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angrylizardjacket · 3 years

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runs in the family // charlotte&lola (penny&jupiter)

Summary: Jupiter and Penny somehow find themselves in 1981. What else is there to do but meet their moms at Motley Crue's first gig?

A/N: as always, for @misscharlottelee and eva ill edit this and tag u when I find ur new url. @compositionnotebook 💖 why did I write this? Because I love to suffer. Also as always, unedited.

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Of course, waking up in a hotel room they don’t remember, with their cousin asleep in the other bed, only to realise that they’re back in LA when they’re meant to be on the other side of the country in the middle of their tour, Jupiter was understandably panicked. They hadn’t been drinking last night, and they’re pretty sure there was no way of them getting across the country without realising, and the idea that something is up is solidified when Penny wakes up and starts panicking too.

The front desk says they’re paid up for the month; the woman’s hair is sand blonde, feathered and sprayed up to the high heavens, while the uniform she wears is the ugliest shade of green Jupiter’s ever laid eyes on, but the woman has the gall to give Jupiter’s outfit an unimpressed look. They’re all for the current resurgence in 80s fashion trends, but it feels like this woman may have committed too hard to the bit. Jupiter, nonetheless, asks the woman if she remembers how they and Penny had arrived, and the woman actually rolls her eyes and says that she’s not paid to ask nosy questions.

It takes the cousins a full hour to find out that somehow they’ve landed themselves in 1981, a full day to believe it, and a full week to fully understand what that means.

“I hate this, I want to do something, go somewhere,” Friday night and Jupiter’s sick to death of no TV and only the radio for entertainment. Whoever had been staying here, whoever’s place they and Penny had taken, had left a wallet with no ID, but an exorbitant amount of cash, and a closet full of clothes in their sizes. It’s eerie as fuck, but the only person who’s come knocking was the housekeeping staff, and Jupiter tells them to go away every time.

“We are near The Strip in the eighties,” Penny suggests, flicking through a newspaper idly, lounging on the bed, “what if we saw young Guns ‘n’ Roses live, or, oh God, what about Motley, could you imagine?” Penny snorted, and Jupiter’s whole expression wrinkles to something horrified.

“They weren’t around yet, were they? What’s the date?”

“April twenty-fourth,” Penny’s expression sobers considerably from it’s delight, adding, “nineteen eighty-one,” much quieter, “fuck.”

They agree to go out, if only to get out of the room they’d been hiding from the world in, rather terrified to face their reality. There’s hesitation; do they get dressed up? Do they use the makeup sitting neatly on the bathroom counter? It felt safer to try and blend in, but blending in with the 80s nightlife wasn’t exactly the easiest thing in the world.

Both have the distinct, horrifying thought of ‘I look like my mother’ when they’re finished, looking in the mirror, all dark makeup and patterned jeans and leather jackets; there’s a leather miniskirt that neither of them touch, not wanting to go too hard on their first night in the apparent real world. There’s a half empty bottle of hairspray on the counter that they both eye dubiously.

“It would be weirder if we didn’t spray up our hair, right?” Penny says, and Jupiter feels distinctly like a teenager, uncertain, awkward, not quite sure of their style, rather than the early-30s successful musician they were.

It doesn’t end up looking good, at least not to their 2020 sensibilities, but as they make their way down to the street, a woman in leopard print gushes over how good they both look.

It’s sunset, with people looking just as out there are the out-of-time cousins, band posters and flyers plastered to every wall, every telephone pole, every surface available as they walked the six blocks to The Strip. It takes only the ten minute walk from their shitty little hotel, to the Whiskey-A-Go-Go, for the reality it of it all to settle in Jupiter’s stomach like they’d swallowed ice. More specifically, it takes right up until they’re standing on the corner by the Whiskey, Penelope’s eye caught by one of the flyers on the nearby telephone pole, for Jupiter to think to look across the street at the rundown apartment complex that they realise they already know of.

