7 Ficlets: Various | DCU | Various Bat Pairings + Misc | G to R | 1/1 each
Disclaimer: DC and WB own it all. I own nothing. Darnit!
Author's Notes: All were written for comment_fic and fandom_stocking.
Title | Characters/Pairing | Rating | Word Count | Prompt (as summary)
The Source | Bruce/Dick | R | 260 w | fetishes
It wasn't exactly a secret among the cape and cowl crowd that Dick had a fetish for leather, latex, and tights. Heck, even back when the Titans were new it had been common knowledge, at least among his fellow team members. The mere fact that he'd managed to sleep with almost all of them had seen to that fact.
But what they didn't know, or he hoped they didn't all know, was just how much his leather fetish had come straight from the source.
The first time Dick had seen Bruce in the Batsuit, armored Kevlar, utility belt, gloves, and all, he'd only barely managed to keep his adolescent excitement to himself. It hadn't much helped when Bruce had clapped him on the shoulder, either, his hand strong and heavy, the warm, sharp scent of the leather intoxicating. That night, alone in his room, he'd taken himself in hand repeatedly, unable to get the sight and smell out of his imagination.
And that hadn't even been the half of it. For pretty much all of his teen years, Dick had suffered his intense attraction to Bruce in leather in silence.
But not anymore. Not now. Not with Bruce curled around him, the scent of the leather lingering, even on freshly-showered skin. If it wasn't for the similarly-fresh bruises and cuts from a long patrol, Dick would've thought it was a dream. But, oh God, it wasn't. It was real. They were real.
Breathing in the heady scents and feeling alive in a way he hadn't until this, Dick snuggled closer into Bruce's arms.
~*~*~
A Deeper Rending | Bruce/Dick | PG | 189 w | not all wounds are visible
Dick knows it should seem obvious. So much of Bruce's wounds are worn in the form of his Batsuit, pain and disappointment and loss, the darkness that has all but consumed him for so long. But that's not even the half of it.
No, when the suit is put away, that black flag of surrender stripped away, it's just flesh and bone, physical scars and haunted eyes. And so much lies behind those eyes, so much more than the loss of his parents and the loss of Jason. His childhood, his innocence, his faith in humanity. Wounds that rent his soul, shredded him in ways that would seem utterly horrific to the uninitiated.
Dick knows that sometimes he's the only thing keeping this fractured man from falling apart, from descending into the madness of his grief. But no matter how hard he tries, it will always be a losing battle.
One day, Bruce will succumb to these hidden wounds, and all Dick will have left is the shell of the man Bruce might have once been. The thought of it terrifies him in ways no outward wound ever could.
~*~*~
Gray Stillness | Bruce/Tim | R | 281 w | more comfortable in the shadows
It's only two thirty in the afternoon, but Tim's body's already thrumming with energy. Not to get out on patrol, no, but for something requiring even more darkness than that. Of course, his agenda's more suited to the time after patrol, but by then, there'll be no energy left at all for what he's got in mind. It has to be now, if he wants to impress the gravity of his proposal.
Dropping his things in his room, he takes a moment to center himself, get cleaned up from a long day of classes and change into lightweight pajamas, then steps quietly down the hall to the master suite.
As promised, Bruce is there, not so much sleeping as waiting, restless beneath the covers of his bed, as if he's known this has been a long time coming. With the curtains drawn and shadows filling the room with gray stillness, it's like the space has taken a slow breath and has been holding it, arrested anticipation. And Tim feels more comfortable in that still darkness in an instant once he closes the door behind him.
"Bruce," he says quietly, the name just a whisper of sound crossing his lips, but it's like a shout to his ears, and he knows it must be to his mentor as well.
There's no reply, though, as Tim slips into the bed smoothly, pulling the covers back into place quickly, and he's actually sort of relieved for it. A hand reaches over to clutch at his arm, and all he sees are a pair of dark eyes, silently assenting.
Because Bruce is just as comfortable in the shadows as he is, and that's all the reassurance Tim needs.
~*~*~
Badges of Honor | Jason/Barbara | R | 190 w | he likes it rough
Of all the Bats, Babs is the one Jason can always count on to give it to him just how he likes it, how he needs it. Maybe it's because she's been through more crap than any of the rest of them combined, maybe it's because she knows Jason better than they do, but either way, she never pulls her punches, never lets up, never lets him get off without a handful of bruises and welts for his trouble. She's like some sort of drill sergeant with him, putting him through his paces, forcing him to go the extra mile for what he wants, and that, that is where he finds what he craves.
