Ficlets: Various | DCU | Jason/Tim, Jason/Dick | Up to R | 1/1 ea
Fandom: DCU
Dicslaimer: DC and WB own everything. The schmucks.
Author's Notes: Request ficlets for my 50_darkfics Jason Todd claim. Just 3 more to go after these, and I plan to have them done and posted tonight! \O/
Title | Pairing | Rating | Word Count | Prompt | Summary | A/N
Beyond the Chase | Jason/Tim | R | 364 w | 'Different' | Antagonizing Tim isn't the same as it used to be. | For stalinglim.
Antagonizing the replacement just wasn't the same as it used to be. Before the Multiverse went to hell in a hand-basket, it was like a game. Not so much cat-and-mouse, it was more like chess, with moves and counter-moves and plotted strategies, which Jason figured that suited them just fine. But since things changed, with Bruce gone and the alternate Jay sent back to wherever the fuck he came from, it felt like some of the heart had gone out of that game. Like the spark of seething mutual hatred had died.
And it left him feeling restless. Wanting... he wasn't sure what.
Maybe it was all because Tim had a new identity. Once Robin had been passed to Bruce's brat, what was the point in pissing all over Drake for stealing his name and costume? The Red Robin identity didn't even warrant more than a shrug and a 'whatever' at this point, so that was that.
Or maybe it was because Tim seemed to spook if Jason so much as left him an ominous note. He had his alternate to thank for that, of course, but it was no fun when your playmate didn't want to play anymore.
But neither of those exactly tracked. They'd managed to work on a case together once already, and though Tim had spooked initially, he'd just seemed... barely tense, calmer than he used to be, even after their target was found with fifteen broken bones. Didn't mean Jay didn't feel the same tightness in his gut that he'd always felt about his replacement, either, it was just all... different. He still wanted to slam the little bitch up against a wall. Still wanted to grab him by the hair and yank his head back to expose that pale neck. Still wanted to rip his fucking suit off. But--
Oh.
He really hadn't thought about it like that before. Hadn't considered the fact that beyond the chase, what he might've really wanted was to throw the kid down on a mattress and screw his brains out.
Maybe all that antagonism had just morphed into something else.
And maybe different was a good thing.
Different was something he could live with.
~*~*~*~
Pursuit and Capture | Jason/Tim | R | 359 w | 'Conquer' | Jason hadn't thought it would go down like this. | For darthbatgirl. Follows "Beyond the Chase".
Jason sure as hell hadn't thought it would go down like this.
It was supposed to be the other way around. Goad Baby Bird into a fight, get him somewhere secluded, and proceed to screw his brains out, make this fire in his chest flare and burn itself down to a manageable level. Easy as ABCD, a straightforward plan.
He wasn't supposed to have the tables turned on him somewhere between points A and B, though. Being drawn back to the Cave as he gave chase, his bike barely keeping up with Tim's fucking Ducati, he should've known the rest of his plan was borked all to hell. But he couldn't stop, couldn't not follow that fire that drew him to the newest former-Robin. He felt like a damn moth, the way he couldn't tear himself away from the pursuit.
It was no wonder he was caught off-guard the second he got into the Cave and parked, tore his helmet off and dismounted his bike.
Didn't mean he didn't yelp in indignant shock when he went down, pinned under the furious weight of the younger man. He could've shaken him off easily, too, but Tim apparently knew just where all his weak spots were in regards to their... whatever this was.
"This what you came after?" Tim practically hissed in his ear, holding his arms above his head and rocking his hips against Jason's, making it evident that he was way ahead in the planning department.
Jay didn't have a response for that, beyond a groan of pure want, lust addling his brain and finishing off whatever was left of his own plans as his blood all suddenly decided to rush southward.
And though a small part of him still wanted to flip them over and ravage Tim, take him on his own terms, make the Baby Bird submit, he couldn't help the spark of molten desire that flooded him as Tim made quick work of the pertinent parts of their suits and settled between Jason's legs.
"Dammit, yes," he finally replied, throat raw with desperation.
If Tim wanted to be the one doing the conquering, well, Jay was totally okay with that.
~*~*~*~
Counterpoint | Jason/Dick | PG | 207 w | 'Flame' | Jay should be more nervous about the new suit. | For bradygirl_12.
