fic: Have You Heard the One About... (Under the Red Hood; Dick/Jason; pg)
Have You Heard the One About...
Under the Red Hood; Dick/Jason; pg; 1,495 words
"Have you heard the one about--" "I already told you, I've heard them all."
This is all angelgazing's fault. And also mousapelli's. Because we are the twelvest. And because they don't stop me when I say things like, "Jason would make ALL the dick jokes, and Dick would just be like 'heard it. Please try again.'" *hands* At least I wrote something?
~*~
Have You Heard the One About...
Having Jason back in Gotham is annoying on many levels, and not just because he's one twist short of a slinky. Dick swings away from him, hoping he'll take the hint, but no, Jason's just behind him, not even breathing hard as he shouts the end of the joke loud enough to be heard over the rush of wind in Dick's ears.
"And the invisible man says, 'I don't know, but my ass hurts.'" Jason lands beside him on the ledge, and though Dick can't see his face behind that stupid red helmet, he can imagine the shit-eating grin the guy is probably wearing. Jason folds his arms over his chest and cocks his head. "Ignoring me won't make me go away."
"There's a first time for everything."
"Hey, I helped you out back there."
"Like I said."
"And you didn't even laugh at my joke!"
"It wasn't particularly funny."
"Oh, come on. You have no sense of humor."
"I have a sense of humor. You just don't know any funny jokes."
"I know plenty of funny jokes."
"I doubt that."
"Hmph. How about the one with the wife and the mistress?"
"Heard it."
"You don't even know what I was going to say." Jason's indignation is funnier than his jokes.
"Not only are your jokes not funny," Dick says, shooting another line and calling back over his shoulder as he swings away, "they're all older than you are."
Two nights later, Dick is busting the heads of some thugs who work for an arms dealer when Jason shows up. Since he doesn't try to shoot anybody, Dick doesn't interfere when he knocks out two of the goons and throws a third face-first into the grille of his own truck.
"I've got one for you," he says, picking up the conversation where Dick tried to leave it. "There's this lonely sheep farmer--"
"Heard it."
Dick punches the guy in front of him an unnecessary second time, mostly so he doesn't turn around and take a swing at Jason. The last thing he needs is to break his fingers on that damn helmet.
"Listen," he says, hands on his hips, and he can't be sure because of the mask, but it looks like Jason is checking him out. Which is a little weird, considering, but a lot less annoying than the jokes. "I already told you, I've heard them all. If you can find a joke I haven't heard, I'll--"
"Go out for a beer with me?"
Dick blinks in surprise behind his mask. "Are you even old enough to drink?" he says, to cover.
"No wonder you don't find my jokes funny. You suck at telling them yourself."
"If you can find a joke I haven't heard, I will have sex with you."
"What? Seriously?"
Dick smirks at the way Jason's voice suddenly goes high-pitched and incredulous. That should put an end to his attempts at comedy. And if it doesn't, well, Dick's been hearing dick jokes his whole life, so the odds of Jason finding one he hasn't heard are somewhere between slim and none. "Sure, why not?" He finishes tying up the last thug, turns, and leans in close to Jason, pitching his voice low and seductive. "Hot, sweaty, wall-banging sex. I'll even keep the suit on, if that's what turns your crank."
He takes off, leaving Jason standing speechless in the street. It's the best exit line he's had in a while.
He should have known his triumph couldn't last, though. He's just not that lucky. He wakes up to a text from Jason, and his email is full of jokes that are older than he is, let alone Jason.
Not even close, he texts back. How did you even get this number?
I wanted to get those out of the way, just in case, Jason replies. And how do you think?
He chooses not to dignify that with a response.
Jason turns up night after night, now, and despite the torrent of terrible jokes (occasionally, they actually make Dick's lips twitch, but he bites the inside of his cheek until the urge to laugh passes; no need to give Jason any more encouragement), Dick finds he doesn't mind that much. He's always enjoyed working with a partner, and despite their differences, they make a pretty good team. Not that he's going to tell Jason that, either.
