Fic: Red and Black | DCU/Reeveverse/SR | Jason Todd/Kala Lane-Kent | R | 1/1
Title: Red and Black
Fandom: DCU/Reeveverse/SR
Pairing: Jason Todd/Kala Lane-Kent
Rating: R
Word Count: 3,815
Summary: In the midst of a whirlwind tour that Kala is struggling with, she makes a visit to Gotham to blow off some steam. Hooking up with a Bat afterward isn't exactly planned. Not consciously, anyway.
Disclaimer: DC and WB own everything but Kala, who belongs solely to kalalanekent and anissa7118. I own nothing. Darnit!
Author's Notes: As promised to my girls since many months gone by, this fic takes place in kalalanekent & anissa7118's LS/Heirs universe, where Kala is the twin sister of Jason Lane-Kent and is a genuine rock star, and it happens about 6 years after the end of Heirs (please correct me if I've got that date wrong, ladies!). She's becoming known as The Blur, and Sebast is her best friend and band mate (mentioned in passing).
Jason Todd is generally the same in this 'verse as I usually write him, except without the slashy bits and daddy-issues, he's three years older than Kala, and has been back from the dead for quite a few years now. Needless to say, MAJOR SPOILERS for Heirs if you haven't read it, and plan to. If you HAVE read Heirs, then you know why this one had to happen. ^_~
Also, this fic contains some AU references to The Robins 'verse (and might be the only time I dare to touch that awesome world :p). kirax2, please feel free to index this one on the website, if you think it fits enough.
Red and Black
“Red, six o'clock!”
Whirling at the sudden warning, Jason dropped the huge guy behind him with a single blow to the face, blood splattering and catching the light from a streetlamp as the thug's nose was crushed. Kala couldn't help a wince at the sound of bones splintering, loud and sharp in her ears-always hated that sound-but the satisfaction of delivering some instant justice to a bunch of dealers, taking down her own trio of opponents with a series of darting strikes, was enough to make up for it; at least these freaks wouldn't be out here terrorizing a neighborhood full of kids after tonight. And they'd be lucky if they got out of the hospital any time soon, what with all the nerve damage they'd be left with.
Jay's opponents, on the other hand, would be lucky to get out of traction inside of six months. Anyway, they did deserve it.
“That's all of them,” came Red's sure voice behind her as she dropped the last one, and Kala eased out of her fighting stance to turn and face him, meeting his dark grin with one of her own. “Good work,” he said, sounding almost impressed as he knelt to zip-tie the dealers littering the grimy alley with their unconscious forms.
“Not too bad yourself,” she replied, kneeling to deal with her own compliment of downed thugs when he tossed her a pack of the plastic ties.
Really, she'd been pretty impressed by Jason Todd's skills. His Bat-training was obvious, every move quick and precise, but what really got her was how he wasn't afraid to just cut loose, where the rest of the Bats pulled their punches even more so than her own family-even if Uncle Bruce would be loathe to admit it. Her dad would be mortified to see just how nigh-lethal Red Hood was, despite Jay swearing off killing after that crazy-phase. No wonder then that Superman steered clear of Gotham, easier to pretend ignorance and all that. It was Uncle Bruce’s territory, after all, and the Bat maintained it, as both men had agreed. Was better he didn't know, anyway, and for that matter, it was better that he didn't know how often she visited, either.
Heh.
Shaking her head in amusement at that thought, Kala finished securing the unconscious goons and stood straight, kneecapped one of them for good measure with a steel boot toe as she swept her duster back and planted her hands on her hips. She turned again to find Jay calling in the anonymous tip to Gotham PD on a prepaid cell-the usual Bat thing to do, where her own family was into dropping criminals on Metro PD's front steps-and at the jerk of his head to signal it was time to move out, she headed for the nearest rooftop to regroup, gliding skyward on an updraft that cut through the alley.
It was a cool night in Gotham, not too muggy for late August, and Kala found a good spot to perch and wait for Red, watching the sickly yellow light of the city through the haze of smog. This city never failed to intrigue her, as ugly and dangerous as it seemed to outsiders, and it wasn't so much luck as a carefully planned out free night from her current tour that she managed to get over here to get her hands dirty.
“Slumming it tonight?”
Red's voice behind her drew her attention away from the skyline, and she leaned back on her gloved palms, turning her head to give him a smirk. “More like working out some frustrations. Nothing quite like a good, healthy workout.”
Jay stepped onto the ledge and sat beside her, fishing a pack of cigarettes from a jacket pocket, along with a black Zippo. “Thought you'd be more into racing Kid Flash than knocking out street trash.”
“Not a chance. Everybody knows I'd smoke him, anyway.”
Snorting a laugh, he held out the pack to offer her a cig, and she took one, letting him light it with the Zippo. A clink of metal as he closed the lighter, and two menthol-scented tendrils filled the air around them.
Kala didn't smoke often, only on rare occasions, really, but wow, the nicotine rush was good at taking the edge off, almost as much as putting the squeeze on a few thugs. It was never a wonder why her mom smoked like a chimney and spent so much time at the shooting range when she was stressed, even now.
“You know, these menthols will kill you,” she quipped lightly then, taking a well-worn page out of her mom's book, before inhaling another long drag and burning off almost half the cig in one pull.
Jay glanced at her sideways, looking amused even with the red domino obscuring his eyes. “Any day now.”
At that, part of Kala wanted to x-ray his lungs and tell him 'not yet, thank goodness', but she'd never be so cheesy as to repeat something her dad had once told her mom; his corn-fed brand of snark was all right for him, but it just didn’t work for anyone wearing as much eyeliner as she did. It still snuck up on her at times, but what could she do about it anymore? She was well past the point of accepting that she was the product of the strangest union in history.
