Author's note: Hi! This fic will be composed of four chapters. This story happens just a bit after the movie ended.

I'm very happy, unless something changes in the next few days, this section will be the first adult-focused School of Rock fic! (Not adult in a raunchy way, just not about the kids, haha!) The parts after this, however, will be about the band members!

Theme song and title of this section changed. Don't ask why!

Disclaimer: I don't own the movie, any of its characters, any of its actors, or any music that is mentioned by the film or myself.

Reconsider Me: Part One

When you're all alone
And you need someone
Telephone and I'll come runnin'
Reconsider me
And I'll never make you sad again
'Cause I swear that I've changed since then
And I'll never make you sorry if you try
Let's let bygones be forgotten
Reconsider me
Reconsider me

I promise that I'll never make you cry
I'll never make you sad again

"You can't always get what you want… you can't always get what you want… you can't always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, you might find… YOU GET WHAT YOU NEED!" Dewey sang, the backup singers joining in enthusiastically on the last phrase. The song went on, the music building at choruses and holding back during verses, all the instruments playing in turn as the melody grew more elaborate, little drum rolls and guitar licks adding themselves to the simple tune.

"Awwwww-WHOO!" Dewey howled, letting loose with the rock-scream he'd been looking forward to throughout the whole song, the backup singers crooning an almost angelic tune in the background as though providing contrast. Alicia and Marta continued the high part, but Tomika joined Dewey in the repeated choruses. By the end of the song, Lawrence was grinning, Freddy was bouncing on his seat as he drummed, Katie was bobbing her head like the famous skull on Dewey's dashboard, and Zack was engaging in the elaborate guitar solo poses that he'd grown so fond of since he joined the band and got over his former shyness.

"That was great! Stellar! I think we shook the whole building! Man, Blondie and Braceface, I did NOT know that you-all could sound so much like choirboys!" Dewey cheered.

"Choirboys?" The two small backup singers turned insulted faces toward him.

"That's a good thing! Haven't you ever heard the original…" Dewey sputtered, trying to explain the Rolling Stones composition to the offended preteens. "It's got these really girly-voiced boys on it, and—"

"What? My ears are burning!" Billy called from the corner where he sat with his sketchbook and fabric samples.

"Not you, Fancypants! You sound like Rambo compared to these kids… I keep forgetting that I need to give y'all more HOMEWORK!" Dewey seethed, slinging his guitar over his shoulder and rifling through his duffel bag in search of the Stones' famous Let It Bleed disc. A-ha! Come to papa! he thought triumphantly as his fingers closed around the box.

"Hi, Ned! I mean, um, Dewey." The pudgy guitarist jumped and spun around at the sound of an adult voice, an unusual phenomenon in this room of prepubescents. He found himself face-to-face with Principal Mullins.

"Heeeey, Roz! What's shakin'?" Dewey crowed, unfazed as usual.

The willowy headmistress delicately shifted her thin spectacles higher on the bridge of her nose. "Ah, I just wanted to find out when you guys had your next show, I mean, your gig at the Battle of the Bands was… incredible!" she babbled, falling back on her favorite complimentary word.

Wow! She said gig! For her, that's really a big step. Dewey chortled to himself. "Yeah, yeah, thanks! You oughtta ask Summer about our schedule, she's the one who handles the planning and all that crap," he said, waving his hand and trying to accept the compliment with at least the appearance of gracious modesty.

"Hmm? Do you need something, Dewey?" Summer chirped, stepping smartly over Billy's rolls of fabric to ingratiate herself into the adult conversation and gain extracurricular brownie points. "Hi, Miss Mullins!"

"Oh, hello, Summer. Yes, I just wanted to know when the next show will be?" Principal Mullins repeated.

"Sure, come with me, I've got the schedule right over here. See, the horizontal part of the grid is the date and…" Summer's voice faded out of Dewey's hearing as she led Principal Mullins toward the official-looking desk that the small manager had so efficiently organized. The rest of the band had dissolved into chatter or impromptu jams, and Dewey decided to give them a break for a few minutes. He wasn't some rock dictator, after all.