He should probably be nervous about the new suit. Most people would be, considering the bright reds, oranges, and yellows swirling over the top of the black, skin-tight, specially-armored suit he'd pulled on. The thing didn't leave much to the imagination, much like the Nightwing costume, but Jason figured that was sort of the point; match and contrast Grayson, point and counterpoint, night and day.
The prospect of the contradiction was just too enticing a thing to be nervous about, however. Who would ever expect the hero in dark colors to be the good cop and the one in bright colors to be the bad cop? It definitely went against everything that Gotham scum had ever learned about Batman and Robin, and it would be so much fun to show them the error of their assumptions.
The knock on the door startled Jason out of his thoughts, and he tore his attention off of his own reflection in the full-length mirror.
"You ready, Jay?" Dick called out.
Affixing his red mask--a more high-tech version of his old Red Hood domino--he opened the door to face his partner, Nightwing's jaw dropping at the sight of him in the new suit.
"Wow. Jason...."
Jay grinned darkly. "It's Flamebird."
~*~*~*~
Jersey | Jason/Tim | R | 224 w | 'Ball' | Jason didn't expect to find Tim wearing nothing but *his* jersey. (prompt at comment_fic) | For shiny_glor_chan. Follows The Winning Goal, in Gloria's soccer AU.
Getting back to the hotel from the team's long celebration after making the semi-finals, Jason hardly expected to find his number one fan in his bed.
Even more surprising was finding Tim wearing nothing but Jay's alternate jersey, the white one with blue accents and his number in red, and one of the team's recent game balls resting between his legs on the king-sized bed, sheets pushed down to his ankles.
At that sight, Jason couldn't get to the bed fast enough, nearly tripping over his own feet in the process. "You--fuck!" he swore as he finally got there, plucking the ball from beneath Tim's hands to find he really wasn't wearing anything under the jersey.
It was quite possibly the sexiest thing ever, Tim all sprawled out in his uniform shirt, wide blue eyes watching him from beneath errant locks of dark hair.
"Thought you might like this," Tim murmured as Jason pushed him back, pinning him down and kissing him thoroughly, a hand working up under the jersey to grip his hip.
Between kisses, Jay couldn't help but ask, "Who thought? Dick? Roy?" Wouldn't be the first time his teammates orchestrated a plot to get him laid; they were notorious like that, especially since Tim had come into the picture.
"No," Tim whispered against his lips. "Me."
Jason was wrong, this was the sexiest thing ever.
~*~*~*~
Crimson | Jason/Tim | R | 377 w | 'Razor' | When Jason finally gets to Tim, there's blood everywhere. | For the_protagonist. Warning for severely injured Tim.
When Jason finally gets to Tim, his heart pounding a terrified staccato in his ears, there's blood everywhere. He can't tell from where, or whether it's Tim's or his opponent's--he shouldn't have let Tim go in alone, dammit!--but the sight of his Baby Bird lying on the filthy warehouse floor covered in crimson sends him into a panicked overdrive.
"Tim! Tim!" he shouts over and over with a trembling voice, on him in an instant and trying to determine the source of all the blood.
There's no response from his partner beyond a gurgled groan that tapers off to a hissing sigh, and--
Jesus fucking Christ, his throat's been cut, right through the collar of his suit. Not all the way through. Not--not through the carotid or jugular, thank God, but enough to open his windpipe to the dank air of the warehouse. Pulling the cowl off and collar open all the way, Jason can see the bubbles rising from the cut and the blood sucking back into the wound as Tim tries to exhale and breathe in, and he knows it's only a matter of time.
He has to get him to a hospital, Leslie, Alfred, Watchtower, fuck, anybody, and soon, or--
He can't think it. Just move. Rips off a bit of Tim's cape to press it to the wound, hears his Baby Bird's breathing even out, the gurgles lessen, and he breathes a little easier himself.
Lifting him into his arms gently, he realizes Tim has smaller cuts all over, defensive wounds on his hands and arms, sleeves sliced even through the thin layer of tough armor reinforcement. Whatever the fuck did this... it's bad news. Hell of a lot scarier than a common street knife or even a straight-razor. Tim needs serious help, and... and Jay knows the Med Bay on the Tower is their best bet.
Fuck.
Tapping his comm on with a touch of his ear to his shoulder, he shouts, "O, Red. Need Watchtower transport now! Emergency override code seven-seven-alpha!"
He barely hears Oracle's acknowledging reply before the familiar tingle and whine of the Watchtower transporter surrounds them, carrying them to help, and he can't help the shaky whimper of fear and relief that escapes him.
