My First Piper/Trickster Fic!
Title: Sweeter Than Music
Pairing: Piper/Trickster
Rating: PG for m/m kissing and a few bad words
Word Count: 988
Disclaimer: I did not create these characters. I am making no money.
Summary: After being rescued from certain death by The Blatt, Trickster has some wooing to do. This story is equal parts angst, sappiness, and crack.
Notes: If you do not know the of The Blatt (basically, a giant, sentient music note that Piper accidentally created), go read about it here. This story will not make much sense otherwise.
The songs quoted in this fic are "It's De-Lovely" by Cole Porter and "Younger Than Springtime" from the musical South Pacific by Rogers and Hammerstein.
“Oh, great job, Trickster. You led us to a dead-end. Brilliant.”
“Hey, I didn’t hear you suggesting any alternative escape routes, Flute Boy.”
The two Rogues scrabbled desperately against the brick wall, but they already knew that it was useless. They stopped, panting, and turned towards each other.
“Trickster. James, I just-“
“Shut up, Piper.” Trickster grabbed two fist-fulls of Piper’s shirt and yanked him forward in to a hard, messy kiss. Piper was still for a moment, his eyes wide, and then he jerked away.
“What the hell was that-“
“Well, that was real touching, boys, but I’m afraid I ain’t much of a romantic.” Deadshot stood in the entry of the alleyway, guns aloft.
“I’ve been authorized to use lethal force, ya know. We don’t need no goddamn cape-killers making things more difficult for the rest of us.”
“But we didn’t do it!” cried Trickster. His voice sounded shrill, half an octave higher than normal. He was The Trickster. He was used to being five steps ahead of everyone else, or, failing that, ready with some crazy escape plan. Now, he was out of tricks and cornered in an alley with the one human being who still gave a damn about him. He was about to die.
Piper felt Trickster shaking as Deadshot advanced on them. He was far from steady himself, but he had the presence of mind to grab Trickster’s hand-the one not tethered to the electric handcuff-and squeeze it. He didn’t know what that kiss had meant (under less dire circumstances, Piper would have chalked it up to another one of Trickster’s plots), but he and James Jesse were about to die together after months of danger spent in each other’s constant company. He felt Trickster steady slightly and squeeze back.
Trickster pressed Piper’s hand and closed his eyes. He thought about flying that first time with the airwalker shoe prototypes, how it felt to not be afraid of falling for the first time in his life...
A dull thud brought Trickster back to earth. He opened his eyes to see Deadshot lying unconscious at their feet and Piper’s ecstatic smile.
“It’s my Blatt!”
Three months later...
Piper and Trickster had set up house in a cottage in the country surrounding Central and Keystone Cities. It was isolated enough that the neighbors wouldn’t be bothered by Piper’s music or Trickster’s explosions, but close enough that the Flash could call on them for help fighting crime, or, occasionally, babysitting. Their names had been cleared, but they knew that not very many people trusted ex-supervillians, no matter who vouched for you.
Trickster was currently standing in the back garden, arms crossed, staring down the Blatt. The Blatt hummed menacingly.
“This time, it’s you or me, Blatt. If we can’t share Hartley, one of us has got to go.” The Blatt’s humming spiked in pitch.
Piper came out of the house. “Are you threatening the Blatt again, Tricks?”
“I told you, Piper. Either it goes or I go.”
“That’s no way to treat the thing that saved your life!”
“Well, now it looks like it wants to kill me.”
“Maybe that’s because you’ve been treating it like some sort of rival ever since we moved in together! You have to earn its trust.”
“How am I supposed to do that?”
“Try singing to it.”
Trickster rolled his eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I’m serious, James. I’m going to go for a walk. You two work on bonding.”
Trickster watched Piper disappear around the corner of the house and then turned his attention back to the Blatt.
“Sing to it, eh? I can do that.
I know a song that gets on everybody’s nerves!
Everybody’s nerves!
Everybody’s nerves!
I know a song that gets on everybody’s nerves,
And this is how it-“
The Blatt most definitely growled at him.
“Okay. Maybe not that one, then.” Trickster thought for a moment and then began to sing again:
“I feel a sudden urge to sing the kind of ditty that invokes the spring.
So control your desire to curse while I crucify the verse!
This verse I’ve started seems to me the ‘Tin pan-tithesis’ of melody.
So to spare you all the pain, I’ll just skip the darn thing sing the refrain!
Mi mi mi mi!
Re re re re!
Do sol do mi do teeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!”
The Blatt whimpered and shrunk away from the noise.
“Yeah, well, Cole Porter was no great singer either.” Trickster spun around and was about to storm back into the house when he thought of Hartley. If it meant so much to Piper, he supposed he could try one more time.
Something from his childhood came floating back. A song his mother used to sing, from one of those sappy Rogers and Hammerstein musicals. He tried to push it away, but it lodged in his brain and he knew it wouldn’t leave until he gave up and sang it. So, keeping his back to the Blatt, he began:
“I touch your hand and my arms grow strong,
Like a pair of birds that burst with song.
My eyes look down at your lovely face,
And I hold the world in my embrace.
Younger than springtime are you.
Gayer than laughter are you.
Warmer than winds of June
Are the gentle lips you gave me...”
He faltered, forgetting the words, and then he felt Hartley, who hadn’t left at all but had been hiding within hearing distance, put his arms around him from behind and rest his chin on his shoulder. They sang the next verse together:
“Sweeter than music are you.
Softer than starlight are you.
Angel and lover, Heaven and Earth,
Are you to me...”
“Shhh!” Piper hissed in Trickster’s ear. “The Blatt’s asleep. I think it likes you now.”
Trickster turned around and kissed Piper, softly, gently, and the two of them made their way into the house as the evening deepened.
