Send me a number and a pairing/two or more characters and get a drabble or ficlet if I'm feeling so inspired.51. “What the hell are you wearing
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"Damian," Dick says. He fiddles with the blanket, straightening out the edges.
"What?" Damian asks. It's a perfect night on the beach. Starry, cloudless. The moon's so bright and yellow Dick swears he can see the Watchtower from here.
"Are you, um," Dick says. "Are you feeling okay?"
"Yes," Damian says. He starts pulling food out of an honest-to-god picnic basket. There's no way he didn't have Alfred's help; like Dick, Damian isn't even allowed near the kitchen without supervision. "Why?"
"Well," Dick says. "We're having a picnic. On the beach. Under the stars. It's all a bit… romance novel, isn't it?"
Damian scowls at him. His cheeks turn pink, and Dick kind of wants to kiss both of them in quick succession. "What's your point?"
"It's just," Dick says. "I'm trying to make sure you didn't get bodyswapped or something. I mean, should I call a doctor?"
Damian throws the empty picnic basket at him, hard. Dick ducks, and it goes flying across the sand.
"Well," Damian says. "I guess this date could have just been the two of us on some Gotham rooftop, blowing each other with blood all over our gauntlets, but that seemed so plebian."
Dick snorts. It sounds like a typical vigilante date to him, but he doesn't say so. "Fair enough," he says. He runs his fingers over the blanket again. "I mean, it's very nice," he says.
Damian rolls his eyes, moves into his lap and pushes him down onto the blanket. Dick feels the sand get into his hair. "Just shut up and be appreciative," Damian says.
"Hm," Dick says. He slides his fingers under Damian's t-shirt, smiles up at him. "I think I know how to do that."
Their food gets kind of squashed in all the rolling around, and Damian flat-out refuses to go skinny dipping with him, but it's still a pretty good date.
"What?" Damian asks. It's a perfect night on the beach. Starry, cloudless. The moon's so bright and yellow Dick swears he can see the Watchtower from here.
"Are you, um," Dick says. "Are you feeling okay?"
"Yes," Damian says. He starts pulling food out of an honest-to-god picnic basket. There's no way he didn't have Alfred's help; like Dick, Damian isn't even allowed near the kitchen without supervision. "Why?"
"Well," Dick says. "We're having a picnic. On the beach. Under the stars. It's all a bit… romance novel, isn't it?"
Damian scowls at him. His cheeks turn pink, and Dick kind of wants to kiss both of them in quick succession. "What's your point?"
"It's just," Dick says. "I'm trying to make sure you didn't get bodyswapped or something. I mean, should I call a doctor?"
Damian throws the empty picnic basket at him, hard. Dick ducks, and it goes flying across the sand.
"Well," Damian says. "I guess this date could have just been the two of us on some Gotham rooftop, blowing each other with blood all over our gauntlets, but that seemed so plebian."
Dick snorts. It sounds like a typical vigilante date to him, but he doesn't say so. "Fair enough," he says. He runs his fingers over the blanket again. "I mean, it's very nice," he says.
Damian rolls his eyes, moves into his lap and pushes him down onto the blanket. Dick feels the sand get into his hair. "Just shut up and be appreciative," Damian says.
"Hm," Dick says. He slides his fingers under Damian's t-shirt, smiles up at him. "I think I know how to do that."
Their food gets kind of squashed in all the rolling around, and Damian flat-out refuses to go skinny dipping with him, but it's still a pretty good date.
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