Skirts (Robins, PG-13, DCU)
Title: Skirts
Author: Mimic
Characters/Pairings: Dick, Jay, Jason, Tim, Steph, Bruce
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: DC totally did this first, but, I don't own them.
Notes: It just figures this is what I write to break my block. *ahem* Cross-dressing ahoy.
Feedback: Much love to anything and everything.
Word Count: 750 - five 150 word drabbles.
He couldn’t remember being more embarrassed.
His face was so red that pressing his cheek against Bruce’s door felt like plunging into ice water, and his stomach was all butterflies.
Dick was standing in Wayne Manor wearing nothing more, to the eye, than a red cocktail dress and curly, black wig. His toes were bare and painted shiny red, squirming against the carpet. He eventually pulled his face away from the door, and knocked.
Bruce’s expression was so calm Dick thought he might faint out of sheer mortification. “Having trouble?”
He swallowed, summing up his courage. “I can’t zip up the back.”
Dick knew the twitch at the corner of Bruce’s mouth right before he smiled meant he was dying of laughter, and thought up about five retorts before Bruce spun him gently around, and he was reduced to sullen silence as Bruce zipped up the back of his dress.
-
Jay giggled.
He couldn’t ever remember having this much fun. He wiggled his left toes before Bruce glared at him, and he apologized sheepishly.
“Sorry, I keep forgetting.”
He went back to being mostly still, as still as he ever could be, and Bruce went back to painting his toenails with the pink polish Jay had chosen. It was either that or a really pale peach, and Jay liked how bright this one was.
“Can I do this again?” He really wanted to.
“If a case requires it.”
“Oh, okay.” He paused, thinking about it. “Thanks, Bruce!”
Bruce scraped his fingernail to catch a stray bit of polish before it could dry, and smirked to his feet. Jay grinned brightly again. “You’ll have to learn to do this yourself, at some point.”
Jason nodded, freezing and remembering when Bruce squeezed his foot just a little harder than necessary.
“Sorry.”
-
He stared at Bruce, because this was fucking ridiculous and he couldn’t have said what Jason thought he did. “You’re kidding me,” he shouted, “You’re fucking kidding me!”
“Language.”
“Fuck my language! You want me to dress up as a chick?!”
Bruce gave him a blank stare that was all about the cowl he wasn’t wearing. Jason glared right back, crossing his arms and planting his feet in the most masculine way he knew how.
Out of anything Bruce could have said, what he did next threw Jason back half a mile.
“It’s nothing your predecessor hasn’t done before you.”
He almost choked. “Nightwing?!”
“It is required for this case, Robin. No more arguments.”
Bruce stalked off, all grimness and shadows and not having to put on a skirt.
He cursed under his breath, not at all soothed by the prospective blackmail Dick cross-dressing provided him.
“Fucking Bruce.”
-
He was thrown exorbitantly off balance by the near-professional job Bruce had done with the eyeliner smudged all around his eyes, making the green contact lenses look less alien than simply startling
It wasn’t so much that Bruce knew how to apply eyeliner in the first place, or even that he was good at it, more that it called to mind unwanted situations to explain how Bruce gained the knowledge in the first place, and who he had practiced on.
His mind stuck on the thought as he pulled on the rest of the costume, and thus the persona, around him.
He could never bring himself to think of this as what it was, instead of what both he and Bruce wanted to see it as, an excuse to practice his disguise work, or he would break character completely just to throw himself from a building due to the embarrassment.
-
It was probably the most expensive dress Steph would ever see in her life, which was the thought that kept her from jumping up and down like she sort of wanted to when she first put it on.
Bruce had helped her with the zipper, and the laces on the little black heels, but now he was just staring at her blankly from the little shadowed part of her room at the manor.
She rolled her eyes, and twirled to face him, throwing in a little pose.
“The boys wouldn’t have been able to pull this off,” she laughed, “Their cleavage isn’t real.”
Bruce made a little noise in the back of his throat that meant he was laughing and disagreeing with her simultaneously. Steph didn’t quite roll her eyes again.
“Alright, fine,” she finally admitted, “Dick might’ve been able to do it.”
