Ficlet for Darthbatgirl
Title: The Nature of Courage
Characters: Tim, Bruce, Dick
Rating: PG (kissing)
Setting: AU, high school
Prompt: So, you have a date to the dance yet?
Warnings: teenage angst, silly fluff
Length: 1777
Author’s Notes: This WAS supposed to be a drabble for
darthbatgirl but it ended up a far bit longer. The boys just wouldn’t stop being cute! Thank you
stalinglim for betaing.
“You should just ask her,” the rich voice says behind him. Timothy Drake tries very hard not to look guilty as he straightens up to look at the adult behind him. Oh…oh dear. Of all the people to have caught him spying, it would have to be Mr. Wayne, the vice principle.
Tim gulps and is mortified at how audible it is. On top of that, the imposing man just smiles knowingly. For the fifth time that day he cursed his parents for ever thinking having him skip four grades was a good idea. Being a precocious twelve year old in high school sucked royally. And now he’s got Wayne giving him patronizing looks. The boy fidgets, as he stands there in his chinos and loafers and a pressed shirt. He has yet to convince Mrs. Mac that creases are uncool.
The large man looks around the bank of lockers at the gathering of young people Tim had been spying on. Ah, Grayson is holding court again. There are a couple of his fellow jocks behind him and seven of the schools lovely ladies vying for his attention. The dark haired soccer player is smiling, joking easily and seemingly completely unaware of how he affects those around him.
“So which one caught your eye, Mr. Drake? Emma, Ashley, Jean?”
The man just keeps smiling at him and Tim feels like he’s going to be sick. He shakes his head in mute denial, hoping that would suffice. No such luck. The teacher is apparently having fun with his guessing game, tapping his lip with a finger and pausing thoughtfully.
“Britney?” Dark boy eyes watch for a reaction. Another shake of the head. “Niada?” Another silent ‘no.’ “Linnet?” Still no. “Janice,” he asks with an arched brow. Sure, she’s a pretty enough brunette but she doesn’t have two brain cells to rub together, not the sort of person the man thinks a child prodigy would be attracted too. He’s a little relieved when the boy shoots him a dirty look before studying his feet again.
The man looked around the corner again, but he doesn’t see any other girls in the area. Maybe the person left? “So who is it you fancy?”
Tim really doesn’t trust that jovial voice or the way Wayne is trying hard to be ‘hip’ with him.
He took a deep breath and…bolted off down the hall, away from the nosy teacher and the person that has been occupying his thoughts for over a year.
Bruce scratched his head. The kid certainly can move. Maybe he should suggest the boy try out for the track team.
***
There are a dozen other’s in the stand, watching the practice. One more small body won’t attract any attention. However, while everyone else is keeping their eyes on the black and white ball, Tim only has eyes for the teenager skilfully guiding it across the field. Dick looks like he’s dancing, a wide smile on his face as the wind of his passage whips dark locks madly.
A silly little smile comes over Tim’s face. He thinks again about how he’d ask the young god to the upcoming spring fling, how they’d dance and laugh, how Dick would look at him…it is perfect all of it, in the safety of his mind. Of course that’s where it will remain, since there’s no way he’d ever have the guts to actually approach the guy.
He’s torturing himself really, that can be the only explanation for why he’s hanging around even after the practice is over. Now that the others have deserted the stands, it’s time that he move as well. The last thing he needs is for anyone to notice him, given that he has enough problems with bullies as is. Over the course of the last year, he’s developed quite the knack for lurking unseen. It’s really not that hard, being as he’s small and unassuming to begin with; it makes him easy to overlook. Part of him wishes that isn’t the case, that he was taller, athletic, powerful. Maybe then he’d be able to act on his feelings. He’d at least be someone worthy of such an incredible individual, as opposed to scrawny, laughable kid with a crush.
Tim frowns to himself from his hiding place in the shadows, not far from the change rooms. The other jocks are a bunch of losers, assholes. More often then not, they're the ones that make sport of picking on the junior grades. It’s another reason to wish he was bigger, then maybe he could pop them one. They’d probably run away, since bullies are inherently cowards, or so his dad keeps telling him. It’s something of a relief when the others trickle out, chatting among themselves, or fawning all over their girlfriends of the week.
The boy scowled. In some ways the girls are even worse when it comes to maliciousness. They don’t hit you or stuff you in a locker. No, they just make snide comments full of implications that others take as gospel and run with.