Because when she's got him pinned, held in place with sheer force of will conquering his superior size, an escrima stick at his throat keeping him from crying out, he can finally let go. Letting her use him, abuse him, and keep him on a short leash--sometimes literally--gives him a release that even being Red Hood never could. It's absolute freedom, and all the bruises he'll have later are badges of honor.
~*~*~
Endless Possibilities | Dick/Jason | R | 98 w | flexible
Jason always knew Dick was flexible, but this was beyond his wildest imagination. The man was a natural-born acrobat of a sort that seemed mythical, practically bending in half mid-spine. Backwards. Legs splayed out at an impossible angle.
The possibilities seemed suddenly endless to Jason, and so with a wicked smirk he shot forward to take advantage of the situation as Dick crab-walked up the bed, the older man showing off with his own grin. Maybe he'd just have to teach his predecessor a few tricks of his own, to compliment the talent in front of him.
~*~*~
Shocking Revelation | Roy, Lian | G | 225 w | first loose tooth
Roy's life flashes before his eyes the morning Lian comes to him excited and bouncing and pointing to her her tooth as she wiggles it with her tongue. As if all the other marks of her growing up weren't bad enough, this one, her first loose baby tooth, makes him want to curl into a ball and curse the loss of his daughter's childhood. It's terrifying, that she won't be his little girl for much longer, that she won't be his baby forever.
All too soon, she'll be grown, out on her own and responsible for herself, not wanting or needing him for anything.
But now isn't the time for him to have a nervous breakdown. Shoving down his terror at the future barreling toward him full speed, he puts on a wide grin and hugs Lian tight.
"That's great, baby girl!" he tells her. "If you keep wiggling it, it'll fall out soon, and then you can put it under your pillow for the tooth fairy, and she'll leave you a quarter for it."
Bouncing with excitement, Lian practically squeals in delight. "It's about time, too!" she laughs. "I've been waiting to trade with the tooth fairy for ages!"
And Roy knows then that trying to hold onto her childhood is probably a lost cause already, anyway. He's just going to have to get used to it.
~*~*~
Goddess in Their Midst | girl!Clark/Bruce | PG | 562 w | Bruce is dumbstruck by Clark.
The first time Bruce sees her outside of the tights and cape, he's positively dumbstruck by how, even in her ill-fitting skirt-suit and too-large glasses, Clark is as beautiful as she is when she's facing the sun and gleaming with its radiance, hanging in the sky so high above the world. The only way he can think to describe the effect is that she has a glow about her that no amount of disguise can ever hope to hide. Which makes it even more baffling that no one around her seems to notice this... this goddess in their midst.
Maybe they're just that distracted in the busy Daily Planet bullpen, but he thinks they must be completely blind, so unobservant that their choice of career seems laughable to him.
Either way, it's somewhat of a relief that no one here has a clue. He feels almost privileged to be the only one aware of the Kryptonian, the sheer elegance and power in the room full of mere mortals, especially when she notices his own presence at last and turns those crystal blue eyes, long dark lashes, and brilliant smile on him. A jolt shocks through him all the way to his toes at that look, the sun gracing him with her nearly-blinding warmth, and he wastes no more time loitering near the doors, stepping quickly through the obstacle course of busy reporters to find his way to her.
"Bruce," she grins, shaking his hand firmly, and he can't help a moment of wonder at how easily she could crush his hand with those slender fingers. "You're late. I was beginning to think Lois and I were gonna have to send Jimmy out for Chinese."
"Sorry about that. I got tangled up in a little traffic," he answers honestly, knowing she's probably been tracking him since he left Gotham for their first working lunch out of uniform. "Fiorello's sound good?"
Clark gives him a surprisingly arch look at that, that he thinks she must have picked up from her notorious partner. "How about we grab a few hot dogs and take a walk in Centennial Park? It'd be a shame to waste such a beautiful day."
And he can't hold back a short laugh at that, seeing just how much this exotically alien woman is a simple country gal at heart; in the cape and tights, with eyes blazing, she seems a totally different person. "I like that plan."
"Good, because you're still buying," she shoots back over her shoulder as she leads the way out.
Smiling despite himself, Bruce catches the looks thrown their way as they pass through the bullpen, Clark managing to trip over her own feet twice in the span of twenty-three steps. 'How did she manage to get a lunch date with Bruce Wayne?' they're thinking, but he knows the real question is, 'How on Earth did he manage to get a lunch date with Clark Kent, the Last Daughter of Krypton?'
Even wearing his playboy persona, he can't help but feel humbled in her presence, and when he holds the lobby door for her, he wonders how he's going to manage this partnership thing. As it is, he's already completely smitten, and professional working relationship aside, there's really only one cure for that. He just hopes it won't blow up in his face when he invites her to dinner at the Manor.