They gaze upon the window of one of the apartments on the second floor, with, even at this distance, a visibly fist-sized hole, gaff-taped up through the window. Jupiter knows that window, even as Penelope’s calling their name insistently.

“It’s April Twenty-Fourth, right?” Penny calls, dubiously, and Jupiter says something about how that’s what she’d said back at the hotel, not paying attention.

“First ever rehearsal we had for the band, I didn’t even see your mom, she was out somewhere, the gym I think, but before she’d gone, she and Nikki had a fight and she put her whole fist through the window; I thought they were the coolest people I’d ever met.”

Tommy’s voice floats through Jupiter’s mind as they finally turn to Penny, to her insistent tone, only to step back, as if burned by the very sight of the Motley Crue poster. Penny was holding one corner in a fist, eyes wide. Tonight. The Starwood.

“No.” Jupiter didn’t even let her get an word in edgewise, but Penny shook the poster more intently.

“We have to,” she implored, though Jupiter was now adamantly shaking their head.

“We have to do no such thing,” Jupiter crossed their arms, cocking a hip. Turning their nose in the air at the poster, they accidently catch a glimpse of what they’re pretty sure is their mom’s apartment, and their expression reflexively wrinkles.

“What if my mom’s there?” Penny says quietly, and oh God damn it, there’s no way Jupiter could say no to that. The walk from the Whiskey to the Starwood is a good half an hour, and they’re both just glad to have opted for the flat shoes they’d brought from the future, rather than risked any of the platforms or heels that were lined up neatly at the bottom of the closet they’d raided. There’s a Motley poster ever few feet, and while dread had settled in Jupiter’s stomach, Penny was buzzing beside them nervously.

The Starwood had closed only months after Motley’s first performance, but both Jupiter and Penny had heard their family lovingly reminisce about it, with photos from the night, from nights before and after, so it strangely felt like they’d been there before, looking at the club’s name up in shining lights, Motley Crue headlining the night just below.

“Isn’t that the guy from Rock Candy?” There’s two dudes a few feet away, squinting at another poster for the band, then looking up to the sign, both of them in leather jackets and flared jeans.

“Dude, fuck, that’s the guy from London, last gig he played, he broke the singer’s jaw!” The second dude, delights, already tugging his friend towards the club where people were already filtering in.

“No man, their roadie broke the singer’s nose after he knocked out two of the bass player’s teeth on stage -”

It was so strange to hear misinformation spread so casually about people both Jupiter and Penny knew so well; they’d both heard the story of the night Tommy and Charlotte had met Nikki and Lola, how London had a small fight on stage that ended up giving Nikki a bloody nose, and how Lola had knocked out two of the singer’s teeth the in alley behind the bar after the gig. But here, now, it was like it’s own kind of folklore.

They follow the men inside.

No-one check their IDs, thank God, their own wallets hadn’t travelled back in time with them. The bouncer lets them pass without issue, and Jupiter is strangely reminded of their age as they see the people around them, a majority in their early to mid-20s, all looking right at home in leather and black denim. It’s still fairly quiet, the stage looking only half set up with a few clusters of people milling around the bar. There’s two people on the stage, setting it up, but with their backs turned, but they’re not exactly recognisable, long blonde hair and dark hair respectively, though the dark-haired one is in a distinctively spiked jacket. Closer to them, however is, a pretty red-head sat at the end, all tight clothes and effortless elegance, one leg crossed over the other where she was lounging against the bar on her barstool, a beer in one hand. Something about her is so familiar.

Jupiter and Penny carefully sit themselves by the bar too, a few seats away from the red-head, looking around but not quite processing it all. They’re at Motley Crue’s first show.

Jupiter’s squinting at the row of drinks behind the bar, trying to decide what to order, when Penny grabs their hand so hard it hurts. Before they can turn back, however, they hear a voice they’ve only ever heard recordings of.

“Aw, Eileen, so nice of you to get me a drink,” Charlotte Lee’s tone was all teasing and light as she took the bottle out of the redhead - Eileen’s - hand, taking a sip as Eileen herself rolled her eyes.

