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kirkycurls · 11 months

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You Jump, I Jump, Jack

When a gorgeous metalhead and his band move into town, your dreary summer pouring coffees is turned on its head—for the better.

*Set in some nondescript American town *Story Kirk is 88/89!Kirk (26/27) and MC is 24 *Not necessarily historically accurate band-wise and I'm not American so bear with me *5 chapters *Fairly sfw but theme of alcoholism *Happy ending!

Chapter One

CWs for this chapter: None.

It had been raining for weeks in your small town: industrial bins floating down the street; kids walking to school with silt up to their knees—the kind of June weather nobody saw coming but now nobody could stop talking about.

You didn’t mind it so much. Tucked away behind the counter of Yvette’s pouring coffees all day for mostly middle-aged men reading newspapers, you could stay dry and keep tabs on what was going on outside through the little chocolate box window out front. Spending your weekdays here since graduating college wasn’t what you’d expected, but since your parents had moved even further upstate you’d wanted to feel more financially secure, single as you were.

It was past 11 on Tuesday morning and the rain had slowed to a drizzle. The cafe was empty save for an older couple playing Yvette’s ancient game of mini chess by the radiator and her son Steve wiping down the table by the door.

“Ste”, you managed, half-focused on the van that had just pulled up at the old Sunday school across the street. “Ste”, you tried again, louder this time.

“What?”, he asked, turning around. “I’m mid-wipe here, sweet. You can’t disrupt the magic man mid-wipe.”

You laughed, “Spray’s topped up”.

Gesturing at the bottle of cleaner you’d just refilled, you rolled your eyes with a smile as he approached the counter with a look of mock offence.

Still smiling to yourself, your eyes wandered past him to the dark-haired guy that had just jumped out of the van, his face screwed up in disgust as he looked down at the muddy water lapping round his ankles. Another guy appeared behind him and practically fell out of the vehicle laughing, only to get his jeans soaked to the knee as he tripped on a hidden drainage cover.

Boys, you thought.

The dark-haired guy said something to his amused friend and looked around, taking in the street and the flood, eyes roaming disinterestedly until they landed on the coffee shop with the faded name of the owner above the door, and, through the small front window… you.

You swallowed. Feeling a presence to your right, you blinked and turned to see Steve watching you with an indiscernible look on his face.

“Earth to the dreamer”, he mocked, switching to his usual grinning state, pumping his eyebrows like a five-year-old with a secret. “Fancy a heavy metal concert?”

“What?”, you huffed with a laugh.

“Those guys are setting up shop in there”, he said, pointing towards the steady stream of instruments and various studio pieces a taller third guy was now hauling out the back of the van. “Metallica. Heard of ‘em?”

You shook your head.

“Seems they’ve been getting more shows recently so they wanna set up a permanent residence somewhere local—a sort of HQ.”

That broke you out of your reverie.

“Um, and you know this how?”, you scoffed. Steve wasn’t exactly the type to be up to date with the town gossip. He could usually be found on his girlfriend’s couch with his hand down his pants and a baseball game on the TV when he wasn’t on shift. He wasn’t stupid and he definitely wasn’t a bad guy, but by your standards, he was beyond help.

✵

Before he could answer, a sudden gust of warm air blew into the cafe, the bell above the door protesting loudly. The napkins you’d tidied an hour before were whipped into a flurry.

With a sigh, you knelt down to retrieve the stray few floating to the ground at your feet, hearing the approach of heavy, squelching boots.

“Sorry…didn’t mean to ruin your good work”, a boyish male voice chuckled from above you. Returning to your feet, brow furrowed in mild exasperation, you locked eyes with the culprit.

Grinning at you with a set of perfectly imperfect teeth, shining chocolate-brown eyes, and a mane of dark, glossy curls, the first guy from the van stood leaning against the counter, one hand outstretched with the offer of returning the collected napkins to their tray.

Damn. White noise fizzed inside your head as you unsuccessfully attempted a reply. He’s cute.

Steve sniggered behind you.

“This is Kirk”, he laughed.

You turned, a look of mild confusion on your face.

“Hammett”, the guy from the van added, dropping his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Kirk’s in Metallica”, Steve continued, still amused by your temporary muteness.

“Lead guitar, right?”

Kirk smiled and nodded.

“He was in here last week with his friend James.”

“Oh right, hi…”, you managed, suddenly self-conscious.

You turned to the counter, smoothing the fallen napkins back into formation. Out of the corner of your eye you could see Kirk’s gaze lingering on your face.

“Yeah, it’s me, James, Jason, and Lars”, he said, attention back on Steve.

You breathed an internal sigh of relief for being momentarily unobserved.

Another few seconds of awkward napkin twiddling elapsed until you realised you hadn’t said anything and both Kirk and Steve were expecting you to speak…

Accepting that the obsessively flat paper couldn’t get any flatter, you took a breath; fixing your best customer service smile before diving into a string of questions…

First for Steve: What day did they visit the cafe last week? Did you make them lunch? Did you tell him about me?

