fic: Bright ideas - forming the band
Apr. 9th, 2010 10:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
munninTitle: Bright ideas - forming the band
Fandom: Band!AU
Pairing: the band
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: All fun, no cash.
Author’s notes: beta’d by Just with my eternal gratitude.
Summary: the story of how the displaced Robins got the idea for a career in music.
Dick leant back in the chair, tipping up the bottle to drain the last swallow of beer. Two drinks and he was feeling happily tingly. It’d been months since any of them had been drinking - at first they’d been too broke and then too stressed. None of them could afford to slip into substance abuse to cope with their grief, Bruce had trained them all too well for that.
The night out had been Jason’s idea. The little club he bounced at had a band on and Jay convinced them to make a night of it. Dick felt bad about leaving Damian alone with Alfred for the night but as Tim pointed out – D and Alfred had been alone together since, what the media was dubbing, the Exodus of Gotham. The two of them could probably do with some quiet time.
As it turned out Jay’s idea had been a great one. The band was good – garage rough but with just the right amount of bounce and playfulness to be really fun and now the bar was closed and only the staff, the band and the Bat-kids remained. It hadn’t taken much for Jay to convince the barmaid and manager Josie to let them hang out after closing and she never once asked Steph or Tim for ID (despite the fact Tim still looked 16).
The band turned out to be a personable lot, especially once Steph picked up one of the abandoned guitars and started strumming. Dick caught the tune of Blondie’s ‘One Way or Another’ and started singing, grinning ridiculously as everyone else joined in. That pretty much cemented the friendships and soon they ended up on the stage fooling around.
Tim ran his hands almost lovingly over the keyboard. “May I?” he asked Ziggy, the skinny, blonde punk instrumentalist.
Ziggy grinned, knocking back her beer. “Be my guest pretty boy.”
Tim smiled shyly, blushing a little at the complement and brushed his fingers over the keys almost reverently.
“Been a while hasn’t it?” Steph asked, seeing the tentative look of Tim’s face.
“Bruce was the last person I played for.” He admitted quietly, leaning on her as she pulled him in for a hug.
Ziggy watched the exchange with a sly grin before sliding in to push Tim’s fingers down on the keys. “Cut the foreplay Silky! Stop pettin’ my keyboard and play!”
Tim let his hands move over the keyboard on instinct, feeling the shape of the music as his fingers found the notes of Für Elise.
“No! Nononono.” Ziggy flattened his hands to the keyboard. “I will hurt you.”
Tim smiled conspiratorially and shifted into Chopsticks, earning him a snarl from the punk girl.
***
Dick sat at one of the tables on the floor, watching the others muck around. Cold glass touched his wrist, shocking him out of his thoughts.
“She won’t eat him.” Vesta, the lead singer smiled as she passed Dick a fresh beer. She was tall and lean with a boldness to her features, making her slightly masculine.
“Sorry?” Dick asked, accepting the beer. It was something foreign and expensive with a honey sweet aftertaste.
She pulled up a seat beside him. “Tim. You’re watching him like you’re worried Ziggy’s going to steal him or something.” She took a swig of her beer. “Don’t worry, she’s just flirting. She’s not worth getting jealous over.”
“Not jealous.” Dick muttered, “Tim’s my...” He looked for a word but couldn’t find one that covered everything. Tim was his brother, his lover and his best friend. Tim had once been his Robin, a deeper bond that he could explain to anyone outside the community.
“Jay referred to you as brothers.” She prodded gently.
Dick shrugged. “Not biologically but...we were all raised by the same man.”
“I get it. I’m a foster brat myself.” Vesta said, sipping her beer. “When you’ve got no blood to speak of, the family you build is...” she glanced up at Ziggy and across to the drummer Cam who was leaning on the bar doing shots with Jay and Josie. She took another long drink of her beer. “I get it.”
Dick reached out, tapping the neck of his beer bottle against hers. “To family.”
“Oh yeah.” She grinned. “And to the trouble they get us into.” She downed the rest of her beer. “So what do you do for a crust?”
Dick watched as Cam and Jay staggered up to the drum-kit. “I’m kinda...between crusts at the moment.”
She cocked her head. “You’re a Gotham expat right?” He nodded, not meeting her eye. “Thought so. You’ve got the accent. And the look. There’s something haunted about you Gothamites” She gave him a sad smile. “D’you lose anyone?”
“Bruce,” Dick said quietly. “The guy who raised us.”
“I’m sorry.” She stretched out a hand, touching his arm very lightly. “At least you have your brothers.”
Dick took a drag of his beer. “We lost touch with our youngest D for a while during the Exodus but Jay found him and brought him home.”
She squeezed his arm gently and pulled away. “Want another?”
“Not sure I should.” The pleasant tingling was slipping into moroseness as he thought about the city he’d been trained to protect and all those who had lost their lives in the disaster. And about Bruce – the mentor and father he’d loved.
“Yes.” Vesta said sharply. “You should.” She grabbed his wrist and dragged him to the bar, asking Josie for a pair of single entendre cocktail. Once they’d downed the purple and dangerously sugary drinks, she dragged him up onto the stage, handing her guitar to Steph and sharing a dangerous smile with Ziggy. “Let’s jam!”
***
Very, very early the next morning (even by Bat standards) the four of them staggered back to their apartment, tripping over each other in an effort to be quiet.
“Enjoyable evening?” Alfred asked dryly, eyeing their dishevelled appearances.