Tim has to make it, he has to.
~*~*~*~
Dicslaimer: DC and WB own everything. The schmucks.
Author's Notes: Request ficlets for my 50_darkfics Jason Todd claim. Just 3 more to go after these, and I plan to have them done and posted tonight! \O/
Title | Pairing | Rating | Word Count | Prompt | Summary | A/N
Beyond the Chase | Jason/Tim | R | 364 w | 'Different' | Antagonizing Tim isn't the same as it used to be. | For stalinglim.
Antagonizing the replacement just wasn't the same as it used to be. Before the Multiverse went to hell in a hand-basket, it was like a game. Not so much cat-and-mouse, it was more like chess, with moves and counter-moves and plotted strategies, which Jason figured that suited them just fine. But since things changed, with Bruce gone and the alternate Jay sent back to wherever the fuck he came from, it felt like some of the heart had gone out of that game. Like the spark of seething mutual hatred had died.
And it left him feeling restless. Wanting... he wasn't sure what.
Maybe it was all because Tim had a new identity. Once Robin had been passed to Bruce's brat, what was the point in pissing all over Drake for stealing his name and costume? The Red Robin identity didn't even warrant more than a shrug and a 'whatever' at this point, so that was that.
Or maybe it was because Tim seemed to spook if Jason so much as left him an ominous note. He had his alternate to thank for that, of course, but it was no fun when your playmate didn't want to play anymore.
But neither of those exactly tracked. They'd managed to work on a case together once already, and though Tim had spooked initially, he'd just seemed... barely tense, calmer than he used to be, even after their target was found with fifteen broken bones. Didn't mean Jay didn't feel the same tightness in his gut that he'd always felt about his replacement, either, it was just all... different. He still wanted to slam the little bitch up against a wall. Still wanted to grab him by the hair and yank his head back to expose that pale neck. Still wanted to rip his fucking suit off. But--
Oh.
He really hadn't thought about it like that before. Hadn't considered the fact that beyond the chase, what he might've really wanted was to throw the kid down on a mattress and screw his brains out.
Maybe all that antagonism had just morphed into something else.
And maybe different was a good thing.
Different was something he could live with.
~*~*~*~
Pursuit and Capture | Jason/Tim | R | 359 w | 'Conquer' | Jason hadn't thought it would go down like this. | For darthbatgirl. Follows "Beyond the Chase".
Jason sure as hell hadn't thought it would go down like this.
It was supposed to be the other way around. Goad Baby Bird into a fight, get him somewhere secluded, and proceed to screw his brains out, make this fire in his chest flare and burn itself down to a manageable level. Easy as ABCD, a straightforward plan.
He wasn't supposed to have the tables turned on him somewhere between points A and B, though. Being drawn back to the Cave as he gave chase, his bike barely keeping up with Tim's fucking Ducati, he should've known the rest of his plan was borked all to hell. But he couldn't stop, couldn't not follow that fire that drew him to the newest former-Robin. He felt like a damn moth, the way he couldn't tear himself away from the pursuit.
It was no wonder he was caught off-guard the second he got into the Cave and parked, tore his helmet off and dismounted his bike.
Didn't mean he didn't yelp in indignant shock when he went down, pinned under the furious weight of the younger man. He could've shaken him off easily, too, but Tim apparently knew just where all his weak spots were in regards to their... whatever this was.
"This what you came after?" Tim practically hissed in his ear, holding his arms above his head and rocking his hips against Jason's, making it evident that he was way ahead in the planning department.
Jay didn't have a response for that, beyond a groan of pure want, lust addling his brain and finishing off whatever was left of his own plans as his blood all suddenly decided to rush southward.
And though a small part of him still wanted to flip them over and ravage Tim, take him on his own terms, make the Baby Bird submit, he couldn't help the spark of molten desire that flooded him as Tim made quick work of the pertinent parts of their suits and settled between Jason's legs.
"Dammit, yes," he finally replied, throat raw with desperation.
If Tim wanted to be the one doing the conquering, well, Jay was totally okay with that.
~*~*~*~
Counterpoint | Jason/Dick | PG | 207 w | 'Flame' | Jay should be more nervous about the new suit. | For bradygirl_12.
He should probably be nervous about the new suit. Most people would be, considering the bright reds, oranges, and yellows swirling over the top of the black, skin-tight, specially-armored suit he'd pulled on. The thing didn't leave much to the imagination, much like the Nightwing costume, but Jason figured that was sort of the point; match and contrast Grayson, point and counterpoint, night and day.