Over all, high school sucked, he concluded. Except that it meant he could see Grayson, even if at a distance. That’s a decent enough trade off. At least for now. The soccer player is graduating this year. Tim has no idea what he’ll do then. Maybe talk to his dad about getting a private tutor?
He ruthlessly pulls his thoughts back to the task at hand: waiting for Dick to appear. He hasn’t been able to uncover a reason why, but the teen makes a habit of leaving last, usually a good fifteen minutes after everyone else. Whatever the reason there is a soothing feel of routine about it. Tim liked it when things followed a pattern.
However, when the time allotment is up and Dick hasn’t appeared, the boy begins to fret. He starts having images flash through his frantic little mind, showing him all the horrible things that could befall one, like slipping in the shower, hitting his head, blood gushing--
“So you’re my stalker,” a cheerful voice says in his ear.
“Ah!” Timmy cries out, his arms flailing as he tries to jump away, only to have his feet tangle themselves. Strong, graceful hands catch him before he can fall. Then he’s looking up into bright, dancing sapphire eyes which he promptly loses himself in. He’s only vaguely aware of the much larger youth putting him back on his feet like an oversized doll. All he can do is stare at the other with dark eyes gone impossibly wide as his thoughts gibber incoherently.
Dick is smiling that wonderful, open grin of his. At Tim. He can feel his mouth gaping a little in wonder. “Looks like my stalker is part fish,” his idol jokes, as he pokes the tip of Tim’s nose, which makes the boy snap his mouth shut audibly. This gets another chuckle from the young man in front of him and then...a hair ruffle? He crosses his arms and huffs. IfHINHIN there is one thing he loathes, it’s people going after his hair. “Maybe you’re a monkey?” Dick suggests as he has his hand swatted at.
Okay, this is so not how he envisioned their first meeting. Dick is making fun of him, but it’s not malicious. If anything, it makes him feel accepted, which doesn’t really make any sense, but he’ll go with it. Even so, he has no idea what to do about it. Was it okay to tease back? How the hell could he tease the twelfth grader?
“Hey, why are you stalking me,” Dick is asking, his look so very good natured instead of accusing.
Faced with that question, the small boy goes back to imitating a landed fish. He just can’t get his mouth to cooperate and the only sounds the come out are positively embarrassing little mewls.
“Aw c’mon. I think it’s cute,” the athletic young man assures him. That beautiful face is so earnest, trying so hard to put him at ease. “Do you want me to teach you how to play soccer?”
“Noooo,” it comes out as such a small sound, barely more then a whisper. Tim is fit to die of mortification. It would have been better if he stayed silent. Except now he’s treated to Dick nibbling on his lower lip in thought, a sight that is quickly melting his pre-teen brain.
Then he’s smiling again, having thought of something. “It works better when you use more then one word at a time,” the older boy teases.
He vaguely hears the words, but all his attention is on that pretty, perfect mouth. So close and…and…There is no conscious thought involved. In fact, when he looks back on it, he’s sure it was really someone else pulling his strings because there is just no way he would have had that much audacity! Yet somehow, his hands are reaching up and he’s standing on his tippy toes. Then he has Dick by the shoulders.
His closed lips are pressed to sweetly against Timmy’s. It’s nirvana, until he realizes what he just did and with whom. He starts gasping, unable to get air into his lungs. Oh god, oh god, oh god! He’s dead dead dead!
“Woah! Slow down, just breathe, kid!” That’s Dick speaking and then there is a hand stroking his back, slow and even and so very wonderful. “Geeze. I know I’m a good kisser but this is the first time I’ve ever made anyone hyperventilate.” That’s a laugh in his voice as well as concern. And…
Wait. He’s okay with a guy kissing him? Focusing on that question he gets his breathing something approaching normal again, which seems to be the signal for Dick to smile at him again. He has such a wonderfully expressive mouth…
“You thinking about kissing me again, kiddo?” He’s not mad. It’s just curious, good. Before Tim can stop himself, he’s nodding. Then he really has to kiss Dick because those vibrant eyes have gone so wide and well, he just has to. He doesn’t know what he’s doing so it’s probably not a good kiss but he presses his lips to the others and without meaning to, his tongue peeks out, licking at the older boy’s lips. Oh! He tastes like chocolate.
Then he stops, coming back down to rest on the flat of his feet, looking up through his long, thick black lashes nervously. Again, when his mouth opens his brain is completely disengaged.
“Are you going to the dance with anyone?” the freaky little stalker wants to know.