"Maybe you should," Barbara suggests.
"Don't tell me you, of all people, are defending him."
"Hey, I'm not the one who offered to sleep with him."
"I wasn't serious."
"He apparently thinks you were." She's silent for a moment and Dick can hear the clicking of her keyboard as she types. "You know he's always had kind of a thing for you, right?"
"I--No. I didn't know that." Which is odd, because he usually does know things like that. He doesn't think he's conceited, but he's used to people wanting him, in one way or another, has learned a dozen different ways to turn it to his advantage, or diffuse it without anyone getting hurt. He runs a hand through his hair and takes a big gulp of lukewarm coffee. "We were never close."
Barbara hums noncommittally and lets it drop. Dick is silently grateful when she has to take another call.
He's on his way to Metropolis the next time he hears from Jason. The connection isn't great, and at first, he thinks there's some kind of trouble at home, but "weapon of ass destruction," comes through loud and clear.
"You're going to have to try harder, Jay."
"That's what she said."
That surprises a laugh out of Dick. "I bet you've heard that a lot, huh?"
Jason's answering laugh is rueful. "I guess I walked right into that one."
"Yeah."
"You mean it?"
"What?"
"That I should try harder?"
Dick's not sure what to say to that. "Yeah," he finally says. It feels like the right answer, anyway. It's not that Jason isn't still a little...overenthusiastic with the violence, but he's not killing people anymore. At least, not that Dick knows about. They can work on the gun thing.
"Forget it," Jason says at the same time. Then, "Wait, what?"
"Yeah," Dick says again, and then he hangs up before he gets himself into any more trouble.
He discovers that he misses the relentless barrage of terrible puns while he's away, which worries him a little. Not enough to actually give Jason a call, but he checks his phone for texts more often than he usually would, and smiles and shakes his head when he reads Jason's.
When he gets back, they fall into the familiar rhythm again, and Dick is pretty sure Jason is never going to come up with something original. He's more surprised that he's kind of disappointed by that.
One night, after a long slog through the sewers, chasing members of the Society of Shadows, all he's thinking about is the hot shower waiting for him when he gets home, and the leftover General Tso's chicken in his fridge.
Jason says, "So this cop meets this chick in a bar, and they hit it off, so they go back to her place for some hot, sweaty, wall-banging sex." Jason's voice dips lower than Dick thought it could, and he feels heat rising under his skin, which actually isn't a surprise now. Jason keeps telling his joke, oblivious. "When they're done, he slaps the handcuffs on her and reads her her rights. 'But I didn't do anything wrong,' she says, and he says, 'I'm sorry, honey, but my dick is so big, it's against the law to fuck me without protective headgear.'"
Dick turns to stare at him--he's got the helmet off and his hair is a mess, he's got a bruise purpling on the underside of his jaw, and his lower lip is caught between his teeth.
"What?"
Jason shrugs a shoulder. "You never said it had to be a funny joke." He sighs. "I guess you've heard that one, too, huh?"
He has, but there's no reason Jason needs to know that. "No," he says, turning and crowding Jason back against the nearest building. "I haven't."
"Oh." Light reflects off the lenses in Jason's mask, but Dick figures that's only fair, since Jason can't see his eyes either. Jason's hands open and close, like he's not sure what to do with them, and then he wraps his fingers around Dick's upper arms and pulls him close. Dick kisses him, a hot, hard, saliva-slick tangle of tongue and teeth, and Jason laughs into his mouth, one hand coming up to thread through Dick's hair, cradle the back of his head. "This better not be a joke."
"No joke," Dick says, lips moving against the bruise on Jason's jaw. "Tell me what you want."
They're pressed so close together that he can feel Jason shiver and suck in a deep breath before he says, "You. I want you."
end
~*~
Feedback is always appreciated.
