More ficlets!
Hi guys! I got the place to rent I wanted! I am soooo happy! I thought I was going to be homeless there for a while!
Here are your fics, only the first one turned out the way it was meant to. The last isn't even the original pairing it was going to be. Shrug. Be prepared, the second is a bit angsty.
If anyone wants to fix my crapy French please tell me.
Kicks (Hug Pollen 6)
J'onn J'onnz found himself drawn to the small kitchen of the Watch Tower. Of late any place on the space station in which Booster Gold was currently occupying would be full of bitchy comments and endless whinging. Today however, silence held in the bright little room. His own undying curiosity led him to find out why.
Booster was sprawled awkwardly in a hard metal chair. He had pushed it out from the table to give his swelling belly room. A slowly melting banana sundae and a half eaten packet of crackers sat on the table in front of him but all his attention was focused on the man who knelt next to him, ear pressed to his stomach.
Blue Beetle had one hand pressed to the other side of his friends belly and the other gently fitted to the top of his thigh. He pushed his cheek closer to Booster's belly and waited. After a moment he squealed happily and grinned up at the blond man.
"I felt him!" He looked ecstatic. "Wow, he's strong! Going to be a regular little super hero, isn't he?" Booster just smiled gently down at him and reached down to tangle their fingers together.
"Yeah Ted. Our son's going to grow up just great."
The Martian smiled to himself as he walked away unwilling to interrupt this precious moment. They were going to be alright after all. As long as they never got Guy to baby sit. Or Wally.
Word Count: 248
Make It All Better
Tim curled up in the nest of blankets he'd made. It was hot, oppressively so, but he refused to move and let air in. It was better this way. Just him and his memories. It wasn't fair. Bart had been so young and innocent. How could it have ended like this?
He remembered...
A building had collapsed in the battle and Impulse was nowhere to be seen. When Superboy and Wonder Girl had managed to dig him free, he had looked so tiny. Bruised and battered, he lay unconscious amongst the rubble.
Cleaned and bandaged back in the cave, Robin had sat by him, keeping a night-long vigil over his friend. He had reached out and picked up one tiny little wrist and lifted bruised knuckles to his lips.
Golden eyes stared up at him blearily; a question brimmed in their shimmering depths and he kissed every knuckle before he gently laid the hand back down.
"Better now." He stood to leave in a swirl of black and gold but a tiny voice stopped him.
"Robin? What?"
He blinked twice behind his mask before glancing back over his shoulder.
"A kiss always makes things better, Bart."
He drew his knees up tighter to his chest and dug his teeth into the side of his hand. He wasn’t going to cry. Wasn’t going to break again.
The guy had been stronger than he had thought and he could feel the bruise swelling across his jaw and cheek but he was really too busy right now to deal with it. The battle seemed never ending. Maybe they should have called the Titans. Or the League.
It wasn’t until hours later that they could clamber into the Super Cycle and go home.
He was in his room afterwards finishing his report when Impulse slid through the door. He really had to remember to fix his security so that it could pick that up.
The frictionless material of the smaller boy’s gloves slid over his cheek barely even touching him. No sound escaped from either boy as the speedster leant down and brushed his lips to the rapidly darkening bruise on Tim's cheek.
Hot tears slid down his cheeks, scalding the pale and clammy skin. Why would anyone want to hurt Bart? Not even villains had ever been able to hate him. Sure he could be trying at times but...
He didn’t bother to move at first just stayed sprawled undignified on the floor. He rubbed at his butt and stared at the banana peel sitting on the ground in front of him. What the hell was going on?
He saw something move out of the corner of his eye. Impulse looked as smug as the cat in the cream. He sighed into the puddle of cape between his legs and levered himself off the floor.
A second later and Bart stood, vibrating, in front of him.
“AreyouallrightRobin? Iheardabump. Didyoufall? Doyouwantmetokissitbetter?”
Tim sighed again and hid his smile.
He lay curled under his blankets, shivering and sobbing uncontrollably. So many memories, good and bad. Super fast brushes of lips against his cheeks. So much innocence and good will. He had always just wanted to help and to play. And then...
The hands that held his cheeks were much larger now. What had been minutes for them had been years, literally, for the speedsters. He couldn’t stand it. One friend snatched away from him by a boy who was meant to be good and the other so changed.
“Tim.” He looked up into darker gold eyes and tried to stop shaking. Tried to stop the fall of tears. But he couldn’t. He was failing at everything lately and everyone was dying.
“Tim! I. I know I’m not him. Can’t be. And I know that I’m different now but...”
He paused long enough to hug the broken bird huddled in the corner of the dark room.