That sound wasn’t anything except laughter.
Author: Mimic
Characters/Pairings: Dick, Jay, Jason, Tim, Steph, Bruce
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: DC totally did this first, but, I don't own them.
Notes: It just figures this is what I write to break my block. *ahem* Cross-dressing ahoy.
Feedback: Much love to anything and everything.
Word Count: 750 - five 150 word drabbles.
He couldn’t remember being more embarrassed.
His face was so red that pressing his cheek against Bruce’s door felt like plunging into ice water, and his stomach was all butterflies.
Dick was standing in Wayne Manor wearing nothing more, to the eye, than a red cocktail dress and curly, black wig. His toes were bare and painted shiny red, squirming against the carpet. He eventually pulled his face away from the door, and knocked.
Bruce’s expression was so calm Dick thought he might faint out of sheer mortification. “Having trouble?”
He swallowed, summing up his courage. “I can’t zip up the back.”
Dick knew the twitch at the corner of Bruce’s mouth right before he smiled meant he was dying of laughter, and thought up about five retorts before Bruce spun him gently around, and he was reduced to sullen silence as Bruce zipped up the back of his dress.
-
Jay giggled.
He couldn’t ever remember having this much fun. He wiggled his left toes before Bruce glared at him, and he apologized sheepishly.
“Sorry, I keep forgetting.”
He went back to being mostly still, as still as he ever could be, and Bruce went back to painting his toenails with the pink polish Jay had chosen. It was either that or a really pale peach, and Jay liked how bright this one was.
“Can I do this again?” He really wanted to.
“If a case requires it.”
“Oh, okay.” He paused, thinking about it. “Thanks, Bruce!”
Bruce scraped his fingernail to catch a stray bit of polish before it could dry, and smirked to his feet. Jay grinned brightly again. “You’ll have to learn to do this yourself, at some point.”
Jason nodded, freezing and remembering when Bruce squeezed his foot just a little harder than necessary.
“Sorry.”
-
He stared at Bruce, because this was fucking ridiculous and he couldn’t have said what Jason thought he did. “You’re kidding me,” he shouted, “You’re fucking kidding me!”
“Language.”
“Fuck my language! You want me to dress up as a chick?!”
Bruce gave him a blank stare that was all about the cowl he wasn’t wearing. Jason glared right back, crossing his arms and planting his feet in the most masculine way he knew how.
Out of anything Bruce could have said, what he did next threw Jason back half a mile.
“It’s nothing your predecessor hasn’t done before you.”
He almost choked. “Nightwing?!”
“It is required for this case, Robin. No more arguments.”
Bruce stalked off, all grimness and shadows and not having to put on a skirt.
He cursed under his breath, not at all soothed by the prospective blackmail Dick cross-dressing provided him.
“Fucking Bruce.”
-
He was thrown exorbitantly off balance by the near-professional job Bruce had done with the eyeliner smudged all around his eyes, making the green contact lenses look less alien than simply startling
It wasn’t so much that Bruce knew how to apply eyeliner in the first place, or even that he was good at it, more that it called to mind unwanted situations to explain how Bruce gained the knowledge in the first place, and who he had practiced on.
His mind stuck on the thought as he pulled on the rest of the costume, and thus the persona, around him.
He could never bring himself to think of this as what it was, instead of what both he and Bruce wanted to see it as, an excuse to practice his disguise work, or he would break character completely just to throw himself from a building due to the embarrassment.
-
It was probably the most expensive dress Steph would ever see in her life, which was the thought that kept her from jumping up and down like she sort of wanted to when she first put it on.
Bruce had helped her with the zipper, and the laces on the little black heels, but now he was just staring at her blankly from the little shadowed part of her room at the manor.
She rolled her eyes, and twirled to face him, throwing in a little pose.
“The boys wouldn’t have been able to pull this off,” she laughed, “Their cleavage isn’t real.”
Bruce made a little noise in the back of his throat that meant he was laughing and disagreeing with her simultaneously. Steph didn’t quite roll her eyes again.
“Alright, fine,” she finally admitted, “Dick might’ve been able to do it.”
That sound wasn’t anything except laughter.