~*~
This entry at DW: http://musesfool.dreamwidth.org/232679.html.
people have commented there.
Under the Red Hood; Dick/Jason; pg; 1,495 words
"Have you heard the one about--" "I already told you, I've heard them all."
This is all angelgazing's fault. And also mousapelli's. Because we are the twelvest. And because they don't stop me when I say things like, "Jason would make ALL the dick jokes, and Dick would just be like 'heard it. Please try again.'" *hands* At least I wrote something?
~*~
Have You Heard the One About...
Having Jason back in Gotham is annoying on many levels, and not just because he's one twist short of a slinky. Dick swings away from him, hoping he'll take the hint, but no, Jason's just behind him, not even breathing hard as he shouts the end of the joke loud enough to be heard over the rush of wind in Dick's ears.
"And the invisible man says, 'I don't know, but my ass hurts.'" Jason lands beside him on the ledge, and though Dick can't see his face behind that stupid red helmet, he can imagine the shit-eating grin the guy is probably wearing. Jason folds his arms over his chest and cocks his head. "Ignoring me won't make me go away."
"There's a first time for everything."
"Hey, I helped you out back there."
"Like I said."
"And you didn't even laugh at my joke!"
"It wasn't particularly funny."
"Oh, come on. You have no sense of humor."
"I have a sense of humor. You just don't know any funny jokes."
"I know plenty of funny jokes."
"I doubt that."
"Hmph. How about the one with the wife and the mistress?"
"Heard it."
"You don't even know what I was going to say." Jason's indignation is funnier than his jokes.
"Not only are your jokes not funny," Dick says, shooting another line and calling back over his shoulder as he swings away, "they're all older than you are."
Two nights later, Dick is busting the heads of some thugs who work for an arms dealer when Jason shows up. Since he doesn't try to shoot anybody, Dick doesn't interfere when he knocks out two of the goons and throws a third face-first into the grille of his own truck.
"I've got one for you," he says, picking up the conversation where Dick tried to leave it. "There's this lonely sheep farmer--"
"Heard it."
Dick punches the guy in front of him an unnecessary second time, mostly so he doesn't turn around and take a swing at Jason. The last thing he needs is to break his fingers on that damn helmet.
"Listen," he says, hands on his hips, and he can't be sure because of the mask, but it looks like Jason is checking him out. Which is a little weird, considering, but a lot less annoying than the jokes. "I already told you, I've heard them all. If you can find a joke I haven't heard, I'll--"
"Go out for a beer with me?"
Dick blinks in surprise behind his mask. "Are you even old enough to drink?" he says, to cover.
"No wonder you don't find my jokes funny. You suck at telling them yourself."
"If you can find a joke I haven't heard, I will have sex with you."
"What? Seriously?"
Dick smirks at the way Jason's voice suddenly goes high-pitched and incredulous. That should put an end to his attempts at comedy. And if it doesn't, well, Dick's been hearing dick jokes his whole life, so the odds of Jason finding one he hasn't heard are somewhere between slim and none. "Sure, why not?" He finishes tying up the last thug, turns, and leans in close to Jason, pitching his voice low and seductive. "Hot, sweaty, wall-banging sex. I'll even keep the suit on, if that's what turns your crank."
He takes off, leaving Jason standing speechless in the street. It's the best exit line he's had in a while.
He should have known his triumph couldn't last, though. He's just not that lucky. He wakes up to a text from Jason, and his email is full of jokes that are older than he is, let alone Jason.
Not even close, he texts back. How did you even get this number?
I wanted to get those out of the way, just in case, Jason replies. And how do you think?
He chooses not to dignify that with a response.
Jason turns up night after night, now, and despite the torrent of terrible jokes (occasionally, they actually make Dick's lips twitch, but he bites the inside of his cheek until the urge to laugh passes; no need to give Jason any more encouragement), Dick finds he doesn't mind that much. He's always enjoyed working with a partner, and despite their differences, they make a pretty good team. Not that he's going to tell Jason that, either.