“I know I shouldn’t...” Hot and soft, lips brushed against his. “But Tim...It always worked before.” Again lips had met his, but not so gentle this time and he allowed Bart's grief to join his own as they tried to make the pain go away.
For a while, wrapped in sleek muscled arms he had felt better. Sweat had dripped down onto his own sticky chest and each drop had seemed to drive away the pain for a while. Vibrating hands had pinned his hips down and fast fast fast thrusts had pushed it further away.
Lips had wandered incessantly and unfathomably fast over his face, neck and chest as the strangely large body of his friend blanketed him and for a while he was better.
Then Bart had fled his friends and the pain came back.
Now he was alone, abandoned by friends and family, with no-one to kiss away his pain and make it all better.
Word Count: 815
Stuck in the Middle
French flew over his head. Two raised voices, shouting in their native language. Most of it was too fast for him to make out the words but a few bits got through.
"T'es un espece de merde!"
"Fils de un cochon repugnante!"
Maybe he should move or try to stop this argument; it did seem to have something to do with him after all. But really he was just happy to stand here and listen to the snarling accents, rough and sexy, that tainted the kitchen air around him. It was, after all, extremely hot.
Hmm...he shouldn't think things like that around telepaths. Emma was smirking at him now. It wasn't like he could help it. If they kept talking like that he'd have to drag them both to bed. Oh...that was a nice thought. They were both tall and lanky with oh-so-lovely sleek muscles. Super speed. Glowing red and black eyes. He surreptitiously checked for drool and glared at Emma.
"Mal fame batard!"
"Le petit bonhomme de neige n'est pas le tien!"
Their argument slowed when both men looked down at the strangely happy x-man standing between them. His blue eyes looked faintly glazed over and he showed no intentions of stopping their fight or even finding out what it was about.
"Otter pop?"
"Bobby?"
Tossing one more glare at the resident physic, Bobby Drake grabbed one hand from each man. He tangled his fingers tight with theirs and smirked.
"Let's go to my room. You can keep fighting there."
Damn if French wasn't the sexiest language in the world.
Word Count: 266
Translations (at least what I meant it to mean)
"T'es un espece de merde!" You piece of shit!
"Fils de un cochon repugnante!" Son of a filthy pig!
"Mal fame batard!" Sleazy bastard!
"Le petit bonhomme de neige n'est pas le tieni!" The little snowman isn’t yours!
Here are your fics, only the first one turned out the way it was meant to. The last isn't even the original pairing it was going to be. Shrug. Be prepared, the second is a bit angsty.
If anyone wants to fix my crapy French please tell me.
Kicks (Hug Pollen 6)
J'onn J'onnz found himself drawn to the small kitchen of the Watch Tower. Of late any place on the space station in which Booster Gold was currently occupying would be full of bitchy comments and endless whinging. Today however, silence held in the bright little room. His own undying curiosity led him to find out why.
Booster was sprawled awkwardly in a hard metal chair. He had pushed it out from the table to give his swelling belly room. A slowly melting banana sundae and a half eaten packet of crackers sat on the table in front of him but all his attention was focused on the man who knelt next to him, ear pressed to his stomach.
Blue Beetle had one hand pressed to the other side of his friends belly and the other gently fitted to the top of his thigh. He pushed his cheek closer to Booster's belly and waited. After a moment he squealed happily and grinned up at the blond man.
"I felt him!" He looked ecstatic. "Wow, he's strong! Going to be a regular little super hero, isn't he?" Booster just smiled gently down at him and reached down to tangle their fingers together.
"Yeah Ted. Our son's going to grow up just great."
The Martian smiled to himself as he walked away unwilling to interrupt this precious moment. They were going to be alright after all. As long as they never got Guy to baby sit. Or Wally.
Word Count: 248
Make It All Better
Tim curled up in the nest of blankets he'd made. It was hot, oppressively so, but he refused to move and let air in. It was better this way. Just him and his memories. It wasn't fair. Bart had been so young and innocent. How could it have ended like this?
He remembered...
A building had collapsed in the battle and Impulse was nowhere to be seen. When Superboy and Wonder Girl had managed to dig him free, he had looked so tiny. Bruised and battered, he lay unconscious amongst the rubble.
Cleaned and bandaged back in the cave, Robin had sat by him, keeping a night-long vigil over his friend. He had reached out and picked up one tiny little wrist and lifted bruised knuckles to his lips.
Golden eyes stared up at him blearily; a question brimmed in their shimmering depths and he kissed every knuckle before he gently laid the hand back down.
"Better now." He stood to leave in a swirl of black and gold but a tiny voice stopped him.
