AN: Yes, I am Tzadikim, but I really wanted to make everything match with tumblr and AO3. I was also watching Buffy again.
Disclaimer: I'm pretty sure none of us are Jim Butcher or Joss Whedon.
Title: Going Through the Motions
Word Count: 532
Summary: The spontaneous combustion was normal, but the spontaneous musicals were not.
I tried to comprehend what I just saw and had myself a mini conference call with Lash.
"Did you just..." I asked when she appeared in her usual beautiful form. I made the hand motions that Thomas had done and hummed the musical score that had came out of nowhere.
Lash gave a Gallic shrug of her slim shoulders. "We have an agreement, remember?" she said. "I can only show so much and that, while entertaining as it was to see your kin dance and sing, was not a part of it."
"Uh," I said. I looked back at Thomas who was just as bewildered. "That was a killer chorus about identity and family, man. You should give it a try at clubs."
"I have no clue what came over me." Thomas ran his hands through his shampoo-commercial hair, his voice rising differently than it had done moments ago. "Harry, what the hell was that?"
Lash curled a piece of her blonde hair around her finger and gave me another shrug. What was the point of having a Fallen angel in my head if they couldn't figure out why weird things happened in my life? Was that a 'works in mysterious ways' thing?
"You were singing about family and choices and all sorts of stuff." I walked to the doorway and checked the wards to see if anything was wrong. Sigils lit up around the metal frame and gave off a slight hum. "Then you got very melodramatic about being part-demon. It was getting very touching."
"I know what I sang!" he said. "But I don't sing, I don't even like singing!"
"But you're oh so good at it." I frowned and checked the wards again. Okay, they were stable but Thomas had been compelled to sing and dance a catchy number that I'll be humming in the shower for days. What gives? I thought and I turned to ask Lash but she vanished. I guess she also had no joy of doing of the arts of the non-magical variety
I ignored Thomas's worries about having an encore and I started climbing down to my lair. "Hey, Bob, we got-"
And the guitar music started.
And there were flashing lights encircling Bob's skull that were not orange.
I calmly climbed back up and closed the trapdoor as I heard Bob singing downstairs. There was no need to witness that.
Really. There wasn't.
"Hang tight," I told Thomas. I reached for my duster and staff and headed to the door. "And when the guys from Broadway come, I want to be there when you sign the contract."
"Untalented ass." Thomas collapsed on my couch and beckoned Mister to brood with him.
"That's what your critics are going to say," I said and shut the door. Now with Thomas out of sight, I started my freak out. "Star and Stones, what the fan-freaking hell was that?" Oh, sure, my brother may be the more glamorous one, but that never included a jazzy number with some acoustics to just randomly happen. "Please let this be an isolated case," I muttered to myself and to whatever nosy deity was listening. "This is Chicago, not Chicago!"