Characters: Tim, Bruce, Dick
Rating: PG (kissing)
Setting: AU, high school
Prompt: So, you have a date to the dance yet?
Warnings: teenage angst, silly fluff
Length: 1777
Author’s Notes: This WAS supposed to be a drabble for
darthbatgirl but it ended up a far bit longer. The boys just wouldn’t stop being cute! Thank you
stalinglim for betaing.
“You should just ask her,” the rich voice says behind him. Timothy Drake tries very hard not to look guilty as he straightens up to look at the adult behind him. Oh…oh dear. Of all the people to have caught him spying, it would have to be Mr. Wayne, the vice principle.
Tim gulps and is mortified at how audible it is. On top of that, the imposing man just smiles knowingly. For the fifth time that day he cursed his parents for ever thinking having him skip four grades was a good idea. Being a precocious twelve year old in high school sucked royally. And now he’s got Wayne giving him patronizing looks. The boy fidgets, as he stands there in his chinos and loafers and a pressed shirt. He has yet to convince Mrs. Mac that creases are uncool.
The large man looks around the bank of lockers at the gathering of young people Tim had been spying on. Ah, Grayson is holding court again. There are a couple of his fellow jocks behind him and seven of the schools lovely ladies vying for his attention. The dark haired soccer player is smiling, joking easily and seemingly completely unaware of how he affects those around him.
“So which one caught your eye, Mr. Drake? Emma, Ashley, Jean?”
The man just keeps smiling at him and Tim feels like he’s going to be sick. He shakes his head in mute denial, hoping that would suffice. No such luck. The teacher is apparently having fun with his guessing game, tapping his lip with a finger and pausing thoughtfully.
“Britney?” Dark boy eyes watch for a reaction. Another shake of the head. “Niada?” Another silent ‘no.’ “Linnet?” Still no. “Janice,” he asks with an arched brow. Sure, she’s a pretty enough brunette but she doesn’t have two brain cells to rub together, not the sort of person the man thinks a child prodigy would be attracted too. He’s a little relieved when the boy shoots him a dirty look before studying his feet again.
The man looked around the corner again, but he doesn’t see any other girls in the area. Maybe the person left? “So who is it you fancy?”
Tim really doesn’t trust that jovial voice or the way Wayne is trying hard to be ‘hip’ with him.
He took a deep breath and…bolted off down the hall, away from the nosy teacher and the person that has been occupying his thoughts for over a year.
Bruce scratched his head. The kid certainly can move. Maybe he should suggest the boy try out for the track team.
***
There are a dozen other’s in the stand, watching the practice. One more small body won’t attract any attention. However, while everyone else is keeping their eyes on the black and white ball, Tim only has eyes for the teenager skilfully guiding it across the field. Dick looks like he’s dancing, a wide smile on his face as the wind of his passage whips dark locks madly.
A silly little smile comes over Tim’s face. He thinks again about how he’d ask the young god to the upcoming spring fling, how they’d dance and laugh, how Dick would look at him…it is perfect all of it, in the safety of his mind. Of course that’s where it will remain, since there’s no way he’d ever have the guts to actually approach the guy.
He’s torturing himself really, that can be the only explanation for why he’s hanging around even after the practice is over. Now that the others have deserted the stands, it’s time that he move as well. The last thing he needs is for anyone to notice him, given that he has enough problems with bullies as is. Over the course of the last year, he’s developed quite the knack for lurking unseen. It’s really not that hard, being as he’s small and unassuming to begin with; it makes him easy to overlook. Part of him wishes that isn’t the case, that he was taller, athletic, powerful. Maybe then he’d be able to act on his feelings. He’d at least be someone worthy of such an incredible individual, as opposed to scrawny, laughable kid with a crush.
Tim frowns to himself from his hiding place in the shadows, not far from the change rooms. The other jocks are a bunch of losers, assholes. More often then not, they're the ones that make sport of picking on the junior grades. It’s another reason to wish he was bigger, then maybe he could pop them one. They’d probably run away, since bullies are inherently cowards, or so his dad keeps telling him. It’s something of a relief when the others trickle out, chatting among themselves, or fawning all over their girlfriends of the week.
The boy scowled. In some ways the girls are even worse when it comes to maliciousness. They don’t hit you or stuff you in a locker. No, they just make snide comments full of implications that others take as gospel and run with.