"Robin? What?"
He blinked twice behind his mask before glancing back over his shoulder.
"A kiss always makes things better, Bart."
He drew his knees up tighter to his chest and dug his teeth into the side of his hand. He wasn’t going to cry. Wasn’t going to break again.
The guy had been stronger than he had thought and he could feel the bruise swelling across his jaw and cheek but he was really too busy right now to deal with it. The battle seemed never ending. Maybe they should have called the Titans. Or the League.
It wasn’t until hours later that they could clamber into the Super Cycle and go home.
He was in his room afterwards finishing his report when Impulse slid through the door. He really had to remember to fix his security so that it could pick that up.
The frictionless material of the smaller boy’s gloves slid over his cheek barely even touching him. No sound escaped from either boy as the speedster leant down and brushed his lips to the rapidly darkening bruise on Tim's cheek.
Hot tears slid down his cheeks, scalding the pale and clammy skin. Why would anyone want to hurt Bart? Not even villains had ever been able to hate him. Sure he could be trying at times but...
He didn’t bother to move at first just stayed sprawled undignified on the floor. He rubbed at his butt and stared at the banana peel sitting on the ground in front of him. What the hell was going on?
He saw something move out of the corner of his eye. Impulse looked as smug as the cat in the cream. He sighed into the puddle of cape between his legs and levered himself off the floor.
A second later and Bart stood, vibrating, in front of him.
“AreyouallrightRobin? Iheardabump. Didyoufall? Doyouwantmetokissitbetter?”
Tim sighed again and hid his smile.
He lay curled under his blankets, shivering and sobbing uncontrollably. So many memories, good and bad. Super fast brushes of lips against his cheeks. So much innocence and good will. He had always just wanted to help and to play. And then...
The hands that held his cheeks were much larger now. What had been minutes for them had been years, literally, for the speedsters. He couldn’t stand it. One friend snatched away from him by a boy who was meant to be good and the other so changed.
“Tim.” He looked up into darker gold eyes and tried to stop shaking. Tried to stop the fall of tears. But he couldn’t. He was failing at everything lately and everyone was dying.
“Tim! I. I know I’m not him. Can’t be. And I know that I’m different now but...”
He paused long enough to hug the broken bird huddled in the corner of the dark room.
“I know I shouldn’t...” Hot and soft, lips brushed against his. “But Tim...It always worked before.” Again lips had met his, but not so gentle this time and he allowed Bart's grief to join his own as they tried to make the pain go away.
For a while, wrapped in sleek muscled arms he had felt better. Sweat had dripped down onto his own sticky chest and each drop had seemed to drive away the pain for a while. Vibrating hands had pinned his hips down and fast fast fast thrusts had pushed it further away.
Lips had wandered incessantly and unfathomably fast over his face, neck and chest as the strangely large body of his friend blanketed him and for a while he was better.
Then Bart had fled his friends and the pain came back.
Now he was alone, abandoned by friends and family, with no-one to kiss away his pain and make it all better.
Word Count: 815
Stuck in the Middle
French flew over his head. Two raised voices, shouting in their native language. Most of it was too fast for him to make out the words but a few bits got through.
"T'es un espece de merde!"
"Fils de un cochon repugnante!"
Maybe he should move or try to stop this argument; it did seem to have something to do with him after all. But really he was just happy to stand here and listen to the snarling accents, rough and sexy, that tainted the kitchen air around him. It was, after all, extremely hot.
Hmm...he shouldn't think things like that around telepaths. Emma was smirking at him now. It wasn't like he could help it. If they kept talking like that he'd have to drag them both to bed. Oh...that was a nice thought. They were both tall and lanky with oh-so-lovely sleek muscles. Super speed. Glowing red and black eyes. He surreptitiously checked for drool and glared at Emma.
"Mal fame batard!"
"Le petit bonhomme de neige n'est pas le tien!"
Their argument slowed when both men looked down at the strangely happy x-man standing between them. His blue eyes looked faintly glazed over and he showed no intentions of stopping their fight or even finding out what it was about.
"Otter pop?"
"Bobby?"
Tossing one more glare at the resident physic, Bobby Drake grabbed one hand from each man. He tangled his fingers tight with theirs and smirked.
"Let's go to my room. You can keep fighting there."
Damn if French wasn't the sexiest language in the world.
Word Count: 266
Translations (at least what I meant it to mean)
"T'es un espece de merde!" You piece of shit!
"Fils de un cochon repugnante!" Son of a filthy pig!
"Mal fame batard!" Sleazy bastard!
"Le petit bonhomme de neige n'est pas le tieni!" The little snowman isn’t yours!