“So how's life on the road?” Jay cut into her thoughts then. “Overrun by groupies these days?”
Managing not to cringe, but almost, Kala raised an eyebrow above her own black domino, taking another drag to collect her thoughts. The tour wasn't going as well as she'd hoped, with all the tensions that she'd just as soon forget existed, the grueling schedule, the damn tech failures because she'd clearly hired the wrong damn roadies, the drummer that broke two fingers because he was a careless dumb-ass, the bassist who couldn’t decide whether to chase jailbait or MILFs and got in trouble with both. And that wasn’t even bringing any complications with Sebast into it.
“It's fine,” she shrugged.
Jay shook his head minutely. “Bullshit. You don't just drop in on a take-down unannounced unless you're looking to either beat someone into hamburger, or get bloodied up yourself. Since you don't take beatings, it's gotta be the former. What gives, Kal?”
Looking back out at the hazy city, she finished her cigarette and flicked it off the side of the building into another adjacent alley, the faint red light disappearing as it fell. “Nothing I want to share, thanks.”
But the sudden hand on her shoulder, gripping tight, was insistent, and Jay laughed harshly, pulling her to turn back to him. “What, you think I can't possibly understand crazy life shit? Who do I look like to you, Golden Boy?”
The sneer on his face at the mention of his elder brother, Dick, almost made Kala cringe again. Dick might as well have been the boy who could do no wrong, and between him and Tim, Jason had become the default black sheep of the Bat clan. Left to his own devices, tossed away like yesterday's garbage to rot when he didn't live up to the Code the Bats lived by. It sucked. Even if he had been taken back into the fold eventually. Scars like that didn't heal overnight.
And that was the reason she'd chosen to drop in on him and not the Birds or the other Bats tonight. Of all of them, he was probably the only one that would really get it, wouldn't blame her for skipping out on her band the night before a gig, wouldn't give her shit for wishing she could put a few people in body bags.
But that was what made him dangerous, too, and she damn well knew it.
“You know what?” he said, when she didn't respond. “I don't have time for this.” With a swift move, he lifted himself from the ledge, flicked his own cig away, and strode across the rooftop, readying a grapple. “Have a nice life.”
At the sound of his frustrated snort then, Kala snapped out of her internal sidebar and leapt up after him, speeding to the other side of the roof to stop him from leaving. “Wait,” she said, laying a hand on his arm.
“What?” he asked, almost imperceptibly relaxing the tension in his finger over the grapple gun's trigger.
“Look, I just needed to deal with some shit, okay? The tour is sucking, I have bullshit coming at me from all sides, and I needed to work it all out on some thug's face. Wouldn’t Dad be so proud. Thought maybe you could understand that.”
Jay huffed out a laugh. “Figures. You are slumming it. Go home, Goth Barbie. Take a swim through the sun, and I'm sure you'll feel better.” Pushing past her, he shoved her shoulder with his own as he brought the grapple up again.
Kala was stunned, anger boiling up in her at the nickname that half the Titans called her behind her back. More fucking shit because of her goddamn day job. Where the fuck did any of them get off? “You ass-hole. It's not like that!”
But it was.
Dammit, it so was, and she felt the heat of a flush creep up her neck and face as the realization hit her.
Jay gave her a backward glance and dropped his hand, stowing the grapple at his waist. “Of course it's like that,” he snarled, turning and sauntering toward her menacingly. “Wanna get dirty, come play with the Big Bad Wolf. Nobody understands your pain, dump it on the guy that's been there, done that. Am I getting warm? Well guess what, you're no different than a half-dozen other Titans before you. Got a thing for the bad boy, but won't admit it.”
Kala sucked in a breath of surprise at his rant as she unconsciously backed up from his intrusion to her personal space. Nobody dared talk to her like that, and it stung with all the searing pain of the truth. “Who the hell said I couldn’t admit it? Fuck you,” she spat.
“Don't have a death wish, thanks,” he smiled sarcastically as she backed right into the wall of the building's stairwell, cold brick at her back. Leaning in, he planted his palms on the wall on either side of her and whispered close, “I doubt Big Blue would like it too much if he found out his little princess was fucking the only Bat with real blood on his hands.”
And that was it. A switch flipped in Kala's brain, the snapping of a taut bowstring, her whole being on fire with rage, and before Jay could react, she had him by the shoulders, flipped their positions, and got a hand around his throat, squeezing with just enough force to show him who had the upper hand here.
“You know nothing!” she snarled in turn, gratified by the quick shift of his expression from smugness to barely-concealed shock. “I'm nobody's princess. I'm could've been a queen, but I actually give a fuck about this world, and you'd better damn well acknowledge it. And you think you're the only one with blood on their hands? You killed dozens in your little war on Black Mask, but they were nothing. You know why this world is still free? Why Gotham and everyone in it wasn't just obliterated years ago? Because I killed the only man that could have ever challenged Superman.” She was right up in his face, eyes blazing fury, when she hissed, “Because I killed General Zod!”
A small part of her waited for a dramatic clap of thunder at her revelation, was almost disappointed when it didn't come, bowing instead to the adrenaline tearing her apart and sizzling along her spine, tingling in her extremities, and suddenly Jay was kissing her, hard and deep, pulling her close despite her grip on his throat. The thick taste of menthol and tobacco assaulted her even as her own shock melted into acceptance and a surprising surge of need. Releasing his throat, she shoved him back again, drove him hard into the brick because she could.
