Tiger & Bunny - Band AU
Mar. 15th, 2013 12:11 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lirillithTitle: Sum Of Its Parts
Fandom: Tiger & Bunny
Characters: Kotetsu, Antonio, Barnaby, Karina
Word count: just under 1k words
Rating: PG
Warnings: Nope
Summary: Kotetsu's days as a rock star are behind him, as far as he's concerned, but fate has other ideas.
Notes: Written for the Trope Bingo square "Band AU;" not sure if Kotetsu and Tomoe had Kaede in this universe.
****
Kotetsu didn't play in bands anymore. He was done with all that. The Escapists had a good run, a couple of hits, good reviews and some loyal fans. He'd gotten more than he could ever have hoped for, and then he'd lost it, and he wasn't going to go chasing after some kind of replacement. There was no replacing her, anyway.
He was strictly a studio musician, now. He wasn't going to be the star, or even be one leg of a group. He was backup, and he liked it that way. He got to play all kinds of music. He didn't have to write anything, he wasn't responsible for success or failure and reviewers didn't write a word about him. He had a decent rep in the industry and no one outside it knew what he'd done for the past six years. That was fine by him.
Sure, sometimes Antonio would get nostalgic, talk about finding another bassist — "you could sing, man. Or I could" — and reliving their glory days. The first time he ever suggested it, Kotetsu damn near slugged him, but he'd learned to just let Antonio talk. It was Antonio's way of missing her, just like the songs Kotetsu wrote in notebooks he shoved under his bed and never showed anyone were his way.
He'd laid down a couple of demo tracks for a singer that day; an unlikely-looking, but handsome, blond kid with glasses. The music hadn't been anything out of the ordinary, but the conversation they had afterwards had stuck in his craw. "I know what you do now takes talent," the kid had said. "I'm well aware. But you were a gifted songwriter, and your group had real chemistry—"
"Happens when you've been playing in garages since you were teenagers," Kotetsu had interrupted. Antonio's parents' garage. Actually moving to the city and having to find a practice space had been a rude awakening. "What would you know, anyway? You're a solo act."
But the kid wasn't wrong, not in what he'd probably been trying to get at. Playing in a band was a different experience. Writing songs was different. Those were skills he wasn't using now. And he didn't intend to ever again, and if some snot-nosed prettyboy who wasn't in a band of his own wanted to look down on Kotetsu for not being in one either, that was his problem, not Kotetsu's.
It wasn't Kotetsu's problem, so why was he still turning the argument over in his head as he ordered his drink?
The bar was one Antonio had picked, but both quieter and pricier than his usual choices. Antonio jerked his head at the stage, and Kotetsu sipped his shochu — it was nice to be in a bar that served it — and listened. A girl and a piano. Also not Antonio's usual type, unless it was the girl herself who was the draw. "Kinda young for you," Kotetsu muttered.
"Shut up."
If this was her own music, though, and it sounded new to Kotetsu, she was good. Kotetsu got a bit of a sinking feeling — was Antonio planning to push her as a new vocalist for some kind of reborn Escapists? Why was he getting this on all sides today?
Of course your group had real chemistry when you'd been together since you were in high school, and you were harmonizing with your wife, and the three of you could all finish each other's sentences. It was easy to write good songs when you were writing them with Tomoe and for Tomoe.
He knew why the blond kid had gotten to him. He missed it. He missed playing together, the three of them creating one thing bigger than the sum of its parts. He missed being onstage, hearing the fan response, knowing that these people were here for them. He missed having a song come together as they worked on it. Playing other people's music wasn't the same, not for him.
And he missed being seventeen and in love and convinced they were geniuses because they'd written one crappy song together. He missed that garage. And that was why he'd brushed off all Antonio's tries at revival; they couldn't be seventeen again. They couldn't bring Tomoe back. But maybe Antonio had part of an idea, just like Kotetsu did, and they needed to fit them together. They couldn't bring back the Escapists, but they didn't have to be alone in the world from here on out.
After the girl finished her set, she dropped by the bar where they were sitting. She didn't look much older than sixteen, and Kotetsu felt a painful lurch of memory; Tomoe at that age, getting on his back about homework, about practice, about cleaning up his room, even. He pulled himself back to the present; Antonio was talking about having him play guitar for this girl. Karina Lyle. She wanted to record a CD, sell it at her gigs, and Kotetsu shook her hand mechanically and listened to himself saying, "Actually, I've been thinking of starting a new band."
"Since when?" Antonio objected, but Kotetsu wasn't going to dignify that with a response. The blond kid played bass, he'd said. Barnaby, that was his name, if ever a name had screamed "rock star;" Kotetsu still had the number in his cell. He could sing and so could this girl. Kotetsu was vaguely aware that people auditioned band members, they didn't just snap up the first musicians they saw, but he'd always gone with his gut.
"You interested?" he asked.
"Kotetsu." Antonio caught his eye, and Kotetsu grinned at him; the trepidation on Antonio's face melted away, and Antonio punched him in the arm.
