Title: Mouths of Decadence, Part I
Characters: Chris Cornell and Eddie Vedder
Rating: PG
Word Count: 795
Summary: The history of Temple of the Dog is a lot different than people realize...



History records the Temple of the Dog as a one-off project between Soundgarden's leading man Chris Cornell and the men who would soon become Pearl Jam. But that momentous occasion meant a lot more for two of the men in the studios those days. A whole lot more.

Frowning at his jotted notes, Chris muttered, "Not really a song."

"It's great, Chris," Jeff commented.

He shook his head, "I hate doubling my voice on any track."

"It's fine."

"Let's take a break," Chris suggested, heading to the door without waiting for a reply.

Heading outside to take a smoke break, Chris leaned against the brick of the building, closing his eyes as he inhaled. While technically it was a song, it just didn't feel complete. And if it was going to be the tenth song, it needed to be better.

Especially since the entire project was a tribute to Andy.

"You know... maybe I could... maybe I could help you out some?" a shy voice to his left.

Opening one eye, Chris peered at the owner of said voice, "Eddie, right?"

The young man nodded, "You were kinda struggling with parts of that song. And I was thinking I could... I could maybe help? I mean I know it's all about Andy and all of that, but maybe...."

He shrugged, "Sure. We can give it a shot."

Dropping his cigarette, Chris ground it into the concrete. His green eyes gave a once over the man whom he had seen lurking about the studio the past few days. They hadn't been formally introduced, but Chris thought the kid could quite possibly be the guys' new singer.

He looked a little out of place on the dreary streets of Seattle. There was just something about the man that Chris couldn't place. But he shrugged it off and headed back towards the studio door, heavy boots marking his path in puddles.

"You're Eddie, right?" he asked, waiting for him to enter the studio.

"Yeah," he held out his hand.

Grasping it, he tried to ignore the spark that seemed to transmit between their palms, blaming it on static electricity, "Chris."

"It's a pleasure."

"Likewise," he responded. "So you ever been in a studio before?"

"Besides yesterday and the day before?"

Chris chuckled, "Yes. Before yesterday and the day before."

"Nope," Eddie replied.

"This should be fun," he rolled his eyes.



Chris was never adverse to admitting when he was wrong. And he was wrong. Eddie was a natural. He just stepped into the studio, walked up to the mic, went through a warm-up, and was ready to lay down his part of the vocals. For a few minutes Chris just stared at Eddie in awe.

And then finished his beer.

Clapping when the new frontman of the yet unnamed band stepped out of the studio, Chris grinned, "This, my friends, is deserving celebration. Buy you all a drink?"

"Sure," the guys agreed.



"And that my friends is why you will never find Chris Cornell in Bellevue Square again," Stone laughed.

Shaking his head, Chris withdrew deeper into the shadows that concealed most of the booth in the pub. The more he drank, the quieter he had become that evening, mimicked by a certain newcomer. The quieter Eddie got, the more Chris watched him.

And noticed things. Like the way he tucked his hair behind his ears and the way his eyes shifted color when different drinks were placed in front of him.

And that certain electricity that Chris felt every time Eddie glanced his way. Something he couldn't quite explain.

Eddie had picked up on Chris's scrutiny as well, which was a leading cause into his increasing silence. Every glance by the singer made Eddie question his being there. But even more than that, it made him question a whole lot more. Like what was Chris thinking when he looked at him? Was that a smile he just gifted Eddie with? Can he read all of Eddie's secrets? Could he tell the real reason he had been so eager to leave behind his surfing and flee up to the city of clouds?

No, that was impossible. No one ever knew without being told. Which meant no one really knew. It wasn't something Eddie handed on a silver platter to anyone or even slid under a door in a sealed envelope.

One just doesn't go around and tell people that one's lot in life is to save lives.