Jay only grinned lazily, smug again as he writhed beneath her force. “Didn't think you had it in you,” he murmured before kissing her again, working a knee between hers.
Kala pulled back from the kiss at that, another harsh reality hitting her. “You manipulative shit!” she bit out, tightening her grip on his shoulders. “You should be kissing the ground I don't walk on, grateful I don't tear your ass in two for that. It’s not like you don’t know whose daughter I am. We both know I could.”
He seemed to relax beneath her then, slipping an arm around her waist as he leaned close to whisper in her ear, “I'll do anything you want.”
With the thunder of their pulses deafening in her ears, Kala shivered, need and want and now taking over as the heat and urgency between them overwhelmed her. The pit of her stomach dropped away as she made her decision, before the rooftop fell away beneath them in turn and she sped them through the hazy air toward Jay's apartment.
~*~*~*~
The light of dawn would've been harsh if not for the sudden thirst Kala's body felt for it as soon as the first rays hit her through the window. Like a moth, she was instantly attuned to it, coming awake as her skin tingled with the energy of the sun, the previous night already a distant mem-
Oh, fuck.
Stifling a groan as she shifted, turned in the bed that so wasn't her own, and sure as hell wasn't a hotel bed, she pried her eyes open, blinked at the form still sleeping next to her, one arm flung over his face in the onslaught of morning light.
There was no mistaking the lines of old wounds crisscrossing his pale shoulders and back beneath fresh scratches, the thick rope of a scar on his throat that she suspected someone in his family had put there, the stench of stale cigarettes, sweat, beer, and... other things.
Jason Todd. The Goddamn Red Hood.
Kala's mind kicked into overdrive, too-clear memories of the previous night flashing before her eyes-a hard and fast fuck against the wall, clothes discarded quick, another in the armchair, Kala riding him, and again in the bed, Jay driving deep into her as she bit his shoulder, tore up his back with her dark nails-and she couldn't help the stab of panic, the 'what the hell have I done?' that cycled through her brain. Raking a hand through her hair, her long black locks pulled down from the usual tight knot she kept it in when in uniform, she slipped out of the bed-Jay's bed-quickly. And... shit, she was still naked.
Great, just great. He finally got the better of you.
A quick search found first the handful of discarded condoms-at least they'd been safe, ugh-then her panties-cut, not torn, fantastic-and her bra and shirt-also cut, what is it with him and knives, anyway?-and finally her pants and duster, both still intact, thank goodness. It'd be an awkward trip back to the hotel, and she could only hope that Sebast would keep the commentary to a minimum, but that's what she got for allowing herself a night out. Nobody to blame but herself, yadda yadda yadda.
“You're not seriously gonna go out like that, are you?”
Whirling at the sudden commentary, Kala pulled her coat around her instinctively and crossed her arms. As if he didn't get an eyeful last night. Good going, Kal.
“Girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do,” she said haughtily, standing straighter and trying not to look as he sat up, the threadbare sheet slipping down his waist to leave nothing to the imagination.
Jay huffed out a laugh, scrubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands, and reached to the nightstand for his pack of menthols and his Zippo. “You can borrow a shirt,” he said, appraising her while he lit up and took a long first drag. “I promise it won't be a complete fashion disaster.”
Kala raised an eyebrow, knowing just how much worse her walk of shame would be if she were caught in Jason Todd's clothes, reeking of sex. Just short of catching a cab out of the Manor, it'd look pretty bad. The gothy rock star partying with one of the Wayne boys? Whatever would the neighbors say?
Then again, a little intrigue might be just what the doctor ordered....
“Well?” she prompted him, tapping a bare foot to appear to be waiting, lamenting that she hadn't had time to pull her boots on yet-and where the hell were they, anyhow?
Giving her a mischievous little smile, Jay shoved himself up from the bed, obviously stiff from either the fight or the festivities afterward, and proceeded to rummage through a pile of what Kala hoped was fresh laundry in a plastic hamper, before coming back up with a black t-shirt and tossing it across the room.
Kala caught the shirt with one hand and sniffed it cautiously. Clean, at least, if a little smoky. Good enough, she supposed.
Then she held the shirt out by the shoulders and got a good look at the logo and image printed there in screaming red, green, and yellow.
“The Robins?” she huffed indignantly, throwing the shirt back at Jay like a chunk of hot K. “Are you fucking kidding me, Red?” It was well known that The Robins were a gimmicky little group that patterned themselves after the younger heroes of Gotham, right down to the new kid in the bright costume-Damian, Bruce's only actual kid. But that wasn't the problem. The problem was that The Robins' east coast tour schedule kept coinciding with Kala's, and drawing half her band's revenue. They were the bane of her existence.
Jay, of course, grinned like the cat that ate the canary. “Hey, you haven't lived until you've heard 'Gotham Shadows'.”
Crossing her arms over her chest again, Kala scowled. Asshole. “You’re a bastard and I'd rather just go like this.”
“Relax, will ya'?” Jay relented then, pulling a different shirt from the pile to toss at her. “It was just a joke. Dick thought it'd be hilarious and bought us each one for Christmas last year.”
Kala couldn't help a snort of amusement at that, though, as she found the new t-shirt blessedly logo-free, with just a silver swash across the chest that could maybe be taken for a bat-shape if you squinted long enough. “Sounds like something he'd do. He does have a twisted side.” Turning around, she shrugged off her coat and slipped on the shirt; it was loose, but it'd work.
Behind her, Jay shuffled into the kitchen area of the little safe-house studio apartment. “Coffee?”
The mere thought brought a growl from her belly. “Sure,” Kala shrugged, finally finding her boots all the way across the room and dropping into a chair to lace them up. When she looked up afterward, she realized Jay was leaning against the little island, still stark naked, watching her.