Dewey began strumming his guitar meditatively, an action that always seemed to make his frenzied thoughts flow more easily. He had been surprised to see Miss Mullins here, even though he had handled it with his usual aplomb. Truthfully, he was even more surprised by the fact that she really didn't seem to hate him. She had kind of opened up to him that day in the van, after all, only to find out that he was a freeloading identity thief… well, no need to dwell on that whole can of worms. But she'd hugged him after the Battle of the Bands (and, well, kind of yelled at him, but forget that part), and here she was, wanting to see some more gigs!

Despite his usually somewhat callused conscience, Dewey had been a little worried that he might have wreaked havoc on the tightly wound principal's precarious psyche. While his declaration that she was "cool" might have been stretching the truth a little, his initial evaluation of her as "the man" wasn't correct, either. She was a lot nicer than she had first appeared to be, and her Stevie Nicks fanaticism was kind of cute. She just needs someone to loosen her up a little… help her get her groooove back, he thought with his trademark sarcastic drawl. That phrase, unfortunately, conjured up the image of Principal Mullins cavorting with some buff 20-year-old in the style of the movie that had inspired that particular figure of speech, and he burst out laughing at the thought.

Everyone in the room, including the object of his weird idea, turned and looked at him like he'd lost it. "Ah-ha…ahem. Hum, huh!" He cannily turned his guffaws into fake coughing. "Got something in my throat, sorry. Time to start practicing again!"

Good save, man, he thought proudly. Rock gods always knew just what to say.

A few hours later, the rock god found himself in deep trouble.

"NED! It's NOT MY FRIGGIN' FAULT if the building flooded! Come on, man!" Dewey bellowed.

"Ned! He said he'd be out of here by today, he's scamming you again, the next thing you know he'll be staying here for good and not paying rent even though he's got the money…" Patty babbled in one furious run-on sentence, finally ending her tirade with, "He's said he'd get his lazy butt out of here!"

"Oh believe me, princess, you're the last person I want my butt near!" Dewey shot back in one of his mangled insults.

"Patty, it's not like he had any control over what happened…" Ned said with characteristic gentleness.

"But I don't believe him! How do you know he's not making excuses again?" she shrieked, causing her mild-mannered beau to reel back visibly.

"You think I want to stay here? Huh? Huh, huh, missy? WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN SMOKIN'?" Dewey cried, punctuating each "huh" with a poke on Patty's sweater-clad shoulder and finishing by throwing his arms dramatically in the air and racing over to scoop up his bags and instrument cases. "I'm findin' somewhere else to stay, so I hope you and Miss Yoko Ono will be very happy here, Ned! Don't worry your little balding head about me!"

"BALDING?" Ned cried in agony, grabbing at his short-cropped red hair as though he expected it to be gone.

"YOKO ONO? So typical!" Patty shrilled.

Dewey's answer was a masterpiece in nonverbal communicaton—he slammed the door as hard as he could as he left, silently lamenting the downfall of his bass-playing buddy.

"I don't need them! I can so find somewhere to crash for a while…" he muttered to himself.

A long pause.

"Yeah, that's bull!" he spouted. "What am I gonna do?"

As he stalked down the sidewalk, he heard a loud rumble. Am I that hungry? he marveled.

Another loud roll. Ah, it's thunder, he thought smugly. Wait, THUNDER? He tilted his head back to study the grayish sky, then wrinkled his nose as tiny drops of rain began to fall. Oh, this is just perfect!

Rosalie Mullins stood in her kitchen, cheerfully humming "Go Your Own Way" as she sautéed mushrooms in a large skillet. "Hmm-hmm-hmm… you can go your own waaaaay… only one school day leeeeeft!" she sang, beaming over the sizzling veggies. Despite what the kids at her school may think, she looked forward to weekends as much as they did. Heck, probably more!

She had been wearing one of her usual prim pencil skirts that day, but as soon as she got home, she changed into her oldest pair of jeans (ornamented with sundry holes) and one of her least favorite Stevie Nicks concert T-shirts. She was going to clean her apartment that weekend, and she wanted to get a head start by working that evening.

She clicked off the burner with the mushrooms and dumped them into the pot of soup that was steaming on the other side of the stove. As lame as it was to put lots of effort into cooking for just herself, she had to admit that she was a little proud of her culinary prowess. It's nice to see that I can do something well, she thought ruefully. As excellent as her cooking skills were, her housekeeping had become nonexistent lately, thanks to her inordinate workload, which was yet another lovely source of inadequacy complexes.