“Lola is a terrible influence on you,” Eileen said flatly. Penny’s nails were digging into Jupiter’s forearm. Charlotte hands the drink back with a fond twinkle in her eyes.

“Lola hasn’t paid for a drink in her life, so I happen to think she’s a great influence-”

“She only drinks for free because she’s blackmailing half the bartenders in town,” the bartender himself piped up, cracking open a beer and handing it over to Charlotte without her even having to ask, flashing a grin that’s all teeth, “you ladies drink for free because I like making pretty girls smile.”

“Ricky, you’re the one who keeps hitting on her,” Charlotte points out, and his expression falls almost comically fast; “you keep taking her back to your place.”

“Only ‘cos she lives with Nikki and I don’t feel like being fucking stabbed in my sleep,” Ricky counters, pouting and flustered, his arms crossed over his chest.

“That’s definitely fair, but it’s not Lola’s fault you’re embarrassed about having a nun fetish,” Eileen’s tone is unbothered in the fact of Ricky’s embarrassment, though her lips twitch in the barest amuse smile as she adds, “Father Richard,” and Ricky turns scarlet as Charlotte spits half her mouthful of beer as a laugh escapes her.

Jupiter can feel their heart beat in their throw. This is so real, what the fuck.

“Can we help you?” And then Eileen’s looking directly at Penny and Jupiter, who realise that they’re staring at the women by the bar, eyes wide like they’d seen a ghost. Ha. She’s got a single, perfect eyebrow raised, shifting in a way that’s barely noticible, but so clearly confrontational, like a cat’s fur raising even when a cat doesn’t move.

“Charlotte Lee,” there’s a wobble in Penny’s voice when she finally speaks, and Jupiter can feel the way her hand’s trembling, “that makes... that makes you Eileen -” and she swallows hard, editing the last name she knows so well for the one that Eileen would have had in 1981, “Austen.”

Charlotte and Eileen share a look, and then look back to Penelope.

“Wait right here,” Charlotte sounds delighted, actually addressing Penny with a hand out.

“How do you guys know who we are?” Eileen asks, as Charlotte takes off towards the stage. Penny moves instinctively to follow her, but Jupiter holds her in place. There’s something in the evaluative look she gives them, lip curling just a little, on edge at being stared at by two strangers who must be roughly a decade older than them, who seem to already know them. “Are you friends of Lola’s?” She asks dubiously, and Jupiter is fighting the urge to run.

“Our little brother went to high school with you both,” Penny blurts out, “he was in the year above you,” but something seems to ease about Eileen’s posture as Penny tells her the exact school, and the year she and Charlotte would have graduated. It’s too specific for Eileen to think they’re lying, and for that both Jupiter and Penny are glad.

For all that Penny is Charlotte and Razzle's daughter, she was still raised, at least in part, by Lola, arguably the best liar of her generation. All the various Lee-Dingley-Sixx children had some innate ability to convincingly lie through their teeth, and though it didn't come in handy for Penny nearly as much as it seemingly did Jupiter, she was never more grateful for that skill than she was now.

“False alarm, Charlie, their brother went to school with us,” Eileen calls out, just as Charlotte is returning, dragging a dark haired woman both Jupiter and Penny knew far too well.

Seeing Charlotte at first had been so overwhelming that they hadn’t really processed what she’d looked like, but now, standing next to who could only be Lola, in 1981, it hit Jupiter just how young they both were.

Lola’s still shorter than her own child, but taller than Jupiter remembers her ever being, curtesy of her intimidating platform boots, leather and buckles and spikes, a good match for her spiked leather jacket and studded bralette. She’s all sprayed up hair, larger than life, dark eyeshadow, and fishnets, somehow wearing so much and not at all at the same time.

Beside her, Charlotte is only a few inches shorter, hair just as high, still with dark makeup, looking like a beautiful middle ground between Lola’s intimidating intensity and Eileen’s high glamour. In flashy denim pants and an artfully ripped, hand painted Motley Crue shirt, Charlotte’s the picture of the eighties, as beautiful and bright as any photo or recording Penny and Jupiter had ever seen.