The prospect of the contradiction was just too enticing a thing to be nervous about, however. Who would ever expect the hero in dark colors to be the good cop and the one in bright colors to be the bad cop? It definitely went against everything that Gotham scum had ever learned about Batman and Robin, and it would be so much fun to show them the error of their assumptions.
The knock on the door startled Jason out of his thoughts, and he tore his attention off of his own reflection in the full-length mirror.
"You ready, Jay?" Dick called out.
Affixing his red mask--a more high-tech version of his old Red Hood domino--he opened the door to face his partner, Nightwing's jaw dropping at the sight of him in the new suit.
"Wow. Jason...."
Jay grinned darkly. "It's Flamebird."
~*~*~*~
Jersey | Jason/Tim | R | 224 w | 'Ball' | Jason didn't expect to find Tim wearing nothing but *his* jersey. (prompt at comment_fic) | For shiny_glor_chan. Follows The Winning Goal, in Gloria's soccer AU.
Getting back to the hotel from the team's long celebration after making the semi-finals, Jason hardly expected to find his number one fan in his bed.
Even more surprising was finding Tim wearing nothing but Jay's alternate jersey, the white one with blue accents and his number in red, and one of the team's recent game balls resting between his legs on the king-sized bed, sheets pushed down to his ankles.
At that sight, Jason couldn't get to the bed fast enough, nearly tripping over his own feet in the process. "You--fuck!" he swore as he finally got there, plucking the ball from beneath Tim's hands to find he really wasn't wearing anything under the jersey.
It was quite possibly the sexiest thing ever, Tim all sprawled out in his uniform shirt, wide blue eyes watching him from beneath errant locks of dark hair.
"Thought you might like this," Tim murmured as Jason pushed him back, pinning him down and kissing him thoroughly, a hand working up under the jersey to grip his hip.
Between kisses, Jay couldn't help but ask, "Who thought? Dick? Roy?" Wouldn't be the first time his teammates orchestrated a plot to get him laid; they were notorious like that, especially since Tim had come into the picture.
"No," Tim whispered against his lips. "Me."
Jason was wrong, this was the sexiest thing ever.
~*~*~*~
Crimson | Jason/Tim | R | 377 w | 'Razor' | When Jason finally gets to Tim, there's blood everywhere. | For the_protagonist. Warning for severely injured Tim.
When Jason finally gets to Tim, his heart pounding a terrified staccato in his ears, there's blood everywhere. He can't tell from where, or whether it's Tim's or his opponent's--he shouldn't have let Tim go in alone, dammit!--but the sight of his Baby Bird lying on the filthy warehouse floor covered in crimson sends him into a panicked overdrive.
"Tim! Tim!" he shouts over and over with a trembling voice, on him in an instant and trying to determine the source of all the blood.
There's no response from his partner beyond a gurgled groan that tapers off to a hissing sigh, and--
Jesus fucking Christ, his throat's been cut, right through the collar of his suit. Not all the way through. Not--not through the carotid or jugular, thank God, but enough to open his windpipe to the dank air of the warehouse. Pulling the cowl off and collar open all the way, Jason can see the bubbles rising from the cut and the blood sucking back into the wound as Tim tries to exhale and breathe in, and he knows it's only a matter of time.
He has to get him to a hospital, Leslie, Alfred, Watchtower, fuck, anybody, and soon, or--
He can't think it. Just move. Rips off a bit of Tim's cape to press it to the wound, hears his Baby Bird's breathing even out, the gurgles lessen, and he breathes a little easier himself.
Lifting him into his arms gently, he realizes Tim has smaller cuts all over, defensive wounds on his hands and arms, sleeves sliced even through the thin layer of tough armor reinforcement. Whatever the fuck did this... it's bad news. Hell of a lot scarier than a common street knife or even a straight-razor. Tim needs serious help, and... and Jay knows the Med Bay on the Tower is their best bet.
Fuck.
Tapping his comm on with a touch of his ear to his shoulder, he shouts, "O, Red. Need Watchtower transport now! Emergency override code seven-seven-alpha!"
He barely hears Oracle's acknowledging reply before the familiar tingle and whine of the Watchtower transporter surrounds them, carrying them to help, and he can't help the shaky whimper of fear and relief that escapes him.
Tim has to make it, he has to.
~*~*~*~