It should've been unsettling, but with the eyeful she was getting, how could she possibly complain? Maybe last night hadn't been the worst mistake in her long and storied history of mistakes.
“I know the view’s pretty spectacular, but are you just gonna stand there and stare, Red?” she asked, raising an eyebrow and sitting back in the arm-chair, legs crossed at the knee and arms crossed again.
Jay huffed a laugh, took a drag off his cigarette, and stood to get their coffee from the fresh pot. “We should do this again sometime,” he suggested as he poured two mugs.
“Right,” Kala scoffed, standing to accept her coffee when he turned back and offered it. “I'll just drop in on you whenever, we'll crack a few skulls, and have insane amounts of sex afterward. I don't think your body could take that much punishment.” Beneath the sarcasm, though, it really did sound like the best idea she'd had all week. A few days off here and there couldn't hurt her, after all, and maybe that was just what she needed to power through the tour without actively trying to murder someone.
Jay just raised an eyebrow back at her, mischief written all over his face. “I can handle it if you can. We could put a whole new spin on 'World's Finest'.”
She couldn’t help a sincere laugh then, shaking her head. “You're insane.”
“So are you,” he countered.
Kala sipped her coffee, turning to stand in the sunlight and gaze out at the city as some of the haze burned off beneath the light of day. She closed her eyes slightly, reveling in the warmth that filled her. “I suppose.”
When his hand landed on the center of her back a few moments later, she noted that he'd finally at least pulled on a pair of black boxer briefs, and resolutely ignored his proximity.
“I won't tell anyone what you told me last night, by the way.”
And that caught Kala completely off-guard. She hadn't been expecting it to come up again, but... okay, maybe she had been worried about it, but she wasn't about to tell him that.
“Thanks,” she nodded quietly, glancing at him sideways. The serious expression on his face was just as surprising to her, but then, it made sense that he'd know how to keep a secret, considering his own past.
Maybe they were more alike than either of them had figured.
Or maybe she was still harping on the argument they'd had the night before, when he'd-
Oh.
Well, there was certainly something to be said for highly exothermic chemical reactions.
And while the thought of it brought a slow grin to her face as she sipped her coffee, the absent realization of the time by the angle of the sun shot a spike of panic straight through her chest.
“Fuck!” she swore, almost spilling her coffee all over the hardwood floor when she set her mug down on a side table and grabbed her coat. “Jay, I gotta get out of here. Rehearsal's in less than an hour and we’re in New Orleans right now. I am so screwed.” But regardless of the seriousness of situation, she couldn’t help laughing at herself a little. What on Earth had she been thinking, spending the night like that in the middle of a tour? Sheesh!
Jay's arm caught her around the waist before she could speed off back to her hotel halfway across the country, and despite herself, she let him pull her in close, felt the hard length of his body against hers and very much liked it. “Hang on. You coming back sometime, or what?” he asked, voice low.
Kala couldn't stop her dark grin this time if her life had depended on it, full of her usual insolent daring. “Hell yeah.”
“Good.” And he kissed her hard enough that she felt his pulse on her tongue and tasted his blood on her lips.
Oh yes, she'd definitely be back.
~*~*~*~
Bonus ficlet!!
Title: Obvious Benefits
Fandom & Pairing: (same as above)
Rating: R
Word Count: 481
Summary: After Kala speeds off, Jason contemplates the new development in his life.
Disclaimer: I *still* own nothing.
Author's Notes: Follows "Red and Black".
Obvious Benefits
Moments after Kala had sped off, Jason finally turned back to the window they'd been looking out of before she spazzed about the time. For the life of him, he couldn't figure what drew her to Gotham, besides the obvious benefits. Good place to bloody up some douche bags, good place to chase the bad boy. And oh yes, he'd meant every word he'd said to her the night before, and he knew she knew she was that obvious.
Was probably a good thing that he didn't really give a fuck if she was being a typical girl about him. Probably a good thing she didn't know it was the same way with Donna, too; he knew damn well the Super set didn't work well with the Amazons unless they had to. And he couldn't help loving being the typical Bat, caught in the middle of the whole super-powered stare-down. It was just too amusing, like Bruce two-point-oh, but without the crippling need to brood about the tangled mess.
But then... Kala wasn't exactly the typical Super. She made no bones about being different, even if her whole goth thing seemed over the top to some. The persona she put on for her stage show was just that, a persona, and it didn't exactly hide who she really was from people that were close to her. Hell, it didn't hide a damn thing from him, and they'd only really worked together a few times, crossed paths during her training when he was still fighting off the effects of the Pit. Outside of last night, they might as well have been near-strangers.
Which probably said a lot more about how similar they were than he'd be likely to admit out loud.
That whole 'blood on their hands' thing was certainly more true than anything else.
And he hadn't lied when he said he'd keep that nugget of info to himself; would be damn bad business for her family if anyone knew what she'd done, and she couldn't afford the bad press the way he could. One black sheep in the hero community was enough.
Shivering at the thought of just who she'd taken down-fuck, Zod, complete insanity to have taken him on, and just how did she manage it, anyway?-Jay sipped at his coffee, watched Gotham as it awoke from the nightmare that came with the darkness around here.
Shit, maybe he was as drawn to Kala as she was to him. Figured.
Could be fun, though, terrorizing the underground with more than just a few toys and a reputation. Could be fun getting dirty afterward, too, if the blood he still tasted on his lips was any indication.
Looking forward to the next time the Blur graced his city with her presence, the fresh scratches on his back stinging like a son of a bitch in the best way possible, Jay smirked, and started planning his day.
