Being in a band hadn't exactly been something Jason had planned. He still had his vigilante work, and rising to fame hadn't made that any easier, but he'd fallen into the rhythm. He'd also gotten attached to his bandmates, especially the lead singer.

Not that he'd admit this in a million years. The two were from vastly different backgrounds; Jason wasn't musically trained and his electric guitar play was self-taught and based on instinct, while the singer was an actual musical genius, with a voice like a siren. If Jason was being honest, the only reason he stuck around was to listen to the singer perform. But, since he wasn't being honest, he'd insist the band was a good way to keep his mind off the family drama and, you know, the whole beating criminals up thing. He did a good job hiding his feelings behind a veil of animosity.

And their public image was that of rivals, too, which made it easier. The gifted, musically trained genius and the street kid with the raw talent and no formal education. It made for great media attention, which helped with publicity. It also made the fans go wild with speculation (and shipping).

That wasn't the only thing going wild tonight.

It had been a normal show until some assh*le in the audience had pulled out a gun and started threatening people. Jason, ever the bleeding heart, had leapt into the fray, leaving his guitar on the stage, and subdued the guy with ease, getting his arm twisted behind his back. The police had showed up not long after, taking the would-be attacker into custody and ushering everyone out.

As the crowd dispersed, the other bandmates filed out, except for the singer, still on stage, trembling, pale, and rooted in place. Jason sighed and walked up the steps, grabbing his discarded guitar on the way. "Come on," he said gruffly, trying his best to hide his concern and the fact he actually just wanted to pull his lead singer into a hug and never let go. "It wasn't that bad. I got the guy. It's over."