FIClet: Linear Movement (Teen Titans/Lucifer crossover, Rated R)
Linear Movement
by Keelywolfe
Fandom: Teen Titans/Lucifer crossover
Characters: Bart/ Lucifer.
Rated R
Summary: A long-awaited visit.
Notes: Okay, so, I'm a freak. This was inspired by me noticing that Lucifer and Bart really do have the same color eyes. Yeah, yeah, my insanity is a constant source of irritation to me.
~~*~~
It was too early to be woken up, even by speedster standards. An attempted breakout at Alcatraz had come at the worst of all times, right during the Wendy, the Werewolf Stalker season finale. They'd been up for hours getting everything under control and even Robin had gone straight to his room for a shower and sleep, possibly not in that order. Barely stripping off his uniform before collapsing into sleep was a new sensation for Bart, one he hoped he didn't get too familiar with.
It didn't explain the man sitting at the foot of his bed, but then, Bart wasn't sure much could. Not that it surprised him, really. Life as a hero had pretty much made him immune to shocks of that sort.
The shock of not being able to move was also not a new one but it was one that made sweat prickle on his skin, a too-clear memory of pain that he thought would always be blood-fresh in his mind.
"I generally steer clear of your kind. Complications, you understand."
It was too dark to see him, barely more than a shadow-weight denting his blankets. It was his voice that really gave Bart a turn; like something strange and not-quite beautiful. Bart had read thousands of poems and none of those combinations of word described it. Like a song that had never been written to be heard, a clash of things that just didn't make sense. He could remember every word he had ever read but speech still tended to elude him and that voice made it even worse. It was like trying to hold water in his hands, forever dwindling away.
"This once, though, an exception needed to be made." He saw the man stand, a shadow moving in the dark and still couldn't flinch from the hand gently cupping his cheek, tilted his head up. "I believe you're something of mine."
He couldn't help but look. Golden eyes above him, regarding him, and Bart's thoughts tilted madly into broken mirrors and white rabbits, ageless depths in those eyes that spoke of screaming insanity and a lifetime of padded rooms.
He couldn't look away.
"I felt you when you arrived, of course. Unfortunately, this is the first free moment I've had to visit." His thumb stroked the thin skin beneath Bart's eye. "I have managed to keep some track of you. Not an easy task, even for me."
"I-"
"I've also noticed you're something of an annoyance, so I'd rather you kept quiet." Silence had never come easier to him. Bart could smell the oily salt of his own sweat and he'd admit with no shame that it was fear that had it trailing in thin little lines down his back, dampness itching at his temples. This was someone to be feared, of that he had no question.
"I prefer to exist in a linear manner, which is why you're giving me some pause." Long, dark lashes dipped low, shadowing his eyes and it let Bart blink, a little. The man's hand was a like a soft little animal, stroking his cheek with intentions all its own. "You won't be birthed for some little time but you're here now. I don't have faith in much and none at all in coincidence. I'm supposing that you must be of some use. Eventually."
His eyes were unearthly, terrifying, but his hand felt warm, like any other hand, a human touch and Bart closed his eyes and tilted his head into that warmth, let it trail willingly over his cheek. He felt a faint tremor, surprise, maybe?
The man's voice was the same, damp velvet rubbed raw against his nerves but this time Bart thought he heard something like amusement, too. "Well, then. You really are something of mine, now aren't you?"
His mouth was nothing like his voice.
Hard, unyielding and cruel, and Bart opened up to it as helplessly as one who was blind and deaf, and in that moment it was as if he was. Reborn beneath the cool twist of a tongue over his own, lost beneath it as it changed over him, and the light behind his eyes, so strong as to be sickening.
The man's hands were clutching at him, holding him close and his fingers moved, roving over him, reading him like he was a page.
Bart wondered, dimly, who was writing the book.
*
It was darker, later, when Bart slipped out of his bed, deliberately keeping his pace to a slow walk. Max would have approved of at least that much. The sleeping quarters were spread out, a tactical choice to keep all of them being murdered at once in their sleep, but the room he wanted wasn't so far away. Not really.
He considered the door chime and chose instead to knock.
"Bart?" Tim was probably blinking sleepily behind his mask. Bart had seen his eyes before. Deep blue, cool as stone. He wanted to see them again, wondered what they looked like churning with the emotions Tim kept trapped within. "What is it?"
"Can I come in?" Softly. He knew just how wide to make his eyes, how innocent, and he knew the moment Tim stepped back to let him inside just how much he had won.
