Today's Thanksgiving. First Thanksgiving I haven't spent in Vegas. Ever, y'know? I mean, I even went to college in Vegas. UNLV all the way, man
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Yeah, y'know, being probably-dead sucks if I get to thinking about it, but what's the point? I'm here, not there, ain't fuck all I can do about there. But I can live here and make the best life I can. Today? That's all about these folks and getting to know them.
I toss the football back and forth between my hands, grinning. "Look alive, creampuff. Yeah you."
Roy's not expecting to hear that. He gives the guy the once over and yeah he doesn't exactly look like a pushover but there's no way he should be calling Roy a creampuff.
A'ight, now that's what I'm talking about. Y'know?
"You got a name, carrot-top?" I ask, smirking my fool head off and hoping the guy who looks like the sort I don't really want to piss off has a sense of humor. "Name's Brown. Warrick Brown."
I flip the ball his way and get ready to run for it.
"Roy Harper," he tells him, catching the ball. Carrot-top, not the most creative nickname and at this point, Roy's heard them all. He reaches back, aims and throws, appreciating the view of Warrick running after the ball.
A little mid-afternoon rough-housing was just what Monet ordered and much more appealing then a run. Jogging over with her water bottle, she unzipped her sweatshirt and threw it to one side. Bending down in her training outfit, she stretched out and limbered up. She was going to kick some ass.
If she can grab him out of the middle of a party and kiss him, he can manhandle her in public. He comes whipping by after tossing the ball off to Warrick, and grabs her around the waist, pulling her down.
"Is that a running suit or an invitation to sin, sweetheart? Because I'm pretty sure I can't tell the difference."
Monet watched as Dick passed the ball to Warrick and ran after him. She didn't notice Dick running after her until it was too late and she was on the grass in his strong embrace.
"Both. But you should see my other one, it's much more revealing." Monet said, wriggling against him as she tried to get free from his arms. She looked up and watched as the small blonde kid got a touchdown. Sighing in irritation, she glanced at him coldly. "Are you even allowed to tackle me when I don't have the ball?"
Undeterred, Dick skims her hip with his palm, fingertips trailing to the ground, grinning wolfishly down at her. He's actually checking to make sure he didn't drop her on anything that would hurt her, not feeling her up, but she doesn't need to know that.
"It's called defense, princess." He's pretty sure he's not allowed according to the rules of the game, but his teams play by different rules. Family is a full-contact sport. "Can't let you go robbing Coraline of her touchdown." Eying her, he bends down to steal a quick kiss. "Or pass up a chance to get horizontal with you. That wouldn't be sporting."
Thanksgiving's one of those days. The ones where Bruce and Ollie try to pretend they don't want to throttle each other. Where the boys agree not to stare too hard at PG's assets (getting Bea and Tora to agree not to stare's always dicey) and not to size up Diana's. Where the girls agree not to manhandle me or Tim or Roy too much. But somehow by mid-afternoon, we're all brawling and trying to prove that Bats are tougher than Arrows or Wonders and we don't need their fancy powers to kick the S's asses.
Dick misses it. He misses home and family and Bruce and Alfred and Donna and Kory and Vic and Wally and Gar and Gareth and Raven so much his chest aches. But he's not going to let Tim and Babs and Roy spend Thanksgiving worrying over him.
Around midafternoon, he hears shouts and squeals and people running and he's off like a shot with a smile for Tim and a grin for Roy and a catch me if you can. He's still grinning when the football hits his hand.
I'm standing at the edge of the field, grinning to see this impromptu game play out in front of me, when all of a sudden I hear Dick shouting in my direction.
Coraline was glad that she'd decided to pass the field on her exploration. They were playing a game and she thought she was getting very good at this AMERICAN football stuff and it was all thanks to Mister Tim and Mister Jason. They were both very encouraging and even when they didn't realise she was watching, Coraline was playing close attention which was why she had decided that she was going to yell nonsense like they did in training.
"Set Right, slot left, fake 900 fullback dive, 900 quick pitch, 900 slot back motion. Pro Left 25 Power!" Coraline called out loudly in her best QB voice enthusiastically. Not that she really knew what any of it meant, she just liked getting the ball and running with it which was what the original coach (the nice man) had told her she'd be good at. "I think that's what they say anyway, I'd have to check my notebook."
"Right, so, basically, you want us to spin around in circles with power? Great! That's what I always do anyway. What are we doing again?" Deadpool wasn't sure why he was on this field of battle. Nor was Myself sure why I refer to it as 'the field of battle'. Maybe if they were killing each other it would be more interesting. Of course, with this recent devolpment of not being able to regenerate, that didn't sound like so much fun anymore.
Then again, with danger sparked entertainment...
"Hey, I got a new idea! Let's run around in circles and STAB everybody we see! It'll be GREAT! Nobody will know who's going to try and stab them next! Like the great escape, except running AT each other!" Myself marveled at his own creativeness.
"I don't know it's just what our QB1 shouts when we're playing," Coraline informed the man with a cheery smile. Her smile led to a small scowl when she listened to his idea. He wanted to stab people. That wasn't very nice in fact it was rather villainous. And due to her playing the game her catbag and her knife were far away from her. She took one more glance at him before opening her mouth to yell. "VILLAIN! VILLAIN ON THE PITCH! HE'S GOING TO STAB ME!"
