Chapter Text
The kitchen at Metallica’s HQ was quiet, save for the sounds of eating. James Hetfield leaned back in his chair, chewing on a hotdog as he scanned the scattered notes and crumpled ideas littering the table. The hours in the studio had dragged on with nothing but frustration and riffs that refused to go anywhere. Some days the music came easy, like their hands were just remembering something the heart already knew. Today, it all felt forced, like the fading echo of something they’d already recorded years ago. The clock on the wall seemed to mock him.
Across the table, Lars Ulrich attacked his salad with the intensity of a man trying to outpace his own thoughts. His fork darted in and out of the bowl, matching the restless bounce of his leg beneath the table. A can of Diet Coke with Lemon sat beside him, condensation sliding down the side, leaving a perfect ring on the wood. His mind was already miles away, while the rest of the day dragged its feet.
“You know, James…” Lars started, his tone smooth and deliberate.
James braced himself. That tone always meant he was about to get talked into something.
“I’ve been thinking.”
“Always dangerous,” James muttered without looking up. Lars ignored him.
“We need a break.”
James snorted, his eyebrow arching. “We were just on a break.”
“No, no, no,” Lars said, waving a piece of lettuce at him for emphasis. “Not sitting around the house with the kids. Not catching a couple of new bands at the Fillmore, or having a few nights out with the guys. And definitely not one of those bullshit vacations where you come back more tired than when you left. I mean a real break. Something different.”
James paused mid-bite, curiosity poking through his usual cynicism. He half-expected Lars to pitch another marathon studio session or some insane promotional stunt. A genuine break? That was new.
“Alright,” he said, setting his hotdog down. “I’m listening.”
Lars leaned forward. “I’m going to see Jerry in Seattle in a few weeks. Haven’t seen him in a million years. Thought it’d be cool if we caught up. You, me, and him… maybe a few others, like Sean. Just a little breather from all… this.” He swatted vaguely toward the studio like it was an annoying fly.
James rubbed at his temple. The idea of a trip to Seattle sounded appealing. They’d been grinding in the studio for weeks, and they weren’t getting anywhere.
“Let me guess,” James said, giving Lars a look. “You’ve already planned the whole thing.”
Lars grinned, fiddling with the tab on his Diet Coke. “Of course! Jerry’s got some new shit he’s been working on, and he just moved into a new place. It’s the perfect excuse to get out of here.”
James opened his mouth like he wanted to protest.
Lars gave him a reassuring glance, before continuing. “We’ve been at this long enough. It’s not just about making the album; it’s about feeling the music. We can’t do that when we’re locked in a room arguing all the time.”
“We need to get moving on this album, Lars,” James said. “Cliff and Peter keep asking about it. You know how they get.” He shook his head, trying to block out the impending headache that came with their managers grilling them about schedules. “They’ll want to hear something eventually.”
“I know,” Lars said. “I just talked to Mensch the other day. But that’s exactly why we need this. You can’t force it, James. You know that better than anyone. A little fun, a little adventure, a little reminiscing, and you’ll see. We’ll come back, and the songs will hit harder.”
James stared at him for a long time. The logic was there, buried beneath Lars’ relentless enthusiasm. And deep down, James felt the itch to get away too.
“Well,” he said finally, “if we do this, we’re driving, not flying. And you’re driving.”
Lars’ grin widened. “You bet your ass I am.”
“Okay,” James said, picking up his hotdog again. “Let’s go see Jerry. But if you drag me into a karaoke bar, I’m out.”
“No karaoke bars,” Lars promised, though the mischievous glint in his eye suggested otherwise. “Just two guys and the open road. What could go wrong?”
James chuckled. “Famous last words…”
James chewed the end of his hotdog, staring out the window where sunlight fractured into beams against the glass. A weekend in Seattle didn’t sound half bad. A few days where they weren’t just band mates struggling to tolerate each other. But the idea of returning to the same old frustrations made something stir inside. The break they needed wasn’t just from the studio. Something between them needed mending too.
“You know what?” James said, dipping a chip into the ketchup on his plate. “Let’s make it more than a weekend. We’ve been killing ourselves in the studio. What’s a few more days off?”
Lars’ eyebrows shot up. “More than a weekend?” Something about his face made it clear this wasn’t just about visiting their old friend.
“Yeah,” James said, warming to the idea. “Let’s make it a proper road trip. Hit the Pacific Coast Highway. Stop at some random spots. Take in the redwoods, the coast, the mountains… just… breathe.”
Lars leaned back, his lunch momentarily forgotten. “Now you’re talking. We’ll take it slow, see some sights, stop in Portland. There’s this crazy record shop there I’ve never gotten a chance to check out. You know, the one that’s like Amoeba.”
James nodded. “Fine. Portland’s on the list. But I’m making the rest of the itinerary.”
“Aye, aye, captain,” Lars said, giving a mock salute. “But if we end up in the mountains, eating beans from a can in a tent, I’m blaming you.”
“No cans or tents, I promise,” James said. “We’ll hit some good places. Just you wait.”