Dick grinned, deliriously bright and a little dangerous. “Oh yes! I think we’re decided to start a band!”
Fandom: Band!AU
Pairing: the band
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: All fun, no cash.
Author’s notes: beta’d by Just with my eternal gratitude.
Summary: the story of how the displaced Robins got the idea for a career in music.
Dick leant back in the chair, tipping up the bottle to drain the last swallow of beer. Two drinks and he was feeling happily tingly. It’d been months since any of them had been drinking - at first they’d been too broke and then too stressed. None of them could afford to slip into substance abuse to cope with their grief, Bruce had trained them all too well for that.
The night out had been Jason’s idea. The little club he bounced at had a band on and Jay convinced them to make a night of it. Dick felt bad about leaving Damian alone with Alfred for the night but as Tim pointed out – D and Alfred had been alone together since, what the media was dubbing, the Exodus of Gotham. The two of them could probably do with some quiet time.
As it turned out Jay’s idea had been a great one. The band was good – garage rough but with just the right amount of bounce and playfulness to be really fun and now the bar was closed and only the staff, the band and the Bat-kids remained. It hadn’t taken much for Jay to convince the barmaid and manager Josie to let them hang out after closing and she never once asked Steph or Tim for ID (despite the fact Tim still looked 16).
The band turned out to be a personable lot, especially once Steph picked up one of the abandoned guitars and started strumming. Dick caught the tune of Blondie’s ‘One Way or Another’ and started singing, grinning ridiculously as everyone else joined in. That pretty much cemented the friendships and soon they ended up on the stage fooling around.
Tim ran his hands almost lovingly over the keyboard. “May I?” he asked Ziggy, the skinny, blonde punk instrumentalist.
Ziggy grinned, knocking back her beer. “Be my guest pretty boy.”
Tim smiled shyly, blushing a little at the complement and brushed his fingers over the keys almost reverently.
“Been a while hasn’t it?” Steph asked, seeing the tentative look of Tim’s face.
“Bruce was the last person I played for.” He admitted quietly, leaning on her as she pulled him in for a hug.
Ziggy watched the exchange with a sly grin before sliding in to push Tim’s fingers down on the keys. “Cut the foreplay Silky! Stop pettin’ my keyboard and play!”
Tim let his hands move over the keyboard on instinct, feeling the shape of the music as his fingers found the notes of Für Elise.
“No! Nononono.” Ziggy flattened his hands to the keyboard. “I will hurt you.”
Tim smiled conspiratorially and shifted into Chopsticks, earning him a snarl from the punk girl.
***
Dick sat at one of the tables on the floor, watching the others muck around. Cold glass touched his wrist, shocking him out of his thoughts.
“She won’t eat him.” Vesta, the lead singer smiled as she passed Dick a fresh beer. She was tall and lean with a boldness to her features, making her slightly masculine.
“Sorry?” Dick asked, accepting the beer. It was something foreign and expensive with a honey sweet aftertaste.
She pulled up a seat beside him. “Tim. You’re watching him like you’re worried Ziggy’s going to steal him or something.” She took a swig of her beer. “Don’t worry, she’s just flirting. She’s not worth getting jealous over.”
“Not jealous.” Dick muttered, “Tim’s my...” He looked for a word but couldn’t find one that covered everything. Tim was his brother, his lover and his best friend. Tim had once been his Robin, a deeper bond that he could explain to anyone outside the community.
“Jay referred to you as brothers.” She prodded gently.
Dick shrugged. “Not biologically but...we were all raised by the same man.”
“I get it. I’m a foster brat myself.” Vesta said, sipping her beer. “When you’ve got no blood to speak of, the family you build is...” she glanced up at Ziggy and across to the drummer Cam who was leaning on the bar doing shots with Jay and Josie. She took another long drink of her beer. “I get it.”
Dick reached out, tapping the neck of his beer bottle against hers. “To family.”
“Oh yeah.” She grinned. “And to the trouble they get us into.” She downed the rest of her beer. “So what do you do for a crust?”
Dick watched as Cam and Jay staggered up to the drum-kit. “I’m kinda...between crusts at the moment.”
She cocked her head. “You’re a Gotham expat right?” He nodded, not meeting her eye. “Thought so. You’ve got the accent. And the look. There’s something haunted about you Gothamites” She gave him a sad smile. “D’you lose anyone?”
“Bruce,” Dick said quietly. “The guy who raised us.”
“I’m sorry.” She stretched out a hand, touching his arm very lightly. “At least you have your brothers.”
Dick took a drag of his beer. “We lost touch with our youngest D for a while during the Exodus but Jay found him and brought him home.”
She squeezed his arm gently and pulled away. “Want another?”
“Not sure I should.” The pleasant tingling was slipping into moroseness as he thought about the city he’d been trained to protect and all those who had lost their lives in the disaster. And about Bruce – the mentor and father he’d loved.
“Yes.” Vesta said sharply. “You should.” She grabbed his wrist and dragged him to the bar, asking Josie for a pair of single entendre cocktail. Once they’d downed the purple and dangerously sugary drinks, she dragged him up onto the stage, handing her guitar to Steph and sharing a dangerous smile with Ziggy. “Let’s jam!”
***
Very, very early the next morning (even by Bat standards) the four of them staggered back to their apartment, tripping over each other in an effort to be quiet.
“Enjoyable evening?” Alfred asked dryly, eyeing their dishevelled appearances.
Dick grinned, deliriously bright and a little dangerous. “Oh yes! I think we’re decided to start a band!”