Title: Wednesday's Street
Pairing: Kimber & Stormer
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: She's cutting through the air, yes, breaking it.
Notes: No spoilers
For once, they aren't set to chase each other across the continent. Jem and Pizzazz aside, Stormer suspects their agents are rivals to the death.
They do cross paths, though, in Cincinnati, in Chicago, in Vancouver. Stormer sits out the usual hijinks of spray-painting over posters and sending interns out to prank. She sneers with the other Misfits during interviews, but she doesn't have much to add.
She learned a long time ago that the tickets sell out weeks before they arrive, and any publicity afterward is just posturing.
When they get to a new city, Pizzazz does what Pizzazz does. Roxy goes to the movies, and Stormer scrawls in her notebook before she turns in early.
Stormer doesn't bother to try calling Kimber, but the morning before their Chicago gig, she finds the best bakery cafe in the neighborhood. She snags a table near the back and orders a coffee, a cocoa, and two blueberry muffins on a plate.
Kimber shows up twelve minutes earlier than Stormer expected, and she has the newspaper, three tabloids, and Rolling Stone in hand. She stands inside the door for a second, and she frowns as she scans the crowded bakery.
Stormer raises her hand to wave, and Kimber's frown melts away in relief.
It's nine in the morning in Chicago, and only the kid at the register recognizes either one of them.
Kimber slides into the seat opposite Stormer and steals the muffin that isn't half crumbles. "Morning."
"Morning." Stormer pushes the cocoa across the table with a grimace. "I don't know how you stay awake."
"I don't know how you drink that stuff," Kimber replies, wrinkling her nose at the creamless and sugarless coffee. "Ugh."
Stormer retaliates by tipping her mug over Kimber's, splashing the coffee in until Kimber yelps and bats her hands in the air.
There are few musicians Stormer isn't afraid will steal the Misfits' tunes, given the opportunity. (There is a reason Eric's forbidden her from even looking at the Limp Lizards from across a crowded room.) Over breakfast, however, she flips open her composition book and hands it over to Kimber without a second thought.
"The bridge isn't working," she says, and that's all she needs to explain before Kimber starts nodding.
They lay the notebook flat between them. Kimber's forehead wrinkles as she stares at the music. Stormer gives her the space of a few moments, waves for another coffee while she waits.
Kimber's humming under her breath, wordless but right on key. "Ah!" The tune breaks off, and Kimber waggles her fingers in the air. "You could try a minor chord, like so--" She hums again, louder this time, altering the sequence of notes.
"Maybe if I--" Stormer imagines her keyboard under her hands, mimes the notes just as Kimber did. She echoes Kimber's suggestion, then adds another note. "That's it."
"Yeah!" Kimber slaps her hand against the table, and some of her cocoa sloshes onto the tablecloth. "That's perfect."
"For the Misfits," Stormer amends with a laugh, jabbing her finger at Kimber in warning.
"For the Misfits," Kimber confirms, then sticks her tongue out. "Way too aggressive for us."
"Yeah, well." Stormer ponders that for a moment, taking a sip of her coffee.
"I think you could use more growl, sometimes," she says. "Once in a while."
Kimber leans back in her chair, and for a second the silence is awkward.
Then she smiles.
On the next Holograms album, there's a different sort of song. The critics call it "bold" and "surprising."
Pizzazz rages about copycats.
In the mornings, when Stormer's alone in her bedroom, she sets the single on her record player, and dances.
A/N: Title and summary adapted from Ryo Yamaguchi's Morning. Link courtesy of breathe_poetry.