Sounds Of
Title: Sounds Of
Universe: DC Comics
Rating: PG
Summary: They met at a karaoke bar. Creote/Piper inspired by bebopbeats
They met at a karaoke bar.
For Creote, it was one of the rare nights off he allowed himself. He had many claims on his time, so he didn’t indulge his musical passion often.
For Hartley Rathaway, better known as the Pied Piper (in fact, most of his friends called him just Piper), it was a night to indulge his return to freedom. Even if it meant listening to some of the most God-awful singers ever.
Piper noticed Creote when the large red head got up on the stage and launched into a remarkably good rendition of Ozzy Osbourne’s Dreamer. He had a good voice, a strong baratone that carried well. Piper felt a small surge of jealousy. He was a tenor, and (though he was loath to admit it), not a very good one. He’d always focused on the instrumental side of music, and he’d never really tried to develop his voice.
He waited until the massive red head sat back down before joining him at his table with a pitcher of beer. “A drink for the best voice here.”
The man smiled and demured, but accepted the drink with a soft thank you. Piper decided that he could listen to that voice for hours and not get tired of it.
They made small talk over the beer, about the other singers, mostly. And it was mostly Piper who talked, filling the almost-silence. He didn’t like silence.
Creote proved to have a remarkably dry wit, managing to put in a few words thing that had Piper gasping with laughter.
Then the large man’s cell phone went off, and he announced that he had to go. Grabbing a napkin, he scribbled down a phone number and hurried out.
Universe: DC Comics
Rating: PG
Summary: They met at a karaoke bar. Creote/Piper inspired by bebopbeats
They met at a karaoke bar.
For Creote, it was one of the rare nights off he allowed himself. He had many claims on his time, so he didn’t indulge his musical passion often.
For Hartley Rathaway, better known as the Pied Piper (in fact, most of his friends called him just Piper), it was a night to indulge his return to freedom. Even if it meant listening to some of the most God-awful singers ever.
Piper noticed Creote when the large red head got up on the stage and launched into a remarkably good rendition of Ozzy Osbourne’s Dreamer. He had a good voice, a strong baratone that carried well. Piper felt a small surge of jealousy. He was a tenor, and (though he was loath to admit it), not a very good one. He’d always focused on the instrumental side of music, and he’d never really tried to develop his voice.
He waited until the massive red head sat back down before joining him at his table with a pitcher of beer. “A drink for the best voice here.”
The man smiled and demured, but accepted the drink with a soft thank you. Piper decided that he could listen to that voice for hours and not get tired of it.
They made small talk over the beer, about the other singers, mostly. And it was mostly Piper who talked, filling the almost-silence. He didn’t like silence.
Creote proved to have a remarkably dry wit, managing to put in a few words thing that had Piper gasping with laughter.
Then the large man’s cell phone went off, and he announced that he had to go. Grabbing a napkin, he scribbled down a phone number and hurried out.