, and he said, "Fine! I'll give you what you want! I had this duck, OK? He was my favorite stuffed animal when I was a kid, and I took him everywhere."

That wasn't adorable or anything.

"I called him..." Rocco trailed off, shaking his head slowly. "I called him Mr. Fluffbutt."

I started howling. "Mr. Fluffbutt?! You gave me grief over Dennis when you had a Mr. Fluffbutt in your past?"

He stole amused side-long glances at me as I cracked up. "The only other people that know about him are Dom, Eli, and Jae, and they're taking it to the grave, so guess what you have to do?"

"Take it to my grave- done!" I found it hard to ignore the warm, fuzzy feeling in my stomach at being trusted with something only three other people knew about- no matter how silly it was. "Who gave him to you?"

"I don't remember."

I wanted to ask Rocco how he could forget who'd given him something so precious when "Love Song" by the Cure came on. He turned it up and hummed along, closing the door on Mr. Fluffbutt and other childish topics. "I don't know a single person alive who doesn't feel anything when they listen to this song."

That was the problem.

The infamous lyrics immediately threw the car under some kind of wistful, melodic spell that made it hard not to be hyper-aware of his presence. Made it hard not to think about how he'd come to my rescue tonight, and how much I enjoyed his company; how he put me at ease and made me nervous all at the same time.

The road we were on was quiet and familiar, and though I couldn't see any stars, the moon was out, shining brightly. My ears picked up something I'd never heard before even though I'd listened to "Love Song" constantly and knew it by heart. At first I thought Rocco had some sort of cover or rare version of the song where you could hear extra harmonies and vocal flairs, but then I realized it was him singing softly. I turned away from the window to stare in amazement. "Your voice!"

"Yeah?" He looked startled, like he'd been in his own world too.

"It's...nice," I said. "You have a nice voice. You actually kinda sound like Chino when he isn't screaming."

That got me another lop-sided grin. "Thanks. Don't worry, I'm working on the screaming."

"Why don't you sing more on your albums?" In most Blue Vendetta songs, it was all Jae's smooth tenor, supported by a voice I now suspected belonged to Eli.

"Since when do you listen to us?" Rocco asked with a smirk.

My mouth opened and closed repeatedly. "U-um...well..."

"I mean, I got the sense you weren't a fan when you compared us to One Direction."

"That was before!" I explained. "All I kept hearing was Long Live the Underdog fifty times a day. I swear it was stalking me!"

Rocco sighed. "That's probably my least favorite song. And not even because the radio played it to death."

I shouldn't have been surprised. A lot of bands and artists ended up hating the songs that put them on the map. Radiohead refused to play "Creep" at concerts for seven years, and Modest Mouse hated "Float On." Their reasons were more or less the same, but that didn't stop me from wanting to hear Rocco's answer. "Why don't you like it?"

Some of the tiredness I'd seen earlier crept back into his face. "Wish I could say I woke up one day and had an epiphany, but the simple fact is the song doesn't feel right. Jae and I wrote it on some yacht in Antigua, so when I see these kids at our shows singing their lungs raw, because they're going through stuff at home or at school, I feel like the biggest sell-out."

Of course authenticity would matter to someone like Rocco. Even though I wasn't an artist, I understood where he was coming from, and agreed to a certain extent, but there was another side to it. A side I probably wouldn't have been willing to acknowledge last week. "Look, Long Live the Underdog may not be my favorite, but people need it. Those kids at your shows need it, and I've seen their parents needing it too. Heck, I caught my Mom listening to it in her car after she'd had a bad day at work. So...maybe it doesn't always matter where you wrote it or how you felt, but that you did."

~~~

Author's note: Aww look at them getting to know each other. :p Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! There was a lot of dialogue, but I think it captured Misery and Rocco's dynamic.

Hazardous Materials aka Hazmat is a fictional band (do you like the name?) Who thinks they know why Rocco got all stoic and skipped their song? I want to hear your conspiracy theories, people!

After reading this, who would get in a car with Rocco? XD

Things mentioned throughout the chapter:

-Ackerman's Mercedes is pictured above. It really is 8 million dollars O.o

-"Love Song" by the Cure is linked above. Man, I really wouldn't want to be in a confined space with anyone I liked or found attractive while that song was playing. Too many feels.

-Miz compared Rocco's voice to Chino Moreno of Deftones (and Team Sleep) in their mellower songs. For those that are curious about what that sounds like:

[There should be a GIF or video here. Update the app now to see it.]

-The infamous picture of John Cusack from the movie Say Anything (you'll remember Miz kissing it back in The Obvious Wallflower chapter. He beat Dom to it haha):

-And here's good ol' Dennis chillin on the couch. XD

*Thanks for reading! Please don't forget to COMMENT, VOTE, and add to your libraries for updates. :)