~*~*~*~
Fandom: DCU/Reeveverse/SR
Pairing: Jason Todd/Kala Lane-Kent
Rating: R
Word Count: 3,815
Summary: In the midst of a whirlwind tour that Kala is struggling with, she makes a visit to Gotham to blow off some steam. Hooking up with a Bat afterward isn't exactly planned. Not consciously, anyway.
Disclaimer: DC and WB own everything but Kala, who belongs solely to kalalanekent and anissa7118. I own nothing. Darnit!
Author's Notes: As promised to my girls since many months gone by, this fic takes place in kalalanekent & anissa7118's LS/Heirs universe, where Kala is the twin sister of Jason Lane-Kent and is a genuine rock star, and it happens about 6 years after the end of Heirs (please correct me if I've got that date wrong, ladies!). She's becoming known as The Blur, and Sebast is her best friend and band mate (mentioned in passing).
Jason Todd is generally the same in this 'verse as I usually write him, except without the slashy bits and daddy-issues, he's three years older than Kala, and has been back from the dead for quite a few years now. Needless to say, MAJOR SPOILERS for Heirs if you haven't read it, and plan to. If you HAVE read Heirs, then you know why this one had to happen. ^_~
Also, this fic contains some AU references to The Robins 'verse (and might be the only time I dare to touch that awesome world :p). kirax2, please feel free to index this one on the website, if you think it fits enough.
Red and Black
“Red, six o'clock!”
Whirling at the sudden warning, Jason dropped the huge guy behind him with a single blow to the face, blood splattering and catching the light from a streetlamp as the thug's nose was crushed. Kala couldn't help a wince at the sound of bones splintering, loud and sharp in her ears-always hated that sound-but the satisfaction of delivering some instant justice to a bunch of dealers, taking down her own trio of opponents with a series of darting strikes, was enough to make up for it; at least these freaks wouldn't be out here terrorizing a neighborhood full of kids after tonight. And they'd be lucky if they got out of the hospital any time soon, what with all the nerve damage they'd be left with.
Jay's opponents, on the other hand, would be lucky to get out of traction inside of six months. Anyway, they did deserve it.
“That's all of them,” came Red's sure voice behind her as she dropped the last one, and Kala eased out of her fighting stance to turn and face him, meeting his dark grin with one of her own. “Good work,” he said, sounding almost impressed as he knelt to zip-tie the dealers littering the grimy alley with their unconscious forms.
“Not too bad yourself,” she replied, kneeling to deal with her own compliment of downed thugs when he tossed her a pack of the plastic ties.
Really, she'd been pretty impressed by Jason Todd's skills. His Bat-training was obvious, every move quick and precise, but what really got her was how he wasn't afraid to just cut loose, where the rest of the Bats pulled their punches even more so than her own family-even if Uncle Bruce would be loathe to admit it. Her dad would be mortified to see just how nigh-lethal Red Hood was, despite Jay swearing off killing after that crazy-phase. No wonder then that Superman steered clear of Gotham, easier to pretend ignorance and all that. It was Uncle Bruce’s territory, after all, and the Bat maintained it, as both men had agreed. Was better he didn't know, anyway, and for that matter, it was better that he didn't know how often she visited, either.
Heh.
Shaking her head in amusement at that thought, Kala finished securing the unconscious goons and stood straight, kneecapped one of them for good measure with a steel boot toe as she swept her duster back and planted her hands on her hips. She turned again to find Jay calling in the anonymous tip to Gotham PD on a prepaid cell-the usual Bat thing to do, where her own family was into dropping criminals on Metro PD's front steps-and at the jerk of his head to signal it was time to move out, she headed for the nearest rooftop to regroup, gliding skyward on an updraft that cut through the alley.
It was a cool night in Gotham, not too muggy for late August, and Kala found a good spot to perch and wait for Red, watching the sickly yellow light of the city through the haze of smog. This city never failed to intrigue her, as ugly and dangerous as it seemed to outsiders, and it wasn't so much luck as a carefully planned out free night from her current tour that she managed to get over here to get her hands dirty.
“Slumming it tonight?”
Red's voice behind her drew her attention away from the skyline, and she leaned back on her gloved palms, turning her head to give him a smirk. “More like working out some frustrations. Nothing quite like a good, healthy workout.”
Jay stepped onto the ledge and sat beside her, fishing a pack of cigarettes from a jacket pocket, along with a black Zippo. “Thought you'd be more into racing Kid Flash than knocking out street trash.”
“Not a chance. Everybody knows I'd smoke him, anyway.”
Snorting a laugh, he held out the pack to offer her a cig, and she took one, letting him light it with the Zippo. A clink of metal as he closed the lighter, and two menthol-scented tendrils filled the air around them.
Kala didn't smoke often, only on rare occasions, really, but wow, the nicotine rush was good at taking the edge off, almost as much as putting the squeeze on a few thugs. It was never a wonder why her mom smoked like a chimney and spent so much time at the shooting range when she was stressed, even now.
“You know, these menthols will kill you,” she quipped lightly then, taking a well-worn page out of her mom's book, before inhaling another long drag and burning off almost half the cig in one pull.
Jay glanced at her sideways, looking amused even with the red domino obscuring his eyes. “Any day now.”
At that, part of Kala wanted to x-ray his lungs and tell him 'not yet, thank goodness', but she'd never be so cheesy as to repeat something her dad had once told her mom; his corn-fed brand of snark was all right for him, but it just didn’t work for anyone wearing as much eyeliner as she did. It still snuck up on her at times, but what could she do about it anymore? She was well past the point of accepting that she was the product of the strangest union in history.