Charlotte’s expression falls with disappointment, but before she can speak -

“You’re twenty-two!” Jupiter hears themselves say, and Lola looks directly at them, lip curling. Jupiter’s blood runs ice cold.

“What?” The single word is so derisive in a voice that Jupiter has never known to be cold, and before anyone else can speak, Lola looks to Charlotte, eyebrow raised. When she crosses her arms over her chest, even the leather jacket can’t completely hide how well muscled her arms are, “Charlie, I love you but I don’t give a shit about two old broads whose brother you knew, we gotta finish setting up.” It hurt like a physical ache, somewhere behind Jupiter’s sternum, each word somehow hurting more than the last.

“Don’t be rude,” Charlotte told her, elbowing her in the ribs, smiling even so.

“I don’t even know my fucking age - who are you?” Lola’s undeterred, on hand holding a roll of gaff tape in a white-knuckled grip, while the other had curled into a fist, weight shifting from one foot to the other in agitation. Okay, that’s very fair, Jupiter regrets ever opening their mouth. Fuck.

“You don’t know how old you are?” Charlotte asks, disbelieving, breaking the tension, and Lola looks back at her, face scrunching up as the tension drops from her shoulders.

“Why would I know my age?”

“Because that’s a very weird thing not to know!” Charlotte exclaimed in disbelief, eyes wide. Jupiter, on the other hand, wracked their brains for any scrap of knowledge they’d heard about their mother’s past and actually retained.

“Sorry, we know we’re being weird,” eyes closed, they took a deep breath, trying to sort out their thoughts, “our brother Leo went to school with Charlotte and Eileen, but we... talked to a band you roadied for, and they told us roughly how old you were, but you look,” Jupiter pauses, cracking open their eyes, only to see the way Lola's expression had softened upon hearing the name Leo - oh fuck, she doesn't even know the truth about her own dad yet! -“younger than I expected.”

“I’m used to Lola being recognised around here, just got my hopes up that it was my turn,” Charlotte admits with the faintest embarrassment, picking her drink up from the bar and taking a sip.

“One day soon, Charlie, if the boys take off, we’ll be right beside ‘em; everyone in LA will know your name,” the way Lola says it is strangely wry, like she’s self aware of the fact that her own name is out there for some less than reputable reasons, or like she isn’t fully convinced that Motley Crue would be the runaway success they all hoped.

Jupiter and Penny share a look, pained by the dramatic irony the three women across from them couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

It takes a moment, and Lola is definitely still a bit wary, but then it passes, and Lola looks to the stage again, still clearly addressing Charlotte.

"If you wanna help me with the last bit, I just need to do a sound check.” And with that, she was off, and Jupiter lets out a breath that hadn’t realised they’d been holding. Penny is still staring at Charlotte, who's rocking back on her heel as she has another drink, contemplating going after Lola, but also intrigued but the two interlopers enough to stay.

Eileen asks their names.

Penny and Jupiter share a panicked look, because they can't just tell the truth, it would make things weird in the future! What if they end up in the present named something entirely new!? They hadn't even begun to consider the butterfly effect of their being here.

"Lisa?" Jupiter says finally, picking a name they'd used in the past, but not for long, a nickname derived from their birth name in honour of their grandmother. Eileen looks wildly unconvinced, but Charlotte, bright and kind and perfect and alive, tells them its pretty. Penny is struggling to come up with an alternative, before conceding that her nickname is probably common enough that it wouldn't really matter.

"Penny's such a pretty name," Charlotte beams, and tells them its lovely to meet them, and Jupiter rests a gentle hand on their cousin's back, a silent reminder to keep breathing, as Charlotte trots off to help Lola with the last of the sound check.

Jupiter orders them both several drinks.

