Chapter Text
The hum of the backstage lights made Robin feel jittery in a way that had nothing to do with caffeine. She tapped her drumsticks against the floor, counting down beats nobody else could hear, because that was her thing, making sure she was ready before anyone noticed.
Steve was pacing, hair perfect as always, muttering under his breath and strumming his guitar absentmindedly. “Okay, team, remember: first chord, big energy. Second chord, bigger energy. By the bridge, epic energy. And if anyone messes up…” He paused, giving Robin a wink. “…we blame the fans.”
Jonathan was crouched by the keyboard, headphones on, furiously checking his cords. “Steve, if you touch one string wrong-don’t even think about blaming the fans,” he said, voice low but sharp. His fingers hovered over the keys like he was ready to type out a manifesto instead of play music.
Nancy adjusted her mic, smoothing her hair and checking the pitch of a few high notes under her breath. “Do we have to act calm?” she asked. “I feel like we’re about to launch a rocket, not sing a song.”
“You think this is nerves?” Steve said, grinning. “This is artistic tension. Big difference.”
Robin rolled her eyes. “If art makes me feel like I’m about to throw up, I’m calling it chaos.”
Jonathan glanced at her, one eyebrow raised. “Chaos seems… familiar.”
Nancy smirked. “We all know Steve will ruin it eventually anyway. Might as well enjoy the disaster.”
Steve laughed. “Excuse me? I am the definition of stage perfection.”
“Oh yes,” Nancy said, mock-sweet, “stage perfection who might spontaneously combust before the bridge.”
Robin tapped a drumstick against her shoulder. “Okay, enough talking. Let’s just remember the plan: hit the chords, don’t trip over the cables, and” she paused to glance at Jonathan “…keep him from glaring at everyone all night.”
Jonathan muttered something incoherent but looked mildly offended.
“Five minutes,” Steve said, checking the reflection of the stage lights in the mirror. “Then we go out there and show them what THE WRONG QUARTET can do. And if we survive, pizza afterwards.”
“Make it extra cheese,” Jonathan said automatically.
“Of course,” Steve replied, “because chaos tastes better with cheese.”
Nancy laughed, tightening her grip on the mic. “Ready?”
The four of them exchanged a look, a mix of nerves and excitement, and somehow it was enough.
“Ready,” they said together. Well, maybe Steve being as slightly louder than the rest.
And then, just like that, the curtain lifted, the crowd roared, and the Misfits stepped into the light.