And then Kirk: What’s the situation with redecorating the Sunday-school-turned-heavy-metal-headquarters? Don’t you think it’s funny that it’ll go from a religious building to a house of vice? Why are you so gorgeous…?

In the process, you learned that Kirk and James (the tall, muscular one you’d seen unloading gear) had headed over for a takeout order last Friday whilst finalising the rent on the new place. It was particularly busy that day—Fridays always were—and you didn’t remember seeing them. Kirk explained how the daughter of the now deceased man who’d owned the school was practically begging them to take it off her hands, so the band had bought it for next to nothing. Kirk and James had taken most of the old furnishings to the dump already; all that really needed taking care of now was repainting the place and positioning their stuff.

While the three of you talked, a large party of customers entered the cafe; each now in various states of shaking out umbrellas and settling down to browse the lunchtime menu. You knew the conversation would have to end soon, as the 12 o’clock rush could get pretty hairy.

Before you had a chance to pipe up, Steve chimed in.

“Oh we can help out with a few licks of paint easy”, he said to no-one in particular, straightening up and taking in the still increasing crowd. You could hear the son-of-the-manager gears clicking in his head, greasing up in preparation to make a few extra tips.

His hand landed on your shoulder.

“Why don’t you take tomorrow off and help the guys. Mom’s gonna be around anyway; I’m sure she’ll understand and we both know you’re artistic”, he winked, referencing the time he’d caught you making sickeningly girly latte art when you were supposed to be servicing the coffee machine.

Your eyes flew to Kirk who was looking more than pleased with the idea.

“Would you?”

You hesitated, then nodded; a little bewildered and not sure how you felt about being roped in on your own.

“That’d be awesome, thanks.” He leant over and gave a light bump to your arm.

You tried to suppress a smile. Butterflies.

“Great”, Steve grinned.

“I’ll let you both figure out the details. But right now could you deal with that delivery out back? I forgot to sort it earlier.” You rolled your eyes.

“Hey, relax. I’ll deal with this crowd so just take your time. Nice to see you again, Kirk.”

A nod from Kirk. “Yeah you too, man.”

Left alone, Kirk turned to you; a cheeky smile dancing on his lips as he rapped the counter and said, “So…”.

You let out a light laugh. “What?”

“Need any help?”

“Oh, no…you don’t have to to do that”, you replied, making your way behind the counter to grab some supplies but secretly hoping he’d push the point.

“Ah it’s no bother, trust me”, Kirk continued, following you halfway. "There’ll be nothing going on over there today except Lars arguing with James about the feng shui and me and Jase trying to mediate.”

You laughed, feeling some of the tension melting from your body.

He was nice.

“Nah, I’m just kidding; I don’t think either of them know what feng shui is.”

That earned a belly laugh from you.

You knelt down to the cupboard under the sink to locate a pen, calculator and packing knife; letting your hair cover your face to hide your shyness after letting out such an indiscrete sound.

“So can I?” Kirk asked. “Help?”

Finding what you needed, you straightened, finding Kirk firmly planted a few feet in-front of you with no sign of backing down.

“Uh yeah, sure…why not. I’ll make us some coffee”, you smiled. “It’s just through that door and right ahead—you’ll find it”, you said, watching as he wandered off in the direction you’d given.

“Awesome”, he fired back, “can’t wait”.

You watched him leave, hands reaching up playfully to hit the door frame as he went.

You smiled to yourself. This was definitely not how you’d imagined your day playing out: meeting a cute metalhead, making plans to help paint his band’s new headquarters and now pouring black coffee into takeout cups so the pair of you could sort a delivery together? No, this was not what you were picturing for this so-far dismal summer.

Securing the lids to the drinks, you pocketed the stock supplies in your apron and headed out back, coffee for two in hand.

✵

Parting Yvette’s handmade beaded curtain with your right shoulder, the wind chime over your head sang as you emerged from the back porch, crossing the few steps to the centre of the stock area and setting the cups on one of the two piles of delivery boxes filling the compact space. The stock area wasn’t much; in fact it was literally just Yvette’s garden, as she lived upstairs—a quaint, currently gazebo-roofed yard with stone-walled raised flower beds set around the perimeter.

Kirk was inspecting some gnarly looking plants in the far corner when you arrived, turning as you placed the coffee down to make a joke about The Day of the Triffids. It was true Yvette hadn’t given as much care to the flora and fauna out here as she had to the cafe, which was her pride and joy. She’d been out of town a lot recently on various craft retreats and managerial workshops, so the place needed a little TLC.

Kirk picked up the coffee nearest him, cheersing it with the air in thanks before taking a sip and carefully placing it back.

“So what’s first?” He rubbed his hands together enthusiastically.

You removed the packing knife from your apron and set it next to your own cup, then walked over to the other pile of boxes, hands on your hips as you considered the best way to start.

“I need to check the stock matches what’s listed on the invoices, so if you could maybe help stack them according to the package number that’d really help.”

“As you wish”, Kirk answered, shucking off his jacket and discarding it on the wall.