"Oh goodie! It looks like she DOES want to play!" Deadpool unknowingly opened a can of trouble, and unsheathed his sword. He looked around and yelled, "C'mon guys, it's time to play 'Stab the person nearest to you!!' Look out Santa, cause this is gonna get NAUGHTY!!" Wade swung his sword around randomly a few times, before chasing after the girl in a slow pace. There wouldn't be any fun if he caught her right away after all.
They all needed a nice long rest in a cozy hospital bed, including himself, or so Myself thought.
Most of what he'd done today was cook. Thanksgiving preparation always took most of the day before the dinner. It was a refreshing familiarity--even through he was fairly certain there were no turkeys to be found on the island.
He was on break, when he saw the small group with the football. He was fairly certain if there'd been an actual game, he'd have heard about it--or had more practices. As such, clearly this was an impromptu event.
He gave a small smile, wandering into the field. Whether or not they had room for more, it would be fun to watch.
"Yo, Mitchell, look alive!" I call, pump-faking his direction when I see him hit the field. I don't actually know the guy, but you can't play football with a man and not know his name at least.
He recognized the guy vaguely from the few practices they'd actually had as a team. The guy's name was Brown, if he recalled correctly, but it wasn't really a pressing need to know just now.
He nodded in acknowledgment of the man. "What's the score?"
Whether or not there were strictly full teams, or even solid positions, he highly doubted there was a lack of a score.
Competitive. Gotta like that in a teammate, but it's Thanksgiving and we're barely fielding a half-team yet.
I raise both my eyebrows and give him the head back whatchoo talkin' 'bout Willace? before I grin and flip the ball his way. "Hell if I know, man. Coraline's run down the field so damned many times I don't think I can count that high."
Comments 125
I toss the football back and forth between my hands, grinning. "Look alive, creampuff. Yeah you."
Reply
"Bring it, baby," he says, holding his hands out.
Reply
"You got a name, carrot-top?" I ask, smirking my fool head off and hoping the guy who looks like the sort I don't really want to piss off has a sense of humor. "Name's Brown. Warrick Brown."
I flip the ball his way and get ready to run for it.
Reply
Reply
Reply
"Is that a running suit or an invitation to sin, sweetheart? Because I'm pretty sure I can't tell the difference."
Reply
"Both. But you should see my other one, it's much more revealing." Monet said, wriggling against him as she tried to get free from his arms. She looked up and watched as the small blonde kid got a touchdown. Sighing in irritation, she glanced at him coldly. "Are you even allowed to tackle me when I don't have the ball?"
Reply
"It's called defense, princess." He's pretty sure he's not allowed according to the rules of the game, but his teams play by different rules. Family is a full-contact sport. "Can't let you go robbing Coraline of her touchdown." Eying her, he bends down to steal a quick kiss. "Or pass up a chance to get horizontal with you. That wouldn't be sporting."
Reply
Dick misses it. He misses home and family and Bruce and Alfred and Donna and Kory and Vic and Wally and Gar and Gareth and Raven so much his chest aches. But he's not going to let Tim and Babs and Roy spend Thanksgiving worrying over him.
Around midafternoon, he hears shouts and squeals and people running and he's off like a shot with a smile for Tim and a grin for Roy and a catch me if you can. He's still grinning when the football hits his hand.
It's been years.
"Who wants it?" he calls and pump-fakes to throw.
Reply
I turned. "Who, me?"
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"Sure, why not?" He makes like he's going to toss the ball. "Well?"
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"Set Right, slot left, fake 900 fullback dive, 900 quick pitch, 900 slot back motion. Pro Left 25 Power!" Coraline called out loudly in her best QB voice enthusiastically. Not that she really knew what any of it meant, she just liked getting the ball and running with it which was what the original coach (the nice man) had told her she'd be good at. "I think that's what they say anyway, I'd have to check my notebook."
Reply
Then again, with danger sparked entertainment...
"Hey, I got a new idea! Let's run around in circles and STAB everybody we see! It'll be GREAT! Nobody will know who's going to try and stab them next! Like the great escape, except running AT each other!" Myself marveled at his own creativeness.
Reply
Reply
"Oh goodie! It looks like she DOES want to play!" Deadpool unknowingly opened a can of trouble, and unsheathed his sword. He looked around and yelled, "C'mon guys, it's time to play 'Stab the person nearest to you!!' Look out Santa, cause this is gonna get NAUGHTY!!" Wade swung his sword around randomly a few times, before chasing after the girl in a slow pace. There wouldn't be any fun if he caught her right away after all.
They all needed a nice long rest in a cozy hospital bed, including himself, or so Myself thought.
Reply
He was on break, when he saw the small group with the football. He was fairly certain if there'd been an actual game, he'd have heard about it--or had more practices. As such, clearly this was an impromptu event.
He gave a small smile, wandering into the field. Whether or not they had room for more, it would be fun to watch.
Reply
Reply
He nodded in acknowledgment of the man. "What's the score?"
Whether or not there were strictly full teams, or even solid positions, he highly doubted there was a lack of a score.
Reply
I raise both my eyebrows and give him the head back whatchoo talkin' 'bout Willace? before I grin and flip the ball his way. "Hell if I know, man. Coraline's run down the field so damned many times I don't think I can count that high."
Reply
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