Fandom: The Boat That Rocked/Pirate Radio
Word Count: 214
Rating: PG (it is the Count, after all)
Summary: The Count at Woodstock.
Note: I wanted to make this a longer story, but it wasn’t evolving, so…
He meant what he’d told Young Carl. It was the best time of his life—the freedom of the waves and of the music. There were days he would stand on the deck in the summer sunshine with the music blaring over his head, bouncing off the shoreline and back to him, filling him with the profound sense that what little he contributed did change the world. It might just be dropping vinyl onto a turntable and speaking into a microphone, but, fuck it, it did change the world.
Tonight might not be the absolute best time, he thought, but it’s damn well close. He lay back on the grass, closed his eyes, and listened to Janis wail from the stage. The Beatles and the Stones and the Kinks, he thought, were like water to him. The sounds of those songs made him feel slightly unsteady; like early evening intoxication with those waves back underneath him. Life then was buoyant and changing and full of possibilities and wonder. Janis and the Dead felt like the cold, hard ground beneath him, anchoring him in one place and making him feel safe and secure. But if he thought too long about it, and he usually did, the music always took him back to the days when he would sit on the deck of the boat, amazed at where rock and roll had taken him.