“So how's life on the road?” Jay cut into her thoughts then. “Overrun by groupies these days?”
Managing not to cringe, but almost, Kala raised an eyebrow above her own black domino, taking another drag to collect her thoughts. The tour wasn't going as well as she'd hoped, with all the tensions that she'd just as soon forget existed, the grueling schedule, the damn tech failures because she'd clearly hired the wrong damn roadies, the drummer that broke two fingers because he was a careless dumb-ass, the bassist who couldn’t decide whether to chase jailbait or MILFs and got in trouble with both. And that wasn’t even bringing any complications with Sebast into it.
“It's fine,” she shrugged.
Jay shook his head minutely. “Bullshit. You don't just drop in on a take-down unannounced unless you're looking to either beat someone into hamburger, or get bloodied up yourself. Since you don't take beatings, it's gotta be the former. What gives, Kal?”
Looking back out at the hazy city, she finished her cigarette and flicked it off the side of the building into another adjacent alley, the faint red light disappearing as it fell. “Nothing I want to share, thanks.”
But the sudden hand on her shoulder, gripping tight, was insistent, and Jay laughed harshly, pulling her to turn back to him. “What, you think I can't possibly understand crazy life shit? Who do I look like to you, Golden Boy?”
The sneer on his face at the mention of his elder brother, Dick, almost made Kala cringe again. Dick might as well have been the boy who could do no wrong, and between him and Tim, Jason had become the default black sheep of the Bat clan. Left to his own devices, tossed away like yesterday's garbage to rot when he didn't live up to the Code the Bats lived by. It sucked. Even if he had been taken back into the fold eventually. Scars like that didn't heal overnight.
And that was the reason she'd chosen to drop in on him and not the Birds or the other Bats tonight. Of all of them, he was probably the only one that would really get it, wouldn't blame her for skipping out on her band the night before a gig, wouldn't give her shit for wishing she could put a few people in body bags.
But that was what made him dangerous, too, and she damn well knew it.
“You know what?” he said, when she didn't respond. “I don't have time for this.” With a swift move, he lifted himself from the ledge, flicked his own cig away, and strode across the rooftop, readying a grapple. “Have a nice life.”
At the sound of his frustrated snort then, Kala snapped out of her internal sidebar and leapt up after him, speeding to the other side of the roof to stop him from leaving. “Wait,” she said, laying a hand on his arm.
“What?” he asked, almost imperceptibly relaxing the tension in his finger over the grapple gun's trigger.
“Look, I just needed to deal with some shit, okay? The tour is sucking, I have bullshit coming at me from all sides, and I needed to work it all out on some thug's face. Wouldn’t Dad be so proud. Thought maybe you could understand that.”
Jay huffed out a laugh. “Figures. You are slumming it. Go home, Goth Barbie. Take a swim through the sun, and I'm sure you'll feel better.” Pushing past her, he shoved her shoulder with his own as he brought the grapple up again.
Kala was stunned, anger boiling up in her at the nickname that half the Titans called her behind her back. More fucking shit because of her goddamn day job. Where the fuck did any of them get off? “You ass-hole. It's not like that!”
But it was.
Dammit, it so was, and she felt the heat of a flush creep up her neck and face as the realization hit her.
Jay gave her a backward glance and dropped his hand, stowing the grapple at his waist. “Of course it's like that,” he snarled, turning and sauntering toward her menacingly. “Wanna get dirty, come play with the Big Bad Wolf. Nobody understands your pain, dump it on the guy that's been there, done that. Am I getting warm? Well guess what, you're no different than a half-dozen other Titans before you. Got a thing for the bad boy, but won't admit it.”
Kala sucked in a breath of surprise at his rant as she unconsciously backed up from his intrusion to her personal space. Nobody dared talk to her like that, and it stung with all the searing pain of the truth. “Who the hell said I couldn’t admit it? Fuck you,” she spat.
“Don't have a death wish, thanks,” he smiled sarcastically as she backed right into the wall of the building's stairwell, cold brick at her back. Leaning in, he planted his palms on the wall on either side of her and whispered close, “I doubt Big Blue would like it too much if he found out his little princess was fucking the only Bat with real blood on his hands.”
And that was it. A switch flipped in Kala's brain, the snapping of a taut bowstring, her whole being on fire with rage, and before Jay could react, she had him by the shoulders, flipped their positions, and got a hand around his throat, squeezing with just enough force to show him who had the upper hand here.
“You know nothing!” she snarled in turn, gratified by the quick shift of his expression from smugness to barely-concealed shock. “I'm nobody's princess. I'm could've been a queen, but I actually give a fuck about this world, and you'd better damn well acknowledge it. And you think you're the only one with blood on their hands? You killed dozens in your little war on Black Mask, but they were nothing. You know why this world is still free? Why Gotham and everyone in it wasn't just obliterated years ago? Because I killed the only man that could have ever challenged Superman.” She was right up in his face, eyes blazing fury, when she hissed, “Because I killed General Zod!”
A small part of her waited for a dramatic clap of thunder at her revelation, was almost disappointed when it didn't come, bowing instead to the adrenaline tearing her apart and sizzling along her spine, tingling in her extremities, and suddenly Jay was kissing her, hard and deep, pulling her close despite her grip on his throat. The thick taste of menthol and tobacco assaulted her even as her own shock melted into acceptance and a surprising surge of need. Releasing his throat, she shoved him back again, drove him hard into the brick because she could.
Jay only grinned lazily, smug again as he writhed beneath her force. “Didn't think you had it in you,” he murmured before kissing her again, working a knee between hers.