~*~*~
Author's Notes: All were written for comment_fic and fandom_stocking.
Title | Characters/Pairing | Rating | Word Count | Prompt (as summary)
The Source | Bruce/Dick | R | 260 w | fetishes
It wasn't exactly a secret among the cape and cowl crowd that Dick had a fetish for leather, latex, and tights. Heck, even back when the Titans were new it had been common knowledge, at least among his fellow team members. The mere fact that he'd managed to sleep with almost all of them had seen to that fact.
But what they didn't know, or he hoped they didn't all know, was just how much his leather fetish had come straight from the source.
The first time Dick had seen Bruce in the Batsuit, armored Kevlar, utility belt, gloves, and all, he'd only barely managed to keep his adolescent excitement to himself. It hadn't much helped when Bruce had clapped him on the shoulder, either, his hand strong and heavy, the warm, sharp scent of the leather intoxicating. That night, alone in his room, he'd taken himself in hand repeatedly, unable to get the sight and smell out of his imagination.
And that hadn't even been the half of it. For pretty much all of his teen years, Dick had suffered his intense attraction to Bruce in leather in silence.
But not anymore. Not now. Not with Bruce curled around him, the scent of the leather lingering, even on freshly-showered skin. If it wasn't for the similarly-fresh bruises and cuts from a long patrol, Dick would've thought it was a dream. But, oh God, it wasn't. It was real. They were real.
Breathing in the heady scents and feeling alive in a way he hadn't until this, Dick snuggled closer into Bruce's arms.
~*~*~
A Deeper Rending | Bruce/Dick | PG | 189 w | not all wounds are visible
Dick knows it should seem obvious. So much of Bruce's wounds are worn in the form of his Batsuit, pain and disappointment and loss, the darkness that has all but consumed him for so long. But that's not even the half of it.
No, when the suit is put away, that black flag of surrender stripped away, it's just flesh and bone, physical scars and haunted eyes. And so much lies behind those eyes, so much more than the loss of his parents and the loss of Jason. His childhood, his innocence, his faith in humanity. Wounds that rent his soul, shredded him in ways that would seem utterly horrific to the uninitiated.
Dick knows that sometimes he's the only thing keeping this fractured man from falling apart, from descending into the madness of his grief. But no matter how hard he tries, it will always be a losing battle.
One day, Bruce will succumb to these hidden wounds, and all Dick will have left is the shell of the man Bruce might have once been. The thought of it terrifies him in ways no outward wound ever could.
~*~*~
Gray Stillness | Bruce/Tim | R | 281 w | more comfortable in the shadows
It's only two thirty in the afternoon, but Tim's body's already thrumming with energy. Not to get out on patrol, no, but for something requiring even more darkness than that. Of course, his agenda's more suited to the time after patrol, but by then, there'll be no energy left at all for what he's got in mind. It has to be now, if he wants to impress the gravity of his proposal.
Dropping his things in his room, he takes a moment to center himself, get cleaned up from a long day of classes and change into lightweight pajamas, then steps quietly down the hall to the master suite.
As promised, Bruce is there, not so much sleeping as waiting, restless beneath the covers of his bed, as if he's known this has been a long time coming. With the curtains drawn and shadows filling the room with gray stillness, it's like the space has taken a slow breath and has been holding it, arrested anticipation. And Tim feels more comfortable in that still darkness in an instant once he closes the door behind him.
"Bruce," he says quietly, the name just a whisper of sound crossing his lips, but it's like a shout to his ears, and he knows it must be to his mentor as well.
There's no reply, though, as Tim slips into the bed smoothly, pulling the covers back into place quickly, and he's actually sort of relieved for it. A hand reaches over to clutch at his arm, and all he sees are a pair of dark eyes, silently assenting.
Because Bruce is just as comfortable in the shadows as he is, and that's all the reassurance Tim needs.
~*~*~
Badges of Honor | Jason/Barbara | R | 190 w | he likes it rough
Of all the Bats, Babs is the one Jason can always count on to give it to him just how he likes it, how he needs it. Maybe it's because she's been through more crap than any of the rest of them combined, maybe it's because she knows Jason better than they do, but either way, she never pulls her punches, never lets up, never lets him get off without a handful of bruises and welts for his trouble. She's like some sort of drill sergeant with him, putting him through his paces, forcing him to go the extra mile for what he wants, and that, that is where he finds what he craves.
Because when she's got him pinned, held in place with sheer force of will conquering his superior size, an escrima stick at his throat keeping him from crying out, he can finally let go. Letting her use him, abuse him, and keep him on a short leash--sometimes literally--gives him a release that even being Red Hood never could. It's absolute freedom, and all the bruises he'll have later are badges of honor.