Pairing: Piper/Trickster
Rating: PG for m/m kissing and a few bad words
Word Count: 988
Disclaimer: I did not create these characters. I am making no money.
Summary: After being rescued from certain death by The Blatt, Trickster has some wooing to do. This story is equal parts angst, sappiness, and crack.
Notes: If you do not know the of The Blatt (basically, a giant, sentient music note that Piper accidentally created), go read about it here. This story will not make much sense otherwise.
The songs quoted in this fic are "It's De-Lovely" by Cole Porter and "Younger Than Springtime" from the musical South Pacific by Rogers and Hammerstein.
“Oh, great job, Trickster. You led us to a dead-end. Brilliant.”
“Hey, I didn’t hear you suggesting any alternative escape routes, Flute Boy.”
The two Rogues scrabbled desperately against the brick wall, but they already knew that it was useless. They stopped, panting, and turned towards each other.
“Trickster. James, I just-“
“Shut up, Piper.” Trickster grabbed two fist-fulls of Piper’s shirt and yanked him forward in to a hard, messy kiss. Piper was still for a moment, his eyes wide, and then he jerked away.
“What the hell was that-“
“Well, that was real touching, boys, but I’m afraid I ain’t much of a romantic.” Deadshot stood in the entry of the alleyway, guns aloft.
“I’ve been authorized to use lethal force, ya know. We don’t need no goddamn cape-killers making things more difficult for the rest of us.”
“But we didn’t do it!” cried Trickster. His voice sounded shrill, half an octave higher than normal. He was The Trickster. He was used to being five steps ahead of everyone else, or, failing that, ready with some crazy escape plan. Now, he was out of tricks and cornered in an alley with the one human being who still gave a damn about him. He was about to die.
Piper felt Trickster shaking as Deadshot advanced on them. He was far from steady himself, but he had the presence of mind to grab Trickster’s hand-the one not tethered to the electric handcuff-and squeeze it. He didn’t know what that kiss had meant (under less dire circumstances, Piper would have chalked it up to another one of Trickster’s plots), but he and James Jesse were about to die together after months of danger spent in each other’s constant company. He felt Trickster steady slightly and squeeze back.
Trickster pressed Piper’s hand and closed his eyes. He thought about flying that first time with the airwalker shoe prototypes, how it felt to not be afraid of falling for the first time in his life...
A dull thud brought Trickster back to earth. He opened his eyes to see Deadshot lying unconscious at their feet and Piper’s ecstatic smile.
“It’s my Blatt!”
Three months later...
Piper and Trickster had set up house in a cottage in the country surrounding Central and Keystone Cities. It was isolated enough that the neighbors wouldn’t be bothered by Piper’s music or Trickster’s explosions, but close enough that the Flash could call on them for help fighting crime, or, occasionally, babysitting. Their names had been cleared, but they knew that not very many people trusted ex-supervillians, no matter who vouched for you.
Trickster was currently standing in the back garden, arms crossed, staring down the Blatt. The Blatt hummed menacingly.
“This time, it’s you or me, Blatt. If we can’t share Hartley, one of us has got to go.” The Blatt’s humming spiked in pitch.
Piper came out of the house. “Are you threatening the Blatt again, Tricks?”
“I told you, Piper. Either it goes or I go.”
“That’s no way to treat the thing that saved your life!”
“Well, now it looks like it wants to kill me.”
“Maybe that’s because you’ve been treating it like some sort of rival ever since we moved in together! You have to earn its trust.”
“How am I supposed to do that?”
“Try singing to it.”
Trickster rolled his eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I’m serious, James. I’m going to go for a walk. You two work on bonding.”
Trickster watched Piper disappear around the corner of the house and then turned his attention back to the Blatt.
“Sing to it, eh? I can do that.
I know a song that gets on everybody’s nerves!
Everybody’s nerves!
Everybody’s nerves!
I know a song that gets on everybody’s nerves,
And this is how it-“
The Blatt most definitely growled at him.
“Okay. Maybe not that one, then.” Trickster thought for a moment and then began to sing again:
“I feel a sudden urge to sing the kind of ditty that invokes the spring.
So control your desire to curse while I crucify the verse!
This verse I’ve started seems to me the ‘Tin pan-tithesis’ of melody.
So to spare you all the pain, I’ll just skip the darn thing sing the refrain!
Mi mi mi mi!
Re re re re!
Do sol do mi do teeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!”
The Blatt whimpered and shrunk away from the noise.
“Yeah, well, Cole Porter was no great singer either.” Trickster spun around and was about to storm back into the house when he thought of Hartley. If it meant so much to Piper, he supposed he could try one more time.
Something from his childhood came floating back. A song his mother used to sing, from one of those sappy Rogers and Hammerstein musicals. He tried to push it away, but it lodged in his brain and he knew it wouldn’t leave until he gave up and sang it. So, keeping his back to the Blatt, he began:
“I touch your hand and my arms grow strong,
Like a pair of birds that burst with song.
My eyes look down at your lovely face,
And I hold the world in my embrace.
Younger than springtime are you.
Gayer than laughter are you.
Warmer than winds of June
Are the gentle lips you gave me...”
He faltered, forgetting the words, and then he felt Hartley, who hadn’t left at all but had been hiding within hearing distance, put his arms around him from behind and rest his chin on his shoulder. They sang the next verse together:
“Sweeter than music are you.
Softer than starlight are you.
Angel and lover, Heaven and Earth,
Are you to me...”
“Shhh!” Piper hissed in Trickster’s ear. “The Blatt’s asleep. I think it likes you now.”
Trickster turned around and kissed Piper, softly, gently, and the two of them made their way into the house as the evening deepened.