Kala pulled back from the kiss at that, another harsh reality hitting her. “You manipulative shit!” she bit out, tightening her grip on his shoulders. “You should be kissing the ground I don't walk on, grateful I don't tear your ass in two for that. It’s not like you don’t know whose daughter I am. We both know I could.”
He seemed to relax beneath her then, slipping an arm around her waist as he leaned close to whisper in her ear, “I'll do anything you want.”
With the thunder of their pulses deafening in her ears, Kala shivered, need and want and now taking over as the heat and urgency between them overwhelmed her. The pit of her stomach dropped away as she made her decision, before the rooftop fell away beneath them in turn and she sped them through the hazy air toward Jay's apartment.
~*~*~*~
The light of dawn would've been harsh if not for the sudden thirst Kala's body felt for it as soon as the first rays hit her through the window. Like a moth, she was instantly attuned to it, coming awake as her skin tingled with the energy of the sun, the previous night already a distant mem-
Oh, fuck.
Stifling a groan as she shifted, turned in the bed that so wasn't her own, and sure as hell wasn't a hotel bed, she pried her eyes open, blinked at the form still sleeping next to her, one arm flung over his face in the onslaught of morning light.
There was no mistaking the lines of old wounds crisscrossing his pale shoulders and back beneath fresh scratches, the thick rope of a scar on his throat that she suspected someone in his family had put there, the stench of stale cigarettes, sweat, beer, and... other things.
Jason Todd. The Goddamn Red Hood.
Kala's mind kicked into overdrive, too-clear memories of the previous night flashing before her eyes-a hard and fast fuck against the wall, clothes discarded quick, another in the armchair, Kala riding him, and again in the bed, Jay driving deep into her as she bit his shoulder, tore up his back with her dark nails-and she couldn't help the stab of panic, the 'what the hell have I done?' that cycled through her brain. Raking a hand through her hair, her long black locks pulled down from the usual tight knot she kept it in when in uniform, she slipped out of the bed-Jay's bed-quickly. And... shit, she was still naked.
Great, just great. He finally got the better of you.
A quick search found first the handful of discarded condoms-at least they'd been safe, ugh-then her panties-cut, not torn, fantastic-and her bra and shirt-also cut, what is it with him and knives, anyway?-and finally her pants and duster, both still intact, thank goodness. It'd be an awkward trip back to the hotel, and she could only hope that Sebast would keep the commentary to a minimum, but that's what she got for allowing herself a night out. Nobody to blame but herself, yadda yadda yadda.
“You're not seriously gonna go out like that, are you?”
Whirling at the sudden commentary, Kala pulled her coat around her instinctively and crossed her arms. As if he didn't get an eyeful last night. Good going, Kal.
“Girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do,” she said haughtily, standing straighter and trying not to look as he sat up, the threadbare sheet slipping down his waist to leave nothing to the imagination.
Jay huffed out a laugh, scrubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands, and reached to the nightstand for his pack of menthols and his Zippo. “You can borrow a shirt,” he said, appraising her while he lit up and took a long first drag. “I promise it won't be a complete fashion disaster.”
Kala raised an eyebrow, knowing just how much worse her walk of shame would be if she were caught in Jason Todd's clothes, reeking of sex. Just short of catching a cab out of the Manor, it'd look pretty bad. The gothy rock star partying with one of the Wayne boys? Whatever would the neighbors say?
Then again, a little intrigue might be just what the doctor ordered....
“Well?” she prompted him, tapping a bare foot to appear to be waiting, lamenting that she hadn't had time to pull her boots on yet-and where the hell were they, anyhow?
Giving her a mischievous little smile, Jay shoved himself up from the bed, obviously stiff from either the fight or the festivities afterward, and proceeded to rummage through a pile of what Kala hoped was fresh laundry in a plastic hamper, before coming back up with a black t-shirt and tossing it across the room.
Kala caught the shirt with one hand and sniffed it cautiously. Clean, at least, if a little smoky. Good enough, she supposed.
Then she held the shirt out by the shoulders and got a good look at the logo and image printed there in screaming red, green, and yellow.
“The Robins?” she huffed indignantly, throwing the shirt back at Jay like a chunk of hot K. “Are you fucking kidding me, Red?” It was well known that The Robins were a gimmicky little group that patterned themselves after the younger heroes of Gotham, right down to the new kid in the bright costume-Damian, Bruce's only actual kid. But that wasn't the problem. The problem was that The Robins' east coast tour schedule kept coinciding with Kala's, and drawing half her band's revenue. They were the bane of her existence.
Jay, of course, grinned like the cat that ate the canary. “Hey, you haven't lived until you've heard 'Gotham Shadows'.”
Crossing her arms over her chest again, Kala scowled. Asshole. “You’re a bastard and I'd rather just go like this.”
“Relax, will ya'?” Jay relented then, pulling a different shirt from the pile to toss at her. “It was just a joke. Dick thought it'd be hilarious and bought us each one for Christmas last year.”
Kala couldn't help a snort of amusement at that, though, as she found the new t-shirt blessedly logo-free, with just a silver swash across the chest that could maybe be taken for a bat-shape if you squinted long enough. “Sounds like something he'd do. He does have a twisted side.” Turning around, she shrugged off her coat and slipped on the shirt; it was loose, but it'd work.
Behind her, Jay shuffled into the kitchen area of the little safe-house studio apartment. “Coffee?”
The mere thought brought a growl from her belly. “Sure,” Kala shrugged, finally finding her boots all the way across the room and dropping into a chair to lace them up. When she looked up afterward, she realized Jay was leaning against the little island, still stark naked, watching her.