Five minutes or so passed as you stood back near the doorway watching Kirk shift the boxes. He was chatting away about his bandmates, giving you a colourful mental image of their individual personalities: James, the lead singer and a pretty wild partier; Lars, the Danish drummer, always with a cocky word to try and trip you up; and Jason, badass bassist who was all about working hard for the fans.

You agreed to meet up outside their new place around nine the next morning, aware that you’d only been given one day off work thus far and impatient to see Kirk in his natural habitat.

As you listened, offering him various strategic “mmm”s and “oh right”s, your eyes wandered not so innocently along his sweat-dampened neck and the straining muscles in his arms, down to the way his strong hands gripped the underside of the boxes… You noted how gently he set them down, heavy as they were.

“What do you think then?”

“Huh?” You snapped to as you realised Kirk had asked you a question, a slightly self-conscious look in his eye as if nervous for your response.

You mentally traced back to what he’d been talking about while you were…gawping…and recalled him inviting you to pizza and beer that evening to meet the guys before everyone got to work tomorrow.

“Oh, yeah.” You exhaled a laugh. “Yeah of course, I’d love to.”

He looked relieved, and a bit excited, you thought.

“Ah great, I knew you’d be up for it”, he replied, back to his usual self. “I can show you around and you can finally tell me some more about you”, he joked, flicking some of the debris from the boxes at you.

You both laughed, acknowledging that you hadn’t exactly been a chatty Cathy since he’d arrived.

It was at that point you decided you actually liked this guy. He was relaxing to be around; interesting, kind, very attractive; and there was something in his eyes that made you feel a sense of kinship. He didn’t step on your toes but he didn’t shy away from trying to get closer either.

Kirk took a step back to admire his handiwork. Very neat.

“That’ll do thanks, I can take it from here”, you smiled, peeling yourself away from the wall.

“You sure?” He answered.

“Yeah, honestly. This next bit’s pretty boring”, you chuckled. “Go and sit down—you’ve earned it.”

He looked relieved as he made his way back to his original spot, flinging himself down on his back on the wall with one hand gently pulling at a spray of pink carnations and the other hanging freely.

You turned back to the boxes with a smile, taking the calculator and pen from your apron pocket to start checking the invoices.

A minute or so of pleasant quiet fell as the conversation petered off. You busied yourself with the calculator, almost forgetting Kirk’s presence as you got into the details of the invoices taped to the side of each package.

Then, “I saw you last week you know.”

You froze momentarily, pen between your teeth, glad you had your back to him so he wouldn’t see the slight blush tinging your cheekbones. It made you uncomfortable to know someone had perceived you without your noticing—especially him, with his big brown eyes and gorgeous curly hair you’d imagined running your fingers through more than a few times since your initial conversation inside.

“Is that okay?”, he interrupted the silence.

You turned around, pen dropping into your hand.

“Of course, why wouldn’t it be?”

He didn’t respond. He’d changed positions since before; now leaning forwards with his elbows on his knees and fingers steepled, observing you with the ghost of a smile and the kindest eyes. You felt your heart swell and then catch as you became aware of the seconds ticking by.

God, this guy, you thought.

No-one had had this kind of effect on you since…well, ever. No past boyfriend had looked at you like he was looking right now.

Move, then. Don’t just stand here like an idiot.

You stretched forward to grab the packing knife from the first pile of boxes, desperate to break the awkwardness that had descended out of nowhere, but as soon as you reached for the handle, the safety clicked, shooting the blade into the still-full takeout cups and landing warm coffee all over Kirk’s thighs. “Shxt!”, you cried, hands flying to your mouth. “I’m so sorry.”

Kirk jumped up, visibly stunned but recovering quickly. Meanwhile, you were garbling out a string of profuse “Sorry”s and standing fixed to the spot, completely unable to move.

“Hey, hey…it’s fine, relax”, Kirk assured you. You pulled your hands from your eyes to see him laughing, clearly unbothered.

“I’ve got dirt up to my knees from the damn flood out front; these jeans obviously weren’t meant for me.”

Your panic eased as you realised he wasn’t mad. You laughed awkwardly, tucking your arms around yourself in an attempt to calm down. Without a word, Kirk jogged past you through the beaded curtain.

Crap, is that really how that’s gonna end?

You needn’t have worried. A few seconds later he returned with a wad of napkins and bent down to mop up the spillage.

“If you knew how many times I’ve had to clean up puke from the floor in my house after a night with the guys, you wouldn’t be so worried”, he winked.

You exhaled with a smile, hitching your skirt up a little to kneel down and help him.

If you hadn’t both been busy sharing sweet glances and bumping arms as you cleaned up your first drinks together, you would have noticed that the rain had stopped completely and the sun come out from behind the clouds for the first time in weeks.

.✵.

#kirk hammett #metallica #kirk hammett x reader #kirk hammett fanfiction #kirk hammett fluff #lars ulrich #james hetfield #jason newsted #kirk hammett x oc #eagerly awaiting your thoughts #pls send thoughts lol #can you guess who the friend is who nearly falls out of the van lol #it's lars #ofc it's lars #also if anything sounds familiar it's bc I've got other ppl's fics floating round my head so I apologise if I've inadvertently re-used #any names and whatnot

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