"Maybe you should," Barbara suggests.
"Don't tell me you, of all people, are defending him."
"Hey, I'm not the one who offered to sleep with him."
"I wasn't serious."
"He apparently thinks you were." She's silent for a moment and Dick can hear the clicking of her keyboard as she types. "You know he's always had kind of a thing for you, right?"
"I--No. I didn't know that." Which is odd, because he usually does know things like that. He doesn't think he's conceited, but he's used to people wanting him, in one way or another, has learned a dozen different ways to turn it to his advantage, or diffuse it without anyone getting hurt. He runs a hand through his hair and takes a big gulp of lukewarm coffee. "We were never close."
Barbara hums noncommittally and lets it drop. Dick is silently grateful when she has to take another call.
He's on his way to Metropolis the next time he hears from Jason. The connection isn't great, and at first, he thinks there's some kind of trouble at home, but "weapon of ass destruction," comes through loud and clear.
"You're going to have to try harder, Jay."
"That's what she said."
That surprises a laugh out of Dick. "I bet you've heard that a lot, huh?"
Jason's answering laugh is rueful. "I guess I walked right into that one."
"Yeah."
"You mean it?"
"What?"
"That I should try harder?"
Dick's not sure what to say to that. "Yeah," he finally says. It feels like the right answer, anyway. It's not that Jason isn't still a little...overenthusiastic with the violence, but he's not killing people anymore. At least, not that Dick knows about. They can work on the gun thing.
"Forget it," Jason says at the same time. Then, "Wait, what?"
"Yeah," Dick says again, and then he hangs up before he gets himself into any more trouble.
He discovers that he misses the relentless barrage of terrible puns while he's away, which worries him a little. Not enough to actually give Jason a call, but he checks his phone for texts more often than he usually would, and smiles and shakes his head when he reads Jason's.
When he gets back, they fall into the familiar rhythm again, and Dick is pretty sure Jason is never going to come up with something original. He's more surprised that he's kind of disappointed by that.
One night, after a long slog through the sewers, chasing members of the Society of Shadows, all he's thinking about is the hot shower waiting for him when he gets home, and the leftover General Tso's chicken in his fridge.
Jason says, "So this cop meets this chick in a bar, and they hit it off, so they go back to her place for some hot, sweaty, wall-banging sex." Jason's voice dips lower than Dick thought it could, and he feels heat rising under his skin, which actually isn't a surprise now. Jason keeps telling his joke, oblivious. "When they're done, he slaps the handcuffs on her and reads her her rights. 'But I didn't do anything wrong,' she says, and he says, 'I'm sorry, honey, but my dick is so big, it's against the law to fuck me without protective headgear.'"
Dick turns to stare at him--he's got the helmet off and his hair is a mess, he's got a bruise purpling on the underside of his jaw, and his lower lip is caught between his teeth.
"What?"
Jason shrugs a shoulder. "You never said it had to be a funny joke." He sighs. "I guess you've heard that one, too, huh?"
He has, but there's no reason Jason needs to know that. "No," he says, turning and crowding Jason back against the nearest building. "I haven't."
"Oh." Light reflects off the lenses in Jason's mask, but Dick figures that's only fair, since Jason can't see his eyes either. Jason's hands open and close, like he's not sure what to do with them, and then he wraps his fingers around Dick's upper arms and pulls him close. Dick kisses him, a hot, hard, saliva-slick tangle of tongue and teeth, and Jason laughs into his mouth, one hand coming up to thread through Dick's hair, cradle the back of his head. "This better not be a joke."
"No joke," Dick says, lips moving against the bruise on Jason's jaw. "Tell me what you want."
They're pressed so close together that he can feel Jason shiver and suck in a deep breath before he says, "You. I want you."
end
~*~
Feedback is always appreciated.
~*~
This entry at DW: http://musesfool.dreamwidth.org/232679.html.
people have commented there.