It should've been unsettling, but with the eyeful she was getting, how could she possibly complain? Maybe last night hadn't been the worst mistake in her long and storied history of mistakes.
“I know the view’s pretty spectacular, but are you just gonna stand there and stare, Red?” she asked, raising an eyebrow and sitting back in the arm-chair, legs crossed at the knee and arms crossed again.
Jay huffed a laugh, took a drag off his cigarette, and stood to get their coffee from the fresh pot. “We should do this again sometime,” he suggested as he poured two mugs.
“Right,” Kala scoffed, standing to accept her coffee when he turned back and offered it. “I'll just drop in on you whenever, we'll crack a few skulls, and have insane amounts of sex afterward. I don't think your body could take that much punishment.” Beneath the sarcasm, though, it really did sound like the best idea she'd had all week. A few days off here and there couldn't hurt her, after all, and maybe that was just what she needed to power through the tour without actively trying to murder someone.
Jay just raised an eyebrow back at her, mischief written all over his face. “I can handle it if you can. We could put a whole new spin on 'World's Finest'.”
She couldn’t help a sincere laugh then, shaking her head. “You're insane.”
“So are you,” he countered.
Kala sipped her coffee, turning to stand in the sunlight and gaze out at the city as some of the haze burned off beneath the light of day. She closed her eyes slightly, reveling in the warmth that filled her. “I suppose.”
When his hand landed on the center of her back a few moments later, she noted that he'd finally at least pulled on a pair of black boxer briefs, and resolutely ignored his proximity.
“I won't tell anyone what you told me last night, by the way.”
And that caught Kala completely off-guard. She hadn't been expecting it to come up again, but... okay, maybe she had been worried about it, but she wasn't about to tell him that.
“Thanks,” she nodded quietly, glancing at him sideways. The serious expression on his face was just as surprising to her, but then, it made sense that he'd know how to keep a secret, considering his own past.
Maybe they were more alike than either of them had figured.
Or maybe she was still harping on the argument they'd had the night before, when he'd-
Oh.
Well, there was certainly something to be said for highly exothermic chemical reactions.
And while the thought of it brought a slow grin to her face as she sipped her coffee, the absent realization of the time by the angle of the sun shot a spike of panic straight through her chest.
“Fuck!” she swore, almost spilling her coffee all over the hardwood floor when she set her mug down on a side table and grabbed her coat. “Jay, I gotta get out of here. Rehearsal's in less than an hour and we’re in New Orleans right now. I am so screwed.” But regardless of the seriousness of situation, she couldn’t help laughing at herself a little. What on Earth had she been thinking, spending the night like that in the middle of a tour? Sheesh!
Jay's arm caught her around the waist before she could speed off back to her hotel halfway across the country, and despite herself, she let him pull her in close, felt the hard length of his body against hers and very much liked it. “Hang on. You coming back sometime, or what?” he asked, voice low.
Kala couldn't stop her dark grin this time if her life had depended on it, full of her usual insolent daring. “Hell yeah.”
“Good.” And he kissed her hard enough that she felt his pulse on her tongue and tasted his blood on her lips.
Oh yes, she'd definitely be back.
~*~*~*~
Bonus ficlet!!
Title: Obvious Benefits
Fandom & Pairing: (same as above)
Rating: R
Word Count: 481
Summary: After Kala speeds off, Jason contemplates the new development in his life.
Disclaimer: I *still* own nothing.
Author's Notes: Follows "Red and Black".
Obvious Benefits
Moments after Kala had sped off, Jason finally turned back to the window they'd been looking out of before she spazzed about the time. For the life of him, he couldn't figure what drew her to Gotham, besides the obvious benefits. Good place to bloody up some douche bags, good place to chase the bad boy. And oh yes, he'd meant every word he'd said to her the night before, and he knew she knew she was that obvious.
Was probably a good thing that he didn't really give a fuck if she was being a typical girl about him. Probably a good thing she didn't know it was the same way with Donna, too; he knew damn well the Super set didn't work well with the Amazons unless they had to. And he couldn't help loving being the typical Bat, caught in the middle of the whole super-powered stare-down. It was just too amusing, like Bruce two-point-oh, but without the crippling need to brood about the tangled mess.
But then... Kala wasn't exactly the typical Super. She made no bones about being different, even if her whole goth thing seemed over the top to some. The persona she put on for her stage show was just that, a persona, and it didn't exactly hide who she really was from people that were close to her. Hell, it didn't hide a damn thing from him, and they'd only really worked together a few times, crossed paths during her training when he was still fighting off the effects of the Pit. Outside of last night, they might as well have been near-strangers.
Which probably said a lot more about how similar they were than he'd be likely to admit out loud.
That whole 'blood on their hands' thing was certainly more true than anything else.
And he hadn't lied when he said he'd keep that nugget of info to himself; would be damn bad business for her family if anyone knew what she'd done, and she couldn't afford the bad press the way he could. One black sheep in the hero community was enough.
Shivering at the thought of just who she'd taken down-fuck, Zod, complete insanity to have taken him on, and just how did she manage it, anyway?-Jay sipped at his coffee, watched Gotham as it awoke from the nightmare that came with the darkness around here.
Shit, maybe he was as drawn to Kala as she was to him. Figured.
Could be fun, though, terrorizing the underground with more than just a few toys and a reputation. Could be fun getting dirty afterward, too, if the blood he still tasted on his lips was any indication.
Looking forward to the next time the Blur graced his city with her presence, the fresh scratches on his back stinging like a son of a bitch in the best way possible, Jay smirked, and started planning his day.
~*~*~*~