~*~*~
Endless Possibilities | Dick/Jason | R | 98 w | flexible
Jason always knew Dick was flexible, but this was beyond his wildest imagination. The man was a natural-born acrobat of a sort that seemed mythical, practically bending in half mid-spine. Backwards. Legs splayed out at an impossible angle.
The possibilities seemed suddenly endless to Jason, and so with a wicked smirk he shot forward to take advantage of the situation as Dick crab-walked up the bed, the older man showing off with his own grin. Maybe he'd just have to teach his predecessor a few tricks of his own, to compliment the talent in front of him.
~*~*~
Shocking Revelation | Roy, Lian | G | 225 w | first loose tooth
Roy's life flashes before his eyes the morning Lian comes to him excited and bouncing and pointing to her her tooth as she wiggles it with her tongue. As if all the other marks of her growing up weren't bad enough, this one, her first loose baby tooth, makes him want to curl into a ball and curse the loss of his daughter's childhood. It's terrifying, that she won't be his little girl for much longer, that she won't be his baby forever.
All too soon, she'll be grown, out on her own and responsible for herself, not wanting or needing him for anything.
But now isn't the time for him to have a nervous breakdown. Shoving down his terror at the future barreling toward him full speed, he puts on a wide grin and hugs Lian tight.
"That's great, baby girl!" he tells her. "If you keep wiggling it, it'll fall out soon, and then you can put it under your pillow for the tooth fairy, and she'll leave you a quarter for it."
Bouncing with excitement, Lian practically squeals in delight. "It's about time, too!" she laughs. "I've been waiting to trade with the tooth fairy for ages!"
And Roy knows then that trying to hold onto her childhood is probably a lost cause already, anyway. He's just going to have to get used to it.
~*~*~
Goddess in Their Midst | girl!Clark/Bruce | PG | 562 w | Bruce is dumbstruck by Clark.
The first time Bruce sees her outside of the tights and cape, he's positively dumbstruck by how, even in her ill-fitting skirt-suit and too-large glasses, Clark is as beautiful as she is when she's facing the sun and gleaming with its radiance, hanging in the sky so high above the world. The only way he can think to describe the effect is that she has a glow about her that no amount of disguise can ever hope to hide. Which makes it even more baffling that no one around her seems to notice this... this goddess in their midst.
Maybe they're just that distracted in the busy Daily Planet bullpen, but he thinks they must be completely blind, so unobservant that their choice of career seems laughable to him.
Either way, it's somewhat of a relief that no one here has a clue. He feels almost privileged to be the only one aware of the Kryptonian, the sheer elegance and power in the room full of mere mortals, especially when she notices his own presence at last and turns those crystal blue eyes, long dark lashes, and brilliant smile on him. A jolt shocks through him all the way to his toes at that look, the sun gracing him with her nearly-blinding warmth, and he wastes no more time loitering near the doors, stepping quickly through the obstacle course of busy reporters to find his way to her.
"Bruce," she grins, shaking his hand firmly, and he can't help a moment of wonder at how easily she could crush his hand with those slender fingers. "You're late. I was beginning to think Lois and I were gonna have to send Jimmy out for Chinese."
"Sorry about that. I got tangled up in a little traffic," he answers honestly, knowing she's probably been tracking him since he left Gotham for their first working lunch out of uniform. "Fiorello's sound good?"
Clark gives him a surprisingly arch look at that, that he thinks she must have picked up from her notorious partner. "How about we grab a few hot dogs and take a walk in Centennial Park? It'd be a shame to waste such a beautiful day."
And he can't hold back a short laugh at that, seeing just how much this exotically alien woman is a simple country gal at heart; in the cape and tights, with eyes blazing, she seems a totally different person. "I like that plan."
"Good, because you're still buying," she shoots back over her shoulder as she leads the way out.
Smiling despite himself, Bruce catches the looks thrown their way as they pass through the bullpen, Clark managing to trip over her own feet twice in the span of twenty-three steps. 'How did she manage to get a lunch date with Bruce Wayne?' they're thinking, but he knows the real question is, 'How on Earth did he manage to get a lunch date with Clark Kent, the Last Daughter of Krypton?'
Even wearing his playboy persona, he can't help but feel humbled in her presence, and when he holds the lobby door for her, he wonders how he's going to manage this partnership thing. As it is, he's already completely smitten, and professional working relationship aside, there's really only one cure for that. He just hopes it won't blow up in his face when he invites her to dinner at the Manor.
~*~*~