band!au; we are fond of prequels
of words and what they mean
"'Dera'? You call him 'DERA' now??"
Oh. Shit.
Yamamoto felt Ryohei's evil glee careening toward him from one end of the room, and Gokudera's angry glare shooting lightning bolts at him from another end. There was no happy medium here; he was dead either way.
"Um. Hahah. What?" He ducked his head and pretended to tune Delilah. "I called him by his family name. You're hearing things."
"Yeah, like you calling him 'Dera.' I mean, what is up, you guys." Ryohei put his hands on his hips; clearly he wasn't going to let this go anytime soon. "You two've been acting weird lately, yanno...?"
In a corner, Tsuna watched quietly. And in another corner, Mukuro stood leaning against the wall, not looking at the lyric sheet in his hands, and instead staring intently at his best friend.
Of course he knew. He was the very first to know. The first to notice the glow in Takeshi's face. And the way his playing seemed more inspired, more energetic, since a certain silver-haired beauty came into his life, and put together what they could all proudly call a "band."
Mukuro had confronted Yamamoto about this in no uncertain terms, on a rooftop, one drunken Saturday night. The smile on Yamamoto's face while he confirmed it was the brightest thing Mukuro had ever seen.
And he started to think maybe he'd had just a little too much to drink, because at the time, the brightest thing he had ever seen had made him just a little bit depressed.
Said silver-haired beauty scowled at Ryohei and stepped up close to Yamamoto, arms folded across his chest. It was a stance the entire band had already associated with him and his fighting words.
"Yeah, Lawnhead," he said to the drummer, "he calls me 'Dera' and I call him 'Numbskull.' Got a problem with that?"
Mukuro allowed himself a small smile as he fished in his pockets for a cigarette.
Ryohei grumbled and dismissed Gokudera's brief speech with a wave. Yamamoto let out a breath of air. Gokudera was the one who had insisted that they keep their relationship secret - at least until 'the time was right.' Yamamoto had always interpreted that to mean 'when we can't hide it anymore,' because the two of them were currently at that phase when they had a hard time keeping their hands off each other.
Even Yamamoto, self-confessed densest of the dense, knew it was only a matter of time.
Gokudera had hated that nickname. But it had wormed its way into Yamamoto's consciousness since the first time he called his lover that, breathless and stunned and unable to form complete words, literally "mindblown" as Mukuro would call it - fucked right out of coherence.
"No way you're calling me that even in private. You only get to do it if I get to call you 'Keshi'." The threat had failed, much to Gokudera's dismay. He'd seemed to overlook the fact that anything he called Yamamoto was music to the other young man's ears.
"Dera. That's a cute one." It was Mukuro who spoke. And as was his way, he commanded the attention of the room. "Maybe we could use it as your stage name. Dera. Can you just imagine the fans screaming it at the top of their lungs? Deraaaa~ look here~ HAVE MY BABIES~ " He intentionally let his voice drop a few octaves at the last phrase.
As Tsuna laughed, Ryohei guffawed and Yamamoto barely suppressed a chuckle, Gokudera winced visibly, but allowed himself a sneer. "At least it won't be as lame as yours. Who the hell uses 'Mukuro' as a stage name."
"It's not my stage name."
Everyone stared. In writing, Mukuro had always spelled his name in katakana - Mu. Ku. Ro. No clues. Everyone just presumed he did it to seem enigmatic.
"You, uh," Tsuna, ever the brave one, ventured. "Your real name means 'corpse'??"
"Tsuna. How messed-up do you think I am?" Serenely, he lit the cigarette perched on his lower lip. "I use two kanji for my name. The 'mu' means 'six' and the 'kuro' means 'dark.' My mother must've been a goth-wannabe yankee* who thought that was cool."
"You're lying!"
A corner of Mukuro's lips rose. He blew out a stream of smoke in Gokudera's direction. "I'm not about to show you my birth certificate, so you'll just have to take my word for it, won't you, 'Dera'?"
"All right," Yamamoto sighed loudly, standing with Delilah safely cradled in his arms, "this has been fun, but no pet names here, okay? Nobody calls anyone anything. We're all pros and we're not about to bust each other up over names."
Mukuro shrugged and took another long drag from his cigarette. Gokudera grumbled and, as if he had suddenly realized his own craving, scrounged irritably for his own pack.
"You lying bastard."
"What." The two guitarists were on their way to where they celebrated their weekly billiards night. Right now, right here, they could talk about anything. "I thought you said no pet names."
"Two kanji? 'Six' and 'dark'? Did you think anyone was going to buy that??"
Mukuro groaned. "So my birth certificate says my first name means 'corpse'. Big deal. At least you can't shorten it to anything cutesy."
"You can shorten it to 'Kuro'**..."
Mukuro stared at his grinning friend in disbelief.
"Kuro... c'mere boy... *whistle* woof woof."
Mukuro hit him upside the head. "That's 'Arf arf' to you, asshole. Get it right or I'll bite you to death."
Yamamoto's laughter rang clear and true. 'Kuro' gritted his teeth and stretched his lips taut and tried not to smile. He wondered what kind of loser would even think of the phrase that had just leapt out of his lips; it sounded cheesy as hell.
-------------------
* yankee: a juvenile delinquent.
