(no subject)
Random post CFUD ficing. Cuz sometimes Buffy angsts about things and they don't come up. And then she tells me to make them better. And I fail to. Cuz I'm awesome like that. With bonus suck it real DC continuity!
When thinking about the list of reasons it would be pretty cool to date a superhero, Buffy never really considered super-hearing. Mainly because most of the time, she forgets that the super-hearing's around. Because really, if your boyfriend can fly, shoot lasers, deflect bullets, and hear better than the average person, which one of these are you most likely to not care about?
Buffy never gets over having bad dreams. They aren't prophetic in Metropolis with any kind of regularity, which is nice, because she really hates prophetic dreams. She figures she just doesn't have prophecies about places that aren't Sunnydale. But the nightmares don't ever really go away. And she can't really bring herself to wake Kon up for them. So when she startles herself awake to see him already looking anxious at her, it's actually pretty nice.
"Um," she comments. "Hi."
"Hey," he says quietly. And of course he was already holding her, but he pulls her closer anyway. "Bad dream?"
"That obvious?"
"You were whimpering."
"Oh."
"Really bad?"
"I've had worse. I'm pretty used to them by now."
He tenses slightly. "So this happens a lot."
"Maybe?" she says, feeling bad now for not waking him up. "I mean, back home I got lots of prophetic dreams and stuff. And those were rarely if ever good."
"You don't get prophetic dreams here?"
She couldn't hold back a shudder. "I really really hope not."
He rubs her back absently. "What--You wanna talk about it?"
"Just the normal stuff. Death, apocalypse, terrible things happening to you and Bart and everyone else I care about while I stand powerless to stop it. Pretty standard," she says. Her voice is shaking. She hates that.
He pulls her closer again and kisses the top of her head and even with the bad dreams and her being stupid she just gets a wave of happy. After all, there's stupid Slayer stuff and stupid destiny stuff and stupid prophecy stuff, but then there's a guy who loves her and wants to make her feel better. And it's hard to not be really happy with him.
"Like we'd let an apocalypse through," he says softly, and she smiles and kisses him quickly.
"You know," she says, carefully casual, "Slayers don't need as much sleep as normal people. Helps with the whole semi-noctural thing we've got going."
"Yeah? So you're getting up?"
"Nah. I'm getting more sleep here than I ever have before. When...well, back when I first got to camp, I'd just spend a lot of time beating up zombies to make up for the extra time I had, but that's cuz I don't much like sleeping. But...it's a lot better when I'm with you."
"Yeah? I think so too."
She doesn't say anything and settles for kissing him much less quickly.
"You know," he says. "I don't really need sleep either."
And it's really really hard to be depressed about dumb dreams when there's an enthusiastic superhero working his hands under her shirt, even if that is shallow. Because she's happy. And it's really hard to argue with happy. And she catches herself thinking she could do this for a while and tries to stop it, because even with all the travel stuff sorted out, there's other stuff, and there's cross-dimension stuff and it's not any kind of practical in a long-term sense...
She's trying to just stop thinking and enjoy being with him, so she's going for his shirt, but he hasn't shut down her functioning enough for her to not notice.
Kon realizes something's wrong when she pulls down on his shirt.
"Uh," he says, trying to clear out a haze of hormones. "Don't you usually take that off?"
She tugs again. "Your shirt's too small."
"No it's not," he says instinctively, and then he looks.
Buffy pokes curiously at his midriff. "That definitely used to cover your stomach."
"I don't get taller," Kon says helplessly.
She pokes again. Because poking definitely helps. "Your shirt shrunk? It looks about the same on your shoulders and chest..." and it was always a little snug on there and no important no getting distracted.
"It must've."
Buffy finds her own shirt and pulls it back on, and then tugs Kon up. "How tall are you?"
"Five seven"," he says, without hesitation. Buffy roots around in one of his drawers and finds a ruler. "It's gonna take a long time to measure me like that," he protests, but she turns him around, puts her back against his, and puts the ruler on her head. "This could be more accurate."
"Yeah, well, I work with what I got," she comments, pulling the ruler off his head and blinking at the number. "You've got a good five and a half inches on me," she says, surprised.
"So?" he asks, pouting slightly.
"I'm five three," she replies.
Kon can do math. He's the one with math skills. Even in the middle of the night.
He's never grown before in a normal human way. He's been five seven since he came out of the tube and he figured he'd continue to be five seven forever.
"Huh," he finally replies.
Buffy blinks a couple more times. "Feeling older?"
"How do I know?"
"Dunno," she says, sitting down on the bed.
"Maybe it was the tube," he says. Buffy looks at him for a long time, trying to figure out how he's feeling. He's fidgeting and pacing a little.
She reaches over and takes his hand, pulling him down next to her. "This somehow doesn't seem bad."
"I'm trying not to get my hopes up," he says quietly.
"Yeah," she says, in the same tone, "I can see that."
He smiles gently and lies back down, and she goes with him willingly.
"We can figure it out later."
"Yeah," she says, settling back against him. "There's not a lot to do about it tonight."
He smiles and kisses the top of her head, and she wonders how she didn't notice sooner that he has to lean over a little more to reach him and she had to go a little higher to get her arms around his neck.
