Chat-fic snippet
So, talking with Mael about clichés, (and mpreg. (oh! [goes back and edits last post]) It was late) and we couldn't think of any handcuffed-together-and-forced-to-bond canon. So clearly this is a niche ready to be exploited by fic!
brown_betty: So, Batman and Nightwing are on the run from Ra's Al Ghul on his island of scary fucked-up-ness.
maelithil: *sits at your feet and listens*
brown_betty: It's sort of wooded and crap! Very dark, and Dick keeps on stabbing himself in the six square inches of his unarmoured face with branches. Bruce probably is too, but he doesn't ever make noise, so. They've been running and ducking and trucking through muck and climbing and falling for *hours* And it doesn't help that they're handcuffed together. Or. Something much more nefarious, since there's no handcuffs on earth Bruce can't get out of in fifteen minutes. Bruce speculated that R'as has some kind of trade agreement with Apokalypse. Dick doesn't really care.
Anyway. Dick's covered in mud and grass stains and he can't see Bruce, really, but he knows Bruce has been hitting the ground almost as often as him. Well. Just as often, because of the handcuffs. But he's guiltily aware that he's been pulling Bruce down more often than vice versa.
So when Bruce says, "rest," at first Dick can't distinguish it from the fantasy that's been looping in his head for the last however the fuck long, of Bruce actually letting him sit the fuck down. Only maybe that's not a good idea because he's not sure he could stand up again. He puts his free hand out blindly, encounters a tree and starts to prop himself up against it, but the cuffs pull him back. Dick pants a moment, too stupid with exhaustion to problem solve.
"Here," says Bruce. "Brace yourself against me."
Dick can't see Bruce, but he knows where he is, never more than an arm's length away, so he reels himself up the line of their arms, and encounters Bruce's broad chest, and yeah, he is covered in mud, because that's pretty slick, he can tell even through the gloves. He doesn't worry about that, though, because he's just as gross, and just leans his forehead against his arm against Bruce's collar bone for a moment. And then, when he thinks he can, he turns and leans back against Bruce.
He tilts his head back and looks, well, there's no stars. Up at the black. Bruce has been having nearly as hard a time of it as he has, because he can feel his breath against his ear. Dick shivers.
"Sorry," says Bruce. "I should have-- cool down." Dick realizes he actually is getting cold from the sweat and the night air. He reaches over his shoulder with his free hand, and paws for the edge of Bruce's cape. "I'm-- I'm sorry I got you into--"
"Shut up, bone-head," says Dick, and realizes he's getting his breath back. He manages to catch the cape in his glove, but it slips out. Bruce suddenly... and it makes no sense. He suddenly *hugs* Dick, one arm at the waist, and the other... Oh. He's wrapped up in the bat cape. And beginning to warm up.
"Just... take a breather for a moment," says Bruce.
Dick breathes.
brown_betty: So, Batman and Nightwing are on the run from Ra's Al Ghul on his island of scary fucked-up-ness.
maelithil: *sits at your feet and listens*
brown_betty: It's sort of wooded and crap! Very dark, and Dick keeps on stabbing himself in the six square inches of his unarmoured face with branches. Bruce probably is too, but he doesn't ever make noise, so. They've been running and ducking and trucking through muck and climbing and falling for *hours* And it doesn't help that they're handcuffed together. Or. Something much more nefarious, since there's no handcuffs on earth Bruce can't get out of in fifteen minutes. Bruce speculated that R'as has some kind of trade agreement with Apokalypse. Dick doesn't really care.
Anyway. Dick's covered in mud and grass stains and he can't see Bruce, really, but he knows Bruce has been hitting the ground almost as often as him. Well. Just as often, because of the handcuffs. But he's guiltily aware that he's been pulling Bruce down more often than vice versa.
So when Bruce says, "rest," at first Dick can't distinguish it from the fantasy that's been looping in his head for the last however the fuck long, of Bruce actually letting him sit the fuck down. Only maybe that's not a good idea because he's not sure he could stand up again. He puts his free hand out blindly, encounters a tree and starts to prop himself up against it, but the cuffs pull him back. Dick pants a moment, too stupid with exhaustion to problem solve.
"Here," says Bruce. "Brace yourself against me."
Dick can't see Bruce, but he knows where he is, never more than an arm's length away, so he reels himself up the line of their arms, and encounters Bruce's broad chest, and yeah, he is covered in mud, because that's pretty slick, he can tell even through the gloves. He doesn't worry about that, though, because he's just as gross, and just leans his forehead against his arm against Bruce's collar bone for a moment. And then, when he thinks he can, he turns and leans back against Bruce.
He tilts his head back and looks, well, there's no stars. Up at the black. Bruce has been having nearly as hard a time of it as he has, because he can feel his breath against his ear. Dick shivers.
"Sorry," says Bruce. "I should have-- cool down." Dick realizes he actually is getting cold from the sweat and the night air. He reaches over his shoulder with his free hand, and paws for the edge of Bruce's cape. "I'm-- I'm sorry I got you into--"
"Shut up, bone-head," says Dick, and realizes he's getting his breath back. He manages to catch the cape in his glove, but it slips out. Bruce suddenly... and it makes no sense. He suddenly *hugs* Dick, one arm at the waist, and the other... Oh. He's wrapped up in the bat cape. And beginning to warm up.
"Just... take a breather for a moment," says Bruce.
Dick breathes.