“I trust you.” Lars let out a dramatic sigh, but the excitement was clear in his voice. “We’re going to need a lot of tunes for the road. You bring your iPod, and I’ll bring mine. It’ll be a battle of the bands.”
“Oh, it’s on. I’ll crush you with my Southern Rock/Outlaw Country mix.”
“Really? I’ve got Swedish Death Metal and obscure Prog bands that’ll melt your face off.”
“Sure,” James said. “In reality, it’ll just be Oasis and U2 on repeat the whole time.”
Lars feigned offense. “I listen to other things.”
“Yeah. Jazz,” James said. “Which is fine… just not for a road trip.”
Lars stuck out his tongue. James popped a chip into his mouth and let out a contented sigh. The idea of escaping was exciting him now too.
“You know,” Lars said, “I was thinking…”
“Still dangerous,” James cut in.
Lars chuckled, tossing the soda tab at him. “Maybe we should invite Rob and Kirk to come with us. Make it a full crew road trip.”
“Because we don’t already spend enough time stuck in hotels together,” James said.
Lars didn’t have a reply to that. James took a sip of water. He could already imagine the chaos of having all four of them packed together for a week. It would either be a blast or a disaster. Probably the latter.
“You don’t think they’d be up for it?” Lars asked, shoveling salad into his mouth, the crunch of lettuce loud in the otherwise quiet room. “Could be fun, right?”
“Lars…” James said, holding up his hand. “I don’t need a salad shower.”
Lars laughed and pulled his bowl a little closer. “I’ll keep the salad in the bowl. But you can’t blame me for being excited.”
James looked at him, exhaling slowly. “Rob’s kid isn’t a year old yet. He’d probably be too tired to join us. And I think Kirk’s hanging out with Santana right now,” he said. “Or bugging the guys at Dunlop to mod his custom pedal. I forget which.”
“Kirk’s got something going on, that’s for sure,” said Lars. “I was just thinking it could be nice for all of us to get out. We don’t often do things together anymore.”
“Besides touring all over God’s green earth…”
Lars sipped his Diet Coke. “I figured. But yeah, it’s probably for the best. I think a change of pace could do us some good. Just you and me, on the road then.”
“Just you and me…” James echoed.
“It’s not like we haven’t done it before. You, me, your truck, and the open road... It’ll be like old times.”
James nodded, but something in Lars’ voice snagged. The old times weren’t as far behind them as they liked to pretend. He didn’t want to point out that the ‘old times’ often involved copious amounts of alcohol and strippers.
James thought about that as he wiped chip crumbs and grease off his fingers with a napkin. The two of them reconnecting without the usual pressures felt promising.
“Yeah, you’re right,” James said after a moment. A road trip with Lars felt like the right choice. No complications. Just two old friends hitting the road.
Lars gave him a wide grin, as if he’d won a small victory. “It’s going to be great. And hey, if Rob and Kirk want to join, they can always fly up later.”
James chuckled. He couldn’t see either of them flying to Seattle just to hang out in Jerry’s house on a random Saturday. “They’d probably tell us we’re crazy.”
James looked out the window at the clouds drifting by as Lars launched into a monologue about road trip snacks and diner food.
“We can come back through the Eastern Cascades,” James said, interrupting Lars’ musings about pancakes. “You can go diving in a lake instead of the Pacific for once.”
“Can’t say I’ve done that before,” Lars replied. “And we’ll need to stop at some greasy diners along the way. You can’t have a road trip without bad coffee and fresh donuts.”
Lars’ grin was infectious, and James found himself laughing despite the morning’s earlier frustrations.
As the plan started forming, James imagined the rush of wind through his hair, the smell of pine trees mingling with the salty ocean breeze. He thought of pulling into dusty rest stops with faded picnic tables and grabbing coffee from roadside stands, listening to music that made them feel nineteen. But underneath it all, he just wanted to feel like himself again.
“Yeah, let’s do this,” James said, his voice steady. The decision landed like a slow exhale. “We’ll hit the road, clear our heads, and see where it takes us.”
“Hell yeah!” Lars clapped his hands together triumphantly.
“Just don’t try to teach me Danish in the car again,” James said. “And no BritPop playlists longer than 30 minutes.”
Lars shook his head. “Fine, but no Boston. That’s a deal breaker.”
They laughed. The tension of the morning’s failures lifted. James rubbed his beard. The thought of the open road was invigorating. It wasn’t just about the music anymore. It was about finding the spark they’d lost somewhere along the way. For the first time in weeks, he felt something close to hope.
“I’ll call Fran later, see what she thinks,” James said.
“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Lars replied. “Just tell her we’ll bring back plenty of stories.”
“Let’s make them good ones then,” James said.
“Oh, it’s going to be legendary.” Lars grinned.
The familiar hum of HQ filled the silence as they both sat back, their minds already packing for the trip. James couldn’t help but laugh. He hadn’t realized how much he needed something to shift. Not just in the music, but in himself.
The road was calling, and for once, they were ready to answer.