** kuro: common name for a pet dog in traditional japan, as i understand it. kinda like "spot."
"'Dera'? You call him 'DERA' now??"
Oh. Shit.
Yamamoto felt Ryohei's evil glee careening toward him from one end of the room, and Gokudera's angry glare shooting lightning bolts at him from another end. There was no happy medium here; he was dead either way.
"Um. Hahah. What?" He ducked his head and pretended to tune Delilah. "I called him by his family name. You're hearing things."
"Yeah, like you calling him 'Dera.' I mean, what is up, you guys." Ryohei put his hands on his hips; clearly he wasn't going to let this go anytime soon. "You two've been acting weird lately, yanno...?"
In a corner, Tsuna watched quietly. And in another corner, Mukuro stood leaning against the wall, not looking at the lyric sheet in his hands, and instead staring intently at his best friend.
Of course he knew. He was the very first to know. The first to notice the glow in Takeshi's face. And the way his playing seemed more inspired, more energetic, since a certain silver-haired beauty came into his life, and put together what they could all proudly call a "band."
Mukuro had confronted Yamamoto about this in no uncertain terms, on a rooftop, one drunken Saturday night. The smile on Yamamoto's face while he confirmed it was the brightest thing Mukuro had ever seen.
And he started to think maybe he'd had just a little too much to drink, because at the time, the brightest thing he had ever seen had made him just a little bit depressed.
Said silver-haired beauty scowled at Ryohei and stepped up close to Yamamoto, arms folded across his chest. It was a stance the entire band had already associated with him and his fighting words.
"Yeah, Lawnhead," he said to the drummer, "he calls me 'Dera' and I call him 'Numbskull.' Got a problem with that?"
Mukuro allowed himself a small smile as he fished in his pockets for a cigarette.
Ryohei grumbled and dismissed Gokudera's brief speech with a wave. Yamamoto let out a breath of air. Gokudera was the one who had insisted that they keep their relationship secret - at least until 'the time was right.' Yamamoto had always interpreted that to mean 'when we can't hide it anymore,' because the two of them were currently at that phase when they had a hard time keeping their hands off each other.
Even Yamamoto, self-confessed densest of the dense, knew it was only a matter of time.
Gokudera had hated that nickname. But it had wormed its way into Yamamoto's consciousness since the first time he called his lover that, breathless and stunned and unable to form complete words, literally "mindblown" as Mukuro would call it - fucked right out of coherence.
"No way you're calling me that even in private. You only get to do it if I get to call you 'Keshi'." The threat had failed, much to Gokudera's dismay. He'd seemed to overlook the fact that anything he called Yamamoto was music to the other young man's ears.
"Dera. That's a cute one." It was Mukuro who spoke. And as was his way, he commanded the attention of the room. "Maybe we could use it as your stage name. Dera. Can you just imagine the fans screaming it at the top of their lungs? Deraaaa~ look here~ HAVE MY BABIES~ " He intentionally let his voice drop a few octaves at the last phrase.
As Tsuna laughed, Ryohei guffawed and Yamamoto barely suppressed a chuckle, Gokudera winced visibly, but allowed himself a sneer. "At least it won't be as lame as yours. Who the hell uses 'Mukuro' as a stage name."
"It's not my stage name."
Everyone stared. In writing, Mukuro had always spelled his name in katakana - Mu. Ku. Ro. No clues. Everyone just presumed he did it to seem enigmatic.
"You, uh," Tsuna, ever the brave one, ventured. "Your real name means 'corpse'??"
"Tsuna. How messed-up do you think I am?" Serenely, he lit the cigarette perched on his lower lip. "I use two kanji for my name. The 'mu' means 'six' and the 'kuro' means 'dark.' My mother must've been a goth-wannabe yankee* who thought that was cool."
"You're lying!"
A corner of Mukuro's lips rose. He blew out a stream of smoke in Gokudera's direction. "I'm not about to show you my birth certificate, so you'll just have to take my word for it, won't you, 'Dera'?"
"All right," Yamamoto sighed loudly, standing with Delilah safely cradled in his arms, "this has been fun, but no pet names here, okay? Nobody calls anyone anything. We're all pros and we're not about to bust each other up over names."
Mukuro shrugged and took another long drag from his cigarette. Gokudera grumbled and, as if he had suddenly realized his own craving, scrounged irritably for his own pack.
"You lying bastard."
"What." The two guitarists were on their way to where they celebrated their weekly billiards night. Right now, right here, they could talk about anything. "I thought you said no pet names."
"Two kanji? 'Six' and 'dark'? Did you think anyone was going to buy that??"
Mukuro groaned. "So my birth certificate says my first name means 'corpse'. Big deal. At least you can't shorten it to anything cutesy."
"You can shorten it to 'Kuro'**..."
Mukuro stared at his grinning friend in disbelief.
"Kuro... c'mere boy... *whistle* woof woof."
Mukuro hit him upside the head. "That's 'Arf arf' to you, asshole. Get it right or I'll bite you to death."
Yamamoto's laughter rang clear and true. 'Kuro' gritted his teeth and stretched his lips taut and tried not to smile. He wondered what kind of loser would even think of the phrase that had just leapt out of his lips; it sounded cheesy as hell.
-------------------
* yankee: a juvenile delinquent.
** kuro: common name for a pet dog in traditional japan, as i understand it. kinda like "spot."