JLU Fic: Between the Ocean and the Sky [Het, PG]
Between the Ocean and the Sky
a Fish/Fowl R'verse story
by dotfic
Het, PG
Justice League & characters is the property of DC Comics/Warner Brothers.
A/N: written for mtgat's birthday.
Well I’ve tried so hard baby but I just can’t see
What a woman like you is doing with me
So tell me what I see when I look in your eyes
Is that you baby or just a brilliant disguise
--Bruce Springsteen
When he saw her, she was standing like someone who had lost their way but didn't want anyone else to know it. Shoulders back, spine straight, her long hair down her back. It was mostly silver-white, except for an impression of green, like light shining through glass, and though he knew he was being sentimental, it reminded him of sea foam. For a moment as he looked at her, before she saw him, he thought the re-circulated indoor air of the League's Metro Tower had softened and tasted like salt.
"Need some help?" The last time he had seen her, they'd been teenagers, some formal League function. There'd been a large crowd, a lot of standing on ceremony, and he hadn't gotten to speak to her.
The last time he remembered before that, they were five, and he hadn't been able to resist tugging at her pretty hair until she shoved him away.
She turned and looked him up and down. "No."
"Okay." He shrugged, wondering why he should be disappointed she didn't immediately say his name or seem to recognize him. Of course, he was wearing his helmet, but his uniform was distinct enough that she might know who he was by it. "It's just that you have The Look."
Her eyebrows went up. "The Look?"
"Like you just got here and you aren't sure how to find the bathroom, Admin, your quarters, or the mess. Don't worry. It happens to everyone. I still forget where the training room is sometimes."
"No. I'm not lost."
"Nice dress," he said. "A little impractical for battle, don't you think? But you probably haven't had a chance to get a uniform yet."
Shut up, Rex, shut up, shut up, his brain fumed at him.
"I'm R--Warhawk," He put out his hand.
She stared at it. Something in her manner made him withdraw the hand. He put his palm to his armored chest, and half-bowed instead. Her eyes widened, as if surprised he had the wits.
"I am..." she stopped. "Here they will call me Aquagirl."
He thought of the stars above the Tower entrance, of the stories his father and mother told him. Rex knew those stories before he knew the Little Mermaid, Anansi, Cuchulain, or Beowulf.
"You're Arthur Curry's daughter," he said. "Why are you just standing around outside the mess?"
Now for the first time, she gave him the flicker of a smile, quick and amused. "Because I have an appointment to get fitted for my costume, and I can't remember where the department is located."
He resisted the urge to laugh, and for once his mouth listened to the voice in his brain that told him not to say see, I told you so. "Like I said, it happens all the time. I could take you there, if you'd like."
"Very well." She inclined her head, giving her consent, but he didn't try to take her arm as they start walking down the corridor towards the elevators.
"I'm surprised they didn't have someone escort you around," he said, while they waited.
"I refused," she said flatly. He wondered if he imagined the note of challenge in her voice. "I wanted to get to know the Tower and the workings of the League on my own. To look around without interference. They greeted me upon my arrival. I'm surprised you didn't hear about it."
"I was out on a mission," he said, and the elevator doors slid open with a smooth snap-hiss. "Got back just now."
"You're probably hungry," she said as they stepped into the elevator. "You were on your way to the mess."
"Ah, no, it can wait," He waved his hand and pressed the correct button. His stomach growled loudly.
She laughed, and it was unexpected and as bright as a hot afternoon on the beach, with the happy shrieks of children and the crash of waves. In the close space of the elevator, he worked very hard to stare straight ahead at the number display and not stare at her face, her body. She was a combination of delicate and strong, something more frightening than merely pretty.
As the heat rose in his cheeks, he was grateful for the sometimes chafing helm that covered the top half of his face. It had uses other than protecting his head apparently. Maybe that was the real reason so many heroes liked masks.
There didn't seem to be enough air in the elevator. He was disappointed and relieved when the doors slid open again.
"No," she held up a hand, palm flat, a gesture from someone used to command, as he started to step out of the elevator after her. "Please tell me where the room is, then go and take your meal."
"Hang a left, second door on the right-hand side." The elevator door started to close. He grabbed it with his hand, stopping it. "I could come with you..."
"Good-bye," she said, and started to walk away.
An alarm began to beep and the synthesized voice said politely, please release the lift doors.