Her impromptu performance of "The Chain" was interrupted by a loud pounding, then an insistent and very annoying buzzing, both from the direction of her door. "Ugh, who could this be?" she muttered, wiping her hands on a dishtowel and hoping that her soup wouldn't boil over if this unexpected visitor stayed long. Ha, yeah right, like people were beating down the door to hang out with her!

"Coming, just a minute!" she yelled as she hurried toward the door. The person outside it seemed to be leaning on the buzzer. She swung the door open to reveal Dewey Finn, soaking wet and weighed down with baggage.

"Took you long enough!" he howled, then realized his audacious tone and softened his manner a little. "Can I please come in?"

"Ahhh… sure!" Rosalie stepped back and let him pass through the door, silently lamenting the water and mud that his entrance slung across her carpet. "What happened to you?"

Dewey was panting from exhaustion, and he dumped the bags down, rubbing more dirt into the rug. "I—well, I was gonna move into my own place today, 'cause you know I've got some cash now, but there was a stupid flash flood and the building leaked and now I have to wait a week and Ned's hag kicked me out, and all the people who used to be my friends threw me out of the band so now I hate them and can't stay with them, and so I'm completely desperate and all wet and really hungry and… wow, you look so hot in those jeans! Dang, girl!"

Rosalie blinked. "Ah, thank you!" Between deciphering his flow of information and trying to figure out of the compliment was sincere or not (it most likely likely was not, she decided), she felt extremely overwhelmed.

"What are you cooking? It smells bellisima," Dewey gushed, stepping into the kitchen and sticking his nose over the steam rising from the pot of soup that had fortunately refrained from boiling over.

"It's just soup, it's got vegetables and minestrone…" She sighed. "You want some?"

"Yeah, that'd be great, I'm starving." He leaned against the refrigerator and closed his eyes dramatically. "I hate Patty. I hate her sooo much."

"She did seem just a little abrasive." Rosalie remembered the bossy brunette from Parents' Night, though it was Dewey who had occupied most of her thoughts that evening. She still remembered the sick feeling in her stomach when the police showed up and she found out that this seemingly great guy had been lying to her, not to mention completely jeopardizing her career.

Hmmph, he doesn't deserve this soup! she thought as she finished ladling his portion into a bowl and shoved it at him less than graciously.

deserve she thought as she finished ladling his portion into a bowl and shoved it at him less than graciously.

"Thanks so much," he said with seemingly genuine gratitude. "Wow, this is great!"

She granted him a tense smile. "Thanks."

"So do you think I can stay here? Just a little while? Please?"

"Stay here?" She was definitely getting a headache now.

"Yeah, I'm so desperate, I'll pay you rent or something, I'll clean, I'll cook… well, maybe you should cook, but I'll do anything you want, Roz, I swear!"

"You'll clean? You'll help me clean? Because that's what I was planning to do this weekend, you know?"

"Sure! Great! Just please let me stay!" He was looking almost manic.

"All right, all right, you can stay." Why does he have to be so cute? she thought remorsefully.

Not Lindsey Buckingham cute, or even normal guy cute, just cute like a big, mouthy, rock-obsessed teddy bear. With a bow tie.

"Thank yoooou, you won't be sorry, I promise!" He set the soup bowl down with a clatter and gave her an enthusiastic hug.

"Ah… ah… you're welcome!" She awkwardly patted his shoulder, and he pulled back and grinned at her.

"So where do I sleep?"

A/N: Look forward to Part 2 soon! Please review! "Reconsider Me" is written by Warren Zevon and performed by Stevie Nicks. (I only put a portion of the lyrics, not all of them fit in as well). "You Can't Always Get What You Want" is written by Mick Jagger and Keith Richards and performed by the Rolling Stones, London Bach Choir, and Doris Troy. "Go Your Own Way" is written by Lindsey Buckingham (Stevie Nicks' ex-boyfriend!) and performed by Fleetwood Mac. "The Chain" is written and performed by Fleetwood Mac. I do not own (nor do I WANT to own, or even see!) the movie How Stella Got Her Groove Back.