Over all, high school sucked, he concluded. Except that it meant he could see Grayson, even if at a distance. That’s a decent enough trade off. At least for now. The soccer player is graduating this year. Tim has no idea what he’ll do then. Maybe talk to his dad about getting a private tutor?
He ruthlessly pulls his thoughts back to the task at hand: waiting for Dick to appear. He hasn’t been able to uncover a reason why, but the teen makes a habit of leaving last, usually a good fifteen minutes after everyone else. Whatever the reason there is a soothing feel of routine about it. Tim liked it when things followed a pattern.
However, when the time allotment is up and Dick hasn’t appeared, the boy begins to fret. He starts having images flash through his frantic little mind, showing him all the horrible things that could befall one, like slipping in the shower, hitting his head, blood gushing--
“So you’re my stalker,” a cheerful voice says in his ear.
“Ah!” Timmy cries out, his arms flailing as he tries to jump away, only to have his feet tangle themselves. Strong, graceful hands catch him before he can fall. Then he’s looking up into bright, dancing sapphire eyes which he promptly loses himself in. He’s only vaguely aware of the much larger youth putting him back on his feet like an oversized doll. All he can do is stare at the other with dark eyes gone impossibly wide as his thoughts gibber incoherently.
Dick is smiling that wonderful, open grin of his. At Tim. He can feel his mouth gaping a little in wonder. “Looks like my stalker is part fish,” his idol jokes, as he pokes the tip of Tim’s nose, which makes the boy snap his mouth shut audibly. This gets another chuckle from the young man in front of him and then...a hair ruffle? He crosses his arms and huffs. IfHINHIN there is one thing he loathes, it’s people going after his hair. “Maybe you’re a monkey?” Dick suggests as he has his hand swatted at.
Okay, this is so not how he envisioned their first meeting. Dick is making fun of him, but it’s not malicious. If anything, it makes him feel accepted, which doesn’t really make any sense, but he’ll go with it. Even so, he has no idea what to do about it. Was it okay to tease back? How the hell could he tease the twelfth grader?
“Hey, why are you stalking me,” Dick is asking, his look so very good natured instead of accusing.
Faced with that question, the small boy goes back to imitating a landed fish. He just can’t get his mouth to cooperate and the only sounds the come out are positively embarrassing little mewls.
“Aw c’mon. I think it’s cute,” the athletic young man assures him. That beautiful face is so earnest, trying so hard to put him at ease. “Do you want me to teach you how to play soccer?”
“Noooo,” it comes out as such a small sound, barely more then a whisper. Tim is fit to die of mortification. It would have been better if he stayed silent. Except now he’s treated to Dick nibbling on his lower lip in thought, a sight that is quickly melting his pre-teen brain.
Then he’s smiling again, having thought of something. “It works better when you use more then one word at a time,” the older boy teases.
He vaguely hears the words, but all his attention is on that pretty, perfect mouth. So close and…and…There is no conscious thought involved. In fact, when he looks back on it, he’s sure it was really someone else pulling his strings because there is just no way he would have had that much audacity! Yet somehow, his hands are reaching up and he’s standing on his tippy toes. Then he has Dick by the shoulders.
His closed lips are pressed to sweetly against Timmy’s. It’s nirvana, until he realizes what he just did and with whom. He starts gasping, unable to get air into his lungs. Oh god, oh god, oh god! He’s dead dead dead!
“Woah! Slow down, just breathe, kid!” That’s Dick speaking and then there is a hand stroking his back, slow and even and so very wonderful. “Geeze. I know I’m a good kisser but this is the first time I’ve ever made anyone hyperventilate.” That’s a laugh in his voice as well as concern. And…
Wait. He’s okay with a guy kissing him? Focusing on that question he gets his breathing something approaching normal again, which seems to be the signal for Dick to smile at him again. He has such a wonderfully expressive mouth…
“You thinking about kissing me again, kiddo?” He’s not mad. It’s just curious, good. Before Tim can stop himself, he’s nodding. Then he really has to kiss Dick because those vibrant eyes have gone so wide and well, he just has to. He doesn’t know what he’s doing so it’s probably not a good kiss but he presses his lips to the others and without meaning to, his tongue peeks out, licking at the older boy’s lips. Oh! He tastes like chocolate.
Then he stops, coming back down to rest on the flat of his feet, looking up through his long, thick black lashes nervously. Again, when his mouth opens his brain is completely disengaged.
“Are you going to the dance with anyone?” the freaky little stalker wants to know.