"That depends." She was eyeing him a lot more appraisingly than he'd eyed her. "You feel like telling me anything about it?"
Fandom: Tiger & Bunny
Characters: Kotetsu, Antonio, Barnaby, Karina
Word count: just under 1k words
Rating: PG
Warnings: Nope
Summary: Kotetsu's days as a rock star are behind him, as far as he's concerned, but fate has other ideas.
Notes: Written for the Trope Bingo square "Band AU;" not sure if Kotetsu and Tomoe had Kaede in this universe.
****
Kotetsu didn't play in bands anymore. He was done with all that. The Escapists had a good run, a couple of hits, good reviews and some loyal fans. He'd gotten more than he could ever have hoped for, and then he'd lost it, and he wasn't going to go chasing after some kind of replacement. There was no replacing her, anyway.
He was strictly a studio musician, now. He wasn't going to be the star, or even be one leg of a group. He was backup, and he liked it that way. He got to play all kinds of music. He didn't have to write anything, he wasn't responsible for success or failure and reviewers didn't write a word about him. He had a decent rep in the industry and no one outside it knew what he'd done for the past six years. That was fine by him.
Sure, sometimes Antonio would get nostalgic, talk about finding another bassist — "you could sing, man. Or I could" — and reliving their glory days. The first time he ever suggested it, Kotetsu damn near slugged him, but he'd learned to just let Antonio talk. It was Antonio's way of missing her, just like the songs Kotetsu wrote in notebooks he shoved under his bed and never showed anyone were his way.
He'd laid down a couple of demo tracks for a singer that day; an unlikely-looking, but handsome, blond kid with glasses. The music hadn't been anything out of the ordinary, but the conversation they had afterwards had stuck in his craw. "I know what you do now takes talent," the kid had said. "I'm well aware. But you were a gifted songwriter, and your group had real chemistry—"
"Happens when you've been playing in garages since you were teenagers," Kotetsu had interrupted. Antonio's parents' garage. Actually moving to the city and having to find a practice space had been a rude awakening. "What would you know, anyway? You're a solo act."
But the kid wasn't wrong, not in what he'd probably been trying to get at. Playing in a band was a different experience. Writing songs was different. Those were skills he wasn't using now. And he didn't intend to ever again, and if some snot-nosed prettyboy who wasn't in a band of his own wanted to look down on Kotetsu for not being in one either, that was his problem, not Kotetsu's.
It wasn't Kotetsu's problem, so why was he still turning the argument over in his head as he ordered his drink?
The bar was one Antonio had picked, but both quieter and pricier than his usual choices. Antonio jerked his head at the stage, and Kotetsu sipped his shochu — it was nice to be in a bar that served it — and listened. A girl and a piano. Also not Antonio's usual type, unless it was the girl herself who was the draw. "Kinda young for you," Kotetsu muttered.
"Shut up."
If this was her own music, though, and it sounded new to Kotetsu, she was good. Kotetsu got a bit of a sinking feeling — was Antonio planning to push her as a new vocalist for some kind of reborn Escapists? Why was he getting this on all sides today?
Of course your group had real chemistry when you'd been together since you were in high school, and you were harmonizing with your wife, and the three of you could all finish each other's sentences. It was easy to write good songs when you were writing them with Tomoe and for Tomoe.
He knew why the blond kid had gotten to him. He missed it. He missed playing together, the three of them creating one thing bigger than the sum of its parts. He missed being onstage, hearing the fan response, knowing that these people were here for them. He missed having a song come together as they worked on it. Playing other people's music wasn't the same, not for him.
And he missed being seventeen and in love and convinced they were geniuses because they'd written one crappy song together. He missed that garage. And that was why he'd brushed off all Antonio's tries at revival; they couldn't be seventeen again. They couldn't bring Tomoe back. But maybe Antonio had part of an idea, just like Kotetsu did, and they needed to fit them together. They couldn't bring back the Escapists, but they didn't have to be alone in the world from here on out.
After the girl finished her set, she dropped by the bar where they were sitting. She didn't look much older than sixteen, and Kotetsu felt a painful lurch of memory; Tomoe at that age, getting on his back about homework, about practice, about cleaning up his room, even. He pulled himself back to the present; Antonio was talking about having him play guitar for this girl. Karina Lyle. She wanted to record a CD, sell it at her gigs, and Kotetsu shook her hand mechanically and listened to himself saying, "Actually, I've been thinking of starting a new band."
"Since when?" Antonio objected, but Kotetsu wasn't going to dignify that with a response. The blond kid played bass, he'd said. Barnaby, that was his name, if ever a name had screamed "rock star;" Kotetsu still had the number in his cell. He could sing and so could this girl. Kotetsu was vaguely aware that people auditioned band members, they didn't just snap up the first musicians they saw, but he'd always gone with his gut.
"You interested?" he asked.
"Kotetsu." Antonio caught his eye, and Kotetsu grinned at him; the trepidation on Antonio's face melted away, and Antonio punched him in the arm.
"That depends." She was eyeing him a lot more appraisingly than he'd eyed her. "You feel like telling me anything about it?"