She does not think about the future. She spends the next hour awake, nestled against him, not thinking about the future as hard as she can.
When thinking about the list of reasons it would be pretty cool to date a superhero, Buffy never really considered super-hearing. Mainly because most of the time, she forgets that the super-hearing's around. Because really, if your boyfriend can fly, shoot lasers, deflect bullets, and hear better than the average person, which one of these are you most likely to not care about?
Buffy never gets over having bad dreams. They aren't prophetic in Metropolis with any kind of regularity, which is nice, because she really hates prophetic dreams. She figures she just doesn't have prophecies about places that aren't Sunnydale. But the nightmares don't ever really go away. And she can't really bring herself to wake Kon up for them. So when she startles herself awake to see him already looking anxious at her, it's actually pretty nice.
"Um," she comments. "Hi."
"Hey," he says quietly. And of course he was already holding her, but he pulls her closer anyway. "Bad dream?"
"That obvious?"
"You were whimpering."
"Oh."
"Really bad?"
"I've had worse. I'm pretty used to them by now."
He tenses slightly. "So this happens a lot."
"Maybe?" she says, feeling bad now for not waking him up. "I mean, back home I got lots of prophetic dreams and stuff. And those were rarely if ever good."
"You don't get prophetic dreams here?"
She couldn't hold back a shudder. "I really really hope not."
He rubs her back absently. "What--You wanna talk about it?"
"Just the normal stuff. Death, apocalypse, terrible things happening to you and Bart and everyone else I care about while I stand powerless to stop it. Pretty standard," she says. Her voice is shaking. She hates that.
He pulls her closer again and kisses the top of her head and even with the bad dreams and her being stupid she just gets a wave of happy. After all, there's stupid Slayer stuff and stupid destiny stuff and stupid prophecy stuff, but then there's a guy who loves her and wants to make her feel better. And it's hard to not be really happy with him.
"Like we'd let an apocalypse through," he says softly, and she smiles and kisses him quickly.
"You know," she says, carefully casual, "Slayers don't need as much sleep as normal people. Helps with the whole semi-noctural thing we've got going."
"Yeah? So you're getting up?"
"Nah. I'm getting more sleep here than I ever have before. When...well, back when I first got to camp, I'd just spend a lot of time beating up zombies to make up for the extra time I had, but that's cuz I don't much like sleeping. But...it's a lot better when I'm with you."
"Yeah? I think so too."
She doesn't say anything and settles for kissing him much less quickly.
"You know," he says. "I don't really need sleep either."
And it's really really hard to be depressed about dumb dreams when there's an enthusiastic superhero working his hands under her shirt, even if that is shallow. Because she's happy. And it's really hard to argue with happy. And she catches herself thinking she could do this for a while and tries to stop it, because even with all the travel stuff sorted out, there's other stuff, and there's cross-dimension stuff and it's not any kind of practical in a long-term sense...
She's trying to just stop thinking and enjoy being with him, so she's going for his shirt, but he hasn't shut down her functioning enough for her to not notice.
Kon realizes something's wrong when she pulls down on his shirt.
"Uh," he says, trying to clear out a haze of hormones. "Don't you usually take that off?"
She tugs again. "Your shirt's too small."
"No it's not," he says instinctively, and then he looks.
Buffy pokes curiously at his midriff. "That definitely used to cover your stomach."
"I don't get taller," Kon says helplessly.
She pokes again. Because poking definitely helps. "Your shirt shrunk? It looks about the same on your shoulders and chest..." and it was always a little snug on there and no important no getting distracted.
"It must've."
Buffy finds her own shirt and pulls it back on, and then tugs Kon up. "How tall are you?"
"Five seven"," he says, without hesitation. Buffy roots around in one of his drawers and finds a ruler. "It's gonna take a long time to measure me like that," he protests, but she turns him around, puts her back against his, and puts the ruler on her head. "This could be more accurate."
"Yeah, well, I work with what I got," she comments, pulling the ruler off his head and blinking at the number. "You've got a good five and a half inches on me," she says, surprised.
"So?" he asks, pouting slightly.
"I'm five three," she replies.
Kon can do math. He's the one with math skills. Even in the middle of the night.
He's never grown before in a normal human way. He's been five seven since he came out of the tube and he figured he'd continue to be five seven forever.
"Huh," he finally replies.
Buffy blinks a couple more times. "Feeling older?"
"How do I know?"
"Dunno," she says, sitting down on the bed.
"Maybe it was the tube," he says. Buffy looks at him for a long time, trying to figure out how he's feeling. He's fidgeting and pacing a little.
She reaches over and takes his hand, pulling him down next to her. "This somehow doesn't seem bad."
"I'm trying not to get my hopes up," he says quietly.
"Yeah," she says, in the same tone, "I can see that."
He smiles gently and lies back down, and she goes with him willingly.
"We can figure it out later."
"Yeah," she says, settling back against him. "There's not a lot to do about it tonight."
He smiles and kisses the top of her head, and she wonders how she didn't notice sooner that he has to lean over a little more to reach him and she had to go a little higher to get her arms around his neck.
She does not think about the future. She spends the next hour awake, nestled against him, not thinking about the future as hard as she can.