Reluctantly, he stepped back, but not before letting himself catch a final glimpse of long silver-white hair.
a Fish/Fowl R'verse story
by dotfic
Het, PG
Justice League & characters is the property of DC Comics/Warner Brothers.
A/N: written for mtgat's birthday.
Well I’ve tried so hard baby but I just can’t see
What a woman like you is doing with me
So tell me what I see when I look in your eyes
Is that you baby or just a brilliant disguise
--Bruce Springsteen
When he saw her, she was standing like someone who had lost their way but didn't want anyone else to know it. Shoulders back, spine straight, her long hair down her back. It was mostly silver-white, except for an impression of green, like light shining through glass, and though he knew he was being sentimental, it reminded him of sea foam. For a moment as he looked at her, before she saw him, he thought the re-circulated indoor air of the League's Metro Tower had softened and tasted like salt.
"Need some help?" The last time he had seen her, they'd been teenagers, some formal League function. There'd been a large crowd, a lot of standing on ceremony, and he hadn't gotten to speak to her.
The last time he remembered before that, they were five, and he hadn't been able to resist tugging at her pretty hair until she shoved him away.
She turned and looked him up and down. "No."
"Okay." He shrugged, wondering why he should be disappointed she didn't immediately say his name or seem to recognize him. Of course, he was wearing his helmet, but his uniform was distinct enough that she might know who he was by it. "It's just that you have The Look."
Her eyebrows went up. "The Look?"
"Like you just got here and you aren't sure how to find the bathroom, Admin, your quarters, or the mess. Don't worry. It happens to everyone. I still forget where the training room is sometimes."
"No. I'm not lost."
"Nice dress," he said. "A little impractical for battle, don't you think? But you probably haven't had a chance to get a uniform yet."
Shut up, Rex, shut up, shut up, his brain fumed at him.
"I'm R--Warhawk," He put out his hand.
She stared at it. Something in her manner made him withdraw the hand. He put his palm to his armored chest, and half-bowed instead. Her eyes widened, as if surprised he had the wits.
"I am..." she stopped. "Here they will call me Aquagirl."
He thought of the stars above the Tower entrance, of the stories his father and mother told him. Rex knew those stories before he knew the Little Mermaid, Anansi, Cuchulain, or Beowulf.
"You're Arthur Curry's daughter," he said. "Why are you just standing around outside the mess?"
Now for the first time, she gave him the flicker of a smile, quick and amused. "Because I have an appointment to get fitted for my costume, and I can't remember where the department is located."
He resisted the urge to laugh, and for once his mouth listened to the voice in his brain that told him not to say see, I told you so. "Like I said, it happens all the time. I could take you there, if you'd like."
"Very well." She inclined her head, giving her consent, but he didn't try to take her arm as they start walking down the corridor towards the elevators.
"I'm surprised they didn't have someone escort you around," he said, while they waited.
"I refused," she said flatly. He wondered if he imagined the note of challenge in her voice. "I wanted to get to know the Tower and the workings of the League on my own. To look around without interference. They greeted me upon my arrival. I'm surprised you didn't hear about it."
"I was out on a mission," he said, and the elevator doors slid open with a smooth snap-hiss. "Got back just now."
"You're probably hungry," she said as they stepped into the elevator. "You were on your way to the mess."
"Ah, no, it can wait," He waved his hand and pressed the correct button. His stomach growled loudly.
She laughed, and it was unexpected and as bright as a hot afternoon on the beach, with the happy shrieks of children and the crash of waves. In the close space of the elevator, he worked very hard to stare straight ahead at the number display and not stare at her face, her body. She was a combination of delicate and strong, something more frightening than merely pretty.
As the heat rose in his cheeks, he was grateful for the sometimes chafing helm that covered the top half of his face. It had uses other than protecting his head apparently. Maybe that was the real reason so many heroes liked masks.
There didn't seem to be enough air in the elevator. He was disappointed and relieved when the doors slid open again.
"No," she held up a hand, palm flat, a gesture from someone used to command, as he started to step out of the elevator after her. "Please tell me where the room is, then go and take your meal."
"Hang a left, second door on the right-hand side." The elevator door started to close. He grabbed it with his hand, stopping it. "I could come with you..."
"Good-bye," she said, and started to walk away.
An alarm began to beep and the synthesized voice said politely, please release the lift doors.
Reluctantly, he stepped back, but not before letting himself catch a final glimpse of long silver-white hair.