And he knew not to let Tim see him smile.
-finis-
by Keelywolfe
Fandom: Teen Titans/Lucifer crossover
Characters: Bart/ Lucifer.
Rated R
Summary: A long-awaited visit.
Notes: Okay, so, I'm a freak. This was inspired by me noticing that Lucifer and Bart really do have the same color eyes. Yeah, yeah, my insanity is a constant source of irritation to me.
~~*~~
It was too early to be woken up, even by speedster standards. An attempted breakout at Alcatraz had come at the worst of all times, right during the Wendy, the Werewolf Stalker season finale. They'd been up for hours getting everything under control and even Robin had gone straight to his room for a shower and sleep, possibly not in that order. Barely stripping off his uniform before collapsing into sleep was a new sensation for Bart, one he hoped he didn't get too familiar with.
It didn't explain the man sitting at the foot of his bed, but then, Bart wasn't sure much could. Not that it surprised him, really. Life as a hero had pretty much made him immune to shocks of that sort.
The shock of not being able to move was also not a new one but it was one that made sweat prickle on his skin, a too-clear memory of pain that he thought would always be blood-fresh in his mind.
"I generally steer clear of your kind. Complications, you understand."
It was too dark to see him, barely more than a shadow-weight denting his blankets. It was his voice that really gave Bart a turn; like something strange and not-quite beautiful. Bart had read thousands of poems and none of those combinations of word described it. Like a song that had never been written to be heard, a clash of things that just didn't make sense. He could remember every word he had ever read but speech still tended to elude him and that voice made it even worse. It was like trying to hold water in his hands, forever dwindling away.
"This once, though, an exception needed to be made." He saw the man stand, a shadow moving in the dark and still couldn't flinch from the hand gently cupping his cheek, tilted his head up. "I believe you're something of mine."
He couldn't help but look. Golden eyes above him, regarding him, and Bart's thoughts tilted madly into broken mirrors and white rabbits, ageless depths in those eyes that spoke of screaming insanity and a lifetime of padded rooms.
He couldn't look away.
"I felt you when you arrived, of course. Unfortunately, this is the first free moment I've had to visit." His thumb stroked the thin skin beneath Bart's eye. "I have managed to keep some track of you. Not an easy task, even for me."
"I-"
"I've also noticed you're something of an annoyance, so I'd rather you kept quiet." Silence had never come easier to him. Bart could smell the oily salt of his own sweat and he'd admit with no shame that it was fear that had it trailing in thin little lines down his back, dampness itching at his temples. This was someone to be feared, of that he had no question.
"I prefer to exist in a linear manner, which is why you're giving me some pause." Long, dark lashes dipped low, shadowing his eyes and it let Bart blink, a little. The man's hand was a like a soft little animal, stroking his cheek with intentions all its own. "You won't be birthed for some little time but you're here now. I don't have faith in much and none at all in coincidence. I'm supposing that you must be of some use. Eventually."
His eyes were unearthly, terrifying, but his hand felt warm, like any other hand, a human touch and Bart closed his eyes and tilted his head into that warmth, let it trail willingly over his cheek. He felt a faint tremor, surprise, maybe?
The man's voice was the same, damp velvet rubbed raw against his nerves but this time Bart thought he heard something like amusement, too. "Well, then. You really are something of mine, now aren't you?"
His mouth was nothing like his voice.
Hard, unyielding and cruel, and Bart opened up to it as helplessly as one who was blind and deaf, and in that moment it was as if he was. Reborn beneath the cool twist of a tongue over his own, lost beneath it as it changed over him, and the light behind his eyes, so strong as to be sickening.
The man's hands were clutching at him, holding him close and his fingers moved, roving over him, reading him like he was a page.
Bart wondered, dimly, who was writing the book.
*
It was darker, later, when Bart slipped out of his bed, deliberately keeping his pace to a slow walk. Max would have approved of at least that much. The sleeping quarters were spread out, a tactical choice to keep all of them being murdered at once in their sleep, but the room he wanted wasn't so far away. Not really.
He considered the door chime and chose instead to knock.
"Bart?" Tim was probably blinking sleepily behind his mask. Bart had seen his eyes before. Deep blue, cool as stone. He wanted to see them again, wondered what they looked like churning with the emotions Tim kept trapped within. "What is it?"
"Can I come in?" Softly. He knew just how wide to make his eyes, how innocent, and he knew the moment Tim stepped back to let him inside just how much he had won.
And he knew not to let Tim see him smile.
-finis-