If Only....

"Here's your tea, then, Y/N."

"Thank-" Your grateful acceptance was interrupted by the loudest sneeze the universe had ever heard. Sniffling, you took the tea mug and tissue Cliff handed out to you. "...you," you finished. 

It wasn't fair. The boys were performing their fastest selling concert tonight and everyone and their dog would be there. Drinking, dancing to great music, laughing backstage, and having fun. Everyone except you. 

You were sick. And that was an understatement. 

Piles of crumpled tissues lay on the floor after you weakly tossed them in the direction of the overflowing rubbish bin. Bottles of cold medicine and VapoRub were scattered across the nightstand, all of them half empty. Plugged into the wall behind you was a heating pad you clung to your chest. Feverish and miserable, you groaned at the sight of the tea. 

"Don't want it, then?"

Cliff took the mug from you and placed it on the nightstand, pushing aside a bottle of NyQuil in the process. Pulling the blanket over your head, you sneezed again. "This is the worst."

"I know, love, I'm sorry," Cliff said. He couldn't help but smile at the sight of you hidden away under the blanket, your voice muffled and stuffy. But he hated to see you so sick all the same. You had been going on and on to your friends about how talented and wonderful he was and how excited you were to support him at the show. Now with this cold virus going around, that wouldn't be happening. Instead, you'd be stuck in bed all night while your best friend was having fun without you. Surrounded by laughter and cigarette smoke, music and memories.

This couldn't have happened at a worse time. 

Taking the blanket off your head you saw Cliff sitting at the foot of your bed, staring at the plush carpet. He noticed you and smiled. "Decided to come out, then?"

"It's hard enough to breathe without smothering myself in blankets," you said, blowing your nose. Too bad AC/DC didn't need a trumpet player, you might have been able to go to the concert after all. "Have fun without me."

"No promises, love," Cliff said, patting your leg. "Should prove to be rather difficult."

"Tell the boys I said hi," you sighed, your heart cracking as Cliff stood from the bed. He brought his bass along and it sat in its case by the door. He picked it up and grabbed the doorknob. "Tell Malcolm he can have my record collection if I don't make it."

"Sure thing, Y/N," Cliff said. "But I don't think he'll be too happy to hear that."

"Drive safe," you mumbled.

"Love ya'," Cliff said, slipping out the door. Before he closed it, he poked his head back in. "I don't suppose you're up for it, but if ya' change your mind...." Cliff shrugged. "Channel twelve."

"We'll see," you said, catching the silly kiss Cliff blew in your direction. Satisfied with your decision he left your bedroom, taking his bass with him. You heard his footsteps down the stairs and the front door creak open then click closed. "Channel twelve...." The only thing you wanted tonight was some peace and quiet while you waited out this cold. Maybe get a few winks of sleep. But if you couldn't show your support in person, the least you could do was watch them on TV. 

After a quick nap.

Sitting up in bed, disgusted with the state your pillow was left in after your nose began to run, you tore the pillow case off and threw it at your laundry hamper. Running your hands through your hair, you grabbed the remote control off the nightstand and turned on the TV, hoping you weren't too late. Images flashed before your eyes as you flicked through the channels.

"Come for the pizza...stay for the fun!"

"New, long lasting perfume. Guaranteed to make any man co-"

"Sometimes you feel like a nut-"

"Here they are, ladies and gentlemen, Australia's finest...AC/DC!" 

The audience in the television cheered as the band began to play their first song. You sighed and leaned back in bed, wishing desperately you could be there. Surely it was more exciting than moping around in bed holding tissues up to your burning nose. You couldn't help but smile when your friends performed a song from their newest album. It hadn't come out yet, but the band promised to get you a copy before anyone else. Even when you said that wasn't necessary, they had insisted. And here on live television they were giving the world a taste of their own rock and roll. 

"Hi, Cliff," you mumbled, waving at the screen. There he was to the left of the stage. You knew he couldn't hear you but speaking to him all the same helped you feel a little less lonely. 

And a little more crazy. 

"Aw, Bon's wearing the watch I gave him," you said as the camera panned out, revealing Bon Scott wrapped up in a microphone. "Hooked to his belt loop...." As Bon danced around onstage the watch swung from the waistband of his torn jeans. The band played through the song without a hitch and you danced along as best as you could from your bed. Taking your cup of tea off the nightstand you took a sip then quickly spit it back out since it was cold. "Never mind then."

Angus was already dripping with sweat and you could practically smell him through the screen. Bon stepped up to the front of the stage where the audience and cameras could see him better. "Lotta people here today, ain't there?" Bon said into the microphone. He was met with an audience roar. Talking to the audience gave the others a chance to get a drink or fix their instruments if something happened during a song. "Lotsa lovely women too."

You rolled your eyes with a smirk as the women in the audience cheered and whistled. And then you sneezed. "Fuck..." You hugged your heating pad. 

"There's one special lady who couldn't be here tonight," Bon said and THAT caught your attention. Instead of his usual trick of innuendos and charm, he was getting personal. "An' it's a real shame...so we'd appreciate it if you could all make some fuckin' noise for this next song....Y/N, we love ya'."

You almost choked on your own spit. The audience, despite not knowing who you were, gave a few cheers, the camera panning across the stadium. Bon mentioned you...on live TV! With the cameras back onstage, you caught a glimpse of Cliff, who gave a small wave before starting up on the next song. Knowing good and well he couldn't see you, you waved back. 

"Clifford Williams, was this your idea?" you asked, and he didn't answer. You'd be sure to ask him when he came home. Until then, you'd be perfectly content to watch the rest of the concert on the television, dancing along as best you could. In spite of your miserable cold, you wouldn't let it hinder your new good mood. 

It was a shame you missed the concert. But getting a shout out from your best friends was pretty damn good. You loved those boys. 

And they loved you too.