They end up sitting at the other end of the bar, away from the spot Eileen has clearly claimed for herself and Motley Crue's glorified roadies. Penny is quietly trying not to hyperventilate every time she thinks too hard about what's happening, and made a muffled scream upon hearing Charlotte laugh at one of Lola's jokes.

"I've died, Jup, we've died and this is the afterlife because that is my fucking mother, and she's alive, and she's twenty-one goddamn years old. She is a child. Our mothers are children. What the fuck?!" Penny hissed, and took another sip of her drink. Jup was watching Lola, so young and confident and mean as all hell, a defensive mechanism that's only made apparent to be such because Jupiter's known her longer than this version of Lola's been alive. But she smiles around Charlotte and Eileen in a way Jupiter's never seen her smile before, something grateful and adoring at the corners of her lips, an unfamiliar kind of softness in her eyes for just the barest moment.

Lola smiles like she feels lucky to be here, to be around these women, to call them friends. Here and now it hits Jupiter hard, that even decades later, their mother never fully recovered from losing Charlotte.

"We're not dead," Jupiter tells their cousin softly, and they both watch Lola and Charlotte head back to the green room before the band begins.

"But I- how, explain then, how can I go over there and touch her? She's real, Jup, really real, my mother, Charlotte Lee."

"I can't explain it, it just is," Jupiter muses, and finishes of their next drink as Lola and Charlotte reappear, followed by the band, all looking far too young and overeager, and Jupiter's heart is beating in their throat as Tommy Lee beams and waves to the crowd. They're going to be sick. Or maybe cry. Or maybe have a full panic attack right here by the bar. Fucking hell he's even more of a child than Charlotte, only twenty, and just as bright and excitable as they've known him to be, possibly moreso.

The audience seems underwhelmed, not sure what to make of these boys with their leather and hairspray and nervous excitement; Vince introduces them to the quiet bar with a yell, and Jupiter kind of hates that their future step-dad is giving them gender envy.

And then Tommy knocks over his cymbal after showing off with his drumsticks, and Jupiter bursts into tears.

They're furious at themselves for crying, hand pressed to their mouth for fear of anyone hearing if they would sob, brow furrowed into a scowl, other hand messily wiping at their eyes as they mouth defiant swears against their palm. People are jeering and booing, and out of the corner of their eye, Jupiter sees Charlotte actively holding Lola back, and something deep inside their heart knows that if there wasn't stupid fucking tears in their eyes, they'd be just as ready to defend the band's honour as their mom is.

"Oh, he's always been like this-" Penny's voice is softly adoring as she watches the man who will one day be her uncle and adopted father, before she looks to Jupiter, sees them overwhelmed with it all, and mad at themselves for feeling that, and she laughs, gentle and kind and understanding, and wraps Jupiter up in a hug. Its grounding. Even as Jupiter sulkily tells her to fuck off, they wrap an arm around Penny's shoulders and press their face into her hair.

"He looks like you," Penny murmurs as the first song starts, despite the negativity still pouring from the crowd. Jupiter wrinkles their nose, but can't help but smile. Tommy looks incredibly cool tonight, and it's true that Jupiter had inherited a lot of physical characteristics from their father.

Everyone in the bar hears the jeering way a dude in the audience asks about the 'chick singer', and for a moment, the children unwittingly mirror their mothers as Penny's grip on Jupiter tightens, anticipating when they go to lunge for the stage in outrage, but the moment the guy spits on Vince, across the bar Charlotte let's go of Lola, setting her loose on the vitriolic patrons.

Penny and Jupiter knew Motley's first gig started with a fight, but it was another thing to witness it.

Tommy leaps into the crowd, delighted by the carnage that Nikki and Vince are already taking part in, and Lola’s already knocked a guy flat on his ass. Surprisingly, Charlotte lobs her half-empty bottle at the guy who had spat at Vince, not taking direct part, but not abstaining either, cackling when it shatters against him and he's looking around, angry and confused, and Eileen says her name with a tone thats both scandalised and impressed.

In the end, by the time the bouncers step in, all that's left is Tommy absolutely wailing on a dude, and much to everyone's surprise, most of all her child's, little Lola Gone wraps her arms around Tommy's chest, cops a full elbow to the face, and still hauls him up and off his victim like he weighs nothing, even as he's thrashing and swearing and telling her to go fuck herself before realising who it is. When she puts him down, she snarls something at him, and shoves him towards the stage.

By the bar, Jupiter's mouth is agape, while Penny is trying to hold in her laughter, both of them realising just how terrifyingly similar to their father Jupiter actually is. And that at Twenty-Two, Lola is built like a tank.

The things you never truly understand about your parents because you always think of them as your parents is wild.

But above all, in the wake of the small riot, Jupiter and Penny can only feel a strange and overwhelming pride, seeing how eagerly they'd all defended each other.

"Fuck yeah, Motley Crue!" Leaves Penny's lips, delighted, at the top of her lungs, and suddenly the eyes of everyone in the bar, and more importantly, the people these two time travelling cousins will call family, forty years from now, fall on them. Grateful. Beaming. Then, laughter; Charlotte’s.

"Fuck yeah!" She echoes her daughter, and a cheer rises around the bar as the band begins playing again, energy revitalised. Charlotte beams at them, sharing in the moment, waving them both over eagerly as the bartender begrudgingly hands over a stack of napkins, while Lola's got her head tipped back, arguing with Eileen as to whether or not her nose is broken as it bleeds profusely.

Even at their first gig, Take Me To The Top sounds good, sounds like it should, all rough and energetic, and Jupiter knows how strange it would be to sing along at the band's first fucking gig, but the song, even now, feels like home.

"Lola, you're a danger to yourself and others," Eileen smirked, "and you're a terrible influence on Charlie."

"Thank you," Lola grins, right as Charlotte tries to deny it, which devolves into Eileen pointing out that Charlotte had lobbed her bottle at one of the offenders, which delighted Lola to no end.

"Don't know if you would know this, not sure how much your brother would have said," Charlotte says, grinning at Jupiter and Penny, "but my cousin, Tommy, he's the one on drums," she says, oozing pride. Jupiter and Penny both bite back on their instinctual responses, but still the surprise reads on their face.

"The one who did this to me," Lola's beaming despite looking a little like a horror movie, sounding only proud.

"He's certainly energetic," Penny says, finally, before letting herself breathe, watching the band for the moment, "they're really good," like she can't quite believe this is all real, still, "they have no idea how huge they're gonna be," the words slip out quite by accident, and both Jup and Penny share a panicked look, but the words don't get the reaction they expected.

"I knew I liked you," Charlotte's grin is sharp and pleased, and before Penny can protest, Charlotte's thrown an arm around her shoulders, "you've got taste." And that's enough incentive for Charlotte to shout both Jup and Penny a drink, oblivious to the way Penny freezes, like a deer in the headlights. Her mother's arm is around her without her mom even knowing how much this means. She looks like she's about to cry.

"Its really good to meet you, Charlie," Penny's voice is strangely hoarse, strangely honest in ways Charlotte can't even begin to understand, and Charlotte gives Penny's shoulder a squeeze.

"You too, Penny, and you, Lisa," she adds, grinning up at Jupiter for a moment, "anyone who thinks good things about my reckless dumbass of a cousin and his band is good in my books." She's so effortlessly earnest and endearing, exactly as everyone had described her, able to make friends wherever she went. Penny tentatively thanks Charlotte when she hands her a drink, and wraps an arm around Charlotte's waist when the younger blonde seemed content with an arm around Penny's shoulders.

"I can't believe you two are the only other assholes with taste," Lola smirks, holding a napkin to her nose.

"Get bent," Jupiter fires off automatically at the vaguely derisive tone, and Lola flips them off while Charlotte shoves her in the ribs. This moment, in its own weird little way, makes sense.

#the angry lizard writes #charlotte&lola #lola & charlotte #motley crue #motley crue imagine

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