Ficlet: Boys in Black and Blue.
So, metonymy and I have been flailing at each other about John Blake and Barbara Gordon for a few days. She dropped them into my prompt request on Tumblr and I've finally had a moment to play with them. So if you're interested, here's ~700 words of John Blake and Barbara Gordon.
Barbara’s on the other side of the door and suddenly his hands have gone clammy and his throat has gone dry. “So this is Wayne Manor,” she says. “Dad’s description didn’t do it justice.”
“It’s the Boys’ home now,” he says, and curses himself for stating the obvious instead of coming up with something witty and amusing.
She smiles all the same. “Are you going to ask me in, or is my tour to be restricted to the grounds only?”
From somewhere behind him a chorus of voices let’s out a hushed call of ooooooooooh. John rolls his eyes and stands out of the way. The voices break into giggles as she enters and are carried away on scrambling feet before John can close the door. The rubber heels of their sneakers squeak against the marble.
“It looks like you have your hands full.”
“I don’t usually watch the boys, but the Fathers needed the afternoon.” He wipes his hands together and then thrusts them into his pant pockets. Barbara takes in the entryway and then settles her eyes on him. They stand in relative silence as the grandfather clock around the corner ticks away any nerve John has managed to build. “So, uh, to what do we owe the pleasure?”
“Curiosity, mainly.”
“You’re not going to ask me to go back to the force again, are you? Because I’ve been pretty plain with the commissioner about where I’m needed.”
“No. He’s got the message.” She takes him by the elbow and leads him toward the stairs. “Now, do I get to see the library or not?”
There’s a football game happening in the ballroom and slinky races down the front staircase. Several boys greet them as they make their way through the noisy halls. “I don’t imagine it was ever like this when Bruce was growing up,” he says.
At the same time, Barbara says, “They replaced the Bat Signal.”
“I’m sorry?”
“The Bat Signal, they’ve replaced it.”
“Batman is...gone,” John says carefully.
“Whatever you say, detective.” They reach the doorway to the library and Barbara enters ahead of him. He opens his mouth to remind her that he’s not a detective anymore, but she’s already disappeared behind one of the shelves. When he catches up to her she’s perched on the rolling shelf ladder with a book on her lap, gently rocking herself back and forth with her feet.
Barbara belongs here. He doesn’t know if it’s because she’s made herself at home or because he wants her so desperately that he’s writing her in to every part of his life, but she's more at home than many of the boys who’ve lived in the mansion for months. John wonders if she’d be just as at ease in the caves below.
She looks up. “So it does smile.”
“What?” he asks. He brings his hand up to touch the corner of his mouth before he realizes what he’s doing.
“Oh, to hell with it,” she says. Barbara closes the book and places it on the bottom ladder rung as she stands. She moves toward John and he moves back. He catches his shoulder blades on the shelf behind him. “You rush into everything except the things you should rush into.”
Barbara grasps the sides of his face and kisses him.
John’s brain is yelling commands at his body, but there are too many to follow at once. He thinks about how odd it is that he can block a crowbar to his head with muscle memory, but he can’t block a kiss. When he finally gets traction he places his hands on the small of her back and pulls her close to him. It’s nice, and just a little reckless because they could be found out by the boys at any moment. He breaks away.
“Are books a kink of yours, then?”
She kisses his nose. “Books. And justice. And boys in black and blue.”
“I’m really not--”
Barbara cuts him off. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell the Fathers that you have a thing for justice too.”
Barbara’s on the other side of the door and suddenly his hands have gone clammy and his throat has gone dry. “So this is Wayne Manor,” she says. “Dad’s description didn’t do it justice.”
“It’s the Boys’ home now,” he says, and curses himself for stating the obvious instead of coming up with something witty and amusing.
She smiles all the same. “Are you going to ask me in, or is my tour to be restricted to the grounds only?”
From somewhere behind him a chorus of voices let’s out a hushed call of ooooooooooh. John rolls his eyes and stands out of the way. The voices break into giggles as she enters and are carried away on scrambling feet before John can close the door. The rubber heels of their sneakers squeak against the marble.
“It looks like you have your hands full.”
“I don’t usually watch the boys, but the Fathers needed the afternoon.” He wipes his hands together and then thrusts them into his pant pockets. Barbara takes in the entryway and then settles her eyes on him. They stand in relative silence as the grandfather clock around the corner ticks away any nerve John has managed to build. “So, uh, to what do we owe the pleasure?”
“Curiosity, mainly.”
“You’re not going to ask me to go back to the force again, are you? Because I’ve been pretty plain with the commissioner about where I’m needed.”
“No. He’s got the message.” She takes him by the elbow and leads him toward the stairs. “Now, do I get to see the library or not?”
There’s a football game happening in the ballroom and slinky races down the front staircase. Several boys greet them as they make their way through the noisy halls. “I don’t imagine it was ever like this when Bruce was growing up,” he says.
At the same time, Barbara says, “They replaced the Bat Signal.”
“I’m sorry?”
“The Bat Signal, they’ve replaced it.”
“Batman is...gone,” John says carefully.
“Whatever you say, detective.” They reach the doorway to the library and Barbara enters ahead of him. He opens his mouth to remind her that he’s not a detective anymore, but she’s already disappeared behind one of the shelves. When he catches up to her she’s perched on the rolling shelf ladder with a book on her lap, gently rocking herself back and forth with her feet.
Barbara belongs here. He doesn’t know if it’s because she’s made herself at home or because he wants her so desperately that he’s writing her in to every part of his life, but she's more at home than many of the boys who’ve lived in the mansion for months. John wonders if she’d be just as at ease in the caves below.
She looks up. “So it does smile.”
“What?” he asks. He brings his hand up to touch the corner of his mouth before he realizes what he’s doing.
“Oh, to hell with it,” she says. Barbara closes the book and places it on the bottom ladder rung as she stands. She moves toward John and he moves back. He catches his shoulder blades on the shelf behind him. “You rush into everything except the things you should rush into.”
Barbara grasps the sides of his face and kisses him.
John’s brain is yelling commands at his body, but there are too many to follow at once. He thinks about how odd it is that he can block a crowbar to his head with muscle memory, but he can’t block a kiss. When he finally gets traction he places his hands on the small of her back and pulls her close to him. It’s nice, and just a little reckless because they could be found out by the boys at any moment. He breaks away.
“Are books a kink of yours, then?”
She kisses his nose. “Books. And justice. And boys in black and blue.”
“I’m really not--”
Barbara cuts him off. